“To Lieutenant Marshal Kimber,

I hope this finds you well my friend. I would like to congratulate you on your promotion, Lieutenant Marshal. I suppose you will be returning from the Territory soon enough then, pick up duties at the College. It will be good to have you home again.

It seems the world has it’s eyes on the west, her majesty’s push to continue what her father started has pulled the senate behind her almost fully. She has such a way with them, and the people adore her so. You would be proud to see how she commands the council. I hope the few seats that don’t agree with this push keep to themselves.

Echland is up in arms already, they have threatened to send armies to aid the Roan States. It would be a fools errand but it would certainly make subduing the States a less simple task, they are already a thorny bunch, but you know that full well. Engleton has sent emissaries assuring that he will stay out of the conflict as long as it doesn’t stray into his own boarders. I would be a liar to say I wasn’t glad for it, if we had the whole of Echland and Iscariot against us I dread to think of the draw we would find ourselves in.

Enough small talk for now,

I’ll be brief with you boy. Larsus has taken the reign of Montclair, and I fear I may be following my brother to the grave. Damn physician’s haven’t found out what I’ve come down with and I’ve been forced to take leave from the College for some time now.

I hope to see you soon, for that I hope to see you at all. Be quick in your return, you’ll have a room waiting on you, and the family is looking forward to seeing you again.

Your good friend,
Titus Montclair

---------

Christian folded the letter and tucked it back into a pouch strapped to his saddle. He had been thinking about his old friend since the convoy had left Coreollis. He hoped the man would be waiting for him when they arrived.

The group he rode with was made up of a battalion returning from their rotation in the Silver Marches, finally on the road home, several High Officers and the First Legate rode beside him in the forefront of the column. Most he had served with for some time, many he knew personally. They were all proud men, and they all deserved the welcome they would soon receive on the Imperial Causeway.

The scattered hardwoods and turned to rolling plains that stretched on for weeks, the plains finally disappeared into the fertile lands of Myrantia, which soon gave way to the familiar warmth or Rise herself, the home country. The men were more than glad to be returning home, their thicker uniforms had long been stowed in the supply wagons and they had worn more traditional garb for some days. Today though, they had put on their best, the parade uniforms of the Legions, the uniforms that made the people proud. The column moved forward in a glittering array of shined spears and polished armor. Men came into rank and file as they passed the outlying towns of the Capital, and soon enough the city wall could be seen in the distance.

A rider was dispatched to inform the city guard that men of Her Majesties Legions were to enter the city. It was a call for celebration. In an instant shops would be closed, rich and poor alike would gather along the causeway, even slaves might be given release to go and see the Legions, if they had pleased their masters. The column halted not far from the city, people on the road stopped to great them, wish them well, praise them.

A soldier knelt with a young boy who had run up to him, Christian heard him ask what the child wanted to do when he became a man, the enthusiastic replay was “To be a legionary and serve Her Majesty, Sir!” the soldier tussled the boys hair and removed the gold legionaries pendant from his shoulder and placed it in the boys hands, “Now you do this pendant right, I expect you’ll serve the Lady well now and until the day you can become a Legionary.” The boy’s eyes were wide with amazement and pride, as the soldier stood and put his fist to his chest in a salute. The young boy, now grinning ear to ear returned the gesture before running off to his mother with the pendant held high crying out in excitement.

Christian wheeled around and directed his horse toward the man, “You do Rise a great service friend.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Marshal, Sir.”

He dismounted and handed the reigns to the soldier, “On behalf of the Empire of Rise, what you have done with out thought of reward will be given great honor. You will enter the city next to the Legate’s chariot, mounted, as a hero of Rise.” The other men were more than interested in the sudden change of place for their fellow soldier. It was not every day that a common soldier was aloud to ride into the city, much less on a High officers steed next to the Legate’s chariot.

The rider returned some hours later with word that all was made ready for the return of her majesties men.

----------

The four arches of the Merlen Gate were thrown wide and the Causeway beyond was lined with cheering crowds. Christian stood next to the Legate in his chariot and the soldier he had spoken to earlier rode next to them. As they entered trumpets sounded and the cheers grew louder. They made their way through the Jinjen district, past the grand estates. As they marched down the street the grand structure of the Hippodrome towered above them in the distance, a dominant monument to the glory of Rise. The crowds were packed into every side street, all of them wanting to see the mighty men of the Legions in their triumphant return, many looking for husbands and fathers and sons.

It was a great display of affection toward the fighting men, one that they were well worthy of.

As they moved into the Nius the crowd seemed to multiply drastically, the steps of the many buildings and monuments were filled. Finally they arrived at a raised podium of marble that stood eight feet to the platform, the front was carved with the triple head, the chimera. It was a monument to the Legions, built in the center of the causeway and a large open forum. Christian, the Legate, and the soldier ascended the steps of the podium. As the Legate raised a hand to quite the crowed Christian took the soldier by the arm and stepped forward.

The crowed became silent in anticipation of a speech.

“Legion of Rise, you have served your Majesty well, this day one of your own will be honored, he stands in this place for every one of you.”

As one the battalion hit their breastplates, just as the soldier had saluted the young boy. The sound it made was like a clap of thunder. “Integritas, Veneratio, Pro Gloria Rise!“ they chanted and then fell silent.

“One to represent many, the true hero’s of Rise. You have fought long, and hard and walked for many miles with out second thought. You have forsaken the comfort of home, the touch of your women, and the love of your children to do the will of Her Majesty. For that you truly deserve all the honor this great city has to give. Legion, welcome home!” He saluted the column, and then turned and saluted the soldier next to him. “Integritas, Veneratio, Pro Gloria Rise.”

The crowed erupted into cheers once again and now family members flooded the column. The formality had ended and the men were finally free to see the ones they loved.

--------

Christian made his way out of the crowed leaving his mount to be tended to by an aid. He hoped some of the Monclair family had been able to get away from what ever duties they had, to see the men come in. It would do him good to see them again. They had long ago become his second family and when his mother and father passed away they had become his only family. He scanned the crowed as he made his was back toward the Jinjen district.

[Montclair Palace, Larsus’ Study]

Contrary to all propaganda, and indeed, first impressions from a distance, the Imperial Capital was not a nice place. So reflected Larsus Montclair as he sank back into a plush purple armchair.

Dramatic lighting threw the room into high relief and deep shadow, golden lights from the morning sun sparkling through a thousand lead-lined panes and tripping into a quintet of heavy crystal decanters on a sideboard. One of them was half-full of a dark, smoky liquid – a brandy, most probably, knowing Larsus’ tastes.

The gold shards of light sparkled on heavy inkwells and shards of paper, glowed on dusky plants, burned on the curves of burnished Canova bronzes and were drunk into oblivion by the dark, sombre panelling. They surrounded the room’s occupant in a fiery halo, his pale hair glowing.

The windows were open, letting in the smells and sounds of the city – although both were commuted slightly by their passage over the walls and expanse of formal gardens that surrounded Montclair Palace. This might have been tempting to an assassin, but there were several obstacles in the way of such an eventuality – a sure sign that no imbecile had taken the reins of House Montclair.

First, there were the Montclair private security forces, patrolling the decorative walls, gardens and guarding both the gates and the doors in a random, unpredictable pattern. Their equipment was good, their swords well-used – and the best assassins wouldn’t put it past the bastard of a Duke to have put archers and sharpshooters on his parapets as a further deterrent. These would all have to be avoided, neutralized or stunned by a prodigious amount of money before considering the second line of defence.

Second, the stonework of the Palace itself was kept in very good repair, affording very few handholds on its sheer walls. The occasional carving, frieze or bas-relief might provide an anchorage point, but the prospective killer would then be exposed to anyone who cared to see him, and riddled with arrows or the new black-powder bullets.

Thirdly, although the window was open, Montclair’s desk faced it in such a way as to be out of direct firing range but still seeing anything coming through it – any assassin would only have one shot, because there was an emergency bellpull beside the heavy desk and Montclair was known to move like a snake.

Fourth, directly beneath Montclair’s study, a tangle of poison sumac, pyracantha, sisal and an enormous Flying Dragon plant has grown and been subtly encouraged by his gardener-slaves – a truly nasty concoction for anyone to drop into, or try and climb through.

In theory, then, Larsus Montclair wants for nothing; his life is theoretically free from worry and doubt about such mundane things as where the next meal is coming from.

Larsus Montclair leaned back in his armchair once more, the sheets of paper in front of him untouched. Sensitive ears sifted and processed the muted sounds; the faint hubbub of the city – a particularly shrill merchantier’s cry, the creak of a cart and the lash of a whip, all comfortingly familiar – as well as the jingling of the armour of the guards patrolling outside.

The seventh Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia was currently wrestling with several rather knotty problems, and had little time to spare for the glories of the city outside.

Firstly, there was his recent dedication to Foto and Illunia, the Lovers. Far from being a quiet choice, Arborea’s priests had reacted with near-apoplexy – naturally, they’d been expecting to net a sixth generation of Montclairs, given Arborea’s importance to the farmers which were the lifeblood of Myrantia.

Unfortunately for them, Larsus Montclair was not of any sort of temperament to appreciate nature – beyond something to hunt in – and had found Arborea’s priests, when he paid a courtesy call on their temple – to be insufferably arrogant about his joining the ranks of their dedicates, holding it to be an inevitability rather than a possibility.

Larsus was still young enough to do something different out of pure spite and contrariness, even had he not been decidedly lukewarm towards the goddess of Nature. The Huntsman, Necine, Arborea’s consort, was also out – House Derik honoured him, and to have Montclair and Derik together was not to be borne.

Hydra, the Duchess of the Fathoms, had been a distinct possibility; after all, she was Patron of the Dark Fleet and a passion for sailing ran deep in the Montclair blood, but in the end, Larsus had settled (controversially; his libertine ancestor Duke Aubrey had done the same) on the Lovers.

He found he rather liked their easygoing natures and readiness to help. Plus, of course – he blushed – the Bacchanalia and Chase were fun; and as a dedicate he couldn’t excuse himself on account of work, or be forced to do so, which was a definite bonus.

The farmers might not like it, Arborea’s priesthood might not like it, half his own family might not like it, but by the Lovers the choice of dedication was supposed to be a personal one, not political! Larsus smiled wryly as the thought occurred to him; everything the patriarch of a noble House did was political.

It was the Great Game, the Unacknowledged Sport, played by everyone who was anyone in the Imperial Capital and beyond. ‘Be a player, not a pawn,’ was the unofficial motto of every House in Ríše.

His second problem was, therefore, how, exactly, to go about re-establishing House Montclair’s pre-eminence among the noble Houses; while nothing could erode the power of ‘the Duke of Coldharbour and Myrantia’ to open doors, a long decline under his father’s ailing leadership had done nothing for other lines of access.

Perhaps the solution, then, was to get in touch with all the old allies of House Montclair, all the various relatives and dependents in the Ministries of the capital, throw lavish parties and announce with a very loud and expensive bang that House Montclair was going to reclaim its former pre-eminence among the Houses.

Of course, a silent, lower-profile manoeuvre might also be preferable – one should never show one’s full strength, after all. Larsus sighed. So many decisions, so little time...

And then, to cap it all, there was the matter of Lady Faye. The stream of callers to Montclair Palace – mostly doe-eyed swains of one flavour or another – was driving him, and doubtless the servants of the household, to distraction.

Speaking of...the noises of the city outside suddenly redoubled, coupled with jingling noises and the sounds of chariots thundering across flagstones. Larsus stood up abruptly, murder in his heart.

If there was one more suitor...

Oh. He stood at the window and stared as one of the Legions of Ríše thundered into the city, their armours glittering and beaming in the sun. Their shields had been polished to a burnished shine, their swords and spears glinted unbearably in the hot, tropical sun.

'Well. Bugger this,' Larsus thought. 'I’ve been cooped up in here for far too long. A breath of fresh air will doubtless do me good, and I’m sure Uncle Titus mentioned something about the Legion, too.'

Larsus returned to his desk, picking up and absently sliding on all his rings. While they looked very impressive; purple tanzanites, amethysts and gold, they did make it rather hard to write and so often found themselves scattered across the study desks, acting as impromptu paperweights. It wouldn’t do to appear in public without them, though.

“You,” he snapped peremptorily at one of the twin footmen that stood outside his doors. “Go and find Danforth. Tell him I want a palanquin for two ready to go by the time I get to the entrance hall, and have him send a runner to the House Guards for an escort.”

A slightly unreasonable request, perhaps, given the short distance from Larsus’ study to the grand hallway, but it would serve to keep the household on its collective toes.

---

[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]

Larsus strode down the vast, curving expanse of rosy marble that formed one half of the double staircase in the entryway to Montclair Palace. The guards in their little alcoves were at attention; obviously, word of his arrival had gone before him. He knew that no-one looked that alert and smartly-turned-out all the time.

There were, in fact, a small deputation of Montclair retainers standing clustered on the family seal punched into the floor; Danforth, the Palace’s head butler, and Cirennis, the Captain of the House Guards and a brace of her men.

They bowed or saluted smartly as Larsus rounded the curve of the stairs, his overrobe shimmering in the changing light.

“You got my message, good,” he said in greeting, but sounded subtly disappointed. Danforth hid a smile. “Yes, your grace. Your palanquin and bearers are waiting on the steps, and the capable Captain here has your escort.”

“Jolly good. Where’s Lady Faye? I thought she’d probably enjoy this sort of thing.”

Danforth coughed. “I really couldn’t say, my lord. She was indisposed for breakfast, according to her maid.”

Larsus shrugged. “Oh well. I suppose she was at someone’s house until all hours. Whether there was a party on or not is another matter.” He sighed, but tolerantly – Larsus was really just griping for the sake of it. He was fond of his flamboyant cousin, in truth.

The palanquin made good time along the Imperial Causeway, the Montclair guards rapidly clearing the way of gawkers on their way to the Nius, and soon the gilded domes of Montclair Palace dropped back amid the myriad spires of Jinjen.

---

[Imperial Nius]

The palanquin – shimmering purple silk hangings and cedarwood, on the backs of four burly slaves – came to a gentle halt and was set down carefully on the sizzling flagstones of the Nius, Montclair guardsmen keeping the citizenry back.

Larsus Montclair stepped down onto the marble, blinking in the sunlight. It was technically a formal occasion, and so the delicate white-gold filigree of his mask caught the light and blazed like cold fire. Black opals gleamed on his overrobe, shifting and shimmering in the light as he looked around the great forum at the centre of the Imperial Causeway.

He squinted; the reflected glare off the legionnaires’ dress uniforms was really quite high. It looked like a simple homecoming spectacle, but for those who knew how to read such things it conveyed a wealth of other information.

The fact that the Empress was absent from the podium said much, as did the fact that it was the Lieutenant-Marshal who presented the homecoming, rather than the Legate.

Larsus Montclair shaded his eyes as the Lieutenant-Marshal came closer, his features resolving from a glaring blur into a set that he recognized, with a small smile.

“Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber,” he greeted. “Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?”

Christian saw the palanquin long before he saw Larsus. The purple silk was an instant indication that someone of the Montclair family was present, some one of considerable repute at that. He made his way toward the small pocket that the guards had made for their patriarch.

The people separated for him to pass, even if they hadn't seen him on the podium his uniform gave a clear message that this was a High Officer, and a path should be made. He had become used to the homecoming treatment, the young ladies fawning over him, the young men looking up to him. One mother thanked him for bringing her son home alive, to which he simply smiled and politely nodded. On average days the average person would simply pass by with out word, after all soldier were plentiful in the capital, officers just as much so, but when men returned from war the people always found it in themselves to show that love and honor that keeps a man's heart warm on a cold campaign night, thousands of miles from home.

"Lieutenant Marshal Christian Kimber, Congratulations from myself and my uncle, and indeed all House Montclair on your promotion. How do you fare?"

He greeted Larsus with a slight bow of the head, "I must congratulate you as well, Lord Councillor, though I do condole the loss of your father. As to how I fare, much better now that I've gotten myself home. It's a glorious business doing Her Majesties work on the front but the gods know its a forfeit of so many simple comforts." He smiled, "Saris has smiled on me though, home I am and home I shall stay, as long as the Legate's don't require our aid on the front." His gaze wandered around, stopping at nothing in particular.

"How is your uncle, I received his letter damn near in the same instant as the promotion. I would have been sooner if distance had permitted. I certainly hope he has come around toward good health." He hadn't been sure of the seriousness of Titus Montclair's illness, though anything that forced the man to take leave from his duties at the College could not be something trivial. It was Christian's first priority to see his old mentor, his second father, he would have foregone the homecoming if it had not been mandated by tradition.

Around the nine o’clock Faye had arisen from her zombie like sleep, although she refused to get up out of her bed until the next hour. She groaned when her maid opened the drapes, and opened the windows to let fresh air and light in.

Faye had forgotten to tell her not to do that, before she had fully arisen from her sleep the night before. Slowly rising from her bed straight up, she was stiff, somewhat like a mummy that had awoke from the dead. Her hazel eyes glared at her maids for a moment as her pupils focused to the new light that entered her bedroom. Faye looked out the window wincing a little and ignoring the sounds that came from the city. Today seems like a lovely day, she thought to herself.

Her light brown hair was a mess, and she did not change into her night gown before bed. “Why good morning Lady Faye, it’s nice to see you awake”, one of her maids said to her quite calmly. Faye had a fixed frown on her face as she stared at her maids. She wasn’t angry at them at all, she was weary from her late night outing and Faye wanted a little more shuteye.

She let out a rough sigh before finally smiling at them; there was no going back to her slumber now. The young woman kicked her feet under the blankets and stretched her arms with a yawn “G’mornin,” she said softly before throwing the blankets off her and urged her maids to help her get ready for the day. Faye took loose her long messy braid from her hair while the others undressed her.

Faye eyed one of her maid’s that had a curious look on her face as she watched the other two help her get ready for her day. “You are wondering where I was last night?” Faye smiled at her with a wink. “It’s best that you don’t know I wouldn’t want any of you accidentally telling a member of the family”, she said with a canny smile.

In truth, Faye had been out with a couple of her ‘friends’ or people that she called friends whom she liked to hang out with during late nights and early hours of the morning doing god-knows-what. Usually they stayed up drunk, sang songs and laughed the night away, and last night was no different than any other. Most would say that that is not how a “Lady” should act, but she was just having her fair share of fun.

Faye sat down at her dresser and waited for the maid to brush her hair. They grabbed a purple tie from and elaborately weaved it into her braid and down her back until at the end of it was tied.

Faye wasn’t paying much attention to the noises that were going on outside of the city until they doubled in their sound. The young woman shot up from her seat to remember that today was the day that the Legions were to arrive back to Rise. “How could I not remember!” she blurted loudly slamming her hands on the dresser, startling her maids as they stared at her stunned pausing in braiding her hair.

Faye looked back at them and smiled sheepishly at her random outburst of excitement. Sitting back on her chair, she let them continue. Faye thought about the color she would were but she had already decided to wear a dark purple, hell the color was already in her hair.

“Hurry, I must leave in haste!” Faye said excitedly as she sat back down waiting for her maids to finish the last touches of her apparel. The young woman slipped on her favorite gold rings along with their matching earrings. She reminded the maids to fetch her fresh white rose from the garden, and when she returned she clipped it and gently placed it in Faye’s hair just about above her left ear. The lady Montclair had already missed her breakfast and she didn’t want to miss a glorious day in Rise.

She picked up her perfume bottle and sprayed a whimsical smelling perfume around her neck and onto her wrists. Faye kindly thanked her maids that helped her get ready and bid= them a momentary farewell and off to the city she went.


*********
Faye arrived to the cities gathering of people on her a little upset that she had missed her cousin Larsus from the Palace. She wished he would have waited for her, but of course she was being a little irrational after all it took her a couple of hours to get ready anyway.

Her guards kept many of the citizens away from her and at their distance as she made her way through looking for her cousin. Soon enough she found him talking to the new High officer. She smiled and made her way over the two. Not to interrupt their speaking to one another Faye kept her distance, but close enough were she was in eyes view to be seen. The young Montclair put her silk covered hands in front of her.

A few strands of her light brown hair fell into her face. Her hair was always so disobedient to her sometimes; she pushed them back into place patiently as she waited for her cousin and the new Officer to notice her. After all, she didn’t want to be rude.

Faye was hardly late to anything important and because she was she hated herself for it today, next time she would know not to go out at late hours before something important.

"Ah, Springwater Square. Love it." The voice came from a man in fine dark brown leather boots and jacket, platemail pieces protecting vital areas of his body, a sword, daggers and pistols hanging from his heavy frame in various sheathes and holsters. Two other men dressed like him stood behind him, arms folded across their chests, the classic "muscle".

Tomas took a deep breath, taking in the smell of so many different goods, horses, people and the various types of cooking. He loved it here. True, he didn't own the land the Market was built on, but he controlled the goods that came and went from it with almost military precision. Everyone who passed him nodded or smiled as they caught his eye, if you had any sense, you paid respect to the Grand Master of the Merchant Princes whose Guild house towered over the west end of the square.

"My lord." The voice came from to his right and he turned to see a woman looking up at him, hands planted firmly in either hip as she glared at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes love?"

"For starters m'lord, I aint yor love. Secondly, I 'ave a beef wit you 'n yors." That brought a smile to Tomas's face as he waved one of the big men back. Usually such rudeness would be dealt with by a swift smack upside the head but Tomas was oddly fond of such snack in women.

"And what 'ave me and mione done eh lass?" He replied, slipping into the gutter brough so common in the lower classes in this section of the city.

"More them types 'ho rent from you sah." She pointed an accusing finger towards a stall advertising "pork bites", a new type of food trend brought back by the legionnaires from the last war. "That aint pork m'lord. Its dog! Caught 'em roastin one earlier. Threatened me with death iffin I told anyone sah!"

Now that was a serious accusation. Tomas stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Looking around he snapped his fingers and a small street urchin appeared in front of him, tugging his forelock. "M'lord." Tomas knelt next to him, place a hand on either shoulder.

"Alright Tom." A lot of the younger couples had taken to naming their sons after him in hopes of currying favour, in this lads case it had worked. "I want you to run over to that stall and see if you can find out if he's been trying to pass off some of the beasts as pork."

The boy nodded, grinned and vanished into the crowd. Tomas stood again and turned to the girl. "If it turns out your right there a gold talent in it for you. If your wrong..." he didn't need to finish the sentence, she knew what he meant. She stood quietly next to him as he spoke softly with his men, a second urchin was summoned and sent off with orders. Within a few minutes a second group of men appeared, six of them, all big and armed like their boss. They stood silently with him, taking in the sights and watching the crowd pass. People were getting nervous now and they avoided the group even more, they stood like a rock in rushing river as the crowd parted around them.

At length the urchin appeared again. Ordinarily dealing with a single vendor was dealt with by lower ranking members of Tomas's organization but he was well known for being approachable by anyone. The boy leaned in to speak to Tomas as he crouched again, a hard look settling on his face. When he stood he simply nodded to the newly arrived men who nodded back and vanished into the crowd towards the vendor.

Minutes later screams rent the air and people scattered away from the stall. The vendor was dead, his face in the coals of his fire pit, his screams dying away as the fire torched his vocal cords and eventually killed him. A sign had been hung on his stall,

"I sold bad meat."

Nothing else needed be said. When the guards finally arrived and asked around everyone denied seeing anything. The "Rook" had dispensed justice in his realm.

[Imperial Nius]

“It was expected,” Larsus said shortly. “My esteemed father had been dying since I was six years old.” He sighed. “As to Uncle Titus, well.” A faint smile crossed his face.

“He is being Uncle Titus, waving his cane around and driving Danforth and the slaves to distraction. The physician I trust thinks he caught a particularly nasty provincial version of kassa fever off one of the new intake,” he said, naming a disease common right across the Empire. While not particularly life-threatening for most, it got worse as its host aged.

“Of course, Titus being Titus, he refused to stop teaching, and the stress of it gave him what the physics are pleased to call a heart palpitation of some kind. He’s been dosed up on laudanum and on strict bed rest, which doesn’t sit well with him, as you can well imagine. Nonetheless, we do hope he’s on the mend. He gave us quite a scare.” Larsus shook his head.

“I’m sure he’d be pleased with a visit, in any case. He’s always complaining I leave him stuck in his bedchamber with no-one to talk to.”

He paused and half-turned back towards the palanquin. “How go things on the Long Border?” he asked, seemingly idly. “Not well, I take it?”

Suddenly, he noticed his cousin, the Lady Faye, waiting in the wings, so to speak, just inside the ring of Montclair guardsmen. “Oh, do excuse me, Marshal. I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin? Lady Faye, Lieutenant-Marshal Christian Kimber, Uncle Titus’ protégé. Christian, Lady Faye Montclair, my favourite fourth cousin.”

As a sotto voce aside to said cousin, he murmured, “Did you walk here?”

[Imperial Nius]

"Coreollis tends as always, though the last three years we've pushed north a fare bit. Most of the focus remains on the Roan States, so long as the Long Border doesn't loose any ground her Majesty is content to let the rabble and barbarians alone to huddle against their mountains, for the moment at least."

As Larsus shifted focus Christian was taken aback by the young woman standing just beside them. Light brown hair framed hazel eyes, and there was something in the eyes that he remembered. He recognized a little girl he hadn't seen in some ten odd years, and then only in passing. She had been something like ten then, and defined by a playful refusal to fit in with high society. Obviously she had since let that tendency go, or at least enough of it to make an impression. What ever the case she had certainly grown into a beautiful woman, there was not doubt of that.

"Never formally," he said as he let the memory settle back into reality. He greeted her with a hand and the same slight bow that he had greeted Larsus, "Milady."

The sun was floating lazily overhead, it was hot compared to the long border at this time of year, though for the Capital the word 'hot' was far from the accurate. It would take some time to get re-acclimated to the natural warmth of the city. It would not, however, take any time for him to get used to the wonderful institution of lunch, which his stomach was reminding him of. The legion had forgone eating on the road in favor of arriving home, a natural decision to be sure, after all it won them a real meal with family along with a sooner arrival.

"The family still eats I take it?" Christian asked with a smile.

Lady Faye Marie
Imperial Nius

Faye had told one of the guards specifically to bring her horse over to stand by Larsus’ palanquin and one shuffled off to do so.

Faye was suddenly noticed by her cousin who walked over to her to introduce her to his friend and vise versa. “Lieutenant,” she paused to take his hand with a smile with a gentle courtesy to him. “Oh please call me Faye, its much more pleasing to hear” she smiled. Faye never liked to hear her full title for it annoyed her sometimes.

Faye gave a slight polite courtesy to the man with a small smile. He looked vaguely familiar enough but her memory was failing her at the moment. She decided to think about it more at a later time, this would not be the last time she see him around for sure, especially if he was a friend of Larsus.

Faye looked up at Larsus who softly spoke to her out of surprise and smiled shaking her head in a responsive no. “I did not walk the whole way, I rode on my horse,” Faye smirked and pointed to her white stallion that seemed to be giving one of the guards a hard time as he brought the horse over, one of the many reasons she loved her stallion so much. "You know I love horses, Larsus," she said nudging him a tad playfully “I wouldn’t allow myself to miss this day” she said with a cheerful tone before looking back at Christian. “Congratulations.”

Faye was a little annoyed with the heat today and shielded her eyes with her hands as she stood to the side of Larsus. “Eat…” Faye repeated softly, that reminded her that she had not eaten since last night. Faye clapped her hands together, “Oh yes, I am quite hungry.” Faye said placing her hand onto her stomach inadvertently.

The halls of grand marble filled with blue tiles and glasses that shone in the colors of the rainbow. Along its pathway, people that donned similar clothing that would only be meant as a uniform and men suited with such metal plates across their physique that signified their duty as guards. Magnificence and splendor would be the only correct words to describe the artistry of such an impressive architecture that is reveled as the center of great authority in the Empire of Ríše. This said place is known as the Imperial Palace where Her Imperial Majesty resided. Despite the grandeur of such a place, it still welcomed the rising of the sun like any other houses in the empire. Although in this particular day, a certain melody had awakened and heard by the majority of the servants and guards.

Upon closer hearing, it was certainly not a melody coming from a musical instrument for it was a voice of a female. The only person they know that possessed such an ability within the pleasure of Her Empress was the current Coronet Regal, Her Lady Rosalie Solainge. It appeared she had been requested by Her Elder Sister to sing in such a fine morning. Thus, her voice seemingly haunted the nearby halls with such a mesmerizing voice. It was an honor to have heard their Princess Royal to sing in such a time of the day, especially when it seemed she had been rarely sighted within the Palace Walls due to her work as Grand Marshal Imperialis. So with all due respect, the few people among the hallways listened with much admiration as they do their morning chores and duties.

"There is something that I see
In the way you look at me
There's a smile, there's a truth in your eyes

But an unexpected way
On this unexpected day
Could it mean this is where I belong
It is you I have loved all along

It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along

There were times I ran to hide
Afraid to show the other side
Alone in the night without you

But now I know just who you are
And I know you hold my heart
Finally this is where I belong
It is you I have loved all along

It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along

Over and over
I'm filled with emotion
Your love, it rushes through my veins

And I am filled
With the sweetest devotion
As I, I look into your perfect face

It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved
It is you I have loved
It is you I have loved all along..."

The song ended with a perfect note as the magic that had been cast by her voice had been slowly removed and the owner of such a voice gazed upon her personal audience whom clapped her hands in a refined manner. With that gesture, the Lady Solainge gave a grateful bow and a cheerful smile towards her elder sister. It was a face that she only allowed to show in front of Her Imperial Majesty. An uncanny thing for Aurelia to summon her on such an early hour despite the duties she had to attend to in the College of War. But even so, she would not hesitate to come running to her sister's calling anywhere she might be. However, she is quite curious for the sudden urge to hear her sing. In result, she cannot help but ask. Although, it seemed time would not permit them to enjoy a quiet moment alone any further. A knock was heard from the doors and the presence of her sister was required. She could only guess it was due to the matters of the Legion returning and other political affairs. Speaking of which, it was a business that must have her attention as well. A familiar voice interrupted her trail of thought as she looked at that person.

"Rosalie, you should return to your duties now. Thank you for singing for me. It was a delight I needed for quite some time. We shall meet again later, I see you have questions you want to ask. Hold it until then."

With that said Her Empress Aurelia left the room with his attendants as she gave a respectful bow and only lifted herself when she had heard the footsteps fading into the background. Standing upright as she had been taught at a young age, she had a whimsical look upon her face. Aurelia never ceased to amaze her, knowing what she wanted to do despite not speaking about it. In any case, she would have time to alleviate her worries. But for now, she has military responsibilities to attend to. Exiting the room, she instantly saw her personal attendants waiting for her. Personally, she is really not fond of so many people catering to her everyday needs. Particularly, the times when she could do most of them on her own effort. Albeit, this is the kind of life she had been given. She had to simply adapt to it like what she had done for the past years.

"Prepare my steed at once. I will leave immediately towards the College once I have changed from my attire."

After all, she cannot go outside wearing such a dress that made her looked like a doll. It was a certain attire that her mother had worn during the moments she had still been living in Ríše. She would adorn them from time to time however; she would only parade herself in such clothes within the confinements of the Imperial Palace. Rumors would spread relentlessly that would question her allegiance. When in truth, she only wore them because of the certain comfort it gave her instead of the expensive gowns she had been bestowed upon. It was too flamboyant for her tastes and hard to wear with its corsets and all. Although, the dress she was donned in the color of black, red and purple had a rather eye-catching adornment. The red ribbon that seemed to have bloomed in such great proportion was placed behind her. She would be embarrassed to death to be seen in such clothes by her subordinates in the military. But truth be told, she looked very beautiful and dazzling without her really realizing it.

"It is already prepared Princess Rosalie. Your armaments and regalia have already been prepared for the day."

Rosalie nodded as her handmaiden assured that her orders had been carried out without delay. She gave a grateful smile to her attendant and proceeded to enter her personal chambers wherein she had been aided to change into her military ensemble. The Princess Royal had never gotten used in being dressed by others when she can do it by herself. At times, it would give a certain comedic scenes with her personal maids as she would tell them that there was need to do that and so forth. But every time, she would lose in that debate and would be still dressed by them despite her adamant protests. Thus, she knew better than to start another protest about their specific chore when she would evidently be won over yet again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Exiting the Imperial Palace along with her customary entourage, she was a brilliant spectacle to witness. Sitting upon her noble black steed that had been adorned with gold and white plates upon its knees and a saddle that has been embellishment with the symbol of the House of Sol signifying the bloodline she was born from. As her form was clothed with a customized armor plate, golden engravings, pauldrons, arm guards, boots and her impressive white colored cloak which have the insignia of the Royal Family, it is indeed a rare sight for the common people to see such a woman dressed in an attire for warfare due to the fact such gender should be left within the walls of the Empire instead of fighting that was mainly dominated by men.

After making sure she had no business left in the Palace, a slight pull on the reigns of her steed initiated for her journey towards the College where she has official matters to attend to such as the arrival of the Legions from the Silver Marches. It seemed she was rather late already from welcoming the battalion. There was nothing she can do about that now. So, she had focused on things that can be done at the moment. A report must be made towards her regarding about the usual rotation and also a discussion about the alarming alliance between Echland and the Roan States. This event was certainly not wonderful news for the Empire. She should have expected for the thorn to be insistent on being a pain to Her Empress' dreams.

However, it is still good that Iscariot has yet to respond in any violent actions towards them. The Rival Nation implied that it would not go to war as long as the battles would not cross its border. It seemed that her mother's nation still recognized the fact that she is still considered a royalty in Iscariot. Despite, Rosalie sworn in loyalty to Her Sister's rule and abandoned any lineage as an Iscariot Princess. Although, it is a relief in some way that half of the blood that coursed within her veins has its advantages. This would allow for the Empire of Ríše not to worry about another enemy nation, especially when they have their hands full against dominating the Roan States and silencing the meddling Echland.

Finally arriving at the College, various legionnaires that had spotted her presence gave a respective bow and salute towards her person. Dismounting herself, she simply gave them a cordial nod and directed her steed to the hands of her reliable attendants. After doing so, she entered the College of War and headed towards her office. Rosalie knew that her day would lead her to be cooped up in the room. How she regretted not attending the Welcoming of the Legions, it would be her chance to breathe fresh air once in a while amidst the excitement of the people. Although, she would not exchange the brief moment she had acquired from her sister earlier.

From the moment she was seen, high ranking officials from the military encircled her form after offering a salute and a bow. It seemed that a lot of military affairs were needed to be attended. She definitely had chosen the wrong time to have not eaten her morning meal. Due to her excitement being called by her sister and her dutiful personality, she had forgotten about her own nourishment and now being alerted of it. Nevertheless, she did not allow it to show upon her actions and expressions as she continued walking to her office. She would deal with it later. The said officials followed her like a crowd as she listened to their words one at a time. Once before her door, she stopped and gazed at them with her calm turquoise eyes and countenance of unwavering nobility. The group that was before her were silenced as they were anticipating her next movement.

"My noble comrades in war. I hear all the matter that had been brought to my attention. Let me assure you that all will be dealt as swiftly and as efficiently as soon as possible. For now, I would require all of you to return to your stations and be prepared for any further notice in case I would call for an assembly. In addition, please inform the Lieutenant Marshal Kimber to report to me when he is done in his preparations. That is all. Dismissed."

Saying with such an elegant and authoritative tone, it cannot be helped for the men to openly gawk at her whom she clearly ignored all the time. After speaking her piece, she entered her office and could see the stack of documents and reports that she had to work with it. She was certain that yesterday her desk was cleaned from any form of papers due to her insistence of finishing it all. It did deprived her a good hours of sleep nevertheless, she was satisfied knowing that she can have breather this day. Apparently, her expected outcome did not happen. Releasing a deep sigh, she took her respective seat and pondered upon how she would finish all of these within the day.

"How am I supposed to eat now..."

At this rate, the red-head thought, pushing a shock of copper from her green eyes, I may as well be paid for the disapproving stares, rather than the deed itself.

All things considered...it wasn't as if she were a real prostitute.

The title was entirely unofficial. Hardly even a title, really. If someone wanted to give her the name, of course, she wouldn't object. Getting paid for what one was good at was hardly an insult. So for the moment, her primary export was...joy. In a physical sense. Well, perhaps not joy so much as elation. But whatever the name, whatever the job, it was really more of a hobby...a talent.

Or practice.

In any case, if she got paid, she wasn't exactly going to return the money. That was just plain rude.

Yes, she supposed she could look a little more...lady-like. Standing on a corner in the Grand Market, hair lifted off her neck, skirts hiked far too high to be anything but promiscuous (well, it was warm out! What was a girl to do?), eating an apple and sucking the juice from her fingers...it was nothing like what Vesni would do, and she had little doubt if her twin happened upon her now, she'd receive quite the upbraiding, good natured as it might be.

However, as was long ago discovered by anyone who knew her, Kaysen Lestat was far from lady-like. Aside from having the appropriate parts--and even those were nearly balanced out by her well-muscled arms--Kaysen had not the posture, demeanor, or rhetoric to be a lady. The strawberry-blonde was more than content to spend her days on the farm, and as a messenger in the square (even now, in the most inappropriate garb), even as her sister settled into the rich life the rest of their family was now enjoying vicariously.

But Kaysen was a girl of many lifestyles, and many secrets. Yes, now she posed as though waiting for someone to give her something to deliver (she'd far outgrown the typical age for being a messenger, especially as a woman, but most knew, or at least suspected by now she was delivering far more than formal words), but her mind was on one thing, and that was the ultimate destination of said 'message'.

After standing in the sun, she wouldn't look her best (not that she'd put in much effort in the morning; she was still getting the hang of rouge, lipstick, and the like), but she was more than certain he wouldn't care. That was strange, she thought. After three years, she'd have guessed the relationship would become more physical, and yet she'd noticed in the last months a good deal of...talking had been done. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but as long as she was paid, and he was happy, she decided she didn't much care.

Yes, that particular service would likely occupy the rest of her day--it was warm enough for a messenger girl to be invited in for chilled wine and fruit--but her job was far from over.

Kay had one more thing to attend to before she retired, and the thought of it, as usual, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. With a small, anxious grin, she fingered the deadly dagger strapped to her thigh, buried beneath skirts and petticoats, and coated in fatal poison.

The life of a farm girl was never boring.

Larsus rolled his eyes at his cousin. “I’ll never understand your attraction to the blasted things,” he admitted. “Give me a yacht any day, or a palanquin for the land. Horses are but half a step from madness, it’s always seemed to me.” He smiled indulgently as he heard her mention food.

“I’m hardly surprised. Danforth told me you missed breakfast this morning. Truth be told, I half-expected you not to emerge before noon.” He squinted up at the sun. “Speaking of, it’s getting on for that now. I suggest we all repair to Montclair Palace and show the dear Lieutenant-Marshal that we do indeed still eat.”

A frown marred his delicate features. “I doubt I shall have time for a substantial luncheon, myself. I have a Council meeting – the full Council, not the Star Chamber – in the afternoon, at which my fellow Councillors will do their very best to extinguish my life with boredom, my factor wishes to see me at my earliest convenience, apparently, and then I must return to the endless paperwork that Myrantia seems to generate.” He sighed. “Nonetheless, we progress, albeit slowly. Marshal, you’ll ride with me. The palanquin is for two – I had hoped to catch you, Faye,” he said with a fond glare at her. “Since you have your...your animal, it’s probably for the best to save the Marshal’s legs.”

Larsus settled himself inside the silk-swathed palanquin, his paler skin flashing in the harsh Rŭsean sunlight, and the bearers bent to the poles, ready to gently raise the conveyance and bear both the Duke of Coldharbour and the Lieutenant-Marshal of the First Legion back to Montclair Palace in style.

---

[Montclair Palace, Entrance Hall]

With a languid wave of his hand, Larsus sent the sweaty and tired bearers off for a bath and a rest, the palanquin itself quickly being stored away in an unobtrusive cupboard by the ubiquitous Montclair slaves.

Larsus clapped his hands, although the gesture was hardly necessary – the Palace staff knew the instant he came through the outer gates and Danforth sailed majestically down the staircase just as the party came through the doors.

After the heat and the glare of the city outside, Montclair Palace breathed coolness and tranquillity from every marble stone. The lamps were unlit, the bowls, alcohol lamps, ingenious oil-runs and candle-pools all dark, and the midday sun that had blazed unbearably off the gilded roofs was commuted to a gentle light by the slightly tinted glass in the windows.

“Ah, Danforth, excellent,” Larsus proclaimed as he glided across the acres of polished marble, heedless of the splendour around him – the buttery golden double staircase with its gilded banisters sweeping back to the mezzanine gallery, the sensual gold statues holding aloft great candelabra, the rich drapes and mosaics.

Tall double doors led off at various points around the circumference; effortlessly, Larsus swept the party through them, identical twin footmen bowing and swinging them wide.

“It’s time for luncheon, I think, Danforth. Um, lobster bisque to start, a turkey in galatine sauce, perhaps a few of those skewered plovers in lemon butter and maybe a caille sarcophage which Cook does so well. If there are any Myrantian fudge delices in the cold-room, they’d be lovely for dessert, too. And the ’87 de Montfiere, the ’54 Apari, and the ’81 Sellaree. Nothing too substantial.” He turned to the rest of them as they swept into one of Montclair Palace’s dining rooms. “Anything you’d like to add? The chefs can prepare almost anything you can think of.”

As he said this, by example he gently chivvied them into long, comfortable recamieres and chaise longues scattered about the chamber; the dining table itself was sunk in the middle of the room, its silverware immaculately gleaming and its tablecloth snowy white.

Where other families might have their dining chambers places of sombre magnificence, the builders of Montclair Palace had made the room a much more whimsical place – the pillars were carved with nymphs and scenes from fairytales, the paintings matched the mythological bent of the room and the long lancets of the windows were made of a million pieces of coloured glass, a fantastical and nonsensical mosaicwork that painted the room in glowing colours.

Comfortable chairs and little tables ranged around the room – perfect for relaxing in either before or after a meal, and extremely conducive to post-prandial naps after the extremely good fare Montclair Palace's legion of chefs could - and did - prepare.

Marquess of Harland, Head of House Basilton, one of the most powerful men in the Empire, a man rich beyond belief and a man about to die. To look at him one would never know, his manner as he rode swiftly along the highway between Tinit and Harland was one of joviality. His tenth mistress was at his side, young and barely more then 18, certainly young enough for his tastes. The thunder of their hooves was drowned out by the forty odd bodyguards who rode with them, men who had been drawn form army ranks, men of violent nature who would think nothing of killing on behalf of their pay master.

Travelers on the road knelt or bowed as they passed, only those dressed in the livery of House Rookwood did no such thing. They would stand aside but no attempt was made to pay respects, the animosity between the two houses was out in the open for everyone to see. The Marquess noticed it of course but he was to delighted with his new mistress, the first to enjoy riding, that he didn't even take the time to spit at the Rookwood employees despite how many of them he always happened to see.

"Seard!" He called out over the rumble of the hooves. "You ride very well!"

His new mistress flushed red at his use of her first name, until only a few days ago she had been nothing but a common housemaid in Harland, and not even from a good end of town. He had discovered her quite by chance at the fair and had never bothered to ask himself why such a stunning beauty was working in so lowly a position.

"Thank you my lord." Like most women she rode side saddle and, he had to admit, did it very well. He smiled at her, delighted in the knowledge that the slim redhead would soon be in his bed moaning his name. He looked ahead now and saw the distant mass of Tinit rising above the beach. The city was built on two islands and the mainland, long stone bridges connecting them all together and somehow sustaining a population of over 100,000 people. Fresh water ran in aqueducts from the distant mountains but he knew that deep in the bowls of the islands, which were more massive rocks in the midst of the sea, sat deep caverns that somehow provided emergency fresh water. He had often reflected on his ancestors poor choice of taking Harland as their capital. Certainly its size and location on a great horseshoe shaped bay made it stunning but Tinit looked powerful.

It had always irked him that the Rookwood had managed to get his claws in to Tinit and transform it into his seat of power. True, the Marquess still had a home in Tinit but even he knew who he rented it from. Despite such setbacks he never failed to visit the mighty city once a month just to remind the people of the Coast who their real noble lord was. He suddenly noticed that Seard was gesturing to him to rid closer. With a quick flick of his wrist he turned his horse towards her and came within easy ear shot.

"My lord... It is so lovely here. It would be a shame not to spend some time on the beach..." Her voice was cheery but her eyes suggested much more and he nodded.

"Of course! How right you are." With a sharp chop of his hand he brought the entire column to a halt. His escort officer approached and bowed.

"My lord?

"The lady and I wish to take a walk along the beach. You will remain here until we return." A wink from the nobleman brought a smile to his escorts face and the man nodded.

"Of course my lord." Two other escorts took the reins from both the Marquess and his mistress. Arm in arm the two walked towards the beach barely two hundred yards away and disappeared behind several dunes.

The escort sat quietly on the road, watching the traffic pass, exchanging pleasantries with those who waved and hostile stares with the Rookwood guards as they escorted convoys past. Eventually the guard officer began to get nervous. The Marquess had not appeared for nearly an hour but he dared not interrupt for fear of loosing his job, which is how his predecessor had come to be unemployed. At last his caution got the better of him and he, with four other men, trotted across the sand towards the dunes. They paused but could hear nothing and repeated attempts to gain the Marquess attention failed. Dread suddenly filled the officers heart and he spurred his mount around the dune. He was far to late.

The Marquess lay naked on the beach, arms and legs spread wide, face twisted in a bemused horror, a knife driven up to its hilt through his chin.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many miles away in the Guild house of the Merchant Princes, to the sound of crowds cheering the returning legions, Tomas Rookwood smiled and sat at a large table surrounded by the remainder of the guild, thirty seven men in all. They all looked at him expectantly, the sounds of the Market Square drifting through the open window.

"Gentlemen. To buisness." A page stepped forward and placed a pile of papers in front of him. Though Tomas could not write well he read as well as any scholar and much laboured dictation had created the documents in front of him. "We have a returning legion. That means surplus men, weapons, and possibly trade goods. I don't need to tell you of course that my agents are already moving amongst the returning troops to see what they can learn."

"Aye, I didn't even bother sending out my lads for that very reason." Replied a rough looking man who had made his fortune in buying up mines throughout the Empire. He dug, Rookwood shipped, the relationship was perfect.

"A shame... We could have used your fellows, they always seem able to find the most interesting things." Tomas spoke quietly and the older man smiled at his compliment. Many of the Merchant Princes did not enjoy Tomas or his methods but some, like the miner, had made their own fortune thanks to House Rookwood and would support him until the end. "Now, I have reason to suspect that the Marquess will not be joining us."

Ordinarily the wealthy Basilton would join them, he has invested in every single one of them save for Tomas. "I understand he has a new mistress and prefers her to us."

"Can't blame him." Laughed another, a huge man whose paunch looked as it were about to burst his finely tailored silk shirt and jacket. "We are a rather unfeminine lot."

"And you can thank the gods for that." Retorted the miner. "Can you imagine a bunch of women with this sort of wealth... We would be up to our asses in perfume and furs."

"Some of us are." Replied a thin looking man who quite clearly oiled his hair and perfumed it.

"Aye, and you are balls deep into it as well." More laughter. The thin man was one of the few openly homosexual's in the Empire and his wealth had protected him, as had Tomas who found a very lucrative transport and distribution contract with the man for his rather effeminate goods.

"Enough." Tomas quiet but firm tone brought instant silence. He disliked pointless bickering and insults, it got them nowhere. "As I was saying about the returning legions..."

Business as usual.

Faye Marie Montclair

Faye glared at him with her lip in a pout, she felt insulted that he talked about her lovely horse. “Larsus…” she said folding her arms eying him annoyed “well I guess I am a half a step away from being mad!” she giggled joyfully.

It was true she expected herself to stay asleep much longer herself, but she didn’t and felt that she lacked a few more hours of sleep. I will catch up for the lack of sleep tonight by going to bed early tonight she thought to herself. “I had hoped to catch you, Faye” Larsus said to her which grabbed her attention once again. “

“Ah well Larsus… you should have waited for me to awake then,” Faye stuck out her tongue at him walking over to her stallion with grace, whom seemed to calm when she approached him.

Faye took the reins of her horse steadily in her hands and tossed her leg over the horse careful not to ‘expose’ herself. Faye looked at Christian once again with a smile and nodded her head, giving her horse a slight kick on the side and off they went back to the Montclair palace.

Desperate as she was to take off on her horse, it was practically impossible with all the guards that circled around her. Faye made a frown as she rode beside Larsus’ palanquin patiently waiting to get back to the palace.

Faye carefully let herself down from her horse, walking in front of him to give him a pet on his nose. “Be good to the guards now,” she said with a smile, following behind Larsus and Christian to the Montclair’s Entrance hall.

As Faye walking in behind Larsus the coolness the palace brushed up against her face, which made her grin out of satisfaction. “Ah,” she sighed happily, maybe after luncheon she would go over look the garden. “Hm…” Faye began to walk on her toes on the marbled floor. It was inadvertent but something that she always did.

“I would like to have a big bowl of fruit” she said with a smile to Danforth. “I am not particular in what in it, so surprise me!” What she asked for was so simple and easy to make, one would have thought that she would have asked for something more complicated.

Faye moved her braid from behind her and over her left shoulder, for no reason in particular. Faye loved this particular part of the room, how everything had that special shine to it so-to-speak. She placed her hands on her corset, irritated, she loved wearing them but sometimes the maids tied them way to tight. Faye breathed lightly.

Faye took a seat at the table and made herself rather comfortable. Faye realized that she hadn’t spoken to Christian in quite some times and finally opened her mouth to speak, “So, does it feel to be back, Christian? If I may call you that,” she smiled.

[Montclair Palace, dinning chamber]

Before he left Coreollis he could hardly believe it had only been three years since he had been home in the capital, now as he entered the Montclair palace it felt like only last week. Danforth still greeted them at the door, the guards still stood in place, the air still felt the same. The dining hall brought back many memories, he had spent countless hours in this room listening to Titus speak, playing games of strategy, learning all he needed to become a great tactician. Titus had been a firm believer in the idea that one could only learn so long as he was comfortable to do so, and this room lacked little in the way of comfort.

Larsus requested lunch be prepared, and Faye added her own request.

"Master Kimber?" Danforth turned toward him. Christian waved off the request, "Thank you Danforth."

He took a seat on what was the most comfortable piece of furniture he had seen since he left, the accommodations in Coreollis were not lacking but they were never intended to be comfortable. He set his helmet behind him, being sure that it stood so the fan would not be bent. He loosed a few ties to remove the greater portion of his armor. He was grateful that the breast plate was stiff leather and not the harsh, heavy iron of battlefield attire, but it still was hard and unforgiving. He removed it and his pauldrons. A slave promptly came to take the armor away until he called for it.

"So, how does it feel to be back, Christian? If I may call you that," Faye asked with a smile.

"Please do, in this place there is no call for formality. I've been graced with a name I happen to like." He smiled, " I've been bound by this promotion to be called Lieutenant or Marshal or both from every officer and soldier in the legion. For the past month I've wondered if there was even a use for my own name." He laughed, it was in good humor but it was true, the rank of Lieutenant Marshal was the only one in which you would never be referred to by your own name by any uniformed soldier. The hand full of other Lieutenant Marshals and the Grand Marshal were the only exceptions. It was an 'honor' that would take some time to get used to.

"As to being home, I wish it would have happened sooner. I've missed this place since the day I left, great dirty city that it can be, I could never call another home." He lounged back in the chair. "No other city can hope to compare to the glory of Ríše herself, few others even come near."

"Of course, if young Larsus had told me what a beautiful woman his cousin had grown into I might have been inclined to work harder to get here sooner." He let a mischievous grin cross his face as he glanced toward Larsus. He could only imagine the amount of callers that came to the door on account of Faye, and he could imagine the amount of annoyance it gave Larsus.

[Montclair Palace, Inoulian's Dining Hall]

Larsus recognized the expression which suffused Christian’s face as they moved through the marbled halls. It was the same one he’d worn on arriving in Montclair Palace – a mix of happiness and slight surprise that the timeless place hadn’t changed. Oh, a few minor details might have been altered – a table replaced, more alcohol lamps put in (Larsus was partial to the bluish light they cast of nights; it was easier on the eyes in many ways) maybe a few more pieces of art acquired, but in essence the rambling edifice to Montclair wealth and power was unchanged, a rock in a shifting world.

Larsus turned to Christian. “Lieutenant-Marshal Christian Kimber,” he said, deadpan. “I regret to inform you that should you turn into one of the legion of lovesick young fools that assail my doors, I shall have to kill you.” He smiled wryly. “Then Uncle Titus would be most displeased with me, and so would most of the next generation, for that matter. So do try not to turn into a blithering idiot, yes?” He smiled good-humouredly, taking any possible sting from his reply.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, casting his eyes towards the elaborate scenes painted on the ceiling. “The flowers, now those I can stand – I haven’t had to buy a single bouquet to decorate the palace since Faye made her entry into society, and the letters can be amusing – come the winter I’m sure we’ll have an admirable stock of fuel for the fires, too – but I confess the singing – if you can call it that – tempts me to sink a few daggers into more than just a training dummy.” His smile was predatory, and rather like one of the thin stiletto knives he was known for throwing with a certain skill. “Of course, they don’t generally get into the gardens themselves – though one got as far as the pyracantha last week – but the caterwauling carries.”

A slave slipped in, unobtrusively, and murmured softly in Larsus’ ear. He looked up in annoyance as the message was relayed. “You can tell him to wait,” he replied. “Give him lunch in the morning room and he’ll be dealt with after we’ve eaten.” He lowered his voice so as to be unheard by the others. “Tell Cook to prepare a hamper. Plenty of good wine, cheeses and biscuits and a decent cold collation, too.”

The slave bowed low. “Yes, master,” came the soft reply, and she padded out as silently as she’d entered.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” he said, smiling at his companions. “One of those annoying matters that are too important to be dealt with by the staff, but not important enough to merit dropping everything to deal with it.” He sniffed delicately. “And from the smell of things, luncheon is on its way. They must have started preparing before I even left.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, discreet doors opened and a parade of serving staff poured in, bearing dish after dish of Larsus’ ‘none-too-substantial’ lunch on mirror-bright silver platters, accompanied by mouthwatering smells.

Faye’s fruit was borne in by two servers in an enormous bronze and gold centrepiece cast in the shape of legionnaires in full battle dress, their swords forming the side of the bowls. Barbadine cherries glowed brilliantly, alongside betel nuts and leaves, cocoplums and papayas and a host of other fruits mounded high.

Larsus rubbed his hands together eagerly as the sommelier brought up the selected wines from the deep cellars and chilling-rooms under the palace.

“I do believe the phrase is ‘tuck in.’ You must be ravenous, Christian, after your march, and you, Faye, after missing breakfast.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face, and he signalled a slave, waiting in the wings.

“Go and see if Titus is strong enough to join us for lunch. And for Surcease’s sake, listen to the physician rather than him!”

[Montclair Palace, Inoulian's Dining Hall]

Christian laughed heartily as Larsus described the general manner of suiters, "Ah, have no fear of that, a young fool I can't be, and at this age I've been through enough to with hold my blithering idiot side." he chuckled, "Though they are amusing none the less. I recall a certain woman in some small town running off a particularly annoying caller from the window above, with the chamber pot. Gave us watching quite an amusing afternoon that one did."

As the food was brought out Christian was reminded yet again of his hunger, this time fully prepared to quiet it. He took from each of the platers and the first bottle with in reach. At this point he didn't have a preference for wine any more, things like preference wore off when you had to take what you could get, the fact that he had choices was more than he had in three years.

"Go and see if Titus is strong enough to join us for lunch. And for Surcease's sake, listen to the physician rather than him!"

The last comment brought a smile to Christians face, "Good old stubborn Titus. If they disagree I'd wager the poor physician will have to follow him down here insisting that he return to his room." He clearly remembered more than one occasion in which that had happened, one had been in knee high snow. There was little that deterred the man once he had his mind set on something.

Faye Marie Montclair

Faye listened to Christian intently as she did with everyone. She clapped her hands together, lacing her slim fingers together, merrily. She always loved a homecoming, it relieved a lot of worries and stress from the people and herself and it brought along with it the best of times. Faye giggled as she looked at Christian being away would do that to you, missing something that you would have never thought you would miss that is.

"Of course, if young Larsus had told me what a beautiful woman his cousin had grown into I might have been inclined to work harder to get here sooner." He let a mischievous grin cross his face as he glanced toward Larsus.

Faye’s cheeks turned a light pink as she smiled at Christian with a nod, she was used to getting such flattery from men, and he was no different although he was more handsome than the others. Faye went to speak when Larsus cut in, quite seriously to Christian.

“I regret to inform you that should you turn into one of the legion of lovesick young fools that assail my doors, I shall have to kill you.” Larsus said to Christian. This made Faye laugh as she looked over to Christian with a wink.

Flowers, letters, and singing of admiration was all the things that she had gotten from men, it would be quite pleasing to her if someone had bought her a nice dress and a good piece of jewelry was a rarity. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell the men to stop giving her things she liked the attention. Faye laughed at this, at Larsus and at Christian.

Faye surprisingly at her age was not in a rush to get married to anyone. Hence, she did not mind that Larsus was protective of her, since she was just as protective of him.

A slave walked in to speak to Larsus and she eyed him carefully, and his expression concerned her slightly. Faye ignored the awkward interruption and before she knew it her bowl of fruit arrived. She smiled hungrily to lick her lips. “HA!” the young woman clapped, admiring the bowl of fruit brought to the table and the other main dishes ordered as well. Of course, she didn’t mind sharing her fruit with the others, although she secretly hoped they wouldn’t ask. “Of course Larsus,” Faye laid a napkin on her lap and before she started she continued with her reply to both Larsus and Christian.

“Well,” she paused to look up at Christian with an enticing smile. “First it seems as though you have known me before…” she smiled. “Although I don’t remember you…”

“But I must say, you are quite handsome yourself, I wish you would have came sooner as well” she said with a wink before looking over at Larsus. “Now, now Larsus, not all of their singing is horrible. Some just need a little bit more practice” Faye giggled. “But thank you Larsus for your fatherly influence on me” Faye said in a sarcastic tone with a small smirk on her face. “I love you, Larsus.”

Faye picked up her slim fingers a cherry that lay on the top of her bowl of fruit and began to eat. This was all she wanted, although everything else looked extremely pleasing to the eye, knowing that she did miss out on the early breakfast. Faye hadn’t seen Titus in quite some time, although it was only a couple of days, it seemed in her head which made her feel guilty about not checking up on him. Faye looked forward to seeing him come down to eat with them and hoped that it was ok with the physician.

Larsus made a face at Faye. “You, my lady, are making me feel old,” he informed her tartly. “Some of your swains could do with gags and muzzles, since their voices are irredeemable, even you must agree. Harland’s youngest, for one,” he said, picking on the Marquess’ latest son, whose singing voice wavered back and forth across the notes without ever actually hitting them and had an irritatingly nasal bore to it.

“I’m only glad I’ve managed to escape your party clutches so far – although with so many of our family pouring back into the City I’ll doubtless be called upon to host a ball.” A faint smile belied his complaints; Larsus enjoyed dancing a great deal, and Faye would almost certainly know that, even if Christian didn’t.

Just then, drifting like smoke through the woodwork, came another voice, a strident, commanding boom, although made rough and harsh from illness and disuse.

“...oh, will you stop badgering me, man! I tell you, I’m perfectly fine! The day I can’t negotiate the stairs is the day you can put me to bed with a shovel. All this lollygagging about in bed isn’t doing me any good. I need to be up and doing, you charlatan, up and doing! I wouldn’t miss seeing my protégé again for the world, and this is only lunch.”

The doors swung wide, and there stood Titus Montclair, leaning heavily on a cane that was the double of Larsus’ own. He was tall, rail-thin (although that was probably to do with his recent illness) his face drawn and lined with disease-marks. A shock of iron-gray hair crowned his head, and his eyes were lively.

Behind him hovered the physician, a sober, fussy man with delicate glasses that winked and flashed in the light. He bowed to Larsus. “I tried, your grace.” His voice was light and somewhat hesitant, and cargoed with exasperation. “I’ll be in the antechamber if his lordship has a problem.”

Titus waved his cane irritably at the man, although he was smiling as he did it. “Yes, yes, run along now, mountebank. Go and gut some toads or whatever it is you actually do when you’re not wittering at me.”

The physician rolled his eyes heavenwards, more eloquent than words, and quietly vanished.

Titus stumped forwards, cane clacking on the marble.

“He’s one of the finest physicians in the Empire, you know,” murmured Larsus, but without heat. “Nice to see you up and about, in any case.” A small, but intense smile, broke across his delicate features.

Titus nodded at Larsus, but his attention was on Christian. “Legion made it back from the front all right then, I take it? Jolly good to see you again, Christian. Sorry I gave you a fright with m’letter – touch and go when I wrote it, see.” He snorted inelegantly. “Still is, if you listen to the bleating of the physic. Pass the turkey, there’s a good fellow. I could do with it after the gruel that brute’s been feeding me. Congratulations on your promotion, too. I hope I’ll be seeing you around the College and this place rather more often from now on.” He paused.

“Don’t suppose you know what your new duties are yet, hmm? Marshal Terentius popped by earlier to visit – said that she’d heard that GMI was going to meet with the new batch of officers around homecoming time.”

"I recall a younger Faye Montclair causing some mischief or another, her tutor in tow. You were much more interested in games than learning silly things like etiquette." He smiled, knowing that at some point everyone preferred simple childhood over the proper manners of high society. Christian himself was not nearly as proper as the vast majority of the nobles he rubbed shoulders with, he was by contrast very simple and held many middle class tendencies. There were some who thumbed their noses at him for that, but many more were simply grateful for a change of pace to all the protocol.

Christian chuckled slightly at Larsus' 'feel old' comment and smiled at the thought of a ball, he had always been fond of parties. The same slight 'middle class' manner that he held himself in this high class world served him well at such events, he found that many of the women found it charming and he was never adverse to using that to his advantage.

A familiar voice found his ear and Christian rose slightly as Titus entered the room with the physician in tow. "Typical old Titus" he said with a quiet smile. The old man sat and set strait to the food before him while he spoke. Christian listened intently, more out of habit than the fact that Titus was saying anything important because in truth, he wasn't.

"Aye the men nearly self imposed a forced march this last week, the thought of home burned them on. You know Titus these physicians apparently know a thing or two about health." He smiled. All soldiers had a great respect for the Medicus, who were god sends in the field, but out side of that most were incline to prefer the company of enemies over that of physicians. After all a physicians job was to keep you alive and the soldiers job was to haul off to the most deadly places in the world, the two simply didn't mix well.

The old man stopped and looked at him, it was the look of a man about to rebuke his pupil, a look Christian had known well in the past. Suddenly his lips cracked into a smile and he laughed heartily, "Boy you know as well as I they are good for cutting out arrows and wrapping up wounds, out side of that let us soldiers fight our own battles, be it field or body."

Christian raised his glass "That deserves a drink."

"You know better than I what my duties will be. Mostly the same as I've had though with a fancy new uniform and a desk that doesn't get packed up and hauled on to a new post every seventh month. They'll know were I am when the Grand Marshal sends for me, Legate Anthony knows I had a mind to come see you. He sends his regards, said you owed him some debt or another, but he'll forgive it on account of your condition."

"Ha! What am I to be excused of debts on account of illness? I'll give him his pay, my boot I'll give him, he knows I won that deal fair."

Christian smiled, it was good to be in the company of his old teacher and the Montclair family in general. He relaxed as he ate, knowing that soon enough duty would call.

Faye Marie Montclair

“I don’t want to make you feel old!” Faye smiled at Larsus, teasingly sticking her tongue out at him a little. Faye shook her head “Oh Larsus,” she giggled picking up another piece of fruit with her fork and nodding her head. Not everyone was meant to sing. Faye eyes lit up when Larsus spoke of a ball for the Montclair family, for this she would have to get a new dress. “Ah well you can only avoid my party clutches for so long.”

Faye looked over at Christian and responded, “Well, I have manages to still keep hold of my childish ways…somewhat,” she laughed. Although she entered into High Society, doesn’t mean she listened or liked all of it, it was just some things that she had to do and often times didn't mind to. Faye stayed up late and didn’t like to awake in the morning unless she absolutely had to, as well as ignored the rules of formality unless she absolutely had to pay attention to them.

Faye winced tensing when she heard her uncle’s loud voice, a signal that he was soon coming to the table. Faye couldn’t help but giggle at him yelling at the physician, he was quite the stubborn one. Faye’s hazel eyes looked over to him with a worried smile, happy to see him yet sad to see him sick.

“Hello, Titus” She said softly nodding to him politely to acknowledge that he was there, he was hard to ignore after all. Faye stayed silent as he spoke to Christian, slowly picking up another piece of her fruit on the table and chewing slowly as she listened to Titus and Christian speak to one another.

She poured herself some red wine and slowly sipped at it before putting it down and continued to eat. Her mind wondered off as she enjoyed the many flavors of the food about what she was to do after lunch. Garden then off to the Grand Market, she thought to herself. Faye looked around the table, letting another forkful of fruits into her mouth.

((Fell prey to the Location post mislocation thing. :p ))

Larsus leaned back contentedly in his chair as the last remnants of lunch were cleared away. He smiled winningly up at Danforth. "Excellent as always, Danforth. My compliments to the chefs."

Feeling pleasantly full and warm - the dining room caught the sun for much of the day, though the harsh tropical sun was softened by the glass - he felt in no particular hurry to go anywhere.

"Truth be told, Christian, I think that my uncle and the physician get some kind of a perverse satisfaction from needling one another," he whispered loudly, sure to be heard by Titus.

His gaze flickered over to the elaborate clock standing in a pool of sunshine over at one end of the hall, and he frowned slightly, before rising in a waterfall of purple silk.

"You will all please excuse me," he said apologetically. "I must prepare for the upcoming Council meeting." A slight smile. "Doubtless I shall cross swords with the Countess of March and her cronies. Again." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, yes. Christian, there's a messenger from the College waiting for you in the morning room, along with a hamper. If that messenger is what I think it is, doubtless you'll be at the College for some time, and while Titus assures me your canteen is perfectly adequate, why settle for adequate when you can have sublime?"

He bowed slightly to Faye. He hadn't missed the way her eyes lit up at the mention of a ball. "If you happen to meet any of your fashionable acquaintances this afternoon, do feel free to mention a party. That is, if you'd like one, of course."

(please forgive internet lag)

Christian raised a hand to signal his armor be brought out. He rose and clasped Titus' hand, "It's good to see you my friend, no doubt I'll be back soon enough." A slave brought his armor to him and slid it on, adjusting his cloak and tightening the lashes. "Thank you for your hospitality Larsus. And Faye you will have to save me a dance at this ball of yours. That is, of course, if you can fit me in with all the young men clambering at the door." He smiled as he retrieved his helmet and tucked it under his arm. Giving them all one final wave he made his way to the morning room.

The messenger, not more than fourteen, stood as he entered, "Lieutenant Marshal, sir , Grand Marshal Impirialis requests your presents sir." the boy was obviously worried that his failure to bring the message sooner would earn him reprimand. With a nod of his head toward the door Christian urged the boy to follow him.

"Lighten up boy, no need to hold yourself so stiff."

"Yes, Lieutenant Marshal, sir." the boys posture didn't change.

As they made their way threw the streets of the city Christian took in all he could, so much was just as it always had been but his eyes were drawn to the subtle changes that the years had brought. The winding streets of the Jinjen district slowly widened as they entered the Nius until they were hardly streets at all, simply the expanses between the great monuments. Grand buildings lined with columns, massive arches, pillars, all manner of mason work, each erected in honor of some ruler, battle, event, or time. The Nius was one of the most impressive sights in the world, a living testament to the history of Rise.

The Podium was central on the Imperial Causeway that cut threw the heart of the Nius on its way to the bridges. The greater majority of the imperial public record was kept in a vast column wrapped library on the south side of the main plaza. Directly attached to the Library was the University, a collection of towers and courtyards, grand halls and small studies. Just beyond the University to the south stood the Grand Arch, which once served as the gateway through the second wall, though now there was an avenue where the old wall stood, leaving the towering arch as a reminder. They followed that avenue into what was effectively known as the military quarter, though officially it was simply part of the Old City.

At the heart of the military quarter stood the great walled complex that was the College of War, a single gate in the south side wall, the only remaining portion of the second wall. They crossed the main court yard and made there way up one of the sweeping marble stair cases that led up to the mezzanine entrance. Christian dismissed the messenger as they entered the building itself.

Marble inlaid halls stretched on forever, lined with columns. The walls showed images of great victories and battles, of soldiers on parade, and of Saris, the Chimera, symbol of the legions, worshiped by those who offer her sacrifice on the field of battle. Soldiers and officers went this way and that, off to fulfill their daily duties, some Christian had known for years but many were the new faces he came across.

When he arrived at the Grand Marshals office the door was swung half open and he stepped quietly inside. A desk stacked high with reports was set before the Grand Marshal and she busied herself with the task of shortening the pile.

"Lieutenant Marshal Kimber, reporting as requested, Grand Marshal ma'am."

((Apologies, part 1.))