# Into the Icy Darkness II: The Next Generation



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 5, 2004)

Its been a while since I've written an actual story (as opposed to a campaign story hour), so I'm going to give it a try.  

This is a completely fictional writeup about the children of the characters of the original, "Into the Icy Darkness," which can be found here.  The players gave me vague descriptions of their PC's kid's personalities at age ten, so I've extrapolated out some six years later...

This is being written and evolving as its posted.  Feel free to comment, critique, etc. as you see fit.

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*Chapter 1a* - Friends... and Enemies

“Ouch!”

Raven winced as skillful hands pulled tight the corset around her waist.  The green eyes of the apprentice mage squeezed shut, and a sharp inhalation came through her pursed red lips.  

“All done!” Vintressa’s familiar soprano voice said, a smile completely filling the sound.  “Go ahead, open your eyes!”

Raven did as she was told, and gasped when she looked in the mirror.

Many others would have let out such a noise had they seen her already slim, elegant figure, or her seemingly perfectly formed face (save a small mole on the right side of her chin, which annoyed Raven to no end).  Some would have been amazed at the poise and confidence the young 16 year old carried herself with, or how her dark, midnight black locks continually threatened to break loose from their overly elaborate hairstyle and fall back to their natural, hanging forms down to her waist.  Many would have been lost in the green eyes that now looked into the mirror with wonder, but Raven’s eyes were locked on the blue and white dress that now clad her frame.

“Happy?” her bunkmate and friend Vintressa laughed.  The other young woman was already clad in a beautiful yellow and cream strapless dress, a tiara with sapphires and rubies that matched her own blue eyes (and their red flecks) in her locks of blonde hair.  The Princess had ‘commandeered’ the dress for Raven as a surprise... the young woman had been invited to her first Imperial gala by Raven’s mother, the Empress, and Vintressa wanted her friend to look the part.  

“Very happy!” Raven spun around and gave her friend a hug. The lunge knocked the two of them partway across the small space that was their joint room at the Imperial Mage’s Academy.  They’re parents had arranged for them to be bunkmates for the previous three years, to the delight of the girls. “Its gorgeous!  How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing!” Vintressa waved off the request.  “It was a gift... father bought it for mother way back just after he took the throne!  It didn’t cost me anything, other than sweet talking my mother’s chambermaids.”

“You... you didn’t ask your mom?” Raven began slowly.  “You know she’ll be there-“

“Oh, stop worrying!” Vintressa scoffed.  “Mom would love it if she knew her dress was being worn by as pretty a girl as you!”

“Really, you think so?” Raven asked again, spinning back to the mirror and spinning around.  For the moment, the magical textbooks on their desk, the impending tests of doom from the wizard Aergrifyr, and the fact Raven hadn’t seen her parents in two years disappeared.  An Imperial gala was what dominated her mind.

“Yes.  Maybe even you’ll attract Val’s attention!  Wait, I ought to muss something up on you then!” Vintressa joked, causing Raven to laugh.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want his sorry behind looking at me!” Raven laughed.  It’d been years since she’d seen Vin’s brother, who supposedly had become somewhat of a looker.  From Vin’s descriptions of him from her frequent visits to the Imperial Palace, his personality left much to be desired.

“Then again, he might consider you under his station,” Vin lifted her nose high, and pranced around the room, “I am Valaron the Brave, magical warrior of the Palace steps!” she said in a halting, drawn out mockery of his voice.  “I spar with midgets and gnomes, and know the secrets of the super-duper flaming katana of _DOOOM_!” Vin roared bombastically.  Raven burst out laughing, only to discover the corset hurt if she laughed too hard.  

“Stop!  I can’t breathe!” the dark haired girl wailed.  “Vinny, you’re too funny!  Stop it!”

“Alright,” Vinesstra’s whirling dervish of humor slowed to a halt, though a massive grin still played across her face.  “Though seriously,” she suddenly leaned close to her friend, “if he makes a look at you, just saunter up to him... you know, like you want something, and then lean very close... and ask him loudly about the time he shat all over his baptismal font!”

“He WHAT!?” Raven gasped in laughing shock as the two slowly wandered out of their rooms.  Vintressa had arranged for a carriage to be waiting below to take them to the palace.  As Vinny told her the full story, Raven’s laughter continued to peal through the courtyards of the Academy, until they were on their way to the palace.



“Vinny?” Raven asked quietly as the two girls lined themselves up along with the other young nobility being introduced at the function, “Do you think Val will actually be here?  I mean, with him being a playboy and all practically, why would he show up to a mere social function?”

Vintressa gave her friend a long, hard stare.  “Don’t tell me that after you’ve only seen the few paintings of him along the wall, that you’ve fallen under his spell too.”

“No!  No I haven’t!  I was just wondering,” Raven said quickly, before adding with a devious smile, “if he was here, we could prank him...”  Vintressa’s face quickly changed to an evil grin as well.

“Excellent...excellent!” Vintressa rubbed her hands together maliciously. 

“And, perhaps along the way, I can hook you up with a fine young noble or prince?” Raven asked before ducking away from Vintressa’s inevitable swing... a swing that never came.  Instead, Vintressa’s face grew deep red, and after a quick glance around, she leaned over close to Raven.

“You know about me and Royukgan?” she asked quietly, almost causing Raven to giggle.  She’d seen the princess and the young man from Ak Konylu slip off between classes.  It was quiet and discreet... Vintressa was the queen of quietness and discretion when it came to matters outside her brother; a trait she’d inherited from her grandmother and father, not her mother the Empress.  Raven had to admit the boy was a looker... if anything because the colorful orange, black and white patterns on his skin looked so exotic... the remnants of his mixed ancestry, undoubtedly.

Part of it made Raven laugh... that the cool and controlled Vintressa was the one that had fallen head over heels for the boy that was off-limits... no matter how open the Princess’ parents may have felt about letting her select her future husband.   After all, it would be poor form for one of the twin Heirs to the Empire to be caught sneaking around with the young Prince of Han... one of the Ak Konylu kingdoms that some sixteen years before, had invaded the Empire. 

And been crushed by Vintressa’s own father in battle... not the best way to start family relations, obviously.  

“H...how did you know?  Please,” Vintressa’s eyes went wide at her friend, reading the knowledge in Raven’s eyes, “don’t tell anyone!  _Anyone!_”  The Princess’ hand caught Raven’s hand held it tightly, pleadingly.  The crowd around them twittered on about their own subjects, not listening at all to the conversation... Raven did not have to see her friend’s eyes darting about to know that the Princess’ senses were still acutely aware of the situation around her.  If she got the slightest hint someone might be listening, Raven knew this conversation would suddenly become stillborn.

Yet she wanted to hear her friend out.  _Wow... things must be serious..._ Raven thought, her own mind in a slight state of shock.  She’d seen the way the two looked at each other, even fleetingly, while some droll wizard was delivering a boring lecture.  The love was apparent in their eyes... easily readable.  Even then, Raven had assumed her friend’s dalliances had been mere flirtings.

She raised an eyebrow at Vintressa.

“Please Raven?  If anyone other than mother and father found out...” Vintressa’s dsoft whisper trailed off, even as she looked straight ahead.

Raven looked deep into her friend’s eyes, and saw a look of particular desperation; her eyes kept cutting back to her friend’s, despite trying to look directly ahead.  _How serious did things get?_ Raven’s mind wondered at first, before the panic in the Princess’ eyes caused her to finally speak.

“Yes, I know,” Raven said quietly.  “Your secret is safe with me... and yes, he is a cutie,” she grinned, trying to allay Vintressa’s worry. It was rare her normally collected friend worried about something so deeply, and usually it would have been Raven that would have jumped into something that could have started a mess... she had fallen for boys often, until the most recent incident.  Raven’s mind immediately jumped back to the incidents of only a year prior, and a frown danced on her face.

_I’ll never let anyone drop me like that again!  And I’ll never stoop to allowing someone to fawn and pawn for me just because of my position!_ 

Her thoughts preoccupied her mind as Vintressa gave a soft sigh, its short, brief release letting forth a massive amount of relief.  The Crown Princess gave a slight grin, and looked to her friend, only to see Raven’s face twisted into a slight frown, her eyes staring ahead as if focusing on a distant memory.

“Still reflecting back on Raote?” Vintressa asked quietly, snapping Raven back to the present.

“No! No no no,” she shook her head furiously.  Her hand reached for her hip, to find it devoid of her normal spellpouch and whip... instead there was only the laced furrows and silk of a fine dress.  That irked her, and the look must have become apparent on her face, as Vin gave a grin.  Relief spilled on Raven’s face to see Vintressa’s alarm go back to normal.

“Mother specifically invited you, Raven, so I’m guessing that should the actual dancing prove tedious, there’ll be other things there,” she tried to comfort the increasingly annoyed girl.

“Are you kidding me?” Raven whispered back, “It’s an Imperial Ball for the children of the nobility!  This is nothing more than organized match-making and politicking!”  Raven cast a look around at the others in the line around them.  All were near the age of the two girls, 16 years old, but the others twittered about in proper, patrician manners... the boys with their chests puffed out, the girls twittering and muttering about the latest poofah fashion.  Raven’s eyes then went back to Vintressa.  “I hate match-making and politicking!”

“You are best friends with the Crown Princess, dear Raven,” Vin smiled sadly, “I’m afraid you’ll get a massive dose of both over your life!”  _Sadly, I have to put up with an even greater dose!_



_Where is she?_

The young man, his black locks cut longer than normal, stood off to the side of the ballroom, near the line of ornate tables and divans set to the side for those who wished to sit.  Orange glow, pleasant and carefree, beamed down from the massive chandeliers and mirrored ceiling above onto his decidedly pale flesh.  His tall frame compared favorably with the silken tapestries and paintings that adorned the carved walls of the ballroom... indeed, his comparatively long nose and hawkish face was vaguely reminiscent of the features of some of the other great rulers whose ancient pictures adorned the walls.  

Nervously, he fidgeted in the pockets of his red suit-coat, flashy and festooned with buttons as it was, until he found the signet ring in his pocket.  Carefully, he brought it out, and stared at it in his flat palm.

It was beautifully made, its golden form encompassing three serpents intertwining, their heads coming together on the ring’s top.  The eyes of each were jeweled, one eye a flawless emerald, another a priceless ruby, and the third a sapphire of perfection.  In the middle of the three was a large diamond cut to perfection.

_Air, fire, earth and water,_ the voice of his father rang in Simeon’s head as he rolled the ring around, flipping it casually.  _These are the three elements that make all things, boy.  By themselves, they may seem mundane, weak... but each serves a vital and important purpose._

_Without water, we would all thirst.  Without fire, we would all freeze when the winters come.  Without air, we would suffocate, and without earth, we would all starve.  Each serves a purpose...

Just like each person in the employ of this family, House Erelion..._

Part of Simeon thanked his father for that lesson so many years ago... when the boy was merely eight.  The small speech detailing why spies and assassins were important, simply explained so the mind of a child, a future Duke of Erelion and possible Emperor, could understand why it was necessary to have persons capable of murder deep within one's staff.  

It was only a few months later that Simeon's father rose up in arms, and that the ‘March of the Dragonwings’ shredded through the Imperial countryside, shattering the old nobles that rose against the New Order being imposed by a beardless boy and his desert demon of a wife.  

The events shattered his father, leaving the proud man Simeon could remember nothing more than a grizzled wreck left to rot in a prison cell... a cell where he remains to this day, some twelve years later.  House Erelion, the House of Three Serpents, had been crushed by House Caladron, the House of the Silver Dragon.  Their lands had been split apart, their Duchy stripped from their hands.

Yet House Erelion survived.  They had been merely weakened, and thanks to some of their alert and cunning ‘dark retainers,’ skillfully used, House Erelion would likely rise yet again…

_Now WE have the advantage!_ part of Simeon wanted to chuckle, but his nervousness drowned out the urge.  His sister, of course, had opted for the more ‘dramatic’ course to entangle the Imperial Family, and possibly intertwine the two eldest heirs to the Empire into the mess...

Simeon kept fidgeting with the ring, as his eyes stared off into the crowd of younger, gossiping nobility, all strutting and puffing themselves out to jostle for position.

“Simeon, why do you stare off as if you are sad and lost?” a melodic soprano voiced asked from behind him, and the young noble quickly put the ring back into his pocket.

His sister had arrived.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 7, 2004)

*Chapter 1b*

“Lord Canbris MacMahon, son of Duke Reginald of Abu Sirun!”

Valaron Caladron gave a grumble as the newest noble’s son to enter the room stepped down the elegant stairway into the ballroom, his perfect smile and perfect face flashing a grin towards the group of girls in the corner, all of which gave a nervous giggle.  Magically enhanced... all of it.  Val could, if he closed his eyes, sense the magic reeking from the young noble’s body.  It was a trait he’d inherited from his mother.

The Crown Prince ran a hand through his flaming red hair in frustration.  His manservants had put oils on it to shape it, but Val preferred it slightly disheveled.  It made him look more action-oriented, more dashing in his opinion, as opposed to merely a dandy.   He absolutely hated dandies, and Val’s deep blue eyes, flecked with small spots of red, flashed a look of disdain at the dandy now leaving the bottom of the stairs.

The party was ostensibly for him, but Val would have preferred to not be here.  He was sixteeen, an age where his marriagebility was not just a personal issue, but an issue that at times came close to dominating Imperial politics.  And while Val’s parents had taken the extremely unusual step of allowing him free choice, they wanted him to at least publically, “be looking.”  Many promises and agreements had been extracted from the notoriously independent minded nobles, on the account that Valaron, “would consider,” their daughter’s hand.

Personally, Valaron could care less.  Women of noble blood had never held his eye.  His mother had to use her last resort, the line, “You need to do this to be a good prince,” to get him to cave in and attend.  He would have much rather been out practicing his magic, at the armory practicing with his blades, or galloping about in the country, ever looking as to what was around the next corner, past the next bend in the road. 

 Normally he would have the prismatic dragon Ari around... the dragon was inquisitive, and happily accompanied him on trips... albeit polymorphed into human form.  He was on visit right now, out to the Dice’s in Holstean.

_It’s times like these I really miss the summer home,_ Valaron sighed.  Some six years before, a large summer manor had been completed in the Obashi Desert, hundreds of miles from the hustle and bustle of Iskeldrun.  There Val could shirk his Imperial responsibilities, and explore.  He loved riding, checking out every nook and cranny of every cave for leagues around the manor.  Sometimes his sister joined him, an occurrence that had stopped since she’d entered the prestigious mage’s school.  

Val himself loved his blades too much to devote entirely to magic, so his father took time out of every day to teach him the raw basics.  Val’s goal was to be just like his father... a proud warrior that could just as soon slash you down with sword as he could launch an enormous fireball your way.  

His training had been complimented by the personal training his mother gave him as well... with katana and washizaki, rare blades only found in the Imperial Palace and the distant realm of Ak Konylu.  One day, Val knew, he would have to wield the Swords of State... his father’s snow white bastard sword, and his mother’s flaming katana...

His hand flashed down to his waist at the thought, and he felt the pebbly, jeweled hilt of a dress sword... not the familiar smooth steel of his bastard sword or the soft sandhog skin of his katana.  That too, caused him to growl again.

“Something bothering you, Highness?” a soft, caring voice behind him said.  Val looked over his shoulder, into a pair of kind, gray eyes.

“No, Hemmel,” Val lied to his manservant and good friend.  “I’m just fine... just a little upset that the dandy over there had to show up.”

“Yes, Your Highness... and I imagine that he is most pleased at being able to irritate you a bit,” the young man replied.  Val’s face frowned... Hemmel’s point was made, as he gave a sigh.

“Then I shouldn’t give him satisfaction by pouting,” the Crown Prince said quietly.  

“And you shouldn’t upset your mother and father by staying aloof,” Hemmel added, gently guiding Valaron from his reclusive alcove towards the main floor of the ballroom, and then releasing him into the torrent of people.  The room’s massive chandeliers cast a warm glow over everyone inside, a glow that made Val want to frown.  For Hemmel’s sake, he didn’t.

_So many in here have not set foot outside of carriage when shuttling between their manors, vacation homes, and the palaces,_ Val’s mind complained.  _They know little of the people that would be their subjects... and even less of how those people live._

Val, in that regard, had been fortunate... his parents were of noble birth, but while his father was the son of a very powerful noble, his mother Siabrey, now the Empress, was daughter of a very minor noble family... little more than yeomen.  Through most the first half of her life, Val’s mother had lived, worked, and laughed alongside everyday people... farmers and ferriers, thieves and guards, merchants and peddlers.  

She’d seen how they lived, and it had never left her blood.  Indeed, she required both Valaron and Vintressa to every now and then go out incognito... to see how the ‘everyman’ lived.  It was an experience Valaron was thankful for... it fit right in with his normally adventuresome spirit.

He’d heard of the adventures his mother and father had in their youths... fighting beasts, living in camps in the wild, riding free.  Part of Valaron wished he could do that, instead of being fawned over in the palace, twittered over by ladies he did not know, and followed by servants and retainers wherever he went.  He wanted peace and quiet... the kind his mother still described fondly.  

As he thought, his face was a little sour when he noticed the daughter of the Duke of Chalcedon bowing gracefully before him.  Over the preceding week, he’d received, at his own count, fifteen pieces of mail from her or her father.  The Duke was pressuring Valaron’s parents hard to betroth him to her...  and Val was thankful his parents so far were holding firm.  He wanted nothing to do with her vapid person.

“Is something troubling your mind, My Lord?” she said, voice rippling, perfectly feminine.   Valaron motioned for her to rise, and took in her face.  It would have been pretty, save he guessed she had at least an inch of makeup, glitter, and other ‘beauty supplies,’ covering it.  Just like all of the other ladies here, who were starting to surround him as soon as his presence was noticed.  _All layering themselves with pretties and finery to hide themselves.  Bah!_

“My mind is wrestling with a distant problem, that is all,” Valaron lied again.  One thing that being the son of nobility_ forced_ one to do quickly was learn how to lie... and when he wanted to (or when it was politic to do so) Valaron was among the best.  He never liked doing it, but he reasoned that if he told Lady Daril that her poor makeup, overly scented perfume and fawning presence annoyed him, the diplomatic results might not be pleasant.

“Perhaps, my lord, some dancing my take your mind from said problem, and allow you to relax?” Daril said suggestively, raising an eyebrow.  Valaron himself, while looking _at _her, actually paid attention to his peripheral vision... and the looks of absolute hate other girls were giving Daril for her priviledged position. 

_I can’t let just her have all the fun... maybe if I cut down the time with each fawner, my nausea will decrease..._

“I think for now, I shall make greetings to all that have honored me by accepting the invitation to come here,” Valaron gave her a pleasant smile.  “I shall keep your offer in mind, however.”  _I hope to the gods two hours from now you’ll be trapped on the far side of the room from me, so I won’t have to honor my promise!_



“It’s almost to us,” Vintressa gave a sigh of relief.  “I don’t know why, as Crown Princess, I was stuck so far back in the line!”  

Raven watched as her friend’s mental feathers were ruffled slightly.  Of the brother and sister pair of heirs, Vintressa had always been the more politically minded, ever mindful of manners and decorum as her brother left niceties aside.  By age 11, she had already started sitting in on her father’s less important meanings, listening and learning while Valaron was out exploring the forests and dales outside of Iskeldrun.  She already had networks of people that kept her informed, even though she now was in school, nominally away from the palace.  Of course, her parents kept her informed... and most recently, during a potential crisis with the northern tribes, Emperor Lucius had asked his daughter for advice on settling the situation.

“Probably they thought your mug was too ugly,” Raven quipped, trying to hide her own nervousness.  The comment earned a glare from her friend, causing Raven to laugh.  “You know I’m kidding!  I bet your mother ordered everyone ahead, considering we were late!”

“Yeah, that sounds like mom,” Vintressa sighed.  The Empress Siabrey shared Valaron’s disdain for decorum, and if her daughter was late, too bad.  She did not get the first place in line, and she’d have to wait with everyone else.  “At least I wasn’t stuck here in this long line alone.  Thanks for coming, Tarty,” the princess grinned.

“Vintressa!” Raven gasped.  “Don’t use that nickname in public!” she hissed, elbowing her friend hard.  It had originated from an incident that involved a pie, sailing through the air.  The marms at the academy had not been impressed, and Raven’s brilliant evasions and excuses that ultimately allowed both of them to avoid punishment had earned her the nickname from Vintressa.

“Princess Vintressa Caladron, accompanied by Lady Raven Dice!” the stewards voice rumbled from their left, and both girls turned to look down the stairs, into the ornate room they would be entering.  It seemed filled with people, a few dancing, many talking.

Vintressa gulped, seeing the masses of people, and the large group of young noble men already eyeing her.  “Well... into the fire we plunge.”

“Why do I feel like a martyr of some kind when you say that statement?” Raven rejoined, before scanning the ground again.  There were several loose gaggles of people, though two immediately caught her attention.  The first was covering the young noble Canbris MacMahon, though Raven could not immediately sense the waves of magic from the young noble’s pendants, rings, and circlet.  All she could sense was the entirely non-magical feeling that MacMahon was a pompous jerk.

The second gaggle she could not tell as easily who was in its center.  It was all decidedly women, who seemed to be gently touching those closer to the center on the shoulder... the noble decorum’s equivalent of, “Get the hell out of my way!”  She caught a momentary glimpse of a red head peeking through the mass... and then his face...  and her heart stopped.

_He looks ever better in person_, part of her gawked.  Rather quickly, her self control returned, and she stiffened in self-reproach.  _You were gawking!  You ought to know better!  After what happened to you with Raote!_

_Valaron isn’t Raote_, another part of her tried to chime in, before being smothered.



Valaron himself was looking about, desperately.  Trying to find some way out of this gaggle of people fawning over him, hoping for rank and privilege, all while keeping a smile floating as a thin veneer over his slowly building fury.  By chance, his eyes flashed up towards the stairs, and for the first time that night, a genuine smile came to his face.

“Ah, excuse me,” he said politely, thankful for a reason to break away from the Duke’s daughter.  As he walked forward, the small crowd parted for him, and he had to resist the urge to break into a run towards the stairs.  He was unable, however, to resist the urge to call out.

“Vintressa!” he called to the blonde girl in the pair.  She dashed down the stairs and buried him in a tight hug.  “How are you doing squirt!” he grinned. Crowds around him be damned, he hadn’t seen his sister in two months, and he was going to engage in a little bit of brotherly teasing.

“Hey!” Vintressa growled at her brother, giving him a very slight, playful elbow.  If there hadn’t been a crowd, it probably would have been a much stronger, though no less playful strike.   “Don’t touch my head... it took us an hour to get our hair set up!” she cautioned.

“Well, it looks very nice,” Valaron glanced at his sister’s hair, done up in an ornate mound of curls over her pale face, and laughed.  Vintressa, for all her sense of properness, hated having her hair like that, despite the numerous paintings adorning the palace walls of her formally dressed.  “I’m guessing this is the only time I’ll get to see you done up like this for what... another three months?”

“Quiet you!” Vintressa grinned, before glancing back at her friend.  The Princess’ eyes widened slightly at seeing Raven’s face behind her... before suddenly narrowing into playful slits.  “Raven!  Stop feasting your eyes on Val and say hello!”

“Hi Val,” Raven said with warmth, before her eyes looked at Vintressa and mirrored her friend’s look of playful reproach.  The Crown Princess then broke into a huge smile at her friend’s angry gaze.

“My, Vintressa!  They never said you were bringing friends!” Val smiled, before putting an arm around each of their shoulders, and steering them away from the stairs.  “It’s been a long time since the three of us troublemakers have gotten together!  I vote we go and plot a new escapade in the corner... or just catch up on times again!”

While Vintressa laughed at Valaron’s humor, the Prince felt Raven’s shoulders tense slightly under his arm.  When he looked at her, still grinning from his quip, he saw the smile of Raven’s face was smaller, thinner... nervousness dancing in her eyes... eyes that ever so briefly stared into his.   The nervous look then suddenly flashed towards Vintressa, and the narrowed look of fury built again, the dark haired girl’s face going slightly crimson.

“So, Val?  How is the playboy of our time dealing with the sudden attention?” Vintressa said in a low voice, ignoring Raven’s death stare.  The crowds in the room cleared as the three walked through, allowing them to continue unimpeded, all giving the Crown Prince and his chosen company a respectable berth... while still craning to hear what was being said. Vintressa, alone among the three, had prepared for this, and her voice was low enough that she knew only Valaron and Raven could hear her.

“Vin!” Valaron growled, looking at his sister.  “I am _not_ a playboy!”  Vintressa merely laughed at his comment... and laughed even more as Valaron’s face descended from its normally copper tone to a deep shade of crimson.

“I know,” she sputtered between laughter, “I merely love teasing you about it!”  



Simeon glanced towards his sister.  

“Do you think he’ll see us?”  He gave a sharp puff of air upwards, shifting a long strand of black hair from in front of his brown eyes.  In one hand, rather lopsidedly, hung a champagne glass, half full at this point with punch.  Simeon felt it unwise to enter what could become a tense situation with his mind fogged by alcohol.  Nerves, yet again.

“Well,” Eryna glanced out into the crowd, shifting and moving as the Crown Prince moved through it, “I think he will.”  Her long, lithe form was languidly sprawled on one of the ornate chairs, her raven hair done up, but partially hanging free, partly onto her shoulders and back   Her lavender eyes gave a wink to a gaggle of awestruck sons of nobles that stared in her in her form-fitting dress, before turning back.  “He’ll see us, sure enough.  Just as much as those poor lackless boys see me right now.” 

“Eryna, I hope this works!” Simeon said.  By his face, it was easy to pick his age... perhaps twenty one, nearly the same as his companion.  He continued to stare moodily into his glass.  “Otherwise, the fire will get slightly too hot for both of us... and Uncle!”  _He put me up to this, anyway!_

“Forget about Uncle for right now,” Eryna gave a wide, lazy smile, her hand gracefully bringing the cup of champagne to her full lips, which supped ever so slightly on the fine vintage.  She suddenly set the glass down, and stared full bore at her brother, her lavender eyes full of intensity.  “We have other reasons for doing this than Uncle’s political whims!  We have father!”  

The intensity left her face, and she settled back into her chair, seemingly still languid and resting.  Simeon knew she had merely relaxed the coiled spring that was her mind, and that she could tense it up again just as quickly if she desired.  “Besides, you act as if you do not want to be Duke of Erelion, or possibly Emperor?” she added with a large smile.  Simeon gave a sigh in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to back out now?” she whispered, “After all I did for you?”

“No, I’m not backing out.  I’m just not sure how wise it would be for the two of us to cross swords, so to speak, with the Emperor!” Simeon took another drink of his punch.  There was no way he’d ever consider actively drawing swords against the Emperor... Lucius V might be known for his patience and longsuffering... but stories were still told of how, 16 years ago, he slew a great demon 20 feet tall, and crushed an invading army...

“Honestly, Simeon, you need to not worry as much,” Eryna’s attention returned to the crowd, watching the shifting gap opened by the approach of the Royal Person moved closer and closer.  Slowly, gracefully, every movement perfectly controlled and timed to show off her frame, she sat up, and then stood.  “It’s time, Simeon.”

Gruffly the young man rose as well, running a hand over the front of his red and orange silk jacket and laced coif.  _If I head to the lions, I should at least look well._  With an eye of disdain, he noticed his sister had nothing to change about her low-cut, form fitting silk gown.  The others men still stared at her hungrily.

The crowds finally parted the last time, revealing their quarry.  The Crown Prince had the Crown Princess in one arm... and a woman neither of them recognized in the other.  He was eagerly talking to his sister in quiet times about something... the other girl seemed rather nervous.  Her face was red, and her eyes kept flecking back towards Valaron quickly, before looking straight ahead.

Simeon stood beside his sister, and followed her lead when she boldly started striding forward.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 8, 2004)

“So, Ari  is staying with your father?” Valaron asked Raven, trying to distract his sister from her teasing of the poor girl.

“Yeah,” Raven nodded.  Part of her mind was still aloof, relatively cool and composed... save she was already hating the dress.  True, it looked beautiful, but the corset was too tight, the loops on the sleeves too long, and it was a trial to not trip over the front of its long form.  The Empress was slightly taller than Raven, so it dragged under the girl’s feet.

The other part of Raven was nervous... tense.  The setting was part of it.  She wasn’t used to formal gatherings, despite how exciting they could be.  The other was who she was standing next to.

“Yeah is the only response I get?” Valaron pressed.  He could see she was rather uncomfortable, and assumed it was because of the other nobles. _Maybe talking to a friend will put her at ease._

“Well, she hasn’t been home in two whole years, Val!” Vintressa jumped to her friend’s defense.  “Kulloden is some eight hundred miles from here, and I’m sure she doesn’t have the cash on her to teleport back and forth!”

“She could always ask mother for help.  She _does_ refer to you as the niece she wishes she had,” Valaron smiled at Raven.

The girl’s heart skipped a beat slightly, and she coughed, trying to focus her thoughts.  “I, um, I...” Raven tried to organize her thoughts into words.  She was having an incredibly hard time doing so.

“Knowing Raven, I’m sure she likes getting along by herself, without always turning to Auntie Empress and Uncle Emperor to help her out,” Vintressa replied with the words she knew Raven was trying to say.  She gave her friend a smile that was devilish, and Raven blushed again as Vintressa launched into a story about the raven haired girl’s independence.

“And then, of course,” Vintressa babbled on a few minutes later, “Raven told Aergrifyr that in her opinion, launching a fireball into the mess would have just fixed the problem!  That caused the class to break out in laughter, didn’t it?” Vintressa babbled happily... until she heard no response from her brother.  

“Val?  Are you even listening?” she growled, turning to look at him, and seeing a look of utter and complete shock on his face.

“Um... Vinny?  Who invited them?” he hissed into her ear.  Vin followed the direction of his subtle head nod, and found herself facing the two children of the late Duke of Erelion.  Her mind raced, placing their names and backgrounds... _Simeon and Eryna... their father had a counterclaim to the Imperial throne, and attempted to start a rebellion... _  Quickly, her own face followed Val’s in slipping into a blank look, one that covered up her confusion and shock inside.

“They are scions of House Erelion, despite who their father was.  They will be powerful nobles... and they deserved the respect of being invited,” Vintressa’s politically focused mind said quietly.  “I never would expect them to show up, however,” the Princess added guardedly.

“Wha...?” Raven’s mind asked.  She gave herself a mental headshake, and with a growl realized she had been staring at Valaron... again.  _Focus, Raven! _–her mind scowled at itself.  _Valaron and Vintressa are looking rather uneasy at this pair in front of us... something is going on.  Should I slip away?  Do Val and Vin want me to stay?_

“Greetings, My Lord Valaron,” the woman bowed.  From her large, perfectly shaped eyes, Raven could seemingly see her soul reaching out to Valaron’s trying to tug at his.  The girl’s face reddened again, as the young lady knew what it was to be the ‘third wheel.’  She nervously looked back at Val, hoping to get a hint from him as to what she should do.  Strangely, his arm had not let her shoulder... indeed, she felt it tense up, gripping her shoulder tighter.

_Maybe he’s nervous at seeing such a thing of beauty in front of him?_ Raven’s mind wondered.  She had to admit, the lavender eyed beauty to Val’s front was easily the best eyecatcher in a room full of people seeking to catch the Crown Prince’s eye...

“Greetings, Lady Eyrna, Lord Simeon,” Valaron did not even incline his head politely, and his greeting was far more stiff and formal than her flowing words.  He’d seen the way she’d inclined her head, trying to display her graceful neck.  _She’s trying to show off her beauty to me... despite the fact her House and mine are enemies..._

Instantly his mind went defensive, and he sensed the upswelling of magic billowing from her necklace, rings, small tiara, indeed even her clothing.  _Why are you here... at a formal ball thrown by your enemies?  True... we do not assassinate our foes, but still, you would only come here for a purpose of some kind..._

“Highness, would you care to chat with us?” Eyrna gave a beautiful smile to accompany her suggestion, her hand gracefully gesturing to one of the ornate tables near the side of the room.   

_He stiffened... so this young man is not nearly as lustful or foolish as to fall for such an obvious trap..._ her mind graded.  She had not expected mere beauty to work on him.  That raised Eyrna’s curiosity greatly... a sixteen year old that had women fawning all over him due to his rank, yet still possessing iron self control.

“We have something we would like to discuss with you.  It involves a friend of yours... a little younger than you...”  Her voice, while sweet and innocent sounding to the casual observer, was not nearly so quiet and unassuming to Valaron’s ears.  There was a certain dangerous... even poisonous element to it.

That alone caught his curiosity.  The veiled reference to his ‘a friend’ caught the rest of him.  _Who does she mean?  Tark?  The Dice kids?  Amarine?  Fortunas?  Hemmel?_  Even while he and Vintressa had spats and teased each other much, neither would tolerate someone harming or alarming the other.  And both of them were _very_ protective of their friends that did not retain a ‘Highness’ within their titles.

“Very... well...” Val said guardedly, a gentle push from his arms moving Raven and Vintressa towards the table.   _Whatever goes on here... I want witnesses to it.  There is trouble afoot._  Suddenly, Eyrna raised her hand, another polite but dangerous smile coming to her face.



“Your sister is welcome to come,” she said bittersweetly, “bur your other friend might want to enjoy the dancing more than our political discussions.”

_He wants the other girl present?  Who is she?_ Eyrna’s mind searched its extensive knowledge to try and place a face.  One unfortunate thing about the Emperor and Empress was that until recently, when their children’s age compelled them to let their lives be more public, the Imperial Family had sheltered its children.  Information on who Valaron and Vintressa’s closest confidants was still only just being put into place by other Houses.

_Black hair... green eyes... slight mole on lower left chin..._ Eryna’s photographic memory flashed through the thousands of faces of important people she’d met and seen... another advantage her mind gave her.  Rather suddenly, she gave a smile, placing things together with a few faces she’d seen before.

_Of course!_

_Political discussions_? Raven’s mind questioned.  _That is a red flag... and they want me gone._  She glanced protectively towards Valaron and Vintressa... the three had been close friends since they were mere babes... close enough that Raven’s own father had taken to calling them, “the bear cubs.”  And she was not about to allow a fellow pair of ‘cubs’ to be cut off in a diplomatic slaughter.  At least, she assumed that was what these two people were after.  It seemed what everyone who didn’t like the Imperial Family was after.

“With all due respect,” her alarms giving her tongue motion, “I do believe that His Highness might want me to accompany him and Her Highness,” Raven replied coldly.  She had no care for what Vintressa or Valaron’s feelings on the subject might be, she _was_ coming with.  “I... believe His Highness would appreciate additional counsel, should this be regarding a personal matter pertaining to him.”  

A moment after the last word left her lips, she winced.  She didn’t know if Val actually wanted her to come with, she’d merely played this bluff to try and stay with her friends.  _I hope he’ll play along..._ she thought as she unconsciously pulled closer to him... a move that Vintressa was echoing.

Eyrna turned, slowly and with poise, to look at the miscreant daughter of a mere Baron. 

“Of course, you may come, Lady Dice,” she said sweetly.  Mentally as she spoke, she categorized the way the young woman, daughter of a close friend of the Emperor, had slid even closer to Valaron, and the way her hands danced slightly above her waist... a spot where a weapon would likely sit.

_She has feelings for the Prince,_ Eyrna’s mind grasped, and a gleam came into her eyes.  _It shall be enjoyable to drag her family into this fall as well, but how?_

“I was merely thinking that you may not enjoy a nice political discussion.  Perhaps I was mistaken,” Eyrna smiled sweetly, as her agile mind wrestled with its new problem.

_The Dice family is not powerful... they are weak.  They have no armed forces, no troops... they merely have their shops and inns spread all around Irulas.  Money does not necessarily equal power...

Yes, it shall be fun watching her fall within our plot!_



Valaron’s eyes shot over to Raven as the group sat down at one of the more removed tables from the rest of the crowd.  Her eyes burned with an intensity he had never seen before, fiery and sharp, directed at Eyrna as she gracefully sat down.  If present company had not been there, he would have likely given her a smile of thanks.  As it was, his own gaze focused on Eyrna.

“As you may know, m’lord,”  Eyrna began, “unfortunately Count Lawes of Holstean died a year ago, and has since been replaced by Count Elberron.  Elberron has been most... aggressive... in pursuing the strict adherence to Imperial law and code.”

_What does she want?  Has Elberron pushed the law onto some of their family lands?  Do they want him replaced?_ Valaron’s mind began weighing her words, trying to discover her intentions.  Elberron had intentionally been placed in Holstean after the death of Count Santac Lawes a year prior.  While Elberron was dull and mechanical to a certain extent, he was steady, and followed the rules of the law to the letter.

“And, I regret to inform you, that your father, Lady Dice, is currently in violation of the law.”  While Eyrna’s face conveyed a slight trembling sense of pity, the consumate actress could not hide the smile that danced in her lavender eyes.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 8, 2004)

“How!?” Raven hissed, altogether too loudly.  Several heads turned in the direction of the small group, only to be dissuaded by a stare from Simeon.  The young girl’s mind raced through the business dealings she knew her father was in, trying to find one that was in the least bit shady.  She couldn’t.

“You are aware, m’lady, that there is an Imperial statute... put into effect by our beloved Emperor Lucius and Empress Siabrey, that forbids anyone from capturing and all except the Imperial family from owning dragons?” Eyrna raised an eyebrow, a smirk almost burrowing to the surface of her face, dying merely moments before it broached.  

Raven stared at the woman in shocked silence.  _Ari merely stays with my parents, and only for a few months.  He ASKED to visit them.  We don’t own him, no more than... Vintressa owns Valaron!_  Harsh words threatened to explode from Raven’s mouth, but she bit her tongue.  _I cannot give this woman more ammunition!_

Eyrna, for her part, actually let her smile break through, in all of its sadistic glory.  “Some sources tell me that currently in your father’s home is a most rare dragon... one that displays all the colors of a prism.”  The lavender eyed beauty, rapped her delicate fingers along the tabletop.  “And unfortunately, this information may find its way into Lord Elberron’s hands...”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Raven finally snapped.  “Ari is not our property!  He is merely staying with us!  You have no-“ her rant suddenly sputtered to a halt, under the gaze of Vintressa and Valaron.  It was then, she realized she’d made a critical error.

She’d admitted Ari was there in the first place.  And Eyrna was already smiling triumphantly.

“Oh... so you admit the dragon’s presence?  And his name is... Ari, you say?” her soprano purred, “Most interesting.  Having such knowledge and not reporting it to the authorities would qualify as ‘aiding an offender,’” she smiled even brighter.

“What do you want?” Valaron growled, all civility lost in his mind.  “It’s apparent your horrid stench wouldn’t be here and uttering threats against my friends unless you wanted something.  Speak!”  

Vintressa’s face winced at her brother’s words.  _This has already entered an area of negotiation.  They want something... but instead of negotiating, we’re hurling insults!_  Glancing at the pair, she decided to take a page out of their book.  Simeon Erelion was not speaking at all... and with Val’s temper, she probably shouldn’t either.  She flashed Val a brief, but hard look, telling him she’d take over talking from now on.

“Oh... what do we want?” Eyrna casually swished her wineglass around, her eyes flitting above to the heavens.  “Oh, I am afraid the price would be high... as the stake are high.  Lady Dice,” she leaned towards Raven, “are you aware of what the penalty, according to the code, for owning a dragon?”

“We don’t own him!  He is free!  Merely staying with us!” Raven snarled, her eyes dangerous.  _Don’t you DARE threaten my mother and father!_  She felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulder, and pull her back... Vintressa once again.

The Crown Princess thanked her luck that she sat between Valaron and Raven, as she now hand hands planted firmly on both of their shoulders.  While Valaron had a dress sword which could cause damage, the look in Raven’s eyes scared Vintressa a little.   The girl looked as if she would be more than willing to kill Eyrna right here, on the spot.

“Yes, we know.  Confiscation of estates, and twenty years in prison,” Vintressa said coolly, keeping her own violent emotions firmly under control.  

The ‘Dragon Law’ had been issued to keep petchulant nobles from capturing and seizing baby dragons, and ‘brainwashing’ them into being slaves.  After living beside, and serving with so many of the noble species, Lucius and Siabrey didn’t want to see their kind imprisoned and abused any longer.

_I have no doubt that should the case go to trial, Raven’s parents would be found innocent,_ Vintressa’s mind measured, _But the damage to their finances, their reputation and business would be catastrophic!  Not to mention Imperial prestige!_ her political jumped in.  _If a close friend of the Emperor was even accused of violating such a contreversial law..._  Her mind was already wrapping around how easy a case could be made by upstart nobles, such as the remnants of the Erelion family, to band the nobility together to try to oust the Emperor... again.

Matters were further complicated that until today, Ari had been hidden from the public.  Considering how angry reaction was to the ‘Dragon Law,’ and the long history the Empire had of nobles capturing wyrmlings for their own devices, Lucius and Siabrey had thought it not wise to let word get around that the Imperial family was raising an extremely rare, and extremely powerful wyrmling dragon.  Raising, in the eyes of many, would suspiciously look like what the nobles were banned from doing...

“Obviously you have evidence?” Vintressa replied to Eyrna, and the lavender eyed beauty nodded with the same damnable smile.  Vintressa pursed her lips in thought.

“Well, then I am assuming that either you gave us this as a warning, or you wish to use this as a bargaining chip,” Vintressa replied, very little inflection in her voice, “and judging by our past family histories, I’m disinclined to believe that you would willingly do us a favor, no offense intended, m’lady.  You are well aware that Lord Dice would undoubtedly be found innocent, however.”

Eyrna gave a small chuckle, which surprised the Princess.  “You read us well, Highness.  And as you are probably aware, the cost of such a trial could very well ruin them, as well as damage Imperial credibility... a great deal of damage. So,” her fluid voice continued, “you’ll understand if our demands are high.”

_Understanding one’s enemy is paramount,_ Eyrna heard her Uncle’s voice in her mind.  _This is where your father failed... he doubted how strong and deep the Emperor’s support was.  We shall not fail there... and thus we have strove to understand how the brain of those Caladrons work._  She gave a smile, as she realized how dead on her uncle’s assessment of Valaron and Vintressa was.  And while this Raven Dice was an unexpected variable, her reactions seemed to mirror Valaron’s... 

_All to easy to predict,_ was Eyrna’s present assessment of the three.  

“We are... generous enough,” Eyrna’s use of the third word was twisted, “to give Your Highnesses some choices.  The first, easiest choice, is for Valaron to declare his wish to be betrothed to myself,” Eyrna smiled.  The Crown Prince immediately recoiled, eyes blazing fury, which caused Eyrna to laugh.  

“The other option is for the three of you to go towards the North, and fetch an item for us,” Eyrna leaned towards them.  Her eyes flecked towards Valaron.  “If a trip is too arduous for you all, then I look forward to deflowering the Crown Prince,” she said suggestively.  Her face broke into another grin as Val gave the response she expected... a string of curses under his breath, his eyes dangerous with anger.

Vintressa’s first instinct was the slap the woman, but her political mind took control too quickly for this instinct to ever come into her eyes.  _What item?_ her curiousity asked.  Eyrna read the curiosity in the Princess’ mind.

“We’ll tell you the item at a later date... when our agents are able to inform you.”

Vintressa’s eyes narrowed, and she decided to play her trump card.  “You seem to forget that we could just report this blackmail to Her Majesty,” Vintressa purposefully used her mother... the nobles feared her more, “and I guarantee you, it would be the end of House Erelion.”  It was the Crown Princess’ turn to smile.  

“Well then, Highness, I beg you look towards the upper balcony,” Eyrna motioned her towards a location behind her.  

As Valaron, Vintressa and Raven looked upwards, they saw from one of the upper balconies of the ballroom the Emperor and Empress, watching the ball.  The two were smiling at their free time, and talked and laughed.  Behind them stood Hemmel, patiently waiting for an order from the Imperial Couple.  The Empress’ fiery red eyes swept around the room, as Eyrna’s voice spoke again.

“I would have preferred to keep this surprise for a later date, but I suppose now is the best time to let you know of it,” Eyrna’s own face grew serious.  “Your friend, Hemmel is it?  Behind the Emperor and Empress,” Eyrna gestured backwards with her head again.  

Vintressa’s mind quickly leaped towards the next, obvious statement, and her face fell.  “No... no...”  The Princess tensed her legs, ready to leap up and shout a warning, before Eyrna’s dark gaze rooted her in her seat.

“Do not motion or warn... else he will strike.  I can tell you,” Eyrna leaned back, her smile one of triumph, “that when one can use one’s bare hands to remove heads, one does not need magic or weapons to be an assassin!”  She then leaned forward, her face deadly.  “Do not inform them of our little talk... otherwise you shall quickly find yourself Emperor Valaron... or would it be Empress Vintressa?”

The Crown Princess’ fury rose within her throat, but she quickly realized the hopelessness of their situation.  Even as Siabrey’s eyes found the small group, Vintressa could see that Eyrna and Simeon continued to sit with their back to the balcony... the Emperor and Empress couldn’t see who they were.  They would find out later, but who knew how long that would take.  

Siabrey flashed a distant grin and gave a wave to her children.

“Wave,” Vintressa hissed, baring her teeth in the brightest smile her tense face could manage.  Reluctantly, Valaron gave a cursory wave... something not out of his character when he didn’t want to be bothered.  The two watched tensely as their mother said something with a smile to their father... never knowing they were under threat... the two then turned and left the balcony

“I trust we shall have your cooperation?” Eyrna watched their gaze return to her, taking joy at the unbridled hatred and fearful powerlessness in their eyes.  “Or do you wish to be Emperor, or my bedmate?” she looked at Valaron again.  He gave her another sneer, but before he could lunge Vintressa’s hands gripped his shoulder _hard_.

“Yes,” Vintressa said, between gritted teeth.  

“Very well then... Highness, Lady Dice,” Eyrna rose and gave a smiling, demure bow that was filled with sarcasm only the three could see.  “Stay quiet about this, and all shall remain well.  Break out of line, and I regret what will become of your parents and families,” she added softly.  “Expect to receive notice from one of our servants in the coming days for instructions.  Good day,” she bowed again, and quietly she and Simeon removed themselves from the presence of the three.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 9, 2004)

While her brother and friend were still speechless from their rage, Vintressa pulled them to their feet, and with an arm below their waists, pushed them outside of the ballroom.  She knew a raging inferno was likely to explode from both, and the last thing she wanted was it to happen in the midst of a ball.  

_If word gets out that House Erelion placed an assassin within the Imperial Household... there are so many that would get bright ideas from that.  No, the notion that the Imperial Household is impenetrable must remain!  Otherwise..._ Vintressa’s mind shuddered at the thought of having assassins from multiple houses.  A security nightmare, that would impede running the state...

The hurried progress of the three out of the ballroom was something she couldn’t make the others notice, and as she rough-handled Valaron and Raven out of the room, she merely gave anyone that looked at them a death stare.  Paths cleared, and quite quickly the three of them were in the hallways of the palace.

“Do not speak until we are in a safe place,” Vintressa growled at both of them, shuttling them through the numerous halls, corners and alcoves, and through several secret passages of false doorways until she was confident no one was within earshot of even her brother’s loudest roar.  Valaron’s temper had been impatiently waiting, and as soon as she nodded, he left loose a string of profanities that would have impressed their “Uncle” Grumki, the half orc cleric of Kord.

“Pissing Pelor’s...” he continued to snarl, before turning to Vintressa.  “Vin!  They’re NOT going to do this!  They are NOT going to hold us hostage to some tom-foolish whim of theirs!  And by Pelor’s Flaming Armpits, I am NOT going to marry that... that... son of a two bit, roasted ass, daughter of Loviatar’s wench!” he spat.

“Threaten MY family!” Raven’s voice exploded in disgust as Valaron’s rant began.  “We are true, nice, LAW-ABIDING family, not some two-bit smugglers!  By the Gods, if I get my hands on that girl!” Raven’s eyes flashed, and Vin almost had to smile at the mental image of her choking Eyrna.  It was a pleasing image, and Vintressa wished she could choke the woman as well.  

_But there is still business at hand,_ the Princess’ mind settled.

“Quiet!” Vintressa said.  She raised her hands at the death stare from the other two.  “Instead of cursing, swearing, and kicking about... I simply propose we think.”

“Think!?  Think about what!?  How we’ve been jack-kicked into a corner by a vile...” Valaron started again, only to be cut off by his sister.

“You forgot smelly, Val,” Vintressa added.  The comment might have been humorous in other times, now it was meant to trip him up long enough she could regain the floor.  Once he sputtered, she launched onward.  “Yes, think.  Figure out what it is that they want so bad, and why they want it.  Once we know that, we can form our own plan!”

“But, they still have an ace-in-the-hole, regarding your family... and a big set of cards against mine,” Raven sighed.  “And for all my respect for your mom and dad’s fighting skills... if what they say about Hemmel is true...” Raven shuddered.

“If what they say about him is true,” Val nodded, before giving a sigh of his own.  His anger had abated enough that he was now thinking again.  “They might be trying to merely bluff us.”

“She knew that mom and dad were going to be in the balcony... she was looking away when they all showed up.  And she _knew_ Hemmel was behind them.  Knew his name even,” Vintressa reasoned.  “That all leads me to believe that they DO have some kind of arrangement with him, at least.”

“But why Hemmel?” Valaron looked off, lost for a split second.  “He’s been a loyal friend for... five years!”

“Val!” Vintressa grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye.  _If you’d paid attention, if you’d sat in on Dad’s council meetings, you would understand why!_  “It takes months, even years to place an assassin close to its target... the better protected the target is, the longer it will take!”

“So you’re telling me, that House Erelion has been just sitting on this plan for five years or more?” Raven raised an eyebrow in question.  Vintressa shook her head no.

“Not necessarily this plan... but some plan.  The plan could have changed, with him still being an integral part.  My question is what is so big that they would use him to leverage US into fetching an item for them?”  Her mind then jumped to a thought, “If they had him in this long, and wanted to merely kill the family...”

“Vin...” Valaron visibly shook at that thought.  “I think you’re right.  They want something to do with us.... what though?”

“Well, if they wanted to just get an item, why would they ask us to do it?” Raven piped in, “or more specifically, you two?  I mean, they could’ve just sent some hirelings to fetch the item, and offed all of us.  Far more convenient on their part.”

“They need us for some reason,” Vintressa thought aloud, before giving a genuine smile, which broke into a light laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Val looked at his sister in annoyance.

“We know something about them Val!” Vintressa now genuinely laughed.  “They need _us_ to get this item!  They can’t harm us or kill us until we get it!”  At her brother’s look of confusion, Vintressa’s mind condensed the idea of plots and counterplots running in her head into one simple idea.

“Val, we have some leverage!  They need us to fetch this item.  All we have to do is stall in getting it...”

“Stall long enough that we can figure out a way to let Mom and Dad know we’re in trouble, and the danger they’re in, without tipping off Hemmel or his bosses,” Valaron’s mind finished her thought as he grasped the idea.

“For now,” Raven said quietly, “I think we should head back to our room at the Academy, and gather our supplies.  Or rather, I should,” Raven smiled.  “Vintressa, do you know where I can borrow a spellbook?”

“Why do you have a grin on your face now?” Valaron complained.  “Its like everyone has a joke, an ace-in-their sleeve or something that I don’t understand!”  He gave a growl when it seemed like no one was listening to him.

“Hm... you could use some of your family skills and slip into one of the palace mages’ rooms,” Vintressa grinned, realizing what Raven was about to do.  “I mean, your father used to be one of the best thieves in the Empire, if what mother says about him is correct.  Some of that had to rub off!”

“Some,” Raven grinned.  “Which way are those rooms?”   She took the small tiara off her head, and tossed to it Vin.  “And if I’m going to be sneaking around, I should probably get into something more... nondescript.”  She started to unbutton the back of her dress, till she remembered Val was present.  She stopped, her face red.  

Vin glanced from her friend, towards her brother, who also was red faced in the dim light.  “Here... I actually did memorize spells like I was supposed to, unlike some people,” a glare went towards Raven, “and I can give you a minor illusion... mage’s robes?”

“That’ll do,” Raven grinned slightly at her friend’s admonition.

Vintressa was thankful she’d learned how to manipulate this minor magic without spell components.  Quietly she intoned a few words, and felt the magic from her knowledge slowly move in tune with the distant magic in her blood.  Before her eyes, bluish sinews of glowing lines seemed to form in mid air, sinews she wrapped around her friend.  In her mind, the picture of the bright, colorful, and concealing robes of a court mage entered her mind, and a few moments later, it looked to Vin and Val that their friend was now immersed within such cloth.

“There,” Vin said.  “And if anyone looks at you crosswise,” she pulled off her own signet ring, “carry this as well.  I doubt they’ll pressure you too much if you flash this in their direction.”

“Thanks, Vin.  What specifically do you want from your stuff?”

“My rapier,” Vintressa said quickly, “spellbook of course, and my travelling clothes, if you can find them.”



“See, Simeon?  You just needed to be the eyes that kept others away!  Things are proceeding according to plan!” Eyrna smiled at her brother as they left the ballroom, arm in arm.

“I’m... I’m still a little concerned,” Simeon replied nervously.  Instinctively, he reached into his pocket and his hands clasped his family signet ring.  It shape brought his father’s words back into his head.

“About what?” Eyrna replied, confidence in her voice.  “Our man is in position, and once they bring the stone back to us, we merely arrange for an ‘accident’ to befall our dear little runners, while Hemmel deals with the bigger targets!”  No names left her lips, though the intent was easy for Simeon to understand.

“And after that?”

“Uncle makes his moves, and you shall shortly find yourself in the throne room,” Eryna finished.  

_With the Emperor, Empress, and their elder siblings gone, the six year old and five year old should be easy to remove.  Not even the silver dragon guardian of theirs can withstand the armies of my alliance of nobles alone if we have that stone, and the Imperial Guard is unlikely to back a six year old ruling the Empire with no clear Regent!  We shall promise them order and strength,_ her Uncle’s voice rang in her head, _and they shall embrace us!  The brats can be taken care of later!_ 

She glanced down to her own signet ring, specifically to the blood red ruby that formed one of the snake eyes.  She smiled, imagining the arrival of another massive, blood red stone that if all went well, would quickly be within their grasp...



Raven gave an entirely un-ladylike giggle, which only caused her to laugh more.  Instead of her ringing, melodic laugh, what came out was a high pitched noise, a cross between squeaks, bleets, and a child’s laughter.  The giggling of a gnome.

It had been all too easy to slip into the rooms of the palace mages... when this was all over, she intended to tell her Auntie and Uncle to increase palace security.  Only one person had tried to stop her as she went through the halls of the Mages’ Wing... a guardsman.  Fortunately, when she flashed the signet ring of the Princess at him, he backed off.

As for finding a mage’s spellbook, it had been simple.  Just as it was at the Academy, so many of the wizards were so focused on discovering spells and researching the realms of magic, that they were _very_ absent-minded.  And most of the academy mages, she knew, had at least two spellbooks.  Their personal one (which they guarded jealously) and their more public one, which was far less powerful, and tended to be the one left lying around, sometimes unattended.  Or attended, but left open as the wizard researched other items.

When she slipped into the Mage’s Library, there were numerous wizards about, collecting dusty volumes and pouring over their contents.  It was very easy to walk up behind one that had several dusty tomes open, and read over his shoulder.  After walking around enough, she found one open to the spell she was looking for... _polymorph self_.

_They really need to be more careful,_ her mind laughed, _You never know when a rogue’s daughter is going to be looking over your shoulder!_

It was far into the night by this point, and she selected the safest route to the Academy from the palace.  Within the higher quarters of the city, there was little, if any crime.  Too many that resided here either had powerful magic on their persons, or nasty bodyguards that would make mincemeat of all save the most careful assassins.  And somehow, Raven doubted that any assassins would be looking for a small, male gnome giggling as he dashed through the streets.

She still had on her mage’s robes, now fluttering much lower to the ground, and she planned to play the part of a partying gnome student that had returned slightly too late in the night.  Thence, she would slip up to her and Vintressa’s room, and gather supplies, as well as changing back to her normal form.

She looked up, and watched as the imposing gothic towers, spires, and statues of the Imperial Magic and Arcane Academy loomed in front of her.  The building was massive, sprawling, easily one of the largest buildings in the Empire outside of the Imperial Palace itself.  As she walked through the massive front gates, which loomed some fifty feet overhead, her smaller form made her seem even more insignificant.

_Focus, Raven,_ her mind chimed in, and she hustled through the gate... and into the waist of a tall man clad in immaculate robes.

“Um... hello Professor!” she stammered slightly.  The wizard’s mane of white air flowed down into her face, as he leaned over.  Aergrifyr’s steel gray eyes looked into hers, and his eyebrow arched in stern question.

“I do not remember your face,” his voice said in a monotone.

“I...I am a... a... first year, sir.  I have not reached a high enough form to take your classes,” she bowed hurriedly.  Mentally, she winced.

“Mmmm,” he growled, scratching his beard.  He stood back up to his full, imposing height, and in an instant, the swish of robes signaled him leaving.

For a few seconds afterwards, Raven was unable to move in shock.  Then she doubled her speed, dashing through the halls.  She was not aware of the footfalls that followed her...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 9, 2004)

“Rapier?” Valaron raised an eyebrow at Vintressa.  The two had sequestered themselves in Valaron’s bedroom, for privacy and planning.  “Since when does a wizard practice with blades?”  

“For about two years I have,” Vintressa smiled in triumph.  “The last time Raven visited home, Uncle Shaun gave me some lessons... yes, with his pink blade,” Vintressa answered Valaron’s unasked question.  “I used some of my the money I received my last birthday to get my own blade… its nothing fancy, it has a little magic in it…” When her brother gave her a smirk of disbelief, she growled.  “It’s not unusual!  Raven is an expert with a nagaika, for crying out loud!”

“A naga-who?” Valaron asked, brow furrowed in question.  He was a weapons aficionado, familiar with everything from katanas to maces to bows and crossbows.  But for the life of him, he had never heard of the device Vintressa spoke of.

“A nagaika.  Its basically a whip, studded with glass,” Vintressa explained.  “It can leave quite nasty wounds when wielded properly.”  

Valaron winced.  He’d seen normal whips in use before, and could only imagine the damage one studded with sharp objects could do.  _If you wrap that around someone’s neck..._ a nasty image of blood, gore and pieces of spinal cord made him wince more.  When he looked up, Vintressa was leaning close to him, her eyes and face dead serious.

“So don’t mess with her heart, m’kay?” she said quietly but forcefully.  “She’s been messed with once, and if she’s got her nagaika with her, I’m not responsible for missing limbs.  Chances are, I’ll lop one off before she’ll get to you,” Vintressa warned.  _Don’t try to play playboy with her!_

“What?  You’re talking like I’ve been making moves, eyeing her and the like!  I haven’t!” Valaron protested his innocence.  _I haven’t toyed with her!  Why would I toy with her!  She’s a good friend!_

Vintressa responded with a glare, and went back to what she was doing before... hefting Valaron’s weapons up, testing their balance.  She picked up his katana, and gave it a few swings.  The blade was large, and she nearly lost her balance because of the momentum.

“Gimme that,” Valaron grabbed the blade from her hand.  “You’ll break something.”  

Vintressa scowled when he took the weapon from her, and gave a slight huff.  “Just remember, don’t mess with her heart, ok!” 

“Ok, ok, I won’t!” Valaron growled back.  “Why did that suddenly come up?  Something’s going on with Raven?”  

Vintressa looked at him again, but didn’t say anything on the subject.

“Now, what do you think they’re having us fetch for them?” Vintressa changed the topic.  “It’s obviously something very special, if they are going to all of this effort.  And it sounds suspiciously like the Ice Diamond of years before.”

“Ice Diamond?  The thing from mother’s stories?” Valaron questioned, his voice betraying his annoyance that she didn’t answer his question about Raven.  “That thing was broken and is sitting in the Abyss, Vin!  Not here!  And I sincerely doubt House Erelion journeyed to the Abyss, stole the broken staff from Graz’zt, remade it and _then_ lost it!”

“No... mom said that only one of the two big stones that was designed to go into that staff was found and put with it.  The Ice Diamond.  Maybe they’re after the other stone?” Vintressa’s mind leapt.  

_The other stone did something I bet.  Mom and Dad never found out what... perhaps that is what they were after!_

“The Fire Stone or what not?” Valaron asked, wracking his brain for details.  He coudl recall by heart all of his mother’s battles in excruciating detail, recount his father’s ordeals by sword, but he couldn’t remember such mundane details as a stone the two never recovered in their urgency to put down his grandmother’s rebellion.

“Maybe,” Vintressa sat on the side of his bed.  For a few seconds, she looked off in the distance thinking.  Finally she turned to her brother again.  “Do we know what this Fire Stone _does?_”

Valaron shrugged.  “No clue here, other than its magical.  And if it’s like that Ice Diamond, I probably don’t want to... what?”

“Val!” Vintressa was now staring at him, her eyes wide in discovery, “You know that Ice Diamond!  It couldn’t be carried by anyone who was not a part of the Caladron family!  _We_ are parts of the Caladron family!”

“So that’s why they need us,” Valaron nodded, grinning as he finally understood.  “So now that we know what they want, we just need to come up with some ways of foiling them.”



Raven breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the familiar hallway that her and Vin’s room lay in.  Torches, lit by magical, cool fire, cast a dim glow through the halls in their darkened ‘night-time’ setting.  In the dancing glow, shadows flickered through the hall, caused by the stuffed forms of magical beasts that stood as silent sentries.  

Raven slipped past the enormous spread wings of a juvenile roc, long feathers arcing over the doorway to her room.  She walked up to it, pulling out her key, before suddenly halting.

She heard a noise inside... a scraping, a bump, as if someone tripped over something and nearly fell.

_Gods... they’re already here?_ her mind panicked.  She listened carefully, but heard no other noise.

_Someone is in there,_ she still thought, her body tensing, her muscles coiling their energy.  Gingerly she reached for the door handle, and slowly turned it.  Once it was turned full way, carefully, and slowly, she slid the door open, her eyes searching gloom inside.

At first, she saw nothing, but within seconds, she saw a low hump, on the far side of her bed, close to Vintressa’s.  Thankful that one of the few spells she had memorized could solve a situation like this, she snarled, “Oklaton Ley!”

Immediately the room began to glow with an otherworldly light, which quickly grew as bright as the daytime sunshine.  The shape ducked away as soon as she talked, beyond her sight.

_They’re laying between the beds,_ she realized.  Glancing to her left, she saw her nagiaka, hanging from the doorknob just within her reach.  Her hand lashed out quickly, grabbing its handle and pulling its black leather form into her grasp, as she willed the polymorphing spell off of herself.  For all the disguise of being a gnome could help, she would have much rather had her human muscles swinging around her human-size nagaika.

“Come out!” she snapped, letting the long whip uncoil, glass shards glinting bright along its darkened length.  Putting all the courage she could in her legs, she started to walk forward.  _What if it is an Erelion assassin?

Then I must fight him,_ her mind reflected grimly. Her hands tensed on the grip of the whip more, just before she heard the stuttering voice.

“R...Raven?  It’s... it’s just me,” a young man’s head popped above the side of her bed.  His hair was jet black, and his eyes were an unusual shade of green, with vertical slits for pupils instead of round ones.  Faintly, on his light complexed skin, were traces of darker patterns, like those of a tabaxi or tiger.  His skin at present was an embarrassed shade of red, bare from the waist up.

“Royukgan!” Raven snapped, shutting the door quickly, “What are you doing in our room!”  Her body wanted to give an immense sigh of relief, but she forced herself to keep an edge of anger in her voice.  For all Royukgan being Vin’s love interest, he _wasn’t_ supposed to be here.

“Well, I...um...” the young man sheepishly rose, a hand scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “Vinny told me that she would... um... well... you know...”

Raven’s crossing of her arms and glare told the boy she didn’t know.

“...um... well... meet me back here, when she got back from the... um...ball.”  He took a big breath, “You know?  And I... well... I... um... was going to,” he stammered onward.  
Raven finally raised her hand, not wanting to know any more details of any plans that were now undoubtedly foiled.

“Well, I’m sad to say Vintressa won’t be back here tonight, or for a while,” Raven sighed.  She turned and started gathering the required items, and searching for her own traveling clothes.

“Why? Is she in trouble?  Did something happen?” the boy from Ak Konylu asked, now fully sitting on Raven’s bed, eyes wide in concern.  Raven spun back around.

“You don’t want to know,” she said simply, before turning back to her work.  For a split second, the strangest thought entered her head; whether Valaron would have liked to see her in her normal traveling outfit, or the dark gray, nearly black set of clothing her father had gotten her for her birthday... “just in case you need to sneak around somewhere,” he had grinned at her.

_Why are you worrying over whether Valaron would like it!_ her mind suddenly snapped, _The dark one is good for sneaking, and you might need that!_ she thought, grabbing the set of trousers, tunic and padding.

“Yes, I want to know,” Royukgan’s voice broke her thoughts again.  “Is she in trouble?  Is there any way I can help?”

“Do you really want to know?” Raven turned around again and looked at him.  He shook his head yes vigorously.

_Can I trust him?_ Raven asked herself.  _He claims he was hiding in here to meet Vin after the ball.  How do I know that’s not just a cover story?

But why would House Erelion recruit the son of foreign royalty to help them?_ another part of Raven’s mind asked.  _House Erelion hates the ‘mongrels’ viciously, more than most of the other houses!  They’d probably send assassins after him, not...

If they’re watching Vinny, Val and me... they’re watching him too!_  At that realization,  she sighed.  _I need to tell him._

She never heard the noises outside of the room door.

“Royukgan, stay sitting there... this is kind of a long story,” Raven started, “and you have to promise me you’ll-“

The noise of the door crashing in drowned out any thought to the rest of her words.



Raven’s initial reaction to the noise was shock.  She was standing, facing away from the door, her nagiaka on the bed, too far away to be of any good.  She started to spin, but her reactions seemed so slow.  She had a moment to look up, and see a human face, contorted in a look of terrible calm, a dagger in his hand.  The hand and arm started moving in a terrifying arc, to launch the dagger straight at her heart...

Something metallic flashed by her eyes, and there was a dull _thwack_, as metal sliced into flesh.  The face of the man before her twisted in a look of pain, his eyes screaming the call a man’s soul screeches as he dies.  Whatever scream that was meant to come from his lips died as a gurgle, gushing from the three pronged blade imbedded in his throat.

Raven’s mind was puzzled as to what had just happened, but her instincts impelled her towards the bed, her hands grasping the handle of the long, vicious whip.  Two more faces came into view, daggers in their hands as well.  Even as her mind was just realizing that Royukgan was the only one that could’ve thrown the wicked looking blade into the throat of the first assassin, her wrists snapped around hard, and a low roar rose in the air as the nagaika slashed forward.  

Off of the walls of the room echoed a devastating _craaack_ as Raven snapped the whip back.  Its glass studded shards neatly wrapped around the throat of the next assassin, slashing hard and deep when she snapped the weapon back.  His throat shredded into ribbons of flesh, the second assassin fell, gurgling.

Raven brought the nagiaka back.  But things seemed to move so slowly again.  The last assassin’s dagger was up, and in the back of her mind she knew she would not be able to bring the nagiaka around to attack him in time.  Her mind registered Royukgan’s screams for her to duck, to move, but her feet remained planted in the floor, unmoving.  The assassin’s arm moved back, ready for release...

And suddenly his entire form froze... as if he was made of solid stone, unable to move.

A hand reached the would-be assassin’s shoulder, and shoved it aside.  The man’s figure hit the wall, and fell awkwardly to the ground, arm still back in the same pose, body rigidly in the same position.  The wizened face of Aegrifyr suddenly appeared in the ruins of the doorway.

“Raven! Royukgan!  Come with me!” the nominal professor of Compulsions and Enchantments yelled.  “There isn’t much time!”



“I... had no idea you had such fast reflexes, Royukgan,” Raven breathed easier a few minutes later.  His speed and reflexes were far faster than someone who was nothing more than a princeling student of wizardry should have... not to mention that his accuracy with that three pronged blade was downright frightening.

 She and the foreign prince walked side by side behind Aegrifyr, who trailed the still _held_ assassin in midair behind him.

“I... never really wanted to be a wizard,” the boy said quietly.  “I was here mainly for diplomatic reasons, an attempt to show that not all of us ‘mongrels’ are the beasts and fiends you people think we are,” he smiled distantly.  In a much quieter voice, that Raven could only barely hear, he added, “and now I have a reason to stay.”

“What?” Raven asked, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing,” the prince replied, before producing that wicked looking blade again.  “And to answer the next question you had coming, this is a sai.”  He handed it to her as the three continued to tramp through the quiet halls and corridors.  Now that she had a closer look at it, she realized its center prong was longer than the two on the sides.

“You can use it to catch other people’s weapons, and wrench it from their hands, in the gaps between the prongs.  And, in a pinch, it can be thrown to good effect,” he gave a grin.

“And you’re well versed in this weapon?”  _Its ingenious... I should definitely tell Val about this little thing later on..._

“All in my family are.  It’s a very good weapon to keep on hand in self-defense, just in case someone manages to break through bodyguards... or unexpectedly attacks you, as in what happened this night.”

“Keep quiet!” Aegrifyr hissed from in front, and both teens suddenly filled the air with absolute silence.  “There might be more of his friends!”  The wizard then turned to the man, his form still frozen poised to strike, “Shortly, my friend, you _will_ tell me what is happening!”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 10, 2004)

“Where is she?” Vintressa asked her brother worriedly.  “What can be keeping her so long?” She started pacing, yet again.  Before the night was out, Valaron was sure his sister would wear ruts into the floor of his room.

“Maybe she got held up by someone,” Valaron offered hopefully.  _Maybe she got distracted... maybe she had to shed some people following her..._

“Maybe she got caught,” Vintressa uttered in a frightened voice.  _If that is the case... they may have struck her down... and maybe struck our parents down as well!_ Vintressa shuddered.  They had locked themselves up in Valaron’s room for some time; the large, ornate clock on one wall of his room spoke that it was two hours till midnight.

“Don’t talk like that Vin,” Valaron chided, even as his own heart had many of the same misgivings.  “She got away... I know she did,” Val growled, rising to his own feet.  _She’s too smart!  And if she got her hands on that nasty whip Vin described... there’s no way they could take her out!  I just know it!_

Vin’s mind normally might have hung on Val’s firm statement as a sign of something, but instead, she was too worried about her friend and her family to focus on such little things.  Instead, her eyes looked about the room intently.

“Do you have a rapier in here?  Or a dagger?” Vintressa asked, her voice losing its fear and filling with determination.  She went to one corner of the room which had a drawer, filled with antique swords that Valaron had collected to admire.

“Wait,” Val called, before rushing to his sister’s side.  Normally it would have been to either chide her for disturbing his valuables, or to lecture her on the history of a blade, but this day he immediately pulled open the third drawer from the top, and reached inside.  Within a few seconds, a rose colored blade appeared as he pulled Heart’s Rose from what was intended as its final resting place.

“That’s... ‘Uncle’ Shaun’s sword!” Vin started, grasping the blade revertly, her eyes wide.

“He went and bought himself a more powerful one... it dances around if he lets go of it.  He had no use for this one, and his son didn’t want it.  So he gave it to me to put in my collection about two months ago.”

Vintressa only half listened to her brother, instead she held the blade out at arms length, feeling its heft and balance in her arm.  Rather cautiously, she gave an initial swing, letting her mind and arms adjust to the blade they first became familiar with.  After feeling the first swing, she brought the blade around, and swung again, and again.  Harder and faster each swing came, as she allowed the momentum of the previous slash to carry her into the next one.  The pink blade danced through the air, singing the lovely swishing sound of a rapier slicing about.  Finally, she settled in, and from memory, conducted a series of parries, thrusts and slashes she had practiced every day since her ‘Uncle’ had shown them to her.

When the last slash finished and she gripped the blade firmly, pointed out at arm’s length, Vintressa heard a little gasp beside her.  She turned, and gave a brief grin to her brother’s mouth agape.

“Close your mouth, Val, it’s impolite,” the quipped.  Glancing down at the blade, she added, “It’s got the same balance it had when I was learning with it, though this dress still gets in the way.”  She gave a grunt of disapproval, before grabbing the sleeves, and ripping them off.  “That’s better.”

“Vin... I... um...”

“Are impressed?” she finished his statement, before reaching into the drawer and pulling out the relevant scabbard as weell.  “Two years of practice.  I’m surprised mom never told you.  I know I intended it to be a surprise, otherwise you would have accused me of trying to copy you!”

“What, exactly, are you planning on doing with that blade?” her brother asked guardedly.

“Well,” Vin sighed, “seeing that I am guessing they have caught and hurt poor Raven, this needs to end now.  I am going to find mom or dad, whichever does not have Hemmel with them, and alert them.  Then, we take out Hemmel.”  The last part was delivered in a deadpan, the voice Vintressa took when she was utterly determined to see something through.  She inherited that stubbornness from her mother.

“So you’re going to take on Hemmel, with no armor, and only a rapier?” Valaron raised an eyebrow, before sliding the open door shut.  “My, and they say I inherited mom’s tendency for recklessness.”  He started opening the drawer below it.

“It’s not reckless as long as you come with!  The two of us can hold him off long enough that _someone_ should be able to respond!” Vintressa replied in the same deadpan, “Or have you gotten lax in practicing with your swordplay?”  The final part was delivered with a slight smirk... a challenge.

“No, I haven’t,” Val replied gruffly, pulling out a rather large, dull greenish-gray sword.  Gently he hefted the blade upwards, closing his eyes, feeling its weight.  He flipped the sword so it rested on his outstretched plams, and looked at the chips along its top, tiny bits of chitin from the armored hide of a monstrous spider still lodged in the small chips along its upper length.  “Father’s old blade will do.”

“Now, we can’t just tramp through the palace with weapons drawn,” Vintressa added, seeing the massive side of the bastard sword Val held in his hands.  “We need subtlety.” She slipped the rapier scabbard around her waist, and the blade into its holding area.  “I can cover my blade with a little short lived magic... can you do the same or have you-“

Valaron turned, and the large sword that was in his hands seemed to have disappeared, as did the scabbard around his waist.  “There are people other than you that have mastered the ability to change one’s appearance,” Val smiled.  “Of course, I can’t pull Raven’s idea and turn myself into a gnome.  Though after we take care of Hemmel... assuming we can,” Val’s smile vanished, and his voice became serious, “what do we do then?  Of course we’ll go after House Erelion, but what about the Fire Stone?  If its out there...”

“I haven’t planned that far ahead Val,” Vintressa confessed.  “I’m playing this... as Aunt Tess would say, ‘by ear.’”



Raven, Royukgan and Aegrifyr, after some ten minutes of traversing the depths of the Academy, finally reached the wizard’s personal office and laboratory... a view that caused both Raven and Royukgan to give a slight gasp of wonder.

The room, on ground level, was cavernous in height, even as its floor area was rather small.  Enormously tall bookcases, filled with tomes and writings, rose some twenty feet into the air, touching the room’s ceiling.  Seemingly hanging in mid-air were numerous specimens of strange animals that neither youth had seen before.  Dark torchlight gave the entire room an eerie glow.

“Here you are,” Aegrifyr said as with the snap of his fingers, the would-be assassin found himself dropped to the ground.  The wizard then pried the dagger from the man’s immobile hands, and proceeded to bind him up with simple rope.  When he looked up and saw the two youths questioning looks at his using simple rope to restrain the man, Aegrifyr gave them a smile.  

“Its always good to have a non-magical backup,” he spoke.  He then turned to a case laying on the floor nearby.  Both Raven and Royukgan crowded close as he opened it, wanting to see the undoubted wonders inside.

All manners of spell components were inside this simple wooden box, ranigng from roc feathers, newt eyes, and other animal appendanges.  Aegrifyr’s  hand wandered around for a bit, before setting on the tongue of a salamander, and some honey oil.  The wizard then gave a grunt of satisfaction, and turned back to the prisoner.

“You will shortly, tell me everything you know,” he said to the _held_ man, as he dipped the tongue in the oil, and muttered a few simple words.  The twisting magic of enchantment was not as visible or spectacular as the spell Vin used earlier, but transmutation spells were usually visual in nature.  Despite not being able to see it, Raven and Royukgan, with their tenative young links to the world of magic, could _sense_ the sinews of the planes of magic flowing from the concoction in Aegrifyr’s hands and into the man’s mouth.

“Tell me, good sir, about yourself, your employers, and everyone you know that seeks the same results as your fellow assassins,” the wizard said gruffly.  A gentle wave of the wizard’s hand released him from the _holding_ spell that had kept him unable to move.

The man sputtered briefly at his freedom, his eyes all the while on the wizard.  At first, they were wide with defiance, but it took only a few seconds for the magic to seep into the man’s will to resist, sapping it of all strength.  His voice, cracked and weak, finally spoke out.

“My... name is Philberon Ulmis,” the man began.  “I work for the Baron Darien, of House Erelion,” he started.  He then began listing the names of his two, less fortunate compatriots. He blurted out that they had been instructed to follow Raven, and should the situation look right, kill her quietly.

As he spoke, Aegrifyr turned to Raven.  “Do you two know any more than this?  Why they were after you?” he said quietly, clearly dissatisfied with the man’s mere regurgitation of names and mission.  He wanted to know _why_ they wanted to kill her.  It was serious business to him if one of his students was threatened... and while Raven was not the most gifted of his pupils, she was one of _his_ pupils!

“Yes,” Raven bowed her head.  “House Erelion is currently threatening the Vintressa.  I,” she looked at Royukgan, watching his mouth open in shock and rage, “came back to fetch Vintressa’s equipment.  They...”

“...were following you.  I saw them trailing a small gnome I had not seen before, hence me stopping you.  I followed you upstairs, remaining invisible.  They almost got past me... fortunately you all seemed very capable of defending yourselves with non-magical means,” the wizard said dryly.  He held a wrinkled hand to his beard, and stroked it in thought.

“Well, that explains why they were after you.  And we can now raise the alarm.  After all, we can’t have hooligans running about threatening one of my students, especially the one that’s the Emperor’s daughter,” he started out, only to find Raven’s hand clasped around his arm like a vise.

“No!  Don’t!” she yelped, before swallowing the gulp that filled her throat.  Seeing her teacher’s look of confusion, she stuttered for a few moments before blurting out, “they have assassins in place close to...”

_Tell him!_ part of her mind yelled.  _He is a powerful mage!  He can help immensely!_

_But Vintressa said it was a security risk if anyone knew an assassin has gotten so close to the Emperor and Empress!_ another part of her mind remembered.  For a second or two, she stuttered in confusion.

“...the Emperor!” she finally told the truth.  “They told us they would kill His Majesty if we tried to warn anyone,” her voice cracked slightly, and her eyes became pregnant with tears.  _I just told someone!  If they find out, they’ll kill Uncle Luke and Aunt Siabrey!_

The wizard saw her face, and gently put a hand close to it.  His eyes reflected understanding at her worry and fear, and he quietly started to shush her as a muffled cry rose from her frightened lips.

“No one will know,  sshh,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around her in a fatherly fashion, even as his own mind grew fearful of the information he had just learned.  Normally, mere academics such as himself stayed out of Imperial politics... but it was very apparent that he’d been sucked in far deeper than he thought.  Thinking ahead, he looked over her shoulder to the still wide eyed Royukgan, his voice appearing in the boy’s head.

_”Go hide the other two bodies in their room securely.  They must not be discovered.  I shall remove them at a later date.  Go!”_ his eyes flashed towards the door.

Royukgan ran.



Empress Siabrey Sipner-Caladron was in a less than pleasant mood.  The ball supposedly for her son was still an hour from ending, and yet neither Valaron nor Vintressa, the two socialites that were supposed to grace the rest with their presence, were nowhere in sight.  

_When I see that boy, I’m going to have to have another long talk with him about responsibility,_ she sighed as she came up more of the ornately decorated halls and alcoves of the palace.  _I can’t blame him for not liking those affairs... but he NEEDS to be there, at the very least to keep the nobility happy!_

It required sacrifice, to be sure.  Siabrey, at this moment, would have much preferred her old traveling outfit, her simple tunic and jerkins, to the costume she felt was overly ornate.  She had never really _liked_ dresses, and the only items of such clothing she enjoyed were ones her dear husband bought for her.  Even then, she liked them more because they were gifts from Lucius, not because they were dresses.

Yet here she was, in the 17th year of her reign, still wearing dresses... albeit ones that were rather loose and allowed her the freedom of movement her fighter muscles were used to.  The nobles had raised too much of a stink for her to not wear one.  She’d given in, and compromised to keep the peace.  _That’s what being Empress, and being Crown Prince, is about, it seems.  Keeping the damn peace,_ her mind growled.

_”He is being independent minded, Siabrey,”_ a gentle voice in her head reminded her, and she instinctively ran her hand along the rough, sandhog skin of her katana, Kelir.  _”I do remember you were that way once... sometimes I think your mother let you start practicing with me to focus your independent spirit!”_ the sword added.

_”Well, its not like he doesn’t get to practice with sword and magic to focus HIM,”_ Siabrey rejoined mentally.  It had taken practice, but a few years of people staring at her funny when she spoke aloud to her blade had taught her to merely mentally relay her words to it.

_”True,”_ the blade answered in a laughing voice, _”Talk to him about it... you are reasonable at times, and he is your blood...”_ 

Siabrey gave a mental eyeroll at the sword’s slight critique of her personality, and continued her march down the corridors to her son’s room.   _Yes, he’ll be reasonable because it is his mother that will be talking to him about this.  If I can’t fix that idea in his head, maybe he’ll have to talk to Luke again..._

As she walked, she felt footfalls behind her.  A gentle turn of her head revealed the dark mop of hair that marked the family’s official manservant, Hemmel.

“Ah... Hemmel,” she said with little warmth in her voice.  She was too focused on her future words to Valaron.  She motioned him to come alongside, and despite her shorter height, Hemmel had to adopt a brisk walk to keep up with her strides.

“Majesty,” he gave a partial bow while on the move.

“I’m just on my way to give Val another lecture on responsibility.  It seems he skipped the latter part of the ball, despite my urgings!” she growled, her eyes flashing towards him.  She caught a slight change in his face when she mentioned the ball, and mentally growled again.  _Your job, Hemmel, was to watch him there.  You said he was going to stay when we saw him up on the balcony, but he skipped.  I know he’s a close friend of yours, but..._ she sighed.

“I am terribly sorry, Majesty,” Hemmel replied, seemingly flustered.  “I thought for _sure_ that he would remain at the ball and properly entertain guests until the end.”  Siabrey wasn’t sure, but something in his voice told her he was sure of the exact opposite.

“Listen,” she stopped, turning to face the servant, “I know you’re close to Val.  That’s why I asked _you_ to urge him to stay and make sure he did!”  She gave another exasperated sigh.  “Don’t worry.  I wouldn’t fire you over something like this.  Val likes you too much.  But I _would_ appreciate you watching him more carefully when you’re asked to.”  Siabrey had never adopted a patronizing tone with the servants, and her matter-of-fact method of talking and treating them had earned her the respect and devotion of the vast majority of the palace servants.

“I will, Majesty,” Hemmel replied.  And she detected it again, another slight halt in his voice.  _Why does he have that little halt?  Maybe something is wrong with him today... he doesn’t usually halt like that when replying._  She looked at his body, and saw that he was in a state of what looked to be _forced_ relaxation... his muscles were secretly tensed up.  

_He’s nervous!  He thinks he’s in major trouble!_ her mind realized, and she gave him a genuine smile when they started moving again.  

“Hemmel, you are a good manservant.  Just try to listen to us more carefully than Val sometimes, okay?” she smiled, and she saw him relax slightly at her statement.

The pair rounded one of the innumerable corners in the immense palace, and Siabrey’s surprised eyes suddenly found the equally surprised eyes of Valaron and Vintressa, both stopped in mid-stride towards the two.

By her children’s face, Siabrey immediately knew something was not right.  Their eyes were wide with seeming horror and terror... far more than they should have been if it had merely been disobedient children seeing their mother.  Her hand instinctively slid from resting on Kelir’s pommel to slightly gripping the sword’s hilt.

_”Something is wrong, Siabrey!  Something is very wrong!”_ Kelir mentally shouted.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 11, 2004)

Valaron was speechless in terror.  There was his mother, side by side with her assassin!  And by the confused look on her face, she had no idea what danger she was in!

_Think Val!  Think!  How can you tell her something is wrong without letting Hemmel know?  Think!_ the young prince’s mind began to repeat urgently.  He didn’t have to see his sister to know her mind was stuck on the same problem.  As their minds tried to think a way out of the seemingly impossible situation, they merely stood there, mouths slightly agape.  The air from a nearby window blew the cool air of night in upon their faces.

Siabrey’s eyes watched as her two children flicked their eyes between herself and Hemmel, abject terror in their eyes.  Her grip on Kelir tightened slightly, and she started forward, her mind netering the same hypersensitive mode she felt when something was amiss; when danger was about.  It was her old fighter senses flowing back, and she noted Hemmel was just behind her as she went forward.

“Valaron, Vintressa?  What is it?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.  _”You’re right, Kelir... something is very wrong!”_  Her own sight could see the ghostly glowing shape of magic hovering over both of her children, concentrated most along their waists, and places running along each of their left hips and legs.

_As if a sword is being magically covered..._ her mind thought.  She had seen the tactic many times before... it was easy to do, and easy for her magical sight to spot.  It was all the more apparent because both of her children had their hands hovering along the seemingly empty air along their thighs... as if they were gripping the hilt of a sword...

Vintressa heard her mother’s voice, but her own was not able to respond, her fear was so great.  Her eyes flashed towards Hemmel, just behind her mother.  It did not take a mage to read the cold steel in the man’s eyes, boring in directly on Vintressa’s.  Most people reflected something about their internal thoughts through their eyes... yet this man’s gray eyes were as a steel wall, and she could see nothing within his soul.  Or indeed, if he had one.  That alone sent shivers down Vintressa’s spine.

She glanced over towards her brother, and while his right hand rested on what would have been the hilt of his sword, she could see his left hand was behind him, fingers splayed wide.  Suddenly, he closed his thumb with his palm, then his pinkie.  

_He’s counting down!_ she realized, her own grip on her sword tightening.  Her eyes flashed back to Hemmel.

Her ‘uncle,’ when giving her lessons, had told her that every creature that fights with blades has a ‘moment of decision,’ a specific point and time when they chose to attack.  And this moment is reflected differently in the body reactions or face of each and every person.  Some get a slight crinkle in their brow, some take a deep breath, some have a slight twitch in their pinkie.  Often it was too fast to be consciously registered.

She never knew what Hemmel’s ‘moment marker’ was, all she knew was that she _saw_, and she started drawing her own blade.  The world seemed to slow down, grinding to a crawl.  Her own blade seemed to inch out of its scabbard, as she felt her mouth open in a warning cry to her mother.  Simultaneously, she watched in terrified horror as Hemmel’s right arm flashed upward, toward the base of the Empress’ neck...

Siabrey had only an instant’s warning from Vintressa that something was wrong with Hemmel.  Her instincts, her reflexes, her 30 years of training with a blade took over, and Kelir flashed out of his scabbard.  Her mind clicked that the warning was about Hemmel, and her body started to spin as her blade was drawing, increasing the distance between her percieved threat and herself.

Her spin did not come fast enough to completely avoid a hit, and she felt her shoulder blade crack and break as a terrifying fist slammed into it with the force of a massive warhammer.  The punch continued, and she felt her collarbone rattle to its core, and the end of her upper arm bone break apart under the force.  Kelir, which had been flying out of his scabbard, sailed out of his scabbard, and flew straight upward as the Empress now fell away, part from the force of the blow, part from her own reflex.  

As she fell, her eyes caught a glimpse of the guards in the hallway, already reacting, already drawing their blades and dashing towards her.  Even as she landed on her shattered shoulder and arm with a sickening _thud_, her mind thought of only one thing.  Her children.  Kelir clattered the ground by her side, yet out of reach of her broken body.

Valaron watched in shocked disbelief as his mother’s blade, the famed katana, cartwheeled through the air, as her wounded form crumpled to the ground.  The world for him seemed to enter another dimension, where everything was slowed.  He felt his mouth opening, screaming his mother’s name, as his legs started moving him towards her.

Vintressa’s pink rapier was finally out, and her instinct and training took over.  She knew her mother had been hit, and she knew that the Empress was now vulnerable.  One thought dominated her young mind... to defend her mother as best she could.  Heart’s Rose was now extended, in perfect fencing form, its tip hovering only a foot from the chest of Hemmel, her eyes dancing with rage.

The assassin’s eyes only focused on the fallen Empress for a moment more, before flicking towards the new threat.  As Vintressa’s blade slashed forward, the assassin sidestepped the blow.  Reaching out with one hand, he grabbed the hilt of the pink rapier as she lunged past.  A slight push forced her into a greater forward momentum than she expected, and his eyes coldly watched the Princess as she tumbled forward to the ground.

The assassin then calmly reached into his breast-pocket, even as ten guardsmen now were running towards him, shouting.  Even as the Princess gave a cry as she landed roughly on her shoulder, Heart’s Rose clattering out of her grasp.  From his clothing he withdrew a shiny, metallic object, long and thin... a vicious looking dagger with two prongs.

The Empress, in frightful pain, saw this through lidded eyes.  As his hand moved upwards to form an arc, her mind realized what the object was intended for.  Despite her shattered shoulder, some part of her body managed to conjure up the strength, the will, to tense her muscles, ready her to move.  She took in a ragged breath, and felt a horrible burning, cutting in her chest.  Instead of moving, she coughed, and blood spattered out, as the man’s arm began its downward arc...

_”Valaron!”_ a voice echoed in the prince’s head as he watched the man pull out the metal shape, obviously intended for killing.  _”Use me!”_

The Prince had heard the voice of his mother’s sword before... indeed, many years ago, he had listened to the sword’s descriptions of his mother’s exploits.  As he dashed forward, the boy reached instinctively for the sandhog hilt of the blade, and as the assassin’s arc started its deadly downward march, Valaron’s fingers found their grip.

_”Up!”_ the prince heard in his head, and Val brought the blade upward, just as the dagger of doom left Hemmel’s hand.  In the slowed world full of adrenaline, Valaron could swear he saw the dagger’s flight, and he also thought he could adjust Kelir’s upward path slightly.  

The dagger seemed to cross the arc Kelir was cutting, until at the last moment, the hilt of the dagger was sliced into by the blade of Kelir.  A metallic _clang!_ echoed as the larger, heavier katana slammed into the dagger, sending it cartwheeling above and to the left of its former path.  Another dull _thwack_ echoed in the air, as the two pronged dagger slammed deep into the wall... merely inches away from Siabrey’s ear.

_”Right cut!”_ came hard into Valaron’s head, and her slashed his blade to the right without thinking.  Only then did he feel the sharp slam of something hitting the sword, realized that a likely deadly kick from the assassin, directed at him, was blocked by the flat of Kelir’s blade.

Instinctively, the prince brought the sword back down, into a low guard position, his eyes now locked with Hemmel’s.  This way, Val knew he could either block or slash as needed.  It was now that he felt a slight warmth on his hands, and realized that all of this time, Kelir’s flames were licking up and down the blade.

Hemmel’s eyes seemed to lock on the prince, even as a fist flashed up as the nearest guard approached, crushing in his face.  The assassin let out a screeching noise, and in a flurry of leg sweeps, punches and kicks, the guards that approached were down around him, battered and broken.  His eyes then refocused on the boy, their steel gray gleaming.

“You are very brave, little prince,” he said quietly, “but very foolish!  I have watched you train for five years,” Hemmel continued, just beyond the reach of Kelir in Valaron’s hands, “I know your tricks, your speed!  You cannot hope to defeat me!”

Suddenly, the assassin’s face took on a twist of pain, as a scream of another kind pierced the air.  Valaron’s eyes refocused, and he saw a thin, pink blade tearing through the front of Hemmel’s leg.  Behind it, Vintressa’s eyes flashed with a terrifying fire,  as she pulled Heart’s Rose out, and started to rise, keeping the sword between her and the assassin.

To their utter amazement, Hemmel spun, using his injured leg as a pivot, and delivered a furious kick that knocked Heart’s Rose from Vintressa’s hands.  As Val lunged forward with Kelir, Hemmel once again sidestepped the blow, and the Prince tumbled onto his sister in a hopeless pile.

As the shouts of guards rose in their ears, cries of confusion, anger and fear thundering up and down the halls of the palace, Valaron and Vintressa both cringed, waiting for the furious _crack_ that would signal their mother’s end, and the same noise imprinting the black void of death upon themselves.  Instead, they merely heard a footstep,  and a slight whoosh of air.

Rough hands grabbed both of them, and their eyes saw the faces of men clad in the uniforms and armor of Imperial Guardsmen looking at them worriedly.

“Are you hurt!?” the one looking directly at both of them asked.  Both shook their heads no, and the two quickly scrambled to their feet.

“Where is he!?” Valaron snarled, Kelir in hand, murder in his eyes.  As his eyes feverishly searched the halls, it was his sister’s voice that caught his attention.

“Mother!” she screamed, causing Valaron to turn.

The Empress was now sitting, propped up along the wall.  Her eyes were open, but it was apparent that remaining conscious was taking all of her strength.  She coughed again, and a little more blood trickled from her mouth.

“She has bone fragments in her lungs,” one of the guardsmen said excitedly, “fetch a healer!” he barked, and quickly guardsmen were scurrying about.  The two children were immediately by their mother’s side, Valaron holding her uninjured hand, and Vintressa putting a hand behind her head.

“Mom?” Val asked, his own voice shaking.

Siabrey, with a great deal of effort, turned her head to her two children, and smiled... something more grotesque than reassuring in some ways.

“Do not worry about me,” she whispered, “I have felt worse,” she added with some sarcasm.  She gave a slight wince at the guardsmen shifting her about slightly, trying to make her comfortable until healers could arrive. Seeing that her despite her sarcasm fear and terror were on her children’s faces, she gave a slight, shuddering sigh.

“I saw both of you,” she whispered again, her good hand clasping Valaron’s tightly.  “Very... im...impressive,” she slurred out slowly, another weak smile on her lips.  

“Mom!” Valaron was crying by this point, with Vintressa very close to the same.  



The Crown Prince and Princess sat, backs rigidly straight, on a divan outside of the Empress’ Quarters.  Their eyes stared at distant points, focusing on the events of only a few hours prior, in both of their minds, trying to find out ways that they could have done things better.

“What happened to mommy again?” little Lucius, barely five asked.  Beside him, Jasmine, six, sat cross-armed, her eyes asking the same question.

“A bad man tried to hurt mommy.  She’ll be fine,” Valaron said hopefully.  The two younger siblings were far too young to understand the nature of politics, or why someone would want to hurt their mother, other than that he was a ‘bad’ man.  Part of Valaron wished he was that young, and didn’t know what he now knew.

“Did the bad man get caught?” the little Lucius asked.

“Not yet.  He jumped out of a window,” Valaron repeated what the guardsmen had told him had happened.   “He climbed down the side of the building.  But pappa is going to have people look for him, ok?  You don’t need to worry about him,” Valaron added.  To his relief, his younger brother accepted the apology as fact, and went back to playing with his wooden toy dragon.

Val then felt an arm snake around his shoulder, and leaned into Vintressa’s embrace... a hug he desperately needed as he looked back towards the massive gilt doors that normally marked where his mother could be found sharpening her sword, reading up on Imperial law, or playing with the younger two kids.  

Val had watched painfully as guardsmen and healers had carried her into the room and laid her on her bed.  He watched fearfully as his father rushed in, worry in the Emperor’s eyes.

Suddenly, the doors to the Empress’ Chambers flew open, and a very worn, tired look Lucius V, Emperor of the Holy Santoric Empire, stepped out.  And for the moment, he laid aside his Imperial mantle, for the one of a father.

“Your mother will be fine, they say” he said as the doors were closed behind him, before almost collapsing onto the divan next to his two children.  A tear ran down his face, as he sighed again, “She’ll be fine, thank the gods.”

Valaron and Vintressa responded with a tearful hug of their father, and his strong hands grasped and caressed the back of both of their heads.  He laid a gentle kiss on each of their foreheads, and whispered quietly, “You two saved your mother’s life.  You know that?”

Vintressa gave a tearful nod, and Luke gave them a heart-breaking smile.

“And they’ve relayed to the information about this Fire Stone.  And we’ll figure out what to do with that tomorrow, after your mother’s sedation wears off,” Luke said quietly. “And I have instructed people to go to the Academy and look for Raven... I have no doubt she’ll be found safe and sound,” Luke smiled hopefully to his two worried and frightened children.

_And, if I have my wish,_ the Emperor’s mind darkly fumed, _House Erelion, to the last servant, shall not see another midsummer’s night!_


= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

So ends the first part of the story.  I'm going on vacation for a few days, so there will not be an update until the middle of next week at the earliest.  I promise I'll be back to add more to the story!


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 14, 2004)

Most of the great noble houses in the Empire held various homes throughout the realm.  Usually there was at least one major manor in their official lands, and perhaps others scattered about.  But every noble family that considered itself ‘important’ or ‘influential’ had at least one mansion in the capital, Iskeldrun.

House Erelion, being former Dukes, were no exception.  Even after the Duke’s failed coup against the Emperor, the family itself retained their manor, ‘The Crystal Mansion,’ so named for the renowned stain-glassed windows that adorned its ornate halls.

Eyrna Erelion was fast asleep, her mind carousing in dreams of her father back in the old days, before the family’s fall from grace.  The old Duke used to take her on horseback rides through the orchard groves near their castle estate, and in her dreamworld, she could still taste the apples, and pluck ripe oranges from their trees.

She had always been a very alert girl, and many times the slightest of noises would rouse her.  And this night, some noise did just that, rudely cutting short her dream.

“Simeon?” she hissed quietly, expecting her brother to be somewhere in the shadows.   “Is that you?”

She heard a slight creak, a noise anyone else might have dismissed as the sounds of a house settling.  Instead she snapped upright with a shout for her guards.

“Sh!  It’s only me, Hemmel!” a voice rasped painfully from the shadows.  A few seconds later, the ghostly pale face of their planted assassin, whom she hadn’t seen in five years, slipped out of the darkness.

“Hemmel?” Eyrna’s soprano asked, confusion in her voice.  _Someone is very very wrong… There are no alarms coming from the Imperial Palace!  If Hemmel succeeded, he wouldn’t be here unless the palace alarms had been raised… _

“My Lady,” the ghostly pale face bowed slightly, “Rouse your brother!  You haven’t much time!  Fly!”

“Hemmel!  What happened!?” Eyrna asked, already out of her bed and throwing necessities into a saddlebag she kept ready in her room.  _How could you have failed!  You’re an expert with unarmed combat!  You stalked your prey for five entire years!  How?!_

The assassin’s response was to grab her by the shoulders, and give her a firm shake.  “Do not ask questions, just get out of the city as quickly as you can!  I must get to Kulloden as soon as possible!  I fear all of our plans may have gone awry, and we need to salvage as much as we can!”  

“But-“ Eyrna started before Hemmel cut her off again.

“Milady!  You may be as intelligent and bright as my master claims, but you don’t realize whats happened!  The Emperor lives, and even now his guards are on the streets!  I have no doubt their vile brood of children has told them of our search for the Fire Stone… so we must get what we can!”

A slam signaled Simeon bursting into the room, and the noise and shouts of guards dashing about the barricade the mansion echoed into the bedroom.

“What is all of this mess about?” the young man snapped angrily.  “Its two hours after midnight, and all sane souls are-“

“We must flee the city,” Eyrna said quietly, but forcefully, her own saddlebags packed.  “Hemmel, I trust you know we have a teleportation chamber in this mansion?” she flashed a predatory grin towards the assassin.

He smiled back, realizing that his job in Kulloden would be all the easier now.



Valaron rubbed his eyes, trying to push back the foggy mind that tiredness and a need for sleep kept foisting upon him.  He’d been up now for close to 24 hours straight, and would normally have been collapsing into sleep right now… but not now.  Not after what happened.

As he stalked through the halls of the palace, he was closely followed by his sister, their friends Raven and Royukgan, and a bevy of guardsmen that would have made any army tremble.  The Emperor was taking no risks with his children.

“I cannot believe I am being invited to a meeting of the Imperial Council!” Royukgan burst out excitedly.  As a prince from a foreign nation, he had hardly expected to be commanded to appear at such an event… even though he _was_ involved with the daughter of the Emperor.

“Father wants your testimonies on what happened at the Academy… the assassins you found there.  Aegrifyr is being called as well, considering he made one of those fools speak as to who his employer was,” Vintressa said matter of factly.  The response was far colder than her initial greeting of Royukgan some four hours before.  For their sake, it was good that the guardsmen were trained to not speak as to the private lives of their charges.  Otherwise, the entire capital would be ringing with scandalous tales of the Princess and the foreign born, ‘mongrel’ prince that had kissed rather too passionately.

“They sent three assassins after you,” Valaron growled, looking at Raven and Royukgan, “three!  Bastards,” the prince spat.  “Thankfully that nagawhatnot you have turned out to be pretty good huh,” Val added, before asking hopefully, “Could you teach me how to wield one of those sometime?”

“Uh… um… sure?” Raven stuttered out, flustered by the invitation.  Immediately, she started kicking herself mentally.  _Raven!  Was that cool!  Was that suave!  No!  You’re stuttering in front of him!  And… wait!  Check your face!_ she turned to look in a mirror as the group swept by.  

_Thank the gods,_ she sighed in relief.  There was no drool on her face.

“Excellent!” Val pronounced happily, his day now slightly better.  “Now, how is the name of that whip said again,” he pointed to Raven’s hip, where it laid coiled in its holster.

“A nagaika,” she replied, much cooler and more under control.  “Its just like a regular whip, save I wouldn’t run my hands over any part of it save the handle,” she gave him a shy smile.

“Oh gods, Raven!” Vintressa groaned next to her friend.  “Stop fawning over him and just kiss him already!”

“What?!” Raven snapped, her face already deep crimson.

“Hm?” Val looked up from examining her nagaika.  He’d been lost in thought, trying to figure out the tactics for and against such a weapon.  “What’d you say, Vin?”

“Nothing!” Raven spat before her friend could speak.  “She said nothing at all!”

“All I said was… hey, were at the Council Chambers!” Vin started to torture her friend, but stopped at the last minute.  She then flashed a look of severity towards Raven and Valaron.  “Ok… no more kidding, we’re here.”  She received a few parting scowls from the others, but all nodded in understanding.

The grumbling, grating noise of the enormous doors to the Imperial Council Chambers thundered out, and the twin gilded monstrosities slowly opened.  Beyond lay the massive council chambers themselves, immense paintings of the Emperors of old leading armies and dispensing justice covering the ceiling.  From the walls hung ancient and priceless tapestries, all lending the room a majestic, if overly ornate, look.

Inside, there was a ruffling of robes and coats as those eminent personalities present stood at their arrival.  Xanadu, the dragon wizard, and now Imperial Chamberlain, bowed graciously as they passed his half elven form.  The Imperial Exchequer, Master of Horse, Chancellor, and other luminaries stood in attendance.  Their father, clad in snow-white armor with a gilded dragon on his breastplate, sat at one end of the table.  

The seat next to the Emperor, normally holding the small, red eyed form of the Empress, was noticeably absent.  She would not be taking her seat in these hallowed halls for another week possibly.  The four quietly took places set aside for them, and sat down.  For a few moments, there was silence, in honor of the injured Empress, before Lucius began.

“I’ve called this meeting due to developments in the last day,” he said simply, his voice devoid of any emotion.  His green eyes were dull, as if a bit of iron had been put inside of them.  “There must be a response to this…  outrage,” he settled on a word, his voice still frighteningly even.

“House Erelion is still one of the largest noble houses in the Empire,” the Master of Horse, General Pietrus Diogenes said slowly.  “From their lands near Comnitas they could muster perhaps forty thousand troops if they called up levies.”

“Diogenes always thinks in military terms,” Vintressa, the politico who was the only one of the four who had previously been in one of these meetings, whispered quietly to the others.  “Sometime during this meeting he is going to propose an invasion.”  No more than two seconds later, Diogenes did exactly as she predicted.

“What would Your Majesty like to do with House Erelion?” the Chamberlain asked quietly, his eyes going slightly silver before turning back to their normal lavender color.

The Emperor’s face went hard, and he closed his eyes for a second.  When he opened them again, he gestured towards the four.

“Tell them what happened,” Lucius said, his voice barely under control as anger roiled within its depths.  “Tell them what happened to _my own children!_”

For two hours, the four spoke of assassins, plots and attempts on their own lives.  Raven and Royukgan told of the three assassins that tailed her to the Academy, and tried to kill them.  Valaron and Vintressa spoke of Hemmel and his treachery, and of how close the Empress came to death.  When they were finished, silence once again filled the hall.

“Ahem,” Xanadu coughed finally.  “If I may say so, Majesty, first we must find out why they want this Fire Stone… and what it does,” the dragon’s voice rumbled.  “And the two Erelion children spoke of who?”

“Ari… our… friend,” Vintressa replied before any of the others could jump in.  _I do not know if everyone present should know he is a very special creature… the only one of his kind in the world…_

“Ari?  Well, it sounds like he might be in danger as well, Majesty.”

Lucius’ face paled.  The prismatic dragon was merely six years old… and while he was wiser than a human child of the same years, he still did not know enough to be left alone.  He was vulnerable to persuasion… 

“Now, this Fire Stone,” Lucius changed the topic.   Ari would be discussed later, privately with Raven, Valaron and Vintressa.  “What do we know of it?  It can only be held by someone of our family blood?”

“Umhm,” Xanadu nodded gruffly.  “And it holds some kind of magical power… what I don’t understand…”


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 17, 2004)

“Move!” Eyrna barked to the footmen hurriedly throwing her own baggage and her brother’s possessions on the roof of their small family carriage.  The heiress to the Erelion family line continued to snarl at the coachmen’s attempts to move faster, as the budding light of morning’s glory starting to color the eastern sky.

It had over six hours since Hemmel’s arrival and warning, as the small teleportation chamber in the mansion needed to be worked up for the assassin to use it.  In addition, incriminating documents had to be cleared from the premises.  Eyrna’s first instinct was to burn most of them, but unfortunately, man were signed agreements between House Erelion and various other noble families... House Genova, House Elys, and the like... to provide mutual support once the Imperial family was dealt with.  Simeon had rightly pointed out that their Uncle, the Baron, would want these to hold over the other houses heads should things possibly work out, despite this major failure.

It had taken precious time to find all of them, and catalogue them, and even more time to get the requisite messengers rushed out of the city to the estates of the other nobles involved... the last thing desired was to have a messenger caught inside Iskeldrun when the city roused the next morning.

_The Emperor is shrewd_, Eyrna thought, an anxious eye watching the shape of her brother on one of the mansion’s side balconies, watching for signs of the city watch or the Imperial Guard.  _He hasn’t sent anyone dashing about the city until he knows EXACTLY what happened, and who is involved._  She gave a slight shudder.

“We’re ready m’lady,” one of the footmen breathed heavily.  “Your baggage and items have been secured.”  With a wave of a hand, she told other servants to fetch her brother, and their great race across the Empire to their Uncle’s castle would soon begin.

_Emperor Lucius will come for us... when he is ready,_ she thought, mounting up on a drab nag of a horse.  Nervously, she touched the dagger hidden with the folds of her drab, patched and spotty dress.  Should she be discovered, it would be her only personal defense.  Her hand then ran down to the saddlebag hanging from the hindquarters of her mount... a patched and worn looking piece of cloth.  Inside it was the savior of their line... messages, dispatches and requests… as well as several platinum trade bars.

As her brother, clad in equally homely clothing, leapt onto a nag as well, the ornate carriage, footmen clinging to its sides of front, clattered out of the mansion’s front gate, and began careening up the street at high speed.  Shouts echoed back into the mansion’s courtyard from the angry street vendors and travelers already out and about that had to dodge out of the flying carriage’s path.

_When the Emperor comes, we must be ready..._  Eyrna and Simeon came out some five minutes later, merging in with a crowd of homely dressed pilgrims snaking through the city.  _We must have the Fire Stone!_

It was no more than five minutes later when a mass of men, clad in black robes and walking with heads bowed as monks came by the two, going the opposite direction.  Eyrna’s sharp eyes picked up the slight bulges along the waist’s of the cloaks, and the slight, momentary glint of steel under their robes.

Once again, Eyrna thanked her luck that Iskeldrun was a city of over a million and a half souls.  In such a vast place, there were many places she and Simeon could hide out, until their mission here within the city was accomplished... until their family could be safeguarded.

After several sharp twists and turns, the two found themselves in some of the more drab areas of the city.  Unlike the Avenue of Marches, with its mansions, pleasantly lined treed gardens, elegant fences and brilliant stonework, the darker corners of Iskeldrun were crowded, dark and dank.  Overhead, buildings haphazardly added onto over the centuries seemed to close off the sky as they leaned over the streets that were hardly more than alleys.  Stray animals dashed about, and in some places, refuse was openly visible on the sides of the streets.

Eyrna could see by Simeon’s expression he did not like their present surroundings.  While she was not fond of it either, the two had one more person they needed to contact within Iskeldrun before they fled the city.  Or trotted out calmly, if all went according to plan.

_The two twins have shown themselves unwilling to cooperate,_ Eryna grumbled, _and we need someone of Caladron blood to carry the Fire Stone for us.  If the Prince and Princess are unwilling to help,_ she thought, as the two drew up in front of a recessed and darkly lit shopfront as morning’s light picked through the slit overhead that marked the sky, _perhaps HE can help us find someone more cooperative..._



“...and we still do not know if House Erelion was alone in this,” Xanadu pointedly growled towards Diogenes.  “If we move against them alone without finding out the extent of this conspiracy, we might have many bad apples, so to speak, remain in the pie of Imperial politics!”

“If we strike out at them, swiftly and with immense power, House Erelion will serve as an example!” Diogenes continued to argue.   The debate between the chief commander of the Imperial Armies and the Imperial Chamberlain had lasted for a good half an hour.  “If House Erelion is wiped out, completely, by the sword, it would serve as a _powerful_ message to any other conspirators left out there that crossing the Imperial family is not...”

Raven glanced at her friend Vintressa, who was rolling her eyes.  When the Princess saw the glance, she gave a sigh. 

“Diogenes only considers force as a solution... never subtlety or diplomacy,” she groaned.  “And since it was his security that was breached... the poor fool thinks he has something to prove.”  As the general rambled onward, Raven watched her friend’s face grow red with anger, not annoyance.

“...I say again, we should simply march to Baron Valdemar’s lands, and put it all to the torch!  Every farm, every village, his castle...” Diogenes roared onward.

“For what?!” Vintressa finally snapped.  “So that thousands of innocent peasants and artisans, who knew nothing of this plot, can feel the sting of an Imperial blade?”

The general, his face dark with age, shot a look of contempt at the princess.  “I respect your fighting abilities that allowed you to save your mother.  But, you have never comm-“

“Continue,” Lucius’ voice carried over Diogenes’.  The Emperor simultaneously fired off a stern look to the general, prompting him to suddenly fall silent.  The Emperor’s eyes, along with the eyes of most of the Council members’, fell on Vintressa.

For a split second, Vintressa’s annoyance kept her from realizing fully what had happened.  Quickly, however, the reality of what had just happened crashed down on her, and she had to cough to buy time for her overwhelmed mind.  _The best, brightest minds in the realm are listening to ME for advise!?  I’ve privately told father my thoughts on things before... but never in a council meeting!_

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, and after a moment’s trepidation, she began.  “It is... my opinion, that if we merely send an army in and turn Lord Erelion’s lands into a wasteland, we will waste the lives of thousands of innocents... something I find morally abhorrent!”  Her voice gained strength as she talked, as she saw faces around her sometimes nodding in assent, or furrowed in thought.

“On the most basic level, I offer that razing this land would cut off His Majesty’s government from the tax levies that these hard-working citizens have been providing.  House Erelion, and that family alone, has gone against His Majesty’s government, and they alone should pay the price!”

“What would you then propose, Highness?” Diogenes asked, a slight bit of sarcasm in his voice.  Vintressa looked towards her father, expecting him to be glaring at the general. Instead, he was staring directly at Vintressa... and he raised an eyebrow when he saw she was gazing at him.

“Well, general,” Vintressa stumbled forward, thinking as she spoke, “for the...um... time being, we do nothing, save gather information.  House Erelion’s secrets, their strengths, their weaknesses.  Who they are allied with.  We also follow their known agents... find out where they are headed,” she continued.  “I hardly doubt they are sitting on their behinds, twiddling their thumbs now that their first plot has failed!” she said with a nervous grin, and to her relief, the comment earned a smile from her father.

“Of course, General, it would be wise to prepare the troops to march, and as soon as the time is right, forces will fall on House Erelion with the force of a flood.  But like I said, we should tail who we can from their House first... someone might try to make a move to secure the Fire Stone, for example.”

“But you know, Majesty, it requires someone from your bloodline to carry it!” Diogenes interrupted, his face holding a smile of triumph at gaining a point in the debate.

“Who is to say that they’ll try to move it, or carry it off?” Valaron suddenly jumped in.  “They could just as easily try to cover it up, hide it, so _we_ cannot find it,” the Prince shrugged.  “If it was hidden in a cave or something, just plug up the cave and disguise the entrance.  Fairly simple.”

“And the smart thing to do from their perspective,” Vintressa took the idea her brother had offered and ran with it.   “If this stone is so powerful that they went so far as to try to blackmail the Imperial family, the _last_ thing they would want would be for us, their avowed enemies, to get our hands on it!”

“So, Vintressa, you’re proposing we essentially follow their agents, and they’ll lead us to the Fire Stone?” the Emperor’s voice spoke suddenly.  When Vintressa looked back at him, she saw his face looked thoughtful, not condescending.

“Yes,” she nodded, “and by staying pat, we might even lure them into showing more of their allies and plots.”  She leaned forward, her political mind pouring out thoughts and ideas.  “If they think we’ve been stunned, they might call on what allies they have and strike out as quickly as possible... and while we cannot with certainty track all assassins, we _can_ track armies.”

“And we are sure they have allies how?” Lucius asked, an eyebrow raised again.

“It would be utterly foolish for them to try and blackmail His Majesty’s Government, with the support it has from the Churches of Pelor, Hieroneous and Tarantor, the Imperial Guard, and the guilds, without some kind of backing.  House Erelion might be impetuous,” Vintressa added, “but I doubt they are foolhardy to the point of stupidity.”

She looked hopefully to her father, and was rewarded with a slight smile on his face, and a gigantic grin of pride in his eyes.

“Very well, gentlemen,” the Emperor said, “I believe we have found our course of action.  General Diogenes, prepare your troops to march on a moment’s notice.  But keep this quiet.  I want your agents and those of the City Watch to patrol extra carefully... to tail Erelion family members and their servants, but not to intervene.  We do not want to scare them away, to places where we _cannot_ watch them!”

“But... Majesty!” Diogenes complained, “I’ve already sent portions of the City Watch to raid the Erelion mansion!  The orders were issued before the start of this meeting!”



“I still say this is nasty business,” Simeon complained as he dismounted the old, bent horse he had been riding.  With some apprehension, he looked towards the darkly painted sign on a rotting board that lay in front of the shop.

“CHAMOVAL ANTIQUES”

It was written in old Common, the letters perfectly scripted and elegantly written, despite the paint peeling off from the wood it was written on.  A perfect testament to the man they were going to talk to inside.

“What we are about to do is nasty business,” Eyrna offered quietly.  “It violates every code sacrosanct to Tarantor, Pelor or any of the other major religions.  Sacrilege essentially.”

“Are you sure he’ll do it?” Simeon asked nervously as the two tied their mounts up in a narrow alley next to the rickety structure.  “I mean, why would he...”

“He would absolutely love to do this,” Eyrna flashed her brother a reassuring smile.  The two walked around to the front of the store, and gingerly, Eyrna rapped on the door.  A few seconds pasted, before there was a grunt from within, and a withered old creature, skin light green, pulled the door open, its black eyes glaring at the two.

Beyond him, in the gloom, the two could just barely see piles of bookshelves, piled high with crusty, old tomes... almost all of them hopelessly inane.  Cooking manuals, how to books, attempts to explain simple magical tricks.  Other items, ranging from old cooking stoves to poorly restored wooden knights, laid about the floor.

“Whaddaya want?” the goblin snarled.  While he looked small and weak, Eyrna knew better than try to push past him.  Such an action could be... unfortunate.

“We need to see your friend, Master Chamoval,” Eyrna said quietly.  “There is not much time.”

“Friend?  I have no friends!  Only business partners!  And its only a half hour since dawn!  Come back when the store is normally open!” the small creature hissed, pushing the two towards the door.

“Well, perhaps you might let us see your friend if you had some persuasion,” Eyrna said sweetly.  She then pulled from her tattered cloak a shining, long trade bar, made of solid platinum.  “Perhaps this bar worth some thousand gold pieces might give you a thousand reasons to let us see him.”

The goblin’s sharp, insistent pushing of them towards the door suddenly stopped, and his countenance completely changed.  Quickly, green hands lashed out, grasped the bar, and it disappeared somewhere within his own rags.

“Obviously, you are of some means.  Which means you contacted him before, yes?” the goblin asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Yes.  We had some contact with him as a contingency.”  _Uncle contacted him… I have never met him before…_

“Well, I’ll warn you, he’s been up for several days, blabbering away in tongues I don’t understand,” the goblin said matter of factly as he lead the two through the store to behind the counter.  The goblin kicked aside a carpet, and uttered a few words in a harsh, gutteral language.  The floor shimmered, and the hinges of a door appeared, complete with a lock, which the goblin quickly opened with a key underneath the counter.

“He’s down there,” the goblin pointed to the ladder that went down into the new hole in the floor of the store.  “And there are no torches allowed, so please hand those over,” the goblin held out his gnarled hand.  Both Eyrna and Simeon held up their hands to show they had no such devices on them.

“Very well.  Be careful on the ladder, it is quite dark for you humans,” the goblin said.

The two clambered down the ladder for what seemed a good five minutes, the clothing on their back scraping into the wall behind them.  Finally, they set foot on what seemed to be rough, compacted earth.  A dark, musty smell filled their noises, mixed with a rancid, fecal odor.

The goblin’s voice came to their ears, uttering a few more words, and a soft, ultra dim light seemed to come from within their three bodies, scattering in the dark gloom.

“Follow me,” the goblin whispered, “he’s this way!”

The two heirs to House Erelion, clad in run down traveling clothes, found themselves hunched over in the narrow passageways, their backs at time scraping against the earthen ceiling.  The dark earthy smell increased, and the rancid sewer smell faded, as they felt themselves going deeper into the ground, underneath the sewers of the great city.

Finally the passage seemed to open slightly, into a chamber of sorts.  It seemed only ten feet high at most, and perhaps a hundred feet long by fifty wide.  All along its earth sides niches had been cut into the walls, where now books and tomes, all in seemingly perfect condition, lay stacked in perfect rows.  From the earthen walls hung tapestries of immense elegance and value, finely woven with distant silks.

A beautiful set of silverware, made from a mixture of silver and platinum, sat out on a small ebony table, a black liquid resting in four cups set out as if for tea.  A soft light came from a small, glowing globe above, just barely enough to light the room so they could see.  Dust colored webs hung from the corners in thick globs, making the surreal place seem even more fantastic.

In the center, however, was the creature that transfixed their attentions.  He was sitting crossed legged on a plush carpet behind the table, his face looking downward, as if in thought.  A few quiet words in a harsh, grating tongue came from his lips, but then he suddenly stopped whatever chant he was engaged in.

“Ah, you have arrived,” a darkly pleasant tenor voice said, and the creature looked up, wafts of snow white hair sliding down his back.  His ebony skin seemed to shimmer with magical power, and his white eyes blazed with fire and command...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 18, 2004)

“Stupid General Diogenes, stupid fouling-“ Vintressa spat after the councilmembers had left the chamber.  The Princess’ eyes were ablaze with fury at the hapless Commander in Chief.

“Well, he did what he assumed was best at the time,” her father sighed.  The Emperor’s eyes betrayed a slight annoyance, but more than anything else, they showed his tiredness.  Like the Princess and her friends, he’d been up for an extremely long time.  “And it was a crisis situation.  Sending out the city watch and other security folks was a sound decision.  He had no idea we were going to opt for a radical course, like the one you proposed,” Lucius smiled at his daughter.

“Still!” Vintressa spat.

“Remember what I told you about governing,” the Emperor said softly, trying to mollify his daughter’s anger.  

“Yes... no matter what I plan, something will get fouled up,” she recited, rolling her eyes at the same time.

“So learn to run things on instinct,” the Emperor finished his own quote, before getting up and walking around the table towards the four.  “Vintressa, you impressed me a great deal today.”

“Diogenes annoyed me, that’s all,” the Princess replied, annoyance in her voice, but also a little bit of shyness.  “I didn’t think we should go that way.”

“You gave him quite a tongue lashing when he said he sent the security personnel already,” Valaron said, eyes still a little wide.  He’d been quite surprised at how vicious his sister’s tongue had gotten with the hapless general.  “I think you’re the only person I’ve seen other than mom and dad that has made him run out of the room with his tail between his legs!” the prince laughed.

“Remind me never to get your friend angry,” Rokyugan whispered quietly to Raven... just before the Emperor cleared his voice behind the two.

“You two remained awfully quiet during the meeting.  And I don’t know about you Royuki,” Lucius butchered the young man’s name, “but I know Raven here is usually _very_ opinionated.   Tell me, what do you think of things, since Diogenes’ error?” the Emperor half sat on the long table, his eyes probing the minds of the other two.

“I... um... do not feel it is my place to comment,” Royukgan offered quickly.  “I am not familiar with your realm, and I’ve only partially been introduced to all the customs of your nation...”

“Vintressa has introduced you to quite a few I bet,” Raven quickly added, her eyes blazing mischief towards her friend.  Before the shocked and appalled Princess could reply, Raven jumped in at handling the Emperor’s question.  She was far more comfortable around her Uncle Luke than the other luminaries that had previously clogged up the air in the room.

“Well, Diogenes said that no one save servants was found at the Erelion manor here in Iskeldrun... so they bolted.  And he also said that merchants were complaining that a carriage rushed out of there around dawn this morning, almost running them over as they opened their market stalls.  There they are right there,” she smiled at the obviousness of her logic.

“Find the carriage, and we find them.  Shouldn’t be too hard,” Valaron nodded in understanding, a motion that made Raven grin a little more.

“Vintressa, we’ve heard plenty from you.  Royuki-“

“Royukgan,” Vintressa corrected her father.

“Royukgan,” the Emperor said again, face slightly red in embarrassment at mispronouncing the name, “what is your take on Raven’s logic?  I have one already, but I want to peck your young, agile minds first.”

“Well...” the young man stammered, not believing he was being asked to solve a security issue for another realm, “I know that if I was fleeing the city after trying to assassinate the Son of Heaven, I would _not_ flee in something so obvious as a carriage.”

“So the carriage is a diversion?” the Emperor finished his thought with a grunt.  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.  Though the problem with that is Diogenes’ people couldn’t find evidence of anyone else leaving the mansion, except that carriage.”

“Though a carriage rushing through the street, knocking over stalls would cause a lot of commotion, wouldn’t it?” Valaron asked.  “I mean, I know if someone nearly knocked over my stall with my wares, I’d be too busy cussing at them as they left to notice anyone else coming out until they’d blended in...”

“Well, the question then is what was their disguise.  If they dressed as a commoner, there’s over a million souls within Iskeldrun, it’d be impossible to find them inside the city...” Vintressa said thoughtfully.



Hemmel dusted himself off, thankful fort he several hours of preparation taken to make sure the Erelion manor’s teleporter was working properly.  It was designed for two, and considering the circumstances, he’d insisted that the House Mage, who was in charge of the teleporter as well as other magical needs of the family while they stayed there, come along.  If he talked, there was too much at risk.  Currently his body lay in the deep woods, several hundred yards from Hemmel... near the exact place the teleporter had placed them.

_He would have spoken... and when his neck snapped, he felt no pain,_ the assassin told himself.  Hemmel felt no compassion for his direct targets, but those ‘caught in the crossfire’ gave him momentary pause.  What was necessary was necessary.  Unlike many of the assassins who plied their trade to the nobility, Hemmel did not worship Nerull, god of the dead.  He worshipped no one... it could cause complications.

Gingerly, he worked his way through the forest, limping on his injured leg.  Bandages had been applied to his wound after he arrived at the family manor... part of the reason that his departure had been delayed.  He was, unfortunately, still clad in the clothes of a manservant to the Imperial family... something that would have to change.

_I need to find a road,_ his mind thought quickly.  A waylaid traveler would be the easiest source of a clothing change. 

_A peasant would be best.  Non-traceable, anonymous.  Merchants are too colorful and flamboyant... it would be noticed.  Pilgrims would normally work, but Kulloden is not known for its religious sites.  

And preferably it needs to be someone that will, under duress, tell me where I am before I liberate them from their body and clothing,_ his mind darkly reflected.  His hands instinctively patted his waist, for the third time in an hour.  He felt the long thin form of his _jitte_, his only one now that his other had narrowly missed the Empress.

_Blind luck the boy got the sword up to block in time,_ Hemmel told himself.  _Blind luck.  You’re still very fast, and you WATCHED him train.  He shouldn’t have been that fast!_

_Maybe you’re slowing down?_ another part of his mind questioned.  _Or you misjudged him?_   Hemmel’s heart grew a little cold at either of those thoughts.  His livelihood, his life, depended on being able to ascertain risks _exactly_, and move _quickly_ to neutralize them.

_Why did you not just kill the boy and his sister?  The leg wound was not that bad!  You took out several guards!_ his post-operation brain jumped in loudly.  He was proud of each mission he finished... and this would go as the first failure he’d ever had.  He did not want to admit that he needed to retreat, that the situation got out of hand, out of control, and that he needed to leave before his target was finished off.

_Maybe you WERE attached to that boy?_ a tiny voice in his head offered, a thought that Hemmel shoved away viciously.  Yet the voice returned.  Attachment was a luxury he could not afford, and he thought that his professionalism was higher than that.  Yet, he _had_ grown attached to the Prince, and his mannerisms.

_It is in the past Hemmel, focus on the present!_ he coldly reminded himself as he peered around a tree.  Ahead, the forest seemed to clear, and he could hear the steady patter of horses hooves, along with the creaking of wooden wheels.

_A wagon,_ his mind realized, and as he peered, he saw his new quarry, whistling on this pleasant day in the forest.



Simeon glanced uneasily at the creature following behind him and Eyrna.  While the figure was clad in a long, simple black cloak, Simeon swore he could see the white eyes peering out of the dark depths towards him.

“Eyrna, I don’t know if this is wise,” he hissed to her quietly.  “Him!?  We are bringing him along!?”

“Yes,” his sister responded quiet sharply, even though she did not cast a glance in his direction.   “We need him in order to fetch the stone.”

“Eyrna, don’t you think if he was as powerful as he claims he is, he could just teleport us out of the city?” Simeon complained again as something from the sewer ceiling fell on the hood of his cloak.  Whatever it was, it was wet, and soon the top of his head felt sickeningly damp.

“I do not teleport you, as it would draw attention,” the same beautiful tenor behind them spoke up.  “I have great power, but I also have great wisdom,” the voice gave a slight chuckle.

“He speaks the truth,” Eyrna replied, her eyes still looking ahead by the very dim light provided by their new companion.  “If we teleported, out of one of the poorest quarters of the city, the magical signature would be bound to draw some attention.  The manors and mansions of the city have teleporters... teleportation there is to be expected.”

“It’s just that-“ Simeon started to complain again.

“Please... quieter, for the sake of my mind,” the creature said again.

Eyrna sometimes wanted to smack her brother for his exceptional nervousness, and willingness to complain.  But deep, inside her mind, she shared some of his fears.  _Uncle is playing with something very dangerous here,_ she had told herself when Baron Valdemar had revealed his backup plan should the blackmail plot fail.

Eyrna, like many in the nobility, was an erstwhile devotee of Tarantor.  His order and justice were what the nobility sought to implement on this earth, and for centuries, under the old Paleologus line of Emperors, exactly that had been done.

But the old line of Emperors ended, and a new line, the Caladron family, took over.  The Emperor, still beardless as he had been sixteen years prior, had changed the rules.  Restrictions were placed on how the nobility could handle peasants.  Old laws requiring the nobles pay taxes, long ignored, were suddenly reinstated.

Tarantor obviously did not intend things to go this way... at least that is what Eyrna and many who worshiped Tarantor felt.  Many in the nobility were becoming increasingly convinced that the Emperor, who on the surface also worshipped Tarantor, was under the influence of his Hieroneous loving wife, and his Pelor loving friends.  Those two churches had suddenly increased in power and prestige... at the expense of the Tarantor Church Eyrna respected.  

Despite these slights, despite the obvious contempt the Emperor held for the way Tarantor had intended things to run, the Great Judge, the Chief High Priest of the entire religion, still gave his unequivocal backing to the Caladron Emperor.  True, the cadre in power had defeated a local demon invasion... but the demonic forces had never left the Upper Inerman Valley, a tiny portion of the overall Empire.  Many in various circles were becoming frustrated with the current arrangement...

_And so they came to us..._ she chuckled as they rounded another corner in the fetid sewer.  People one normally would suspect of targeting the Emperor...

_They chose us because they knew we would not inform the Imperials of any plots against them if we refused...  Little do they know what they have sown, they will reap in fury soon..._

She gave a sigh at the last thought, and looked back towards their new companion.  His hands, when they came out of that eerie black cloak of his, were long, and strong... much stronger than she thought they would be for a mere mage.  A thought that reminded her of the Emperor, and his famed ability to fight with magic of sword... a thought that made her shudder.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 19, 2004)

“C’mere ya little pretty!”

Rose Dice spun around, her green eyes flaring with anger as she felt a large and rough hand grab at her rear.  Her delicate nostrils flared, and rather quickly the drunken miscreant was laying on the tavern floor, a red mark that copied Rose’s series of rings imprinted on his now swollen cheek.

“Don’t screw with the daughter of the owner!” she snarled at him.  Her eyes then flashed a ferocious stare at the other five greasy men gathered at the table, daring any of them to look at her cross-wise.  All five sank into their seats.

Rose Dice, twin sister to Raven, was not as fortunate as her sibling.  While Raven had recieved an offer to study at the Imperial Academy of Magic in Iskeldrun, Rose had barely missed the cut.  And so here she was... still in Kulloden...

“I can’t take it!  Gah!  Drunken fools!” Rose growled a few minutes later when she’d returned to the kitchen area of the _Pony Alehouse and Eatery_.  Some years ago, Rose’s father, and old man Baradur, the dwarf that used to run the place, agreed that _Drunken Pony_ was not a suitable name for an establishment that was more than a tavern.  

As the shouts of glee from several game tables in the back echoed into the kitchen, a small halfling looked up at his boss’ daughter and laughed.

“You’ll get used to ‘em,” Geoffrey chuckled.  “After a while, some of the regular drunks become endearing!”

“Only five more days,” she groaned, setting down empty ale mugs for cleaning, “then Pricilla returns, and the little gathering of the Woodcutter’s Guild will be over!  You know, Geoffrey, that’s the _fifth_ fool that’s grabbed by behind today! Gah!”

“That just means you need to be quicker... look at Ilene out there,” Geoffrey pointed.  As they watched, several other men who had exceeded their tolerance levels reached out to try and grab one of the usual ‘maids.  Deftly she evaded his grasp without even blinking or changing her smile towards the more sober group she was serving, and the drunk sprawled on the floor.  The rest of the crowd seemed not to notice, as the loud noise of Rose’s brother, Shawn, rose above the din in song.

“Geoff, I know dad put you in charge, but _please_, can I teach one of those fools a lesson?  Magically?” Rose complained.  “If someone screwed around in the magic shop, mom would’ve let me teach them some manners!”

The halfling laughed.  “Fine.  I’ll get Erny out there to take some orders... no doubt there’ll be alot of upset customers at seeing his ugly mug compared to your pretty face!”

Rose gave a slight grin at the compliment.  “Thanks, Uncle Shorty,” she smiled, using the family nickname for the mischevious halfling.  When their father had first met him, Geoffrey had been an unemployed, drunken messenger for an assassin.  After some 17 years, he had sobered up, and become not only an excellent businessman, but one of the best bartenders in the region.

“It’s nothing, darlin’,” he reached up to give the girl a pat on the shoulder.  “Now, if you would do me a favor, go check on Ari and yer mom.  See if they need anything?”

Rose gave a quick nod (despite the fact her mother was also out of town), and gave a slight laugh of joy as she dashed out of the back door of the building with a wave to Geoffrey.  Ari was one of the few distractions to the monotony that Rose felt her life in Kulloden had become. 

Up by dawn, open and run her mother’s magic shop.  At noon, close the shop for two hours for lunch with and magic lessons from the new head of the Kulloden Mage’s Guild... her mother.  Turn over shop to her mother’s apprentice Crakin afterwards, and finish the day until dinner-time with practice.  Go home, eat supper, sleep.  The rountine had only been broken this week when the shop was temporarily closed for a few days, and her father had asked for Rose to help cover in the tavern.

Ari, however, had arrived only about a month earlier, and was stinted to stay with them for another four months before going back to Iskeldrun.  He was excitable, and curious about _everything_, from the hierarchy of city government, to why Rose’s mother had young mages go to caves looking for bat excrement (that had been a fun lesson... too bad her dad’s favorite chair had been burnt to a crisp when things went awry).

It was a welcome break, especially when every week or so, she got to take him to the country, where he could relax with no disguise, and be merely himself; still rambunctious, still insatiably curious.

As she cut through the early evening streets of Kulloden, she heard the trundle of a heavy cart behind her.  Such things were normal;  the city had a relatively large and lush wood to its immediate east, and further east were the iron, coal, and copper mines.  Carts carrying lumber or metals were not an unusual sight in the city, most headed to either sawmills or smelters.

So she paid this cart no attention as it rattling noise grew louder, and it eventually passed her.  Her suspicions were confirmed, as stacks of logs hung out of the carts back. The figure on its back was bent over, doubtless tired after a long run.

The cart surprisingly turned left, onto the same street that Rose was headed.  To her knowledge, the area of the city he was headed was only residential, with only a few shops and smithys to break up the constant rows of houses.  

_He’s probably visiting his family before delivering his load or something,_ Rose reasoned as the cart clattered onward, and surprisingly turned onto the same street she was headed to...


“Feeling any better?” Lucius’ voice washed over Siabrey’s ears.  While his tone was mocking, she knew him well enough to tell that there was deep, genuine worry in his voice, a worry he was trying to cover up.

“Yes,” she sat up, usually her good arm to prop herself.  Her shattered shoulder and arm was healing nicely according to the healers and clerics of Honoria, but as a precaution, it was still wrapped up in bandages and slings.  “Much better, thank you,” she stuck her tongue out at his mocking tone.

“Good,” his voice expressed genuine relief, and he gently gave her a kiss on the forehead.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered quietly, before the smirk came back to his face.  “And I know you’re feeling better, considering you’re smart-aleck manner!” he said louder for the benefit of the little audience the two had.

“Yeah, when mom gets sharp-tongued or starts mocking, she’s fine,” Valaron echoed his father’s sentiments, arms crossed.  His sister nodded in agreement, as the two approached the bed where they’re mother was confined for at least the remainder of the day.

“Wait till my arm is healed,” Siabrey gave them a mock look of severity, before finding herself corralled by hugs from her two oldest children.  A smile crossed her face as her mind was washed over with memories of what had transpired only the previous night... of how her two children had stepped up to defend her.  “Then... I’ll find that punk and Kelir will have a field day!” she smirked, trying to make them feel better with some more bravado.

“Well, we know who it was,” Luke started, and he explained what they already knew.  How it was House Erelion for sure, with the likely backing of unknown others.  Of Diogenes’ dragnet coming up empty, and the attacks on Raven and Royukgan... and how those two were current on the streets, incognito, trying to dredge up some information with a clandestine guard escort.

“Hmm... figures,” Siabrey growled upon hearing House Erelion had committed the crime.  “When do the armies march?” she asked dryly, “I want to be the first to plant a sword in the back of Baron Valdemar,” she said.

“Not for a while,” Vintressa replied, “we want to find out who else is involved.”

“And let them get away?” the Empress replied, a little bit of annoyance dripping from her voice.  Her face went into a scowl at the mention she would not be able to march out to find who had threatened her, and more importantly, her children.

“No,” Vintressa smiled, “your daughter is more clever than that.  We’ll follow them, once we find them... and they’ll lead us to the Fire Stone, as well as whoever else is involved.  With our revised orders, the dragnets running through the city now should shortly find some of their underlings dashing about.  Panicked people tend to be more careless,” Vintressa explained.

“Well, maybe its a good thing I’m out of commission for a bit then... maybe your subtlety might do something,” Siabrey admitted, “but when the troops move out against the sons of bitches,” her voice changed to a satisfied snarl, “I want to be in the lead!”

Lucius looked at his wife, remembering images of her over 16 years ago... and how she’d hardly changed in many ways.  _A mother tigress, always viciously defending her cubs,_ he gave a slight smile, thinking how he, too, had counted as a cub once.  

“I don’t know if that would be wise,” Lucius said softly, and he watched her face fall in frustration.  His slight grin grew into a smile, and he ran a hand gently along her face, “though I’ll see what I can do.”

“Raven and Royukgan are already out canvassing for information quietly.  Sadly, some of Diogenes’ folks are out there not being as subtle,” Vintressa volunteered.  “Hopefully, we’ll get information you can act on.”

“Royu-who?” Siabrey asked, confused.  Immediately, Vintressa’s face turned a deep red.

“Her friend Royukgan, from the Academy,” Luke replied with the information he knew.  “He and Raven were attacked by assassins the same night you were.”  

To Vintressa’s relief, neither parent seemed to notice her embarrassed face.



“Bastards!” the old crone snarled in Raven’s face, her breath foul and sharply smelling of onions.  The lady gesticulated wildly towards her small cart, upon which rested several ornate and well made pieces of pottery.  “Came charging out of that gate,” she pointed across the street, towards a rather large mansion, “with no regard for life or property!  Several of my customers were almost run over!”

Raven nodded in understanding, as her mind processed the information.  As the old woman ranted an railed, Raven’s eyes flicked towards the building in question across the road, taking in its layout.  

It was not a massive edifice, like the Cotrolia family manor, or House Belges mansion.  Nonetheless, it was large, with ornate decorations of white serpents along its exterior as coloumns... symbols of wisdom in the eyes of some.  

Unlike other neighborhoods where the wealthy lived, here, in the older quarters of hte city, these mansions were clustered close together.  An archway underneath part of the mansion’s second story allowed access to a backyard, small by noble standards, but enough for a well tended garden, and a stopping area for carriages.

_So the carriage careened past here... and it almost tipped over, according to the crone,_ Raven’s mind processed.  _In order for it to almost tip on her items, it would have had to be headed... east..._ she looked up the street in that direction.

_Toward Comnitas,_ her mind placed a few seconds later.  She’d have to ask Royukgan what information he’d gotten while asking people further down that way what they’d seen.  _His human form’s handsome features should get some of the ladies to talk rather freely as to what they saw..._

“M’lady, do you remember anyone else coming out of that manor?” Raven pressed softly.

“Well, I do,” an young man stuck his head out from the well maintained shop behind the old crone’s wares.  He looked at Raven with a smirk.  “Why you askin’ ‘round ‘bout them, anyways?”

“Business,” Raven said bluntly.  “What did you see?”

“Well, I don’t quite seem to remember.  Perhaps if you come inside the shop, I could jog my memory?” the man raised an eyebrow suggestively.  Raven felt like shooting him back a look of death, but she forced herself to look pleasant.  _He might know something of interest..._

She turned to the two hooded figures beside her, and whispered to them to watch the door and outside.  Running a hand reassuringly over her nagiaka under her robes, she then nodded to the young man. 

“Of course, good sir,” she carefully threw some shyness into her voice... maybe even a slight blush.  _Loosen up his lips..._



It took a few minutes of pleasantries that Raven abhorred, but she learned that the young man’s name was Ulric, and the fine coffee and chocolate shop they sat in was his father’s.  She also learned that he liked cats, a fine blend of coffee, and fancied women.  And for the classy place his father ran, he was rather lewd at times.  Raven gave him a fake name, though she did tell the truth that she was a student at the Mages’ Academy... in case he questioned more, she did not want to be found to be lying about something he knew well.

“So, tell me.  Why is a beautiful, magically gifted young woman like yourself interested in that loud, raucous family there?” he said with a leering smile.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” she gave slight sigh, preparing to lie, “they owe my father a great deal of money.  See, he gave them an invaluable amount of magical service, and they haven’t paid up,” she mentally winced at the direction her on the spot lie had taken.

“Ah... well,” he raised an eyebrow, his hands stretching across the table slowly, “I might be able to help, should you require it?”

“Oh yes, I would appreciate any information on them!” she said breathlessly, trying to sound as helpless as possible without rolling her eyes like she wanted.

“Well, that house belongs to Lady Eyrna Erelion.  She maintains it for her uncle the Baron... and last night, into this morning there was some really interesting things going on over there.  My guess is they heard you were coming.  You must’ve done a job on that one guy that made it back there,” the young man smirked.  

The lewdness in the gaze made Raven wince... he’d expressed a liking for ‘rough women’ as well.  Which, Raven’s mind guessed, meant this man was likely no slouch in combat himself.  _Watch yourself._

“What guy made it back there?” she took the little bauble his question posed and ran with it.  “I thought I caught all of them!” her face feigned disappointment.  _Hemmel probably... here to spread the alarm!_

“Well, he was limping and all... you likely did a real number on him I’m guessing!” the young man gave a chuckle.  “After he arrived, there was all sorts of shouting and yells from over there, and noise like people were packing up.  I think they skedaddled!  You’re out of luck!”

“When did they run away?” Raven asked.  “Where?”

“Oh... you’ll have to agree to see me later if you want that!” Ulric smirked.

“I’ll... be very much in your debt,” she tried to put shyness into her voice, and she glanced downward towards the table.  _He’s not going to buy that... a rough and tumble person this shy?  Raven, your lies and compounding on top of themselves like oil on water... its all going to fall apart!_ she winced.

“Oh, I have no doubt you would be!” Ulric laughed.  “Well, a bunch of folks, clad mostly in brown and green robes dashed out just before dawn... all sorts of noise.  Soon afterwards, a carriage dashed out towards the east, and then two people on horseback dashed out towards the west.”  

He then gave another slight laugh, “Well, ‘dashed’ isn’t likely the best word.  ‘Limped’ is a better one... I’ve never seen such horrible nags in my life!”

_Two people on horseback?  Nags?_ Raven’s mind jumped.  _Sounds like our two people..._


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 19, 2004)

_Well, that oxman must be rather well off,_ Rose thought, watching the cart turn several from her house, and stop in front of a rather quiet, and expensive hostel.  _Maybe he runs a logging firm, and he’s checking things out in disguise,_ she reasoned.  Her father was busy doing that at this moment, traveling to Irulas to check on several magic shops and taverns the Dice family owned.  He was a fairly good actor, and loved to show up at his taverns acting like a drunk to test their reactions before revealing himself.

_Nah,_ her mind dismissed any idea of spycraft regarding the man and the oxcart.  _He must be delivering some firewood,_ she reasoned before making a turn onto her own street.

The Dice family lived in the most expensive section of Kulloden, in a three story home made of the local pink marble and white brick.  There was enough money that Rose could have easily had several manservants following her for protection, but it was a protection she disdained (like the others in her family).  Her father was well liked throughout the Valley, and the family had no living enemies.  Besides, they weren’t nobility, and no one would really want to cross the head of a large Mage’s Guild, or her husband, who had exaggerated his legend to the point that many assumed he’d slain a dragon, and fifty armed men  _in one battle_, armed with only a rapier!

That thought made Rose laugh.  _Dad, in a fight with fifty armed men?_  She grown up hearing the stories of how her mother and dad met, of their _true_ exploits, which were impressive.  Several dread assassin’s slain, a noble safeguarded, and immense wealth accumulated at the expense of demons, a dragon (which was slain with extensive help).  

What he didn’t tell anyone (but Rose’s mother Elenya freely told family friends) were the other stories.  How for a while the famous Shaun Dice had a cat’s tail due to annoying a wizard.  How he and the current Empress engaged in various contests in feats of arms, which she invariably won.  Of his quips that always landed him in trouble.

As the sun began to set below the mountains off to the city’s west, she jogged through the ornate gate to the front of her home, gilt “D’s” marking the top of the wrought iron fence.

“Good evening, Lady Rose!” one of the two family housekeepers called from the window, and Rose gave a wave back at Melinda.  A few seconds later, she had the door open before either Melinda or the family butler could get it open.

“Food will be ready in about fifteen minutes,” Melinda called, “and your mother says-“

“Wash my hands!  Yeah I know!” Rose called back, already dashing up the stairs to the guest room where Ari was staying.  _He’s probably fidgeting around again... gotta make sure he doesn’t get into dad’s..._

When she threw open the door, her eyes beheld what looked like mayhem.  Objects and books laid strewn about, covering the floor.  On the far wall were little pieces of paper with various insects pinned to them haphazardly, as if they were put on in a hurry.  

At a desk sat a young man, who looked maybe 15 or so, with several books and papers piled in front of him, reading intently.  His skin was a brilliant shade of lavender, his eyes sky blue with hints of yellow.  His hair was a multitude of colors, seeming to shimmer on his head as he snapped around with an enormous grin.  Small specks of color seemed to fall from him as he moved.

“Rose!  Is it too late to go out to the woods?!” Ari asked excitedly.  When Rose nodded, his face only showed crushing disappointment for a few moments, before he gestured to the papers to his front.  “I went into your dad’s room, and I...”

“Ari!” Rose rolled her eyes.  _Dad didn’t want him running through the rough draft of the stuff he’s writing!_  “Pop told you not to go reading through that!  You’ll mess up the order he has things in!”

“Its so interesting though!” the young prismatic dragon in human guise protested.  “I never knew your parents did so many things... running around, swashbuckling!” he waved his arms about as if he had a blade in his hand.  His antics erased what little anger Rose had, and she started to laugh.

“C’mon, ya nutcase,” she grinned.  “Food’s downstairs in about fifteen minutes!  After that, we put dad’s stuff back, _in order_!”

“Yeah, I have the order memorized!” Ari announced proudly, causing Rose to raise an eyebrow.

“Uh huh, sure you do.”

“Where’s your brother at?” the young dragon’s overly active mind had already jumped to another topic.  “He was supposed to teach me how to play the flute tonight!”  The dragon’s human voice betrayed slight annoyance at Shawn’s failed promise... but more curiosity at his present location.

“Keeping the early drunks busy,” Rose replied, leading Ari downstairs.  “Someone needs to, until the headline entertainer arrives.”  Another aspect of her father and mother being out of town was that she, her brother Shawn, and Geoffrey needed to pick the week’s entertainers.  Today it was some lutist named Marogie.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, both Rose and Ari could see the last of the day’s pedestrian traffic on the streets, heading to their destinations.  No one inside the house noticed the man walking by outside, leering at their home entirely too closely, before the specter walked by, heading to his final destination of the day.



“Dammit,” Raven grumbled as the evening sun grew redder.  

_Two people on nags, riding towards the west,_ her mind repeated in frustration.  _Too bad two thirds of the damn city is that way!_

Her amorous admirer could not tell her who the two people on nags were, only that it was highly unusual for people so shoddily clothed to be coming from a noble manor like that.  

_Which automatically means they are important to House Erelion at least,_ Raven grumbled.

“M’lady... your friend approaches,” one of the guardsmen next to her whispered.  HE had been pretending to look at a set of silverware, and slipped the notice to her without raising any eyebrows.

_These guardsmen know about discreet, at least._  She gave a momentary glance towards the east, and saw several more cloaks coming towards them, one of which held an orangish colored young man’s face.  As they walked by, Raven and her small group immediately fell in step with them, slipping into the evening rush of crowds attempting to get last minute errands done.

“City watch folks stopped the carriage in question at the Monsecarl gate,” Royukgan said quietly, looking ahead as if focusing on what lay at the end of this immense boulevard... the Temple to Hieroneous the Righteous.  “And inside they found a rather richly clothed servant,” he gave a slight sigh.

“Dammit,” Raven swore in Common before adding a choice phrase from Dwarven.  “Anything of use in the carriage?” she asked, before realizing if there had been anything pertinent, useful or the like in the waylaid vehicle, Royukgan would have said so.

“’Fraid not,” the young man responded.  “The gate commandant, once he discovered who I was,” he motioned to the signet ring Vintressa had given him, “said that they had only recieved orders to detail all carriages leaving the city.  He said he reported it already, its just making its way up the chain of command.”

“Ugh.  Which means Diogenes would not have found out until tomorrow morning, likely.  A day wasted!”

“Likely,” Royukgan agreed.  “In my father’s home, all the gate commanders report directly to the security chief... no sector commanders, or district commanders,” the prince appraised.  “It’s so much simpler!”

“Does your father’s capital have over a million people within its five rings of walls?” Raven replied.  At the prince’s silence, she gave a slight smile under her hood.  “I thought not.”

“So then,” Royukgan said rather suddenly a minute or so later, “We come back knowing precious little more than we left out with.”

“Well, I think I have a description of two people we should be looking for.  Dressed shoddily, riding on nags.  Along with the descriptions of a couple of the ‘dozens’ of messengers that left.”  After she gave the descriptions to Royukgan, he grunted.

“Hmph!  That could describe any one of tens of thousands inside this city!” 

“Umhm,” Raven sighed.  “We’ll have to meet up with some of the other canvassing teams... and see what they have drummed up.  Or who knows... maybe someone from the palace might know something... perhaps Hemmel met people on a regular basis on something?”

“I somehow think those leads will be hard to track,” Royukgan disagreed.  “From the descriptions Valaron and Vinny gave me, he was a consumate professional.  An assassin with no need for magic or weapons.  The ultimate threat.”  Royukgan shook his head.  “Someone with strength like that is hardly an amateur that would leave evidence behind.  A true _ninja_.”

“A what?” 

Royukgan paused a moment, before shaking his head and smiling again.  “Nevermind.  I’ll explain later.”

“Whatever.  We were the most likely ones to get any kind of information... I think we were the only ones that used subtlety,” Raven groaned.  “Vintressa was right about Diogenes.  He’s blunt and to the point.”

Royukgan winced at what she meant.  Soldiers dressed in bright Imperial Guard uniforms were more likely to inspire intimidation than correct answers.  

“He is a field general.  He does what he knows I suppose,” the prince replied quietly.  “I highly doubt any kind of information would be obtained by them.  I don’t think they’d be able to find where Heaven’s Rain left puddles!”

“What?”

Royukgan rolled his eyes at Raven not understanding a turn of words that anyone in his homeland would have immediately caught.  “Nevermind.”

A few minutes of confused silence passed between the two, before Raven jumped into another topic, that had piqued her interest.  It would still be another few minutes before the teams would meet at the large fountains in front of the Chalice Temple to Pelor, and she thought she might as well grill Royukgan while he was relatively captive...

“So... how serious is it between you and...” she left the princess’ name unsaid.  _We are in public, after all._

“Me and...?  I... um... well...” he immediately went back into the same stammers he’d given the night before, just before all hell broke loose.  “Kinda... okay!” he acknowledged her glare that he couldn’t see, “Its very serious!”

“Umhm,” Raven nodded with her voice.  “I see.”

“I mean... she’s nice, she’s pretty, she is no airheaded fool, and she enjoys many of the same things I do,” Royukgan said matter of factly.  “In fact, last night’s chaos interrupted our plans for a favorite past-time of ours.”

“What?!” Raven’s mind jumped immediately as deep into the sewers as possible.  A trait from her father.

“Chess?  Have you heard of it?  You know... knight takes priest?  Checkmate?” Raven could imagine the prince rolling his eyes at her bawdy thoughts.  She searched her own memory, and out of the fog, she did remember an empty chessboard set out on Vintressa’s bed.

_I guess he’s telling the truth._

A soft jab from Royukgan told Raven they were approaching the fountain.  A few minutes later, the massive cascading tower of water and marble loomed in front of them, water flowing from marble reliefs depicting the sun’s rays, the kind, warm face of Pelor looming above it all.  In the evening light, the massive Temple to the Sun god cast the entire plaza in shadow as its bright copper and gold columns caught the suns rays in their brilliance...  the long stretch of Pelor, and the shadow showing his leaving for the day.

A rather large bevy of guards, all clad in the brilliant red uniforms of the Casalad Rangers, bows strapped to their backs, stood waiting.   All moving about the plaza gave them a wide berth...

...save Raven, Royukgan, and their small retinue.

“M’lord, M’lady,” one of the men, clad in bright, shiny plate mail, stepped forward.  “I am Captain Fuldcris.  I am compiling the report for General Diogenes on the information our searching this day has turned up.”  He gave their cloaks and rather plain clothing a look of slight disdain.  “Perhaps your snooping about has given you more information than our... nothing?” 



As the evening crept onward, and the blazing orange of the setting sun burned bright over Iskeldrun, two pairs of eyes watched a raven haired, green eyed girl canvassing the street.  The eyes observed the two men in black cloaks always within arms reach of her; silent, seeming to look at wares or talk to strangers, but always mindful, always watching.  Word quickly spread through a select group that someone was about, asking questions about the morning’s events.

Two more pairs of eyes watched her friend further down the road, a boy with a orangish tint to his skin, dark black hair, and yellow eyes.  Their ears caught whispers of his speech on the wind, and lilting, distant responses to his queries.  Hand signals flashed quietly, unnoticed, and quickly feet scurried away, with information to report.

Other eyes watched with interest as Master Chamoval’s small, innocuous goblin form set about dealing with the few customers his ramshackle store recieved that day, and now watched as he closed up shop.  The goblin untied two nags that had been left there all day, and kicked the old animals until they cantered up the street.  

The eyes watched as Chamoval locked up his shop, and the lights in his street level shop go dim.  Above, lamplight petered out from his windows, and these eyes took note...

Sometime later, once the dead of night had settled, dark figures quickly gathered around the building, shapes in dark cloaks that momentarily revealed the glint of blades.  Quick hands quickly broke the old lock fitted over the door, and arcane words undid the unseen, magical lock covering the same.

Swiftly, silently, the figures stole into the shop, deftly avoiding the numerous shapes of books, antiques, and other items that littered the ground.  Silently, these figures rose up the stairs...

Chamoval might have been ‘civilized’ for his kind, but some effects of his race still were with him.  One such thing was a preference for meat far rarer than most humans would have consumed.  And tonight, to celebrate the departure of his friend, he’d saved up a relatively moist, but now thoroughly rotten, piece of lamb.  

Goblins ate their food ferociously, no matter if it was already dead, and Chamoval was no different.  His teeth cracking bones, and gnawing on the succulent flesh distracted his mind from what little sounds were coming from the stairway.  His confidence in years of procedure made him not carefully check things.

Thus he was summarily surprised when five different swords suddenly pointed at his throat.  And when he was rudely spun from his table to face his bed across the small room.

A few seconds later, a young woman, her long red hair tied in a crown around her head, sat down on his flea infested bed.  To his immense surprise, the fleas seemed to flee her form, and he could swear he saw the tiny insects leaping onto the floor and scurrying into the woodwork to get away from her.

“Master Chamoval,” her sweet alto sounded, a not so pleasant smile on her face, “several friends of yours entered this place, and never left this morning.  Pray tell, where are they now?”  Her head inclined to the side, as if she was asking a polite question.  Her hand resting on the hilt of a rather large sword indicated her statement was anything but a polite request...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 20, 2004)

Simeon and Eyrna shivered in the cold, as rain continued to pound down on their cloaks, its droplets sizzling on the pitifully small fire that their two forms clustered around.

The trek through the sewers had been long, arduous, not to mention smelly, but just before nightfall, the three had emerged on the riverbanks north of the city.  Despite the urges of the two younger ones to wash off, their dark companion insisted they march onward, towards the north.  Eyrna guessed it was perhaps two hours after nightfall when they finally made camp, just before the rain began.  

“I’m cold,” Simeon moaned quietly.  

Eyrna glanced at her brother, and gave a shivering nod in agreement.  _We should be sleeping inside a nice manor, covered in silken sheets, our bodies warmed by the fires of a well tended hearth._ 

_At least the rain is washing the smell off of our clothes,_ she thought darkly.  At least one positive.

“’Tis good for your bones,” their companion growled a few feet away.  Curiously, he sat with his back to the fire.  Eyrna had realized only a few hours after meeting him that his kind did not like the light, and avoided it when possible.  “I happen to like the cold.”

“You’re right insane!” Simeon complained.  “What we need is a nice large hearth, its flames roaring...”

“A blaze large enough that everyone within ten miles could see us?  Yes, an excellent idea!” the dark man scoffed.  His hooded cloak turned slightly, and Eyrna could just barely see the bright, glowing white of his eyes.  “I am beginning to think that he does not want my help,” the man said in his damningly calm voice.

“We need your assistance, sir!” Eyrna interjected quickly, before Simeon could anger him more.  _Our cause rests on him and his allies.  We shouldn’t anger him!_  “And we’re willing to pay handsomely for it!” she added quickly.

“Oh, I imagine you are,” the hooded man chuckled darkly, before turning back away from the fire.  “And you will, before this tale is done,” his voice mused just barely loud enough for Eyrna to catch the sound.

And she shuddered.

“Sleep now.  We have a long week ahead of us,” the man said, in his normal voice again.  “Trekking through these woods to where my comrades lay.  It won’t be an easy stroll through the Temple Heights, let me warn you!” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“We’ll be ready,” Eyrna replied in challenge, even as her own mind wondered if she really was ready to deal with this dark creature.  

“I am sure you will be,” the dark tenor replied, laughing.  Eyrna wasn’t sure if the sarcasm in the voice was foreboding, but it too sent shivers up her spine.



“M’lord?”  a voice called softly through the thickened doors of one of the practice rooms in the palace armory.

Valaron closed his eyes in frustration. 

“I’m on my way!” he called, sheathing his blade in disgust.  _I come here to get away from messengers, from servants, from everything else.... yet they follow me even here!_  his mind snarled.  With the recent events, Valaron had been looking forward all day to practicing away from the commotion, the noise, the chaos.  It was among the few times he truly was able to think without disturbance in his mind.

“What?!” he snapped as he opened the door.  He instantly regretted his sharp tone, as Raven recoiled slightly.  “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, searching for a reason for his harsh words.  “I’m used to servants coming in with inane things.  What brings you here?”

“You’d better come with me,” Raven said quietly, her eyes dancing with a little fear.  “There’s something you need to see.”

It was a few minutes later when Raven and Valaron came into one of the smaller reception halls near a side entrance to the palace.  Vintressa and Royukgan were already there, both looking shocked and horrified.  

Before them lay the form of a small, elderly goblin, stripped to his waist, bruises covering his drenched form from head to toe.  Dried blood had caked along his ears and down the side of his head.

More alarming than this scene was the grisly image on his back.  Burnt black into his green skin was the form a hand, its fingers splayed open.   Val looked to his sister in confusion.

“He was dumped off in front of the side steps here,” Vintressa said quietly, walking around the body, looking at it closely.  “He had a note pinned to his neck.  It’s a little runny from the rain, but it’s still legible.”

“Pinned to his neck?” Val asked in confusion.

“With a dagger,” Raven added as Vintressa handed Valaron the little note.  As she said the ink on its paper had run slightly, though it appeared that most of the paper was dry, as if the goblin’s body had covered it.  The writing looked scripted and beautiful, though the words were anything but.

“ALAS TO THOSE WHO USE NAGS
MASTER CHAMOVAL HAS MET HIS FATE
NO MOURNERS CLAD IN RAGS
SHALL SEE HIS STATE
FOR THEY ARE PACKING BAGS
LOOKING TO DEATH BREAK.”

“That makes no sense!” Valaron handed the note to his sister.  _Sounds like the rhyming of a drunken fool!_  “Why is this here, in front of us?  He’s just a goblin, probably pulled from the city gutters!”

“Val... the first line.  ‘Alas to those who use nags?’ ‘Mourners clad in rags?’” Vintressa pointed.  “Someone just dumped us a clue.  A very small and dead clue, but a clue nonetheless.”

“Do you really think that this has something to do with those nag-riding people that Raven found out about?” Valaron asked, still not trusting his sister’s logic.  _That’s an immense leap of faith.  And if someone was trying to help us out, why wouldn’t they come in a more formal setting... present the evidence to Diogenes, or father?  And show themselves for reward?_

“I don’t know, but it bears investigating,” Vintressa said finally.  “And it gets more interesting.  Do you have any idea what that hand on his back means?”

Valaron shrugged.  “There’s so many organizations that use a hand as their symbol. Hundreds probably.  It’s rather popular,” the prince scratched his head.

“I know there are several mages societies that do.  I actually listened to some of the lectures at the Academy,” Raven jumped in.  “There’s the Society of Scientific Magic... they’re trying to develop new ways to use the planes of magic, then there’s...”

“How many are there?” Valaron asked, sensing the list could be quite long.

“Um... thirty or so?”

“And I don’t doubt that your realm is like mine, with numerous non-magic secret societies using the hand as a symbol,” Royukgan added.  “I can think of six or seven in my home country.  Everything from thieves, to assassin’s orders to secret societies for ferriers and smithys.  Your larger nation probably has even more.”

“Great,” Vintressa sighed.  “And that’s not counting any of the less than legal societies.  Well, I think it bears looking into.  Look at the edges of the burning,” the princess leaned over the corpse rather casually.  The others leaned with a great deal more reservation.  “See how there’s no blood.  He was branded after he died.”  She stood back up, flashing a smile of triumph towards Raven.

“How do you know that?” Valaron asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“I paid attention in anatomy lecture... which _someone_ needed to take thrice before finally passing the final exam,” her look towards Raven beamed.  “A wound like this should ooze out blood.  This one has none.”

“Or someone could have used a bloodbane brand,” Raven pointed out.

“Stop stabbing holes into my theory!” Vintressa growled in frustration.  She gave a sigh.  “I suppose they could have done that.  But why would someone use a bloodbane brand?  Why would someone waste bloodbane magic on such a thing as a _brand_?”

“Maybe they don’t want to have to keep cleaning their brand off?  I mean, there are some swordmasters that use bloodbane swords just so they don’t have to worry about cleaning off the sword to avoid rust,” Valaron offered.  “It can be quite an annoyance, especially if one is looking at many fights in a short period of time.”

“That still seems pretty silly... considering how powerful and dark bloodbane magic is.  I heard Aegrifyr refuses to teach it to any of the Academy students.  He says it and other necromantics are too dangerous,” Vintressa said.  “Why would someone waste powerful necromancer powers to brand a hand on someone?  Doesn’t make sense.  I still say he was branded after he died.”

“What about this mess here.  ‘For they are packing bags, looking to death break.’ That’s the most mangled piece of garbage-“ Valaron observed grimly.  

“Packing bags is rather obvious… they’re leaving the city,” Royukgan said aloud.

“Well, we didn’t need a dead goblin’s note to figure that out,” Raven scowled.  

“Sounds like the confusing stuff a poet would do for the sake of a lyric,” Valaron replied dryly.  Poetry was obviously not one of his fortes or loves.  “Why would they pack their bags to ‘death break?’ anyway?  Its not like anyone needs a resurrection spell or something.  We haven’t caught them yet!”

“Maybe it means they’re going back to talk to their ancestors, or a priest that can converse with the dead.  Or maybe that Fire Stone gives immortality of some kind,” Royukgan offered.  “That would certainly break death… there’s just the whole complication that they can’t carry it.  Or who knows… maybe it was supposed to be another word instead of ‘death’ or ‘break.’”

“Regardless,” Valaron interrupted, “at this point, I am entirely in favor of bringing this evidence up at tomorrow’s council meeting.” The prince then put his hands on his hips.  “Diogenes might be a numbskull when it comes to investigating things, but his underlings have been in security for a while.  They might be able to make sense of it.”  There was a few seconds of silence, before someone spoke.

“No,” Vintressa said quietly.

“No?  Why not?” Val asked increduously.

“Think about it Valaron!” she spun to face her brother.  “Someone _knew_ this was the area of the palace we were close to, and _knew_ that at this hour we would be awake for the palace watch to contact.  They_knew_ Diogenes wouldn’t be roused to check over a mere body, and that certainly Mom and Dad wouldn’t.”

“And whoever it was didn’t go through the normal channels by telling the city watch, or the Guard, or other security people.  It was intended for _us_!” she said forcefully.  _It’s fairly obvious!  They want us to respond to this, not mom or dad or any of the guards or security!_

“You’re talking like someone is trying to give us evidence to _avoid_ normal security procedure.  That makes it automatically suspicious to me,” Valaron rejoined.  “I can’t think of one legitimate reason why someone would avoid going through sound security channels to relay important information... if, indeed, what you’re guessing about this little fellow is right, and there _is_ a connection.”  Valaron crossed his arms.  _I think this is either a coincidence, or a false lead sent to trip us up!_

“Perhaps they know something you don’t... like the security channels are compromised?  Someone paid off someone?” Royukgan offered.

“Doubtful,” Valaron added again.  “Diogenes is a bulldog.  He might not be subtle, he might not be creative, but also he is not disloyal.  The main reason he was put in was Father knew that Diogenes would not misuse the position... he’s served faithfully as a general since before we were born!”

“How about a compromise?” Raven finally offered.  “We inform your father, but not the council.  He at least deserves to be kept abreast of the situation.”

Vintressa nodded, though Valaron grumbled at the information not being spread as it normally would.  _Someone is trying to trick us with this mess!_



Much later that night, the long, drenching rain abated.  Eyrna and Simeon did not notice, sleep having long ago claimed their bodies.  The tiny fire that had warmed them had long since burned itself out. Their comrade did notice, however, and smiled.  

Gingerly he removed his hood as the moon’s light began to peek between the clouds.  The soft moonlight was something his bright eyes could handle, and it cast shadows about his already ebony black face.

He rose, and looked to the left, his eyebrows raising momentarily.  On cue, several more figures appeared, all clad in dark robes but none possessing the same dark face as him.  Silently, he seemed to almost float above the ground towards them.  Unbeknownst to them, a few whispered words of power drifted from his lips, directed at them.  Satisfied with the results, he watched them all bow in deference and respect.

“My Master,” the five dark cloaks dipped in the depth of the night, “we have come, as you requested.  Show us, and guide us, our Teacher,” The others did not rise, until their master spoke.

“Arise, children.  A new night now holds us,” he smiled at hearing his old title now come back to his ears.  It had been centuries since someone had called him that, and it was music to his ears.  “And our lord above calls us this night to do his work.  Metallus, Holder of Secrets?” he asked, and one of the hooded forms stepped forward.  

Underneath his pitch black cloak, in the thin lights of the ever strengthening moonlight, the thin beard and sharp face of a young human could be made out.  The man bowed hurriedly, with great deference.  He was a young one in the organization, his life only being prolonged to twice its normal length.

“My Teacher, I have safeguarded the location of tombs, as you have asked, keeping the secret hidden.  It is written on no paper, or pinpointed on any map.  It only exists within my mind, where it shall stay a secret, one which none save our lord can find,” he bowed.

“Excellent.  You have done excellent work over the past century then... work worthy of a new position.  Behold, the Holder of Secrets is now a Keeper of the same,” he said quietly.  

The effect on the young man was the same as if the words had been shouted during the pomp and finery of a royal coronation, and he quickly fell to a knee again, whispering words of thanks.

“My Teacher... those two.  They are not of our ranks.  Can they be trusted with the secrets of the tombs?” another dark cloak asked, his tone directing them towards Eyrna and Simeon’s sleeping forms.  Within its shadows the feral red eyes of a dark creature burst out, his eyes betraying a hunger for more than flesh.  “Shall I dispose of them, my Teacher?”

“Many times, my child,” the Teacher replied, “in order to obtain a goal, one must use... vessels.  Those two are merely vessels we shall use to obtain our goal.  Then, you shall have your way with them as you please.”

Simeon’s sleeping form suddenly gave a snort, causing the six dark figures to jump.

“Follow us for one week.  Then reveal yourselves, after I have had time to work on the two uninitiated.  Thence, you shall join us.  Now,” he looked back at the boy, who had rolled to his side and looked to be moving still, “fly!  Fly, guard your minds and keep your mental treasures locked!”

Quickly, the six brought their left hands up to their left eyes; a quick yet powerful benediction between their seething magical souls.  And in a flash, six turned into one, the night covering her other travelers…



Simeon was a slow riser, and it was some five minutes later when he opened his eyes, and he saw their dark companion in the moonlight, leaning against a tree.  A tiny bit of moonlight shone into the dark recesses of his hood, and Simeon could swear he saw a ghostly smile crossing the creature’s lips.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 21, 2004)

The morning sun burned through the last of the night’s fog and rain above Iskeldrun, bathing the city in glowing light.  The same light burned down into the Imperial Palace, and somewhere within its depths, the light caused Raven to squint.

She gave a unthankful grunt, before turning her back to the thin slits that marked the chamber windows.  With the blinding light of the sun out of her eyes, she again tried to refocus her mind.

_Come on, Raven... its part of the reason your mother sent you to the Academy.  Focus!_

She closed her eyes, feeling the magic within her veins coursing, rushing, running as a stream.  Her person was an immense portal for the planes of magic.  Unlike many of the hopeful apprentices that were her classmates, she did not go there to learn how to _access_ magic, but something far more important.

How to properly control and wield the sorcerous powers that coursed through her being.

She held her left arm out horizontally, as she felt the power course.  She focused her mind on it, on its rivulets and streams forming into a pool, shimmering, immensely deep.  Her mind started to clear, as her being focused on dipping into the pool, and bringing forth a small drop of that power.  It fluttered in her mind, floating as if one droplet in a misty sky...

Carefully, she guided the tiny droplet of power from that reservoir towards the surface, and towards her free arm.   It took only a few seconds to complete the process, yet the movement seemed to take an eternity, her mind was so focused.  

Finally, she felt the dribbles of magic along her fingertips, and her eyes opened.  Within its grasp was a small, white ball of energy, shaped like a bead.  Her gaze to anyone else would seem glazed over, unfocused, when in fact she was taking in everything possible.

Her eyes spotted the dummy straw men set up... two of them barely five feet from her, ten others about forty feet away.  Her mind imagined them moving, shouting, roaring towards her, and then her muscles and mind sprang into action.

One would have seen a sharp snarl form on her lips, as the bead flew away from her hand, towards the clustered group of straw men.  As it coursed, her right hand slashed down across her body, and ripped out her nagaika.  The glass whip cracked through the air, sending both of the close straw men sprawling to the ground, their forms shattered and slashed.

Her eyes then flecked upwards as a flash burst through the room.  She was greeted with the sight of four of the straw men burning.... hardly a worry in the stone of the armory.   Six others lay untouched, save one whose hat was singed slightly.  A dark, burned spot on the stone floor showed her that her fireball hand landed about fifteen feet where she had aimed it... and with a spell with a radius of twenty feet, the results were hardly satisfactory.

“Dammit!” she snapped, feeling the reservoir of magic within her body break its bonds and begin its swirling in rivulets of power again.  _You didn’t concentrate enough when drawing the nagiaka!  Focus Raven!_ she shouted at herself.  With a huff of frustration, she stormed forward, and began roughly setting up the knocked over figures.

“That was... impressive.  Scary impressive,” she heard a voice behind her, and Raven jumped around, her heart in her throat.

Valaron gave a slight chuckle, before walking forward with his hand extended.  “I came here for my morning practice, but I heard someone in the hall.  So I crept in quietly, and lo and behold, I have seen a formidable maiden indeed!” his smile grew larger as he grasped her hand and shook it in congratulation.  “Well done!”

A flutter of thoughts raced through Raven’s head, before she cast her eyes downward, her face bright red at the praise.  “It... was nothing.  Far less than I expected,” she admitted with a stammer.  “I missed six of the ten targets with my spell.  I must work on my concentration.”

“Well, you missed six.  So?  Still a damn sight better than I can do,” Valaron smiled, bringing her head up with his hand.  “I can either launch spells or engage in armed combat.  You seem like you can almost do both,” Valaron said in slight wonder, before a smirk crossed his face.  “Remind me never to anger you!”

“I don’t think that will be an issue!” Raven laughed a little too loudly, which caused Valaron to little at her a little strangely.

“I’m... sure it won’t,” he said slowly, before nervously smiling again.  Suddenly, his nervous face changed to one pregnant with an idea that he, at least, considered brilliant.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a god sparring partner!” he took her by the shoulders and led her towards the far side of the chamber.  “And I’d sure like to test my chances against that... um... what exactly is that whip called again?”

“A nagiaka,” Raven giggled, “and sure... it’ll be fun!”

When he first squared his shoulders and set his katana in his high guard stance, he thought things would be easy.  _I have to watch things... my sword could easily cut through her whip-thing.  Wouldn’t want to actually damage her weapon._  Her own weapon seemed to hang only limply from her arm... as if she was inviting attack.

Valaron decided to humor her, and gave a feint towards his down and left, before suddenly switching his slash towards the right.  A sharp _craack_ cut close through the air, and he suddenly felt his blade going a different direction... then out of his hand.  With a clatter, his sword fell to the ground, and Raven looked at him and laughed.

“Is that all you have?  Vintressa made it sound like you were trying to learn how to be a great swordsman!” Raven giggled.  “Or do you want another chance to beat a measely student of magic at melee combat?”

Val gave a growl of frustration, and picked up his blade in response.

_That whip is fast... and strong.  I must be careful._

The next spar was easily Valaron’s.  After thinking back on her first attack that disarmed him, Valaron was prepared.  As soon as her whip had latched around his blade, and he felt the slight tug of her snapping it from his hands, he yanked downward as hard as possible.  The move snapped her close to him... close enough that his elbow was only a few inches from her face.  In a real fight, her nose would have been broken.

“There.  I think I would’ve had you there,” he smiled in triumph. “Just figured out your tactics and used them against you,” he explained grandly, causing her to scowl.

“Another match!” she unwound her whip from his katana.



“Is your brother usually late like this?” Royukgan asked Vintressa quietly.  As the most dangerous assassin was still at large, it was considered unwise that Royukgan, Vintressa, or Raven return to the Academy.  All were in the palace until further notice.

“No... and yes,” Vintressa complained.  “When he goes to practice, he loses all sense of time or place!” the princess quoted a recent letter from her parents.  “Headstrong, Bullheaded...”

“Indeed.  Just like your attempted rush on my knight two turns ago,” Royukgan smiled, and nodded to the small chessboard to their front in one of the many private studies in the residence wing of the palace.  It was something that was relaxing, to take both their minds off of the puzzles of the previous few days.

“Why should I bother?” Vintressa moaned.  “I’ve lost!  You’ve got me in two moves!  Gah!”

“Well, three actually,” Royukgan’s smile changed to a mischevious smirk.  “Your problem was... well, look whose coming right there!”

Vintressa turned around in her chair, and spotted Valaron storming into the room, his face twisted in fury.  His copper hand was closely cupped to his face, and by his hissing, she guessed whatever it was hurt.  Behind trailed a worried and tearful Raven.

“I’m sorry!  I didn’t know it was going that close!” the girl sputtered in apology.

“Bloody well almost took out my eye!” Valaron shot back, furious.

“What happened?” Vintressa asked, despite something telling her deep down she might want to just stay out of whatever mess was enveloping her brother and her friend.

“We were sparring, me with my nagiaka, him with his sword, and-“ Raven started, before Valaron interrupted.

“She sliced open my face!” he shrieked, pulling away his hand.  Most of his cheek, as well as his hand, were covered in blood.  “Pelor’s Bloody Flames!” Valaron swore, putting his hand back up to keep the mess from spreading.  However, red spots were already on his otherwise mundane tunic.

“It was an accident!  I didn’t mean to-“ Raven replied desperately, her eyes looking between Valaron and Vintressa worriedly.  

“Val, stop,” Vintressa sighed.  The cool minded Vintressa was needed again to save the day.  “Sit,” she commanded, before ordering a manservant to fetch some water and bandages.  When he returned a few minutes later, she handed the two items to Raven.

“Fix him up,” she said quietly.

“Good gods no!  She’s not getting near me again!  She might kill me accidentally!” Val complained.

“Val, stop being a baby!” Vintressa finally stamped her foot.  “Hold still so she can clean you up!”  _No doubt the wound is far smaller than it feels... umhm... just as I thought,_ she crossed her arms.  Raven’s worried and fearful cleansing of his cheek revealed there was indeed a gash... one merely an inch long, high on his cheekbone. Blood ran from it rather profusely, but there was no way such a wound was debilitating, let alone fatal. The Princess gave a complaining sigh.

“Father will be coming soon.  Get him cleaned up before he arrives!”  She spun back towards the chess table, only to be confronted with a still smirking Royukgan.  Beset on all sides, Vintressa simply swore before cleaning off the chessboard and demanding a rematch.



Like most noble residences, the Imperial Palace of Iskeldrun was replete with secret chambers, corridors and hallways.  But as every noble household, it also had numerous private drawing rooms, sitting rooms, and quarters for private meetings between members of the Imperial family and others of interest.  The sitting room occupied by the princes, princess and commoner was one of these.

In these closed halls, the only ceremony required was what the Emperor wished, and as time was of the essence, such tasks were kept to be kept to a minimum.  He strode into the room with no fanfare or banners... indeed, he was still donning his robes of state.  With a wave, the servants were dismissed, and the doors of the room shut, leaving them completely alone.

“You said you wanted to meet with me outside the Council?” Lucius asked hurriedly, his hands furiously trying to button a rubied clasp.  “What has happened?”

“Well,” Royukgan replied, “Vintressa has been the searching one, so I think she should describe what we’ve found.”

The princess then produced the rain-streaked note for her father to see, as well as describing the goblin left on the streets outside of the palace.  She also explained her theory... that the message was meant to bypass the normal security people, and be dealt with directly by the Imperial person.

“Hmmm,” Luke sat down, reading the note over again.

“I think we should go forward assuming there’s a leak or mole in our security people,” Vintressa continued cautiously.  “Quietly try and figure out what this riddlish note means, as well as what the hand burned on the creature’s back meant.”

“So you are assuming,” Lucius started to recite her theory, “that this... goblin, was a contact of some of the missing Erelion people... and that they are currently looking for something to do with death in order to get the Fire Stone?”

Vintressa nodded... which only caused the Emperor to growl again in thought.

“Maybe the note simply means that by touching the Fire Stone they’ll die if they’re not of your bloodline,” Royukgan offered.

“In which case we’d have nothing to worry about!” Raven said with a sarcastic tone.  “No, I doubt its that. Why waste the time to send the note?”

“Maybe it means we should be focusing on more important matters than two missing people in rags,” Lucius said slowly.  “Diogenes’ dragnet got something in the wee hours of this morning... several dispatches from House Erelion.”   Normally a quip about Diogenes’ tendencies to be like a canine might have been thrown in, but by his tone the Emperor was not in a joking mood.

“What did they find?” Vintressa asked in a hushed tone.

“The conspiracy was widespread,” Lucius said after a sigh.  “It is clear very few were clear on the details of the actual attack, but many were clear on what would happen in the aftermath of the planned... ‘decapitation,’ as they called it,” the Emperor said darkly.

“How far does it go?” Valaron asked.

“The secretary to the Chief Prelate of the Tarantor Church,” Lucius said quietly.  “One of the Underchains of the Church of Kord here in Iskeldrun, House Donibar, House Munifent...” the Emperor’s voice trailed off.  “We don’t know how much further.  Most alarmingly were the instructions sent with these dispatches, now that the plot has failed.  For those who wish to overthrow this government to marshal their forces near Thuyiden... north of Comnitas.”   The Emperor rested his head in his hands quietly.

“A... rebellion?” Royukgan asked quietly.  He had seen the Imperial Guard, and heard stories of its fearsome power.  He could not fetter why someone would willing take on such a force when it was not only whole... but enraged.

“Depending on how deep their support is... we could be facing anything from a few desperate knaves trying to ‘fight to the last,’ to a full scale civil war,” Lucius sighed again.  When he brought his face up, he did not look like a young, vigorous 34 year old man.  Instead, the lines on his tired face made him look twice his age.

“Well... we’ll crush them dad!  Just like the last time any of the nobles rose up!” Valaron said decisively, even while he held his still smarting cheek.

“I hope so,” Lucius smiled sadly at his son’s bravado.  The boy had never seen a full scale war, and so he had only the stories of glory to base his statement on.  Not the blood and gore of an actual battle... like his father.  “It all reminds me of why I didn’t want to be here in the first place,” he sighed.  For a few moments, silence hung in the air, before Lucius turned to the children, purpose in his eyes.

“Well,” he cleared his throat.  “Considering this, we have a job to do.  And Vintressa, considering this new information, I agree with you.  I trust Diogenes, not necessarily those under him.  None of this will reach him,” Luke said, before pausing.  Quickly, he nodded to himself decisively.  “Yes.  That is how we shall proceed.  And it makes all of you even more important now.”

“How so?”

“They wanted this... Fire Stone so bad they tried to blackmail us and kill your mother.  We cannot allow them to have it.  If I didn’t have these robes to wear, I would go out myself to find it.  But I’ll need to send one of you instead!”

“One of us?  Why not both?” both Val and Vintressa cried.

“Too risky.  To risk both heirs on the same mission?  Foolhardy.  Vintressa, your mind is sharp and keen.  I’ll need you here... to watch the security people as they hunt the culprits.  That means you, Val, will be headed to the Valley.”

“The Valley? Why do you think I should start there?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  _Starting in the Valley means I’ll be close to..._

“One... there are people I trust to help you there.  Raven’s parents, for one.  Several other friends who I know are loyal in the Kord, Hieroneous and Tarantor churches as well.  Secondly, that’s the last that _I_ know of where that stone was at.”

“The Valley?  Why did it end up there?” Vintressa wondered.

“Well, you know the story of how myself and your mother met.  And of how I was originally betrothed to the Emperor’s granddaughter.  As part of her dowry, she was rumored to be bringing a massive ruby, the size of two fists put together.  However, in the chaos of the demon invasion, and the death of the Emperor, the stone became of secondary concern,” Lucius admitted.  

“Once the demon staff was destroyed, I know myself and many others assumed that the stone was useless without its parent device.  And as House Erelion was already grumbling, and Comnitas was near revolt, things were left ignored that probably should not have been.”

“Now, I am guessing you probably would want someone to check up on Val... make sure he remains safe,” Vintressa offered.  “As well as someone who is adept at libraries and searching records?” Her eyes drifted over to Raven, who looked worriedly between the princess, Valaron, and the Emperor.  

“Yes.  Raven would be a good choice,” Lucius gave a slight smile, the first of his arrival.  “They say you are good at defense, and someone with experience at the Academy undoubtedly can do a little reading.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Raven bowed her head again, nervous to the core as Valaron shot her an angry, dirty look.

“Now, Val,” Luke turned his attention back to his eldest son, “In Kulloden and Irulas, at the Temple Libraries, there is information on the Demon’s Rebellion, the staff, and the Great Diamond.  I am hoping there lies information on the Fire Stone as well, considering the close ties the three have had.  And your Aunt’s... ‘friends’” Luke looked at Royukgan, before looking back at his son, “are in many places in the Valley.  They should help.”  _No reason to tell the foreign prince about Tess’ organization..._

“Yes father.  I’ll do my best!” Valaron said with a brave smile.  His eyes then flicked towards his new erstwhile travel partner, and inwardly he groaned.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 22, 2004)

The council meeting was brutally short, and the four friends found themselves waiting barely fifteen minutes before the chamber doors burst open and Lucius stormed out, fury etched on his face.

“It’s war,” he said simply, as his two children, his adopted niece, and the young foreign prince fell in behind.  “House Vendome turned over to us this morning a letter they claimed was ‘unsolicited,’ demanding the other barons rise up in arms against _me_!” Lucius snarled.  “I’d expect that many other houses have recieved these letters calling for open rebellion!”

“We’ll still beat them,” the Emperor heard his son say confidently.

“We’ll find out shortly.  I’ve ordered a meeting of the _regis terra_, leaders of the land, to demand their fealty and loyalty, as well as ask for their renewed support,” Lucius said quietly.  “The barons within the city, as well as the heads of the various churches and monastic orders should be arriving in the Throne Room within the hour.... then I’ll find out how deep this plot goes.”

“They’d be foolish not to back the Dragon Emperor,” Valaron repeated again, confidence riding high in his voice.  “You are unmatched in war!”

“War?” Vintressa asked quietly.  The princess nervously glanced outside the rows of windows the small entourage passed as they walked through the palace, and one by one, the distant towers of the innermost city towers became ablaze... warning fires lit on their turrets.

“Yes... I’ve ordered the Imperial army to be mustered,” Lucius growled.  “Diogenes expects within two weeks we can put together our first army... forty thousand foot and twenty thousand horse.”

Valaron’s eyes betrayed nothing less than excitement.  “Father, do I have to go to the Valley?  I’d be more useful in one of the armies, leading from the front!” he half whined, half gibbered in excitement.  His mind filled with the stories he had heard from the officers that had served sixteen years before and from Kelir.  The stories of glory won on the battlefield.  Of meeting demons and beasts head on... of do-or-die situations, and the victorious, glorious triumph.

His comment prompted his father to stop his strides forward, and turn to the young man, eyes dead serious.

“You are fortunate.  You have never seen a full battle.  It is not as much glory and glamour as the stories made it.  They leave out the carnage, the blood, the broken souls!” the Emperor half growled.  At seeing his son recoil slightly, a sad half-smile began to from on Luke’s face.  “You are so fortunate, and yet you don’t realize it!”  He looked up for a second, before turning around to continue his march.  “No, you’re going to go with Raven and some guardsmen to Kulloden!  Its the opposite direction from Comnitas, and there you’ll find this Fire Stone... as well as helping our friend!” the Emperor gave a vague reference to Ari.  

Royukgan had not been privy to their discussion about the prismatic dragon.  And while it looked increasingly likely he was mentioned only as a bluff to extend the threat to cover friends of the Emperor, Lucius didn’t want to take any chances.  Valaron was to take Ari with him, and guard the inquisitive creature as well as possible.

Below his breath, in a voice he hoped his son would not hear, the Emperor also muttered, “You’ll be safer there.  You are like your mother... you would be reckless.  I’ll let you be reckless where there is less chance of you hurting yourself...”

“But father-“ Valaron’s teenage whine started, only to halt as seeing his father not even turn to acknowledge it.  His head fell, he knew he’d lost.

“Vintressa, this makes your job more important,” the Emperor said after a few minutes of silence.  “I have utmost confidence in the palace guard, but as for the other security personnel... I believe your suspicions are correct.  Hemmel had help getting this close to us, even if it took him five years to work his way in,” the Emperor mused aloud.  “Diogenes will be marching out with the second army, which will be ready in a month’s time.  And I have no doubt your mother will march out as well.”

“So _I’ll_ be in charge of the palace?” Vintressa asked warily, to a nod from the Emperor.  “But, I mean...”

“Vintressa, you’ve shown me you have an intelligent mind on your shoulders... and a cool, steady hand.  You will not be alone... the City Governor will still be here.”  The Emperor then turned his head again.  “And I need you to watch over the palace, your two younger siblings, and Prince Royukgan.  This is perhaps the safest place for them!”

“Yes father,” she nodded in understanding.  

“And now, if you’ll follow me, I would appreciate you four by my side when I demand loyalty from this rabble,” the Emperor growled.  “And meet a group that I know all of you have heard of that can help us.”



The Imperial Throne room had always been designed to inspire fear and awe in whoever entered its depths seeking a meeting with the Imperial Person.  Its massive marble and gilt colors, decorated in beautiful colors, and its ornate and priceless silk tapestries, depicting battles won and glory gained, were all expressly designed for this purpose.  And as overly ornate and gaudy as the current Emperor may have thought it was when he first sat on the throne, Lucius now realized its purpose, even to the point of adding his own touch to the immense hall.

Hanging above the massive Dragon Throne, its gilt form rising in mighty fury above the Emperor’s head, hung another form of draconic fury... this one preserved in its final roar.  

The eyes of the great wyrm Stalatan’s head were, of necessity, fake.  The teeth, scales, horns and the like were not.  And their formidable form now loomed over a bevy of the elite of the Imperial society, come to give condolences to the Emperor and cries of support.  Word had spread through the city like wildfire, and at Vintressa’s insistence, Luke had written up an official statement of what happened, to stop rumors from flying.

In the spacious hall in front of them, Valaron and Vintressa could make out the High Prelate of the Church of Tarantor, the Most Holy Commander of the Righteous, chief of the Hieroneous Church, His Holiness, Speaker of the Light from the Church of Pelor, and many of the other chiefs of the sanctioned religions of the Empire.  Most of the nobles currently in the city were present, adding a riot of color to the crowd.

Somewhere out there was also the representative of the one institution and family that the two twins wanted to talk to.  Their leader could not be present... she was currently absent from the Empire... and likely completely off-world.

_Aunt Tess would know what to do,_ Vintressa thought quietly as the parade of pomp and circumstance filed into the room.  Even as the Chief Prelate began an opening prayer asking the Empire and her father to be blessed, and justice be done to the offenders, Vintressa could see her father’s hands gripping the throne so hard that his knuckles were white.

‘Aunt Tess’ had been the third and, in Vintressa’s mind, most important cog of the old traveling friends from some time before.  The bard was not only beautiful, but sharp-minded.  Frequently, when her ‘Uncle’ Shaun had run around like a fowl with no head, and Vintressa’s own mother had wanted to draw her blade and fight almost certain doom, Tess had figured out a way for them to come to the best situation... and save their hides.

True, she did have several breakdowns involving interrogating evil after her own brother was slain, and true, she did single-handedly cause all the Nine Hells to want her dead, but she’d somehow survived... not only survived, Vintressa corrected herself, but thrived.

Vintressa had always been saddened that Tesseron was not around as much as the other friends of her parents.  She’d sit by the bard’s knee many times, listening and learning how to reason, think, and when to act on instinct, and when to sit down and use logic.  It was Aunt Tess that got her started on mind puzzles early on, and taught her that for every situation, there were multiple paths... one merely had to plan.

_Aunt Tess... what would you do?_ Vin thought to herself as the Chief Prelate finished his longwinded prayer, and en masse the nobles present repeated their oaths of allegiance.  _Sit down and think for a few moments, discover my opponents wants and goals,_ Tess’ voice replied quietly from Vintressa’s memory, _figure out what they want, why they want it, and how they are prepared to get it.  Then, and only then, will I come up with a response.  If I know all three of the above... then... then I can hit them from three points; deny them what they want, deny them their reason for wanting it, or deny them the means to get it._

_What do they want?

The Fire Stone... and Ari.  Or did they really want Ari?  They mentioned him in passing... they might just have wanted to hint danger to Aunt Elenya and Uncle Shaun...

Why do they want it?

It has some kind of power likely.  What power?  I don’t know.  I need to answer that.

How are they going to get it?

They can’t.   They need someone of Caladron blood to fetch it..._ This part of the problem also stuck in her mind as well.

As the monotonous series of prayers from all the churches dragged to a close, Vintressa barely listened as her father announced there had indeed, been an assassination attempt on the Empress, that it had failed, and that the culprits were being tracked down.  Of course he didn’t name names... only  few parts of what was no doubt a widespread conspiracy were known... possibly even one or more of the many gathered here that had only minutes before prayed for long life to the Emperor.

Not naming anyone put everyone on notice.  And when the guilty are on notice... there’s a higher chance they’ll do something incriminating...

The Emperor then spoke of the letters, the threats for insurrection.  He added in some savory details Xanadu had deemed prudent to add in as ‘filler,’ pieces of information that weren’t actually in the seized letters, but could be reasonably inferred, knowing how the Baron Erelion operated.  Some of these included how House Erelion planned to kill off other noble families and divide up the land, of what chaos and prolonged civil war would destroy in terms of revenues, livelihoods, and human suffering.  It was an appeal to the minds, hearts, guts, and pocketbooks of those present to ally with the current ruling family, and crush the rebellion as quickly as possible, to save as much of the country from war as possible.

The Emperor then issued the call for fealty, asking those that would stay with the Emperor to kneel, and before all of the gods aligned, swear loyalty to the crown.  To the surprise of the four young people, they could hear the noise of footfalls from people leaving the hall.  The crowd was too large to see who, but none had any doubt the Emperor had people watching to catalogue who refused to swear loyalty.

The rest, en masse, fell on one knee, and thousands then placed their heads upon their knees, speaking the words in old Common that translated to, “One Emperor for One Empire, we swear loyalty to the Draconic Crown!”

The pledge was something that was bound with holy power... it was an oath sworn in front of the highest clerics of most of the patron dieties and saints of these very noble houses.  Failure to follow through with such an oath would undoubtedly bring chaos on their house.

However, Vintressa’s politically astute mind realized, the oath merely called for loyalty, not active support.  It was entirely reasonable that a baron swear loyalty to the crown and thus not take up arms against it.  He wasn’t required to actively provide troops, as long as he paid his taxes, respected imperial laws, etc.  And from the perspective of many of these nobles, who had no idea someone had come so close to taking out the Emperor, the wise course of action _would be_ to sit on the sidelines.  

In the dirty politics of the Imperial nobility, being a bystander was always preferable to being on a potentially losing side in a squabble of these proportions.

As the nobles, prelates, churchmen, and other notaries began to file out, a single man, clad in a uniform of brown color, emblazoned with a sky blue chimera, stepped forward.  With a deep bow, he held out his hand in a posture of giving to the Emperor, and ancient custom where the subject symbolically offered their obedience to the ruler.

Vintressa could make out words on his hand as her father thanked him.  As soon as the words came from the Emperor’s mouth, the words vanished, and the man stood, bowed again, and excused himself.

When the great doors to the room closed, and they were alone, Vintressa was immediately by her father’s side.

“What did it say?  What news from the organization!?”

“How do you know it was from Aunt Tess’ group?” Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“Because she sends people to you with magical writing on their hands that only appears in your presence,” Valaron rolled his eyes.  “Its obvious.  I’m sure the others in the organization do it as well!”

“My, how perceptive you are,” Luke smiled.  “Very simply, she’s heard of the... incident, and she is traveling back to focus her own people to help us out.  She’ll be teleporting in within a few days...”

“She _will!?_” Vintressa jumped up excitedly. 

“ Which means for the next two days you’re going to stay put, Val... at least until we can find out how many of her people can help you out.”  _I’m not about to let you go off in the wild if there is more help I can spare..._



Hemmel growled as another mug was placed in front of him.  He looked up at the waitress, and gave her a gruff nod of thanks.  Taverns were an excellent place to pick up rougher mannerisms and speech... something Hemmel would have to re-learn after spending five years in the Imperial Court.

His eyes took in the crowd calmly and coolly.  It was the early morning folks at the _Pony Alehouse and Eatery_ were busy enjoying one of the establishment’s trademarks... its excellent poached eggs for breakfast.  In fact, Hemmel was enjoying some himself, and he did have to admit that for their price of a silver piece, it was very good.

Hemmel chuckled at the irony, just before the numerous itches in his chin annoyed him again.  In slight frustration, he scratched the long shadow growing over his face, and the greasy hair that covered his head.  At the palace, he had been used to shaving often, and cleaning his hair frequently.  After only a few days of not doing such, his appearance had started to change.

_I am eating in the business owned by the friend of my enemy,_ he chuckled, stuffing another piece of egg in his mouth.  It had been a boon that he’d stumbled on this place, and its very friendly and talkative staff.  

It was here that Hemmel found out the Dice family had extensive connections all over the Valley.  They owned a series of chicken farms outside the city that gave them a steady supply of eggs for the tavern.  They owned stakes in several of the local mines.  They owned a series of magic shops in Kulloden, Holstean and Irulas.  The more Hemmel heard, the elder Dice sounded less and less like a reformed thief and more and more like a consumate investor and businessman.

He also learned more of the matriach of the family, that she was head of the local Mages’ Guild, and being eyed by one of the various ‘schools’ of Magic, the Council of the Fine Art of Abjurance, as a possible council member.  

_Amazing one can learn with a few questions, and more listening at the proper locations,_ Hemmel thought, sipping on the wine he’d been handed.  It was cheap, he could tell, but palatable.  He’d had far worse.

Quietly he looked up at the bar.  The same halfling was there, smiling and laughing with what Hemmel assumed was a regular.  It was apparent the short creature was on a stool of some sort when he suddenly did a handstand, and thrust his hand out towards the other man.

Behind him was an young woman with raven hair and green eyes... the same girl that Hemmel had thought was following him for a few minutes after his arrival in the city.  Now it was apparent who she was... daughter of the Dice’s.  His brain categorized her as one to watch.

Fortunately, none of them pertained to his plans in the city... nor the color-filled boy that showed up occassionally and was quite loud.  House Erelion did not care about the dragon... it had been a herring tossed in for expressly this situation.  Hemmel had failed once... but he would not fail again.

He finished the rest of his eggs, and waited fort he waitress to come over to collect his plate before placing a few copper beside the dirty dishes as he rose to leave.  Hemmel might be an assassin, but there were some aspects of civilization he would keep with him.

“You are a kind gentleman, sir,” the young woman nodded her head in thanks as she picked up the dishes.

_A gentleman,_ the words struck a chord in Hemmel, before he shook his head.  No, he would not let his mind go there.  With a polite smile, he thanked her for her compliment, and walked out of the tavern into the morning sun.  

It would be a long day ahead, and he would have much planning to do.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 23, 2004)

The next three days for Eyrna and Simeon passed all too slowly as they trudged through the deep woods to the north of Iskeldrun.  Batterner Wood had always been known as a place of secrecy, a place of plots and schemes.  Its tangled depths allowed those who wished to talk of dark things to do so in private... if they knew the way in and more importantly, ways back out from the wood’s dark depths.

AS each day passed by, it seemed that the trees overhead grew thicker, more gnarled, and more frightening.  The underbrush grew thicker, and at times both young nobles coudl swear that it tried to catch them repeatedly, as they often had to unwrap vines and roots from around their ankles.

Still they pushed forward, led by the dark man in black, who seemed to expertly navigate the confusing array as if it were his second home.

Each night, despite being cold, tired, and frequently hungry, the two siblings slept assured of one thing... their Uncle had recieved their message, and their backup plans were being played out.

_Even now, Uncle is marshalling the armies at Thuyiden..._ she thought quietly.  From then on out, things depended on who led the initial imperial attack on the gathering forces... and who answered her uncle’s call. 

If the nobles of the Empire rose in arms, or even if most of them merely stood aside, House Erelion stood a chance.  If most fell on their colleagues, it would be a great slaughter...

_Which is why we need that stone!_ she heard her uncle’s voice again.  _With its power, we can turn the tide of battle!_  That need was the only reason she was willingly out this far in the woods, putting up with cold and their... unusual companion.

As darkness fell on the fourth day, the same routine that had been done for the previous many began.  Their ‘friend’ leaned his back against a tree, and began a slight doze while Eyrna and Simeon went to fetch kindling.  They let this happen because he would stand watch all night, allowing them to sleep peacefully... in theory.

This night, Eyrna had found several fine pieces, not too large or too small, and dry enough that they would light with ease.  Carrying them haphazardly, she started back towards the camp.

She heard a rustling in the leaves of the forest, a cracking of twigs.  The noise wasn’t unusual... Simeon, like her, was most defintely not a woodsman, and always made a racket returning to wherever their campsite was.  Eyrna, however, had learned rather early to avoid the more obvious branches... it might be necessary in the future to slip away quietly...

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a dark shape moving rapidly, but when she turned, it had vanished into the growing gloom. Fear coursed through her veins slightly more, and she began to gingerly run back towards the camp, as quickly as possible... only to stop in confusion...



Simeon stumbled back into the small campsite, breathing heavily.  His pile of kindling was high enough he had to peer around it to see ahead, and he was fairly sure that the dark man would complain about his loudness again.  

Bracing himself, he let the logs drop onto the central pit that had already been dug.  His ears heard no complaints, however, and he looked up in surprise.

Only to see three dark robes, instead of one... and they were all looking directly at him.

He wasn’t sure what part of his mind jumped to the conclusion that something was terribly wrong... it seemed his entire being began to scream warnings to him.  Slowly, he started backing away, his hands upraised in a gesture of peace.  His mouth started to open, but such an immense and great fear seized him that only gurgles came out.

Suddenly, he felt something very cold, and very sharp, prick the midpoint of his back.  Immediately the young man stopped, as the familiar long, dark fingers of their companion appeared on his shoulder, gripping it tightly.  They spun him around.

For the first time, Simeone came face to face with his former traveling companion and guide.  His face was sharp, chiseled at angles.  The skin, just like his robe, was ebony black, and his large eyes glowed white... with blood red irises.  Long, billowing white hair floating down from his head, and brilliant white teeth showed when he gave a sickening smile.

“Do not run, Lord Simeon.  We have much use for you yet,” his deep voice rumbled.  “Lord Vecna, to raise the dead like you have asked, requires a living sacrifice.”  His eyes admiringly looked over the young noble’s body.  

“One of equal stature to the one about to be raised.  You’ll do nicely indeed.”



Eyrna watched in horror from some hundred feet away the unfolding scene.  She’d seen her brother backing away from the three dark robed men, only to have three more take him from behind.  BY the look on Simeon’s face, the words that were being sad to him were anything but polite introductions. Then she saw the thin gray of a blade being held to his back.

Carefully, Eyrna slinked backwards, edging away from the camp for a few hundred more feet, before breaking into a dead run, as fast as her legs would carry her.   

_Damn that dark elf!_ her mind snarled, _I knew we could not trust him!  ‘His faith shouldn’t be an issue!’_ she thought of her uncle’s calm reassurance.  _’He doesn’t believe like the others in his kindA!  Our secrets are safe with him!’  Apparently, he felt his secrets were not safe enough with us!_

Her rage at the apparent betrayal did not last long, as hunger and fear took over.  Hunger at the lack of food in her body... cold from the fact there was no fire for her to warm by.  Fear from what she’d heard about the drow... and bout this forest.

There were legends that this forest had carnivorous trees... that the unwary would be eaten alive.  Ominously, a gust of wind blew through the forest, causing the branches to creak and groan...

She dashed further, running onward.

She had heard stories of his kind... a kind that had been dead, exiled for centuries.  Save for a few, like him...

_They track well in the dark... night is their element,_ she remembered as she jumped behind a tree.  _Six of them!?  That would be more than...  no... not all of them could have been drow!_

As she took another breather from her mad dash, hiding behind another tree, her blood ran cold, thinking more of this particular drow’s history.  Of what happened to his people, and their long-standing quest for revenge.

And how House Erelion had just been duped into helping him.

Her dash through the woods was entirely too loud, entirely too obvious.  She knew this, yet she hoped to see _someone_, that could spread the warning to her family that they were about to be betrayed.

She never saw the dark figures behind her, and had no warning that a slingstone was headed for the back of her head…



_Half of any battle is not physical... it’s mental,_ a voice echoed in Valaron’s head.  _If you win the fight within your mind, you are halfway towards winning the fight with your blade._

The prince watched with keen interest as the originators of those words stood at the far end of the practice chamber, morning’s light giving their blades a shining glint.  The two combatants circled slowly, each watching the other, gauging the other, their eyes never moving away from their quarry.  

Three blades glinted in the light filtering into the stone room.  One was snow white, giltwork running along the center of the blade itself.  Another was pitch black, small red flecks along its length indicating that normally it would be wreathed in flames in combat.  The third was a cool steel blade, with words carved elegantly into its flanks in red.  Normally, it too would be wreathed in flames.

The calm before the storm lasted only a moment longer, before a sudden, rapid series of clangs broke the morning silence, a barrage of noise that suddenly assaulted the prince’s ears.  Only a moment later, the noise ceased, and both combatants still stared at each other, blades at ready.

To the normal eye, the quick, slashing was too fast to catalogue as movement.  To Valaron’s trained eyes, the simple elegance of his father’s feints and his mother’s slashes looked like a masterpiece.

A split second later, the three blades flashed through the air again, once more at lightning speed.  No more than what seemed a second or two later, it was all over.  The Emperor’s blade was pinned by Siabrey’s katana to the floor, while her washazaki danced near his throat.

“How did I do, Val?” the Empress called, lowering her blade with a grin.  “Not bad for someone recovering from a shoulder injury, hm?”  Her eyes then turned back to her sparring partner, and she gave him a loving smile.  “Fooled you too, didn’t I?  Wouldn’t be the first time!”

“You’ve always been a better sparring master than me,” Lucius excused himself.

“Val, tell your father where he went wrong!” Siabrey laughed, sheathing both of her blades before giving her husband a kiss.  “He should’ve...”

“...went after you aggressively after his first feints were addressed.  He ended at the high guard position, a good place to attack from but a poor place to defend, especially considering he was outnumbered in terms of blades,” Valaron said expertly.  “He took the aggressive stance, he should have continued with aggressive tactics.”

“Exactly,” Siabrey tweaked her husband’s nose before walking the length of the chamber towards her son.  “Said by a true expert,” she grinned, before her eyes took on a more serious look.  “I’m still not finished with morning spars... and it seems my current partner is too chicken to continue,” she smirked at Lucius.

“The Council meets every morning at this time.  I’m an Emperor, as well as swordsman,” Lucius tried to give an excuse.  Siabrey’s dismissive wave to him made him laugh.  “It’d be more fun to spar you though...”

“..Umhm.  Whatever excuse suits you!” she flashed him a mischevious look.  “Go, before you’re late and Diogenes and Xanadu start complaining!”

“Yes, m’lady,” Luke said with a mocking smile before leaving the chamber.

“Now,” Siabrey looked to her son, “do you think you can do any better than your father?  Beating a woman that’s only a three-fourths strength?” she challenged.  It was, after all, her first spar since her shoulder was ravaged nearly five days ago.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Val said, looking away from her slightly.  

Valaron thought he was fast.  He tracked her out of the corner of his eye, so that when his own katana and washazaki slashed out of their scabbards, he’d catch her by surprise.  A few sharp clangs and clanks later, he found himself staring at the stone ceiling of the armory, the warm hilts of his two blades no longer in his hands.

“Good attempt... but your looking away gave away your surprise.  Your father tried that tactic many times,” Siabrey extended a hand to her son and pulled him up.  “You paused, just before you struck. Remember, your speed of mind is just as important as your speed of blade.  Your strength up here,” she pointed to his forehead, “is just as important as your strength here,” she grabbed her arm, before releasing him.  “Try again.”

Stymied, Valaron drew his blades at sword length from her, and carefully started to circle.  His mind watched her movements, her ticks, her slight movements, trying to find an indication of what she was about to do.  Something in his mind shouted at him to move, even before he saw her brow crinkle slightly, and as he jumped left, her blades slashed through the air.

The duel began renewed, ducking, weaving, swords twirling and dancing through the air.  Val let his mind go... yielding conscious control to his instincts, his unconscious, and his blade danced to block hers at every turn.  Finally, with a twist and pull, he yanked Kelir, her katana out of her hand.  The blade skidded across the floor to the far side of the room.

“I think I have you, mom,” Val said with a predatory grin.  He had a large katana and washazaki, versus her smaller washazaki alone.  “Two blades against one small one...I’d say it’s rather unfair,” he continued to taunt, trying to test her mind.  Such was one way to enter your opponent’s mind.

Siabrey’s face looked blank, her blade still extended in low guard...only one handed.  When Valaron lunged to twist her other blade from her hand, the Empress moved with lightning speed, and Valaron once again found himself looking up at the stone ceiling.

“While you talked, I saw your eyes continuing to look at my blade, rather than at me.  You told me your target!” she scolded him lightly while pulling him up again.  “After that, it was merely a matter of using your own strength and confidence against you.  Taunting is a two-edged sword... it can get you in trouble,” she cautioned.

“But you taunted Shivalas the assassin, and used his anger to defeat him with a broken blade,” Valaron brought up Siabrey’s own past.

“That was a special case,” the Empress said in reply.  _And I wasn’t in a good state of mind that day,_ she thought to herself.  “Now... you’re fast enough and strong enough Val that you should be beating me regularly... but you haven’t bested me yet.  Why is that?”

“You have twenty years more experience than I do?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes at his quip, “and you haven’t grasped this,” she pointed at his forehead again, “yet.  When you grasp things up here, you’ll have me.  When to strike, when to hold back.  When to taunt, when to stare back in silence.  What your opponents wants are, his goals, his desires, his methods.  All of that,” she said, before giving a pat on the shoulder.  “I’m afraid today’s lesson is going to be cut short.”

“I know,” Val said rather dejectedly.   It wasn’t that he didn’t like the special person arriving at the palace to help.  Far from it.  He didn’t like the fact his morning sparring with his mom, one of the favorite parts of his day, was being cut short.  “Vintressa has been raving about Aunt Tess for the past few days now.”

“Val, you look like a sourpuss,” Siabrey noted dryly.  “Perhaps Aunt Tess has brought you a rare blade!” she offered, hoping to cheer him up a bit as they left the chambers together.  It was exactly the thing their ‘Aunt’ was known to do...



“Now... who is this again?” Royukgan asked Vintressa quietly, hoping to distract her from the frown on her face.  The constant jokes he’d made about _her_ protecting _him_ over the last three days had at last grown old... a fact she’d sharply told him of only a few moments before.

The three of them... himself, Vintressa and Raven were the official greeting part for Lady Baroness Tesseron Keldare, who would be arriving in one of the teleportation chambers in the Imperial palace.  They would then take her to more private quarters where her old friends the Emperor and Empress would discuss the current mess with her.

“My Aunt Tesseron,” Vintressa replied rather coolly, as he was still in trouble, in her mind.  “She, like Uncle Shaun and Aunt Elenya, are not my aunts by blood.  I have none of those’ she is a close friend of my parent’s.  She is a powerful user of magic, and a wise person.”

“A mage?  Does she teach at the Academy?” Royukgan asked, not understanding.

“No.  She is actually a musician.  She is just able to use music to tap into the planes of magic, with powerful and devastating results.  She traveled with my mother and father many years before... and from what they say, her power was something tremendous to behold,” Vintressa said distantly.  “Powerful and wise is how they describe her!”

“Such as?” Royukgan pressed.  “If she is such a powerful musician, then surely you can give some examples?  What did she do, sing to inspire courage in hearts, or sing people into floating above chasms?” the prince laughed slightly.

“She made people’s heads explode, quite literally,” Raven said dryly, giving a disapproving look to Royukgan.  “She turned people into dust, killed a dragon with her shriek...”  Raven’s darkened face turned into a slight grin of superiority at seeing Royukgan’s eyes go wide.

“That’s not possible with music!” the prince stammered.

“Oh, go ahead and believe that!” Raven twisted the fear a little more.  “We haven’t even told you what she did to people with her _dagger_,” she leaned towards him, eyes wide in a storyteller’s face.  

“Um... so... I shouldn’t anger her?” he said quietly.

“It wouldn’t be smart.  But she is really a nice person,” Vintressa added, trying to dissuade the fear Raven had put in his heart.  She flashed a quick look to her friend, and shook her head no, before continuing, “She is the one that taught me how to think my way through problems.”

Royukgan caught the look between Vintressa and Raven, and by the look on his face, felt it safe to speak his mind.  “So you blame her for your bad skills at chess?” he quipped, before throwing up an arm to hide behind.

Numerous sharp words came to Vintressa’s mind for a rebuttal, but that was quickly set aside as the middle of the chamber began to glow with light, and a swirling mist billowed from its center.  Pulses of magical energy coursed around the circular walls along the outside, as the target arrived.

As the mists cleared, a woman clad in rather graceful and elegant robes stepped forth.  A crown of blonde hair was braided and wrapped around her head, and while she was still beautiful enough that Royukgan’s jaw dropped, her face showed small, nascent wrinkles, a sigh of her 37 years of human life carrying the weight of her responsibilities... arguably as great as the burden Vintressa’s parents bore.

“Aunt Tess!” Vintressa broke from the other two and ran down her favorite ‘relative.’  She caught the tall woman in a great bearhug, causing the bard to stumble slightly.

“Oh, Vintressa!  I’m afraid if you’d hugged me any harder you might have taken out one of my ribs!” Tess’ melodic voice chuckled.  The princess released her grip, and Tess then turned to the other two present.  “And Raven... my, you’ve grown since the last time I’ve seen you!  How is your mastery of magic working?”

“Excellent,” Raven beamed, before bowing.  The bard’s eyes then turned to the third face present... one she did not recognize.

“I am at a disadvantage, sir.  I do not know your name,” she smiled.

“This is Prince Han Royukgan, son of the current lord of Han.  He was here to study at the Academy, until he was attacked the same night Raven was,” Vintressa explained.

“I’m under her protection,” Royukgan grinned at Vintressa, who gave him a scowl.

“Ah... well, I daresay there are few hands that are more capable!” Tess smiled at the princess, causing her face to change from a scowl to a smile of thanks... and a slight bit of awe at such a compliment coming from her mentor.  As Vintressa’s mouth tried to work to express some thanks, Royukgan gave a slight smirk, and spoke.

“Vinny thinks very highly of you, Baroness.  She speaks of you as an excellent person, a wise sage, and a capable combatant.”

Tess gave a slight smile at seeing her ‘niece’ grow red at the statement, yet part of the bard’s agile mind wrapped around the words the prince had used.  _Vinny? No one else calls her that normally..._


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 24, 2004)

“So... it’s _that_ bad?” Tesseron said an hour or so later.  Her look flashed between her friends.  The Emperor, fresh from another dour meeting with the Imperial Council this morn, came with news that at least ten barons were involved in the plot, and another fifteen or so had left the city in a sudden hurry over the past three days.  

Among their names were some of the leading houses in the Empire... including two ArchDukes, five Dukes, and one person of Princely rank.  Altogether, if they ever had a a chance to combine their forces, it would be most ‘bad’ indeed.

“Umhm,” Lucius nodded, a simple reply that in Vintressa’s mind did the situation no justice.

_Umhm?  A large rebellion, someone tried to kill us qualifies as an umhm, dad?_ her mind groaned.  She, and Valaron were alone in the room with the other three. Raven had been told to keep Royukgan occupied, as information was about to be discussed that neither ruler felt it would be safe for him to be privy to.  

For Tesseron Keldare was many things.  A Baroness, peer of the Empire.  A former headline entertainer at the greatest theaters and music halls within the Empire.  A mother of three.  A formidable adventurer and knowledge seeker.

But above all this, she was the head of an organization so unique, so powerful, that the Emperor and Empress had taken to referring it as ‘The Organization.’  

It was known under many names in many realms... its reach was far and widespread.  In Ak Konylu it was known as Aashio.  Within the Valley, it had taken the name, ‘Angelic Mercy.’  Across the Empire it was known as ‘Angel’s Fire.’

For Tesseron Keldare was no normal bard... no normal bard was united with a solar, and committed to righting injustices where normal means and power could not reach.  No normal bard, by her appearance, could make dukes, counts, or even princes quake, fearful of the possible power she would unleash.  No normal bard carried within her voice a power and force for change as strong as an Imperial edict.

And no normal bard headed an brotherhood of thousands, spread across realms and oceans, dedicated to the same.

It had begun out of the frustrations of Tesseron Keldare and her two former companions, the present Emperor and Empress.  Both were not of elite noble stock, and brought with them to the throne the idealistic charge of, “righting all wrongs, and taking care of the common man.’  Sadly, they quickly realized that politics and the other Powers That Be would constrict their means to do so.

Tess herself, meanwhile, was going through a catharsis at the same time.  She felt horrible for some of the less than holy acts she had committed over the few months of the Demon Wars, and was seeking absolution.  The need for wrongs to be righted that Imperial hands could not touch beckoned, and the bard used her wits, charm, and approachability to recruit others to help her.

Now, the ‘Angels,’ as they were secretly known, stretched where Imperial power wouldn’t or couldn’t.  They operated outside the law, striking back at oppressive barons and secretly helping barons who were true stewards and caretakers of their people.  They also acted as agents for the pantheons of Celestia, rooting out those who were lured to dark powers that were in positions of authority.  

Her life meant that Tess had no true home.  She wandered (or more often teleported) where she was needed, and depended on the hospitality of good and true folk for hearth and food.  Her wandering soul did not mind such an existence, and her powers had grown to the point that she could teleport to her true home, in the remote heights of the northern Balarac Mountains, at will.  Loyal servants and friends cared for her children, whom she visited daily. 

Her ten years of such an existence had built up a network of people who kept her and her allies informed, ranging from lowly farmers and ferries, to the Emperor and Empress (when practical).  In the eyes of many barons and the like, the word that Tesseron Keldare was at their doorstep was a cause to either rejoice (for those who followed hte path of righteousness and goodness), or tremble...

It was to this immense network Vintressa’s mother and father were turning to for information.  Undoubtedly words had been dropped around agents, items carelessly mentioned that were being catalogued... and if the Imperial government could get this information...

“Great,” Tesseron groaned, and Vintressa watched her mentor roll her eyes and give a sigh.  “Strange that this happens about the same time as my own mess!”

“What mess?” Siabrey asked uneasily.  The Empress had changed from her sparring outfit to something only slight more imperial... her old battle armor.

“Well,” the bard closed her eyes, as if she could force the events away with her mind, “Several of my own people have run lost.”

“Several of your own people run lost?” Vintressa asked, confused.

“A year or so ago, my chief informant for Iskeldrun.... you may know him, Ratalas?”

Vintressa and Valaron’s mouths dropped.  Ratalas was known as one of the best playwrights in Imperial history.  His epics covered everything from the death of Emperors to comedies about the lives of the everyday man.  

“He recruited several idealistic members of the Hieroneous church.  A paladin named Evermyn and several hopefuls of hers.  They were very enthusiastic, especially after they found out that a solar of Hieroneous was affiliated to this work,” Tess sighed.  

“They had been following leads that spoke to the fact that there is a rather large and active cult to Vecna alive and well in the Empire,” she said slowly.  The Emperor and Empress nodded in understanding, but Tess could read the looks of confusion on the faces of Vintressa and Valaron.

“Vecna was once an ancient king of Iskeldrun... many millenia ago,” Tess began explaining.  “He wished for immortality, and with the help of the darkest of arts, he transcended life and death, becoming a lich... neither living nor dead, but an undead.”

“Seeings this potential for power, he created the first undead armies, and swept across the continent... until a group of righteous minded persons overthrew him, and destroyed his physical form.  You might have heard of some of his foes...  Cuthbert, Valerian, Sadelmar?”

“But Cuthbert and Sadelmar are gods!” Vintressa protested.  The two had heard of the name Valerian... the first Emperor to rule from Iskeldrun, when the ‘Empire’ extended only a few miles from the city walls.  

“Yes... Cuthbert is a saint of righteous retribution, closely affiliated with Hieroneous and Pelor.  Sadelmar is the patron saint of archers.  They were once mortals, that slew Vecna’s undead body... but Vecna’s soul has increased in power.”

“Many wanted his secret... the secret to unlife, to avoid death.   And they began worshipping him, begging for the secret, giving him more and more power.  Their power grew... especially among a tribe the dark elves within the mountains north of this very city.  Rather unusual, considering most of the underfolk of that kind worship Llolth, another dark being.  Either way, his cult with their worship eventually grew large and powerful... until the great rebellions some five hundred years ago.”

“Remember the stories of the evil temple in the desert that we ransacked?” Siabrey spoke up.  “Temple to Hextor, another cult that was wiped out at the same time.”  The two children nodded in understanding.

“The rebellions ended with the Emperors wiping out the dark elves as a power, and shattering the worshippers of Hextor and Vecna.  Small cults have survived, but you will no longer find any open and powerful temples to the two,” Tess added.  

“Like I said, Evermyn and her troop were following evidence that there is a sect of Vecna cultists still alive, and operating out of the Batterner Woods east of the city.  They are being led by a dark elf named Elsidor, who at last we heard, was in hiding.”

“So some of the dark elves that worshipped Vecna survive?” Valaron asked unnecessarily.

“Yes... and this particular fellow is rather... potent.” Tess stopped, looking for proper words.  “See... he is over five hundred years old, and he is the son of the last prince of the drow tribe wiped out by the Emperors.”

Eyes widened in understanding.

“As such, he is enraged at the Empire, and has been for five centuries.  To make things worse, he’s used his time researching magic and plotting vengeance... he has power that is probably the equal of some of the greatest wizards known!”  Her voice then dropped, “And just before they stopped reporting... they said he had been contacted by House Erelion...”

“Why? What for?” there was a tinge of alarm in Siabrey’s voice.  Her face showed she was thinking of numerous possible connections, none of which were pleasant.

“That, I don’t know... see, Evermyn has gone... well... rogue, for lack of a better word,” Tess sighed.

“She went from being a paladin to a thief?” Valaron asked again.

“No... she has decided to be... independent of our organization.  See, this Elsidor, some forty years back, decided to test his powers.  He came out of hiding, and using magic, boiled alive a small village... the village of Evermyn’s parents.  She was but a small girl, and luckily out in the forest playing with her friends.”  The bard stopped for a moment, as the image raced through everyone’s mind.  

“The pain that such evil caused made her want to join the paladins of Hieroneous in the first place.  Its just, when she found out this was the same Elsidor, she became... unhinged,” the bard settled on the proper term.  “Righteous vengeance.”

“How... unhinged?” Lucius asked carefully.

“We don’t know.  Most of her troop has followed her out... many were also survivors of this... unusual event. The few that did not go out have very little to say... other than Evermyn intends to kill Elsidor.”

“Serves him right!” Valaron pronounced.  “When she comes back, I say she should be given a medal!”

“What in the world would House Erelion have wanted to talk to a powerful wizard that worships the god of secrets?  Ressurection of someone?” Lucius rambled out the obvious thoughts as his mind sorted the information.

“Well, if Erelion wanted to raise someone, and destroy the Imperial hierarchy by doing so, they certainly wouldn’t be able to get any of the major churches to help, would they?  You heard what Diogenes said about their lead in the Tarantor Church!” Siabrey jumped in.

The Emperor grunted.  “Yes... he expressed verbal support, nothing more.  Who would they want to raise though?  Someone of our bloodline?” Lucius’ voice suddenly trailed off, as it hit him like a thunderbolt.  

Seeing this, Siabrey’s eyes went wide, as her own mind immediately jumped from why they would be wanting to raise someone, to a specific person.  A person they had sent to the afterlife some sixteen years before....

Tess read both of their eyes, and gauged what was happening.

“No, Lucius, she cannot come back,” Tess reassured him.  “The Countess’ soul was destroyed, as was her body.  Her dusty remains were tossed into the Celestial Sea!  That I made sure of!”

Valaron’s brow wrinkled.  Both he and his sister had heard of ‘The Countess’ before.  She was the evil sorceress that tried to kill his parents before he was born... and raised the demon armies that had been crushed so many years before.  _But why did dad mention her in the same sentence as our bloodline?  Was she a relative?_

“Why would they raise her?” the prince blurted out.  “Was she a relative of yours, father?”  Vintressa as well leaned in eagerly to hear their reply... and both got confused when their parents winced.

“Um... yes.  She was,” Siabrey said quickly, before turning to Tess.  “So, if not her, then who?”

“Well, if what the rumors I’ve heard are true... he’s got a good mind for necromancy, and controlling the undead...”

“...so he just needs a body,” Luke groaned.  

“So we just send people to guard the tomb of the Emperors!” Vintressa shrugged simply.  “Keep him from getting close... oh wait,” she suddenly realized something important, “You’re the first of this line, aren’t you father?”

“Yes... he’s headed for the old family tombs, out in the Valley,” Lucius said.  “Dammit!”

“Where are your family’s tombs in the Valley?” Tess asked insistently.  

“The family catacombs I know of are in the mountains south of Holstean… those go back as long as the Caladron families held the title of Count.  I know not of any other crypts or catacombs,” Lucius answered.  “I believe you have already been there,” he said, a very distant smile on his face at how he’d first met his wife and Tess.  The smile was small and fleeting, replaced by a frown at both him not being able to go secure his family’s resting place, and the prospect that there was not a single foe facing him anymore.

“Don’t worry Luke, I’ll be off there-“ Tess started.

“Valaron and Raven will be headed with you.  He is supposed to be going to the Valley anyway,” Lucius interrupted.  “And I’ll send some of the elite guards… a few, nothing that would raise a major fuss.  He’s gotten skilled with his blade, and Raven has some magic.  And if people do recognize you for who you are, you have the cover of explaining it’s a trip of some kind…” Lucius reasoned aloud.



“Hmmm... very intriguing,” Elisdor said slowly, looking over the small, raised mound of dirt in front of him.  Overhead the gnarled growth of forest blotted out the light of the sun.  The drow looked down at the wide eyed young man his comrades held bound.

“Simeon, do not worry!  You have several days left in your life!  Have you ever been to the Valley before?” he asked, running a hand mockingly along the boy’s cheek.  The binding was hardly ever released, and thus the young noble’s face was constantly torturous and filled with pain.  Simeon shook his head, grunting.

“Oh... well, then you are in for a treat!” Elsidor laughed callously.  “You’ll get to see a new place, and an undead person before you leave this world!”  The drow then turned to his comrades, holding out his hands.

“Come brothers, let us combine our powers...” he intoned, and roughly Simeon was thrown into the center of the circle formed by the six dark figures.  The six joined their hands, and chants of power rose in the air...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 25, 2004)

Eyrna was used to waking to the smells of perfume and sweet aromas in the air, and thus the sharp smell of unwashed bodies assaulted her nose with a fury that caused her to jerk upwards.

Straight into several cords and ropes binding her to the blanket she laid upon.

“Ah ah,” she heard a voice say.  Desperately the young noblewoman tried to open her eyes, only to be greeted with more blackness.  

_Am I blind!?_ her mind panicked.  She let out a scream, a cry, only to hear it muffled, as the feeling of something over and in her mouth washed through her jaw.  She felt air swirling ever so slightly over her body, as if someone near her was moving.  Rather quickly, the warm wafts of someone breathing fell over her face.  A split second later, she felt something being moved from the sides and back of her head... before bright light suddenly blinded her eyes.

“I think we’re far enough away that you can  be allowed to see,” the same voice said.  Now that she had a second to catalogue it, she realized it was a woman’s voice, though slightly craggy and rough.  As her eyes adjusted, she realized the dark shape floating over her was the face of a woman, her head surrounded by a braid of red curls, the slightly pointed ears of a half-elf rising from the sides of her head.  The woman then reached down, and Eyrna gasped as her mouth was free from its binds as well.

“Don’t worry about trying to escape... there’s no reason to,” the woman said.  “You’re well guarded... as well as bound to the ground, for the time being.”

“Who are you?” Eyrna mouthed raspily.  Her memory of faces was failing her.  _I have never seen this woman before..._

The woman’s other features slowly became more visible... like the fact she was clad in a dark brown robe that seemed to positively engulf her.  More alarming, through her hood, glimpses of shining, glinting metal were visible... armor.

“If you really must know, Eyrna Erelion,” the woman said, her face changing into a look of disdain, “My name is Evermyn Yusal... and I right wrongs.”  The woman’s face looked up, and then gave a nod to someone Eyrna couldn’t see, before turning back.  “Now, you were traveling with several people I’m _very_ interested in talking with... and yet we found you alone, running through the forest at night.  Quite dangerous,” she observed dryly.

_What does this woman want?_ Eyrna asked instinctively.  _She knows?  Or is she bluffing?  Is she even from the Emperor?_

“Why do you bind me so?” Eyrna asked, ignoring Evermyn’s unsaid question.  

“Well, as soon as I discover why you stopped traveling with Elsidor, I might be able to unbind you...” the woman offered.

Eyrna was speechless, her mouth agape.  _She knows his name!  She knows of the plot, she knows it all!_ the young woman assumed.

“To set you at ease, I know why you were traveling with him originally.  Master Chamoval talked quite eagerly when provided the proper motivation,” the half-elf gave a distant and scary smile.

_They... oh gods..._ Eyrna began to do something that normally happened very rarely... 

...she started to panic.

“I...he...” she stammered, eyes wide as she felt something very cold and hard slide next to her throat.

“I have every reason to kill you for helping that dark elf!” the woman’s face suddenly contorted into a look of absolute rage.  “Have you ever seen your parents boil alive?!” Evermyn’s eyes were wide, her face having blanched in fury.  “_That_ is what he did!  And you’ve helped him set lose, and run amok!” she snarled.

A stinging pain ran through Eyrna’s neck, and she felt a slight, growing wetness there.  As the long dagger came within view, the noble could see the thin line of blood along its edge, framed by the half elf’s furious face.  

“I think it best that you answer all the questions I ask you,” she snarled, “or the next time this knife enters you, it will not be as a quick and shallow as a paper-cut!”

Alone, frightened and scared, Eyrna talked.  For seemingly hours, she told everything she knew... of the plot, of the deal with Elsidor, of the dark elf’s betrayal.  To her horror, the woman leaning over her grew more and more infuriated, her eyes growing more and more deadly with each word spoken...



Valaron took in a deep breath, looking out towards the massive plaza and gardens that stood next to the Imperial palace.  

The young prince knew that war was a serious business, nothing to be proud of or excited about; that fact had been drilled into his head numerous times.  Nonetheless, the noise from below... the barking of orders, the whump-snap of attention, banners flapping in the breeze, made his mind drift back to the stories he’d been raised with.

Down below, on one of the rare Iskeldrun breed of horses, was the woman he’d said goodbye to earlier that day.  The Empress’ gilt and steel  armor, polished after over a decade without use, stood out brilliantly against the faintly sky-blue flanks of the horse she rode.  The two figures were slowly going up and down the lines of the Kubalia Horse Guards regiment of the Imperial Guard, their own blood red shields finishing the awesome display.

“I thought we were done fighting,” he heard a voice say softly next to him.  Valaron turned to see his father looking down, seemingly ages older.  He too would be marching out in another few days with a second army... as soon as several allies answered his call.

The Emperor had wanted to wait until Xanadu could call upon several of his dragon-kin to assist before marching out with one massive army.  The Empress, however, was true to her aggressive nature, and reasoned that marching out as quickly as possible with a large force of Imperial Guards could disrupt Erelion from gathering their forces.  She also reasoned that if it looked like she would be outnumbered, the Imperial Guard troops could outmarch their opponents and avoid a fight until the Emperor could arrive.  

The strategy offered a chance at ending the rebellion with minimal fighting; likely Erelion’s troops would arrive at the mustering ground piecemeal... so if the Empress got there first...

“What do you mean father?” Val asked, confusion on his face.  _They said dad was a frightening warrior in his youth.  Why would be not look forward to a fight, especially when its a chance to put House Erelion away forever?_

Lucius turned and simply rubbed his son on his head... ever growing closer to the Emperor’s own height.  “When you’re older and have seen more of the world, you’ll understand fully what we mean when we tell you not to look forward to a fight.”

“Yes father.”

“You’d better get going yourself,” Lucius sighed.  “With the teleporter, you should get to the Valley in time to do some intensive research.  Remember the names I gave you as to who to talk to for more information?”

“Brothers Harrapias and Hidalas, yes,” Valaron repeated the names verbatim.  “Both can be found in Kulloden.  And also to send a disguised escort to Uncle Shaun’s tavern to tell him to keep things quiet when we come in?”  The last advice on the tavern hadn’t stayed in the boy’s head well, something easy to forgive considering the flurries of advice that had been showered on him in the past day.

“No.  Don’t stay there at all... too obvious,” the Emperor corrected.

“Ah... a smaller tavern then?” Valaron offered.

“Yes... smaller, out of the way.  But still send a guardsman to Raven’s father to tell him she’s in town, and keep quiet about it.  The last thing you need one of your ‘Uncle’s’ employees running around saying Lady Raven has returned,” the Emperor sighed.  He trusted Shaun, he didn’t trust the help hired by his friend.   

Lucius could see his son trying to put this inside a mind already filled with short term information ranging from orders (stop them from ransacking the tomb, find the Fire Stone, make sure Ari is safe), to combat advice from his mother, to demands from Vintressa that he lighten up on Raven.

“And lastly, don’t worry.  Tess is coming with you, okay?  Trust her advice,” the Emperor added with a slight smile. 

_I wouldn’t trust my son with just anyone..._



Far within the walls of the palace complex, inside the Princess’ normal chambers Vintressa watched Raven don the last of her traveling clothes... a dull green cloak that would blend in rather nicely with any woodland.

“Almost ready?” Vintressa glanced at her friend.

“Yup,” Raven rearranged her dull green cloak, until it was set just right.  She turned to face Vin, and then the cloak flew open, her hand resting on her nagaika.  Satisfied with the results of her test, she slid the woolen shround back over her form, covering her traveling clothes, spellbook, and weapons.

“I would dread to stand against you,” Vintressa smiled, giving her friend a hug.  “Be careful, now.”

“You too.” Raven replied simply.  “After all, you’re the one that’s going to be in charge if or when your father leaves.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Vintressa smiled bravely.  “The Council is still here.  And if mom and dad have their way, the excitement and chaos will stay a long way from here,” she smiled.  

Part of her dreaded this moment.  True, Vintressa was sixteen, in two years she would be of age, officially an heir and legal regent when her parents and brother were gone. True, she had a mind for politics.  Nonetheless, if her father needed to march out with a second army, she would be _solely_ in charge.  

Xanadu, the Chamberlain and trusted family friend, would be at the front.  Diogenes would be gone.  The rest of the Council knew her... but she did not know them well.  It was a far leap from where she had been less than two weeks before... sitting in a classroom learning why newts were keys to magical spells, or why salamanders could be used to enhance the potency of magic.

She would have to coordinate what was left of the investigation as to who was involved... something that should be simple enough, now that it seemed the conspirators were in a panicky flight to Thuyciden to marshal their armies.   Controlling the egos on the Council would be harder than that... and hardest of all would be the task her mentor left behind for her...

_”Something is going on with Evermyn... and her fellow paladins.”_ Vintressa remembered her mentor and role-model saying. _”I know half-elves have a reputation for being flighty at times, but this is beyond ordinary... for a paladin of Hieroneous to suddenly stop sending back information?  

She isn’t dead... at least she wasn’t a few days ago.  Other agents saw her on the far end of the city, in a poorer section... they said she broke into an antique dealers’.  I want to know why... what’s going on.  Did she find something that she didn’t get a chance to tell us?  Is she still out there, NOT telling us something for a reason?”_


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jun 27, 2004)

A vicious sensation of falling, twisting and turning rushed through the five humans clustered together.  Three, Tesseron Keldare and two of the finest members of the Imperial Household Guard, handpicked for the operation, were used to the rigors of teleportation, and had traveled inside its swirling mists before.

Raven and Valaron were not used to such travel.  Teleportation often required years and many transits to fully adjust to.  Valaron and Raven simply hadn’t had the time and transits pass.

The prince held up the best of the two.  While nausea overwhelmed his senses and he felt like he would tumble over and vomit, he managed to stay upright, if swaying slightly.  Raven was not nearly as lucky, and would need some clean shoes once the mists cleared into the single “public teleport” in Kulloden.

Teleportation was a luxury that few outside of the nobility and rich merchants could afford.  As such, the vast majority of the time, people without the ability to teleport themselves used the local Mage’s Guild, or a local mage if possible.  Very few “public teleports,” ones that were not affiliated with the Mage’s Guild and open to anyone willing to pay the proper (and usually extremely high) fee, existed within the Empire.  

All were owned by rather wealthy merchants, eager to milk the need to rapid and (comparatively) safe travel by those with money and power.  They usually kept only a few minor mages (usually apprentices or those who had a falling out with the local guild) to monitor the process.  Should something actually go wrong, chances are the Mage’s Guild would be called in to fix the problem... which tended to happen frequently with these operations.

A rich merchant named Bladonicus owned the Kulloden “public teleporter.”  Few knew of its existence.  The Mage’s Guild did, of course, as did the Baron and several of the richer merchants who used it to leave the city quietly... such as when leaving to conduct a surprise inspection of an investment.  Tesseron had rarely used teleporters (her personal connection to the planes of magic was powerful enough that she could teleport herself at will), while Raven and Valaron had previously always traveled the ‘official’ recieving area for the city, at the Mage’s Guild.  The chances of someone recognizing them would be far less coming here than arriving at the Guild Raven’s mother headed.

As the swirling mists cleared, Raven fell forward, coughing and hacking, her world spinning.  Several ruddily dressed (very common robes compared to the ornate robes of mages seen in Iskeldrun) mages stood around, small smirks on their faces at seeing what they assumed was a first time traveler.  

“Ferdinas, see to your sister,” Tesseron said, stepping forward.  Before leaving, the two had listened to her hum a few quite notes, and watched as her blonde hair had shifted to jet black, and her eyes shifted to a deep brown, her ears shifting towards a slight point... a half elf.  Her clothing was a cut above ordinary, but merely functional... as were theirs.  Under the robes of Valaron and the guards, the glint of chain hauberks were hidden.

Valaron bent down as his ‘mother’ instructed.

“You alright?” he asked Raven, whose eyes continued to nearly bulge out of her face, her face still slightly green from nausea.

“Um,” she nodded slowly, unsteadily rising to her feet with Valaron’s help.

“Good sirs, I believe we have been expected?” Tesseron’s voice, now a slightly high alto thanks to her disguise.  “Our payment will be,” she reached into her pocket, pulling out a purse that jingled, “prompt.”

One of the mages smiled, and took the pouch of platinum from her.  “Thank you, Lady Baracla,” he gave a slight bow.  “We hope your business in the city goes to your satisfaction.”

“I do as well,” Tess responded, before motioning everyone to follow her out.

Outside, in the city streets, the two guardsmen, clad nondescriptly, fell into a flanking position to the three central members.  Under this subtle cover, the five swept northward, into the heart of the city.

They passed the so called ‘Holy Row,’ the central plaza of the city upon which sat the large colonnaded temples to Tarantor, Hieroneous, Pelor, Kord, and Chaskoval (the god of fertility and crops).    The first three were decorated as many of their kin were across the land; cold marble warriors stood watch in the courts of Hieroneous, emblems of nobility and the Imperial right to rule adorned the white walls of Tarantor, and giltwork brilliantly reflected the noonday sun in Pelor’s house.

The Temple to Kord in Kulloden was not as architecturally ornate as the others, friezes of chains and massively built men and women decorating its front.  The Temple to Chaskoval was, to the untrained eye, little more than a small acreage of various crops, a small, well built building in the midst of the tiny fields.

The five swept on, through the richer quarters of the city, until they stood outside a well apportioned inn, the image of a knight slaying a boar adorning a sign outside its front door.

“Here we rest, and plan,” Tess said.  



Hemmel scratched the back of his leg, annoyed as an itch that had been bothering him for the past few days flared again.  As he moved, a jingle in his pocket brought some relief to his torment.  

He looked around the market crowd this day... farmers bringing produce from the field, shepherds dragging in lambs and ewes for shearing or slaughter, artisans plying their wares.  It was everyday bustle for a small city like Kulloden, and to the untrained eye, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

To Hemmel’s trained eyes, numerous, perhaps tens of subplots had caught his eye.  The small boy eyeing the candy at a store across the street, his grubby face and hands along with his hungry look indicating a willingness and past of thievery; the well dressed man with his wife at his side, eyeing young boys as they went by; the quiet man in the corner, making a deadly stare towards a handsome, loud man across the street.

But Hemmel’s eyes were searching for something specific.  Namely a single man.

Hemmel’s life had included its ups and downs, and he was familiar with the necessities of street life... such as discovering and using trusted fencers.  After all, a scrubby peasant bringing in a small fortune worth of fine rings and jewels would raise more than a few eyebrows.  Fencers were reliable at least in that they would be less likely to report his suspicious activity... they could just as easily be caught.  And Hemmel had a good diea of what was fair for his items, and those who cheated him rarely had a chance to enjoy their ill-gotten gains.

The assassin felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and without turning, he backed slowly and naturally into an alleyway.  Once he was sure the normal market traffic was not paying him any attention, he turned to his temporary associate.

“’Ere you are, guv,” the young lad stated, slipping the long, sharp _jitte_ back into Hemmel’s hand.  The assassin kept his face stone cold, despite the smile that wanted to play across his lips as he felt magic slipping and sliding between his fingers as he grasped his weapon.   “’Zactly as you asked!”

“Good work lad,” Hemmel nodded, before reaching into his pocket for the last ring he had... his last connection with his old, palatial life. “Here, for your work.”

The boy’s eyes lit up with glee as he saw the valuable, its gilt falcon head and glowing diamond eyes bright in the intermittent sun.  To the young man, it was merely a ring of great beauty.  To Hemmel it was a ring signifying his position as a personal manservant to the most powerful family on the face of the world.  Hemmel at first held the bauble out, before suddenly clasping his hand around it again, his eyes flashing upward, looking about in alarm.

“Boy! Follow me!” he hissed, grasping the young man’s arm and pulling him after as he zipped through the alleyways.  A small squeal of protest started from the boy’s lips, but died quickly, his mind clearly realizing that his customer had seen danger, and was trying to protect his fence.

After several twists and turns, Hemmel and the boy ducked under a grate, the fetid smell of sewage assaulting their noses.  Hemmel continued to look about nervously, and the small boy strained to see what his customer was seeing.

After a few moments, Hemmel gave an audible sigh of relief.

“That was close.  City watch,” he clarified.  “They have moved on.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide at the statement, and a look of profound thanks fell upon his face.  He’d clearly been on the bad side of the watch before... and the scar on the right side of his face showed it likely wasn’t a pleasant experience.  Hemmel handed him the ring.

“It should be safe,” Hemmel motioned to the boy to climb back up.  

Quite eagerly, the young man leapt upwards, his mind already focused on how he would fence this new ring, and spend the money from those earnings.  He never saw Hemmel draw his _jitte_, or throw the weapon in the direction opposite, only to flash in a half-circle.

His last moment was a blast of immense, horrific pain in the back of his head, before all went black.



Hemmel pulled the _jitte_ from the mess that was once the young man’s head.  Taking the dead man’s robes, he wiped his weapon down, cleaning all organs and blood from its steel length.  It was his only remaining _jitte_, he could not have it start rusting early.

_So it does work,_ Hemmel grunted in satisfaction.  It had taken the pawnings of five rings, perhaps worth five thousand platinum all together, to get this little addition to his favorite weapon.  Never again would he have a weapon be blocked at the last moment by another blade.  

The assassin looked down at his latest victim, a small measure of pity in his eyes.  _I needed a test subject,_ Hemmel reasoned, putting his own psyche at ease.  _And it was not as if this urchin was going to do much better.  Thievery was in his future, and perhaps an assassin’s life.  Nothing the world would miss._

His eyes then drifted to the beautiful ring still in the young man’s hand.  For a second, he wanted to reach down ad pick it back up, till his training, plotting mind began to evaluate things.

_No... no,_ he thought.  _They are in the city already.  Let them know I am here.  Let them worry that I am not alone.  Let them see me in every shadow, every passing glance, every lost soul that brushes past their skin.  

A panicked foe is easy to predict._


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## Emperor Valerian (Jun 29, 2004)

There's going to be a slight pause int he story while I prep and the like for a one-shot I'm going to be doing next week.  That story will get posted should the players wish it.  If it is, it will be in a different thread.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jul 4, 2004)

Had a couple minutes, so here is another update...

=====================================

A cold draft whispered through the air, rustling and slipping through Vintressa’s hair, chilling her head and making her shiver slightly on the red velvet of the Imperial throne.

Part of her mind still did not comprehend what had actually happened, even as the nobles and heads of major institutions in the capital all knelt, swearing loyalty.  _I’m Regent,_ her mind numbly muttered.

The Emperor had left the city not hours before, at the head of a second column of troops, headed towards the east.  Before he left the palace, Vintressa had watched him sign a proclamation proclaiming her Regent in his absence, charged with affairs of state and security of Iskeldrun.  Of course the Council was still here, and somewhere in the palace depths Royukgan’s brain could be pecked for assistance.

Nonetheless, at this very moment, Vintressa felt alone.

Before her lay hundreds of dignitaries and representatives.  Many were from noble families.  Some were from major organizations and Guilds.  And finally, many were the highest priests of the multitude of religions within the city and the Empire.

One by one, the major dignitaries came to the front to kiss her signet ring, and she tried to keep their names and positions straight.  

_Count Wazen, Grand Leader of the Jeweler’s Guild... High Praetor... oh no... what is the name of the High Praetor!?_  As the man kissed her hand, she gave him a vague thanks, deftly avoiding his name.  That slight hiccup out of the way, she easily recalled the Chief Mage at the Academy, and the Holy Healer of Honoria...

Just behind that priestess, clad in her demure robes, was an unusual figure.  Unlike the others, clad in fine robes and suits for the most part, this man was clad in brilliant battle armor, shined to a silvery sheen.  From his hip hung a large, beautifully gilt sword.  For a second Vintressa was perplexed as to why someone so armored was allowed into the Throne Room... until she saw the small gilt motifs of a hand clenching a bolt of lightning emblazoned on the man’s breastplate.

She smiled slightly at the High Righteous Commander, the highest officer in the Church of Hieroneous.  _There is someone we can count as a friend... or can we?_

Since her parents’ ascension to the throne, the Church of Hieroneous had gained much influence and strength.  In some quarters, it was openly talked that Hieroneous was starting to replace Tarantor as the state religion... talk that the Emperor and Empress did not back.  However, they did not discourage such talk either.

The religious disagreements between a Hieroneous loyal Imperial family and a Tarantor loyal nobility was one of the disagreements that helped drive the first rebellions early on... and even as this latest attempted coup played out, Vintressa would normally think that Hieroneous’ followers would be a steadfast ally.

Until she found out about the rogue paladin Evermyn.   Hieroneous paladins were famed for their dedication to their order, and whatever promises or oaths they had taken.  Yet Evermyn had broken oaths she had given to Tess’ organization, and vanished after that drow and the Erelion children.  It was not like a paladin to suddenly turn rogue...

...unless she had recieved orders from the Church of Hieroneous to do so.  

At least that is what Vintressa was reasoning.

“The followers of the Valorous Might shall always be loyal to the throne,” the armor clad man bowed graciously, taking Vintressa’s proffed hand.  She gently touched his hand, a gesture asking him to look up.

“High Commander,” she said quietly, hoping it was the correct title, “my family has always counted on you for support.  And in this time of need, we shall need your backing even more,” she flashed her eyes towards one of the side doors.  The war priest nodded at her unspoken message, and disappeared off to the right with the other dignitaries that were leaving.



About an hour later, Vintressa walked into one of the private side drawing rooms, where the same priest now sat cross-legged on the floor, despite the plethora of comfortable chairs around him.  Despite being an honored guest who could ask for any food or drink he desired, no plate or cup was in sight.

“High Commander, I am pleased to see you understood my message,” Vintressa smiled, offering a hand to lift him from his apparently uncomfortable position.  To her surprise, the holy warrior merely looked up, and spoke, not even recognizing her gesture.

“I understand in this dark hour House Caladron needs as many allies as possible,” he bowed his head slightly.  “Your family has done many things for our cause, and we consider it the least of our abilities to offer to repay your kindness in whatever way possible.”

“Well,” Vintressa took a seat in a chair opposite the kneeling priest.  _How do I ask about this Evermyn?  Its not normal for someone to pry as to who is and who is not in the ranks of Hieroneous’ holy warriors..._

“Tell me about the paladin named Evermyn,” she said evenly, borrowing a page from Valaron’s book.  _If all else fails... blunt and direct speech can sometimes work..._
She saw the high priest in front of her shift ever so slightly... a movement made in unease.  

“Why does Your Excellent Highness inquire about our ranks?  Your Excellent Highness knows it is traditional that the Empire does not meddle into the internal affairs of the major religions within her...” the man recited respectfully, verbatim, the dogma of Emperors for hundreds of years.  Don’t meddle with the religions, unless they meddle excessively in politics.

“One of your paladins, named Evermyn, has information closely relating to the conspiracy to attack the Empress.  She is missing,” Vintressa launched onward.  _If I’m going to start blunt, I should just keep going..._

At this, the high priest twitched slightly.  _He has heard of her,_ Vintressa reasoned.

“Evermyn,” the High Commander started slowly, “was not a full part of the Brotherhood of the Valiant.”  The man’s eyes looked up towards Vintressa slightly, before suddenly resuming their previous position of looking to the ground.

“Continue, High Commander,” Vintressa said briefly.

“She was not admitted,” the priest guessed her unspoken question, “because she still had... issues.”

“What _kind_ of issues?” Vintressa said, allowing some exasperation to get into her voice.  _Drawing this out of him is almost as tedious as trying to study for one of Aegrifyr’s examinations..._

“She had a great deal of anger... anger which she could not control.  The Path of the Valiant requires one to control one’s emotions, to use anger in a righteous manner for the betterment of all,” the priest said uncertainly.  “She showed all the combat prowess needed to be part of The Brotherhood, but not the mental prowess.  She was no paladin... merely a priest.”

“Where is she now?”

“She announced a few days ago to the others in the Temple that she was off on a mission to prove her worthiness, to show her capability at being a member of the Brotherhood.  A quest,” the High Commander explained.  “Adepts and Priests usually undertake one of their own choosing before being admitted to the brotherhood of paladins.  We have heard nothing of her since.”

Vintressa’s mind, eyes, ears, and even nose attempted to find some trace of untruth in the man’s movements, his eyes, his body language.  His eyes were filled with confusion, and most importantly, no deception.  

_He tells the truth,_ she decided.  _So it is apparent she DID go rogue... something that can be explained because she wasn’t a full paladin.  So she also lied to Aunt Tess’ people.  Could she be that dedicated to anger or vengeance?  And if so... how did she get so far as to be a priest of Hieroneous with that much unchecked anger and fury in her heart?_

“Are you aware of Evermyn’s background?” Vintressa asked quietly.

“Of course,” the High Commander gave a short laugh of shock at being asked such a question.  “She was born to parents who died in a disease outbreak.  She was saved by several of our healers, and raised in the Temple!”

_Disease outbreak?_ Vintressa asked, her mind confused.  Then, she realized something.   _It would be an easy way to explain away bodies who looked to have been boiled alive.  Such a death to the uninitiated could easily appear to be one caused by one of the many diseases that consume the flesh.  

But why would the Church keep a public story of her background?  Why would they not say outright where she came from... what happened to her parents?

“That is not the background I heard,” Vintressa responded coolly.  “Her parents were boiled alive by a priest of Vecna.”  Vintressa watched the High Commander shift uneasily yet again... a sign she’d hit a nerve.

“How did Your Excellent Highness know such information?” the priest asked quietly.

“Evermyn told an associate of mine,” Vintressa did not mention Tess or her organization at all. At that statement, a small gasp came from the priest.

“She was not supposed to know...” he said, his voice trailing off.  After a few seconds, when his eyes nervously looked up at her, he saw she was still glaring down at him.  

“We felt that she had great potential to do good... potential that might not be realized if she knew her true background.  If she knew what happened to her parents, she, like most people, would have become enraged, and focused on vengeance...”

“Which is what appears to have happened, High Commander,” Vintressa replied.  “Someone told her the true story of her background, and now she has run amok!”  the princess snapped.

She then looked down, and saw the priest of Hieroneous looking up at her, concern and worry in his eyes.  Concern for his errant sister, concern at what the Regent’s anger would portend for his faith.  Reading this, Vintressa gave a deep breath, and let her face relax.

“Be at ease, High Commander.  I did not ask you here to castigate you.  I asked you here to find out more information, and ask for your assistance in tracking down your wayward sister.”_


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## Emperor Valerian (Jul 12, 2004)

Back.  Updates will resume as time becomes available.


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## Emperor Valerian (Jul 13, 2004)

Valaron, covered in a mundane cloak, strode through the streets of Kulloden, his mind in mixed emotions.  He resisted the urge to run a hand along his face, to confirm that it was the same... that there were no warts or the like.  He managed to catch himself in time to change his gentle touch to his face into a rough scratch... something that would fit in with the crowds moving through the streets this day.

_I know I have magic in my veins, and I’ve seen magic before, but I didn’t know those at the Academy only a few years could do this!_ his shocked mind still thought in wonder.

Behind him, Raven, also clad in a similar dirty brown cloak, had to resist a different urge; the urge to chuckle.  _Alter self_ was one of the easiest spells she’d learned, and Valaron’s confused and shocked response to her work on his disguise was well worth the small pinch of components required.  While it would be easy for someone searching for a disguise to see that Valaron was not the old crone he appeared to be, none would suspect the disguised creature underneath was actually the Crown Prince!

“I think I might have done too good a job there, Valaron,” she said with a quiet laugh.  “How are you going to meet your friends now?”  

It was a legitimate question.  While Raven was not sure of rank and the like, she did know that both Harrapias and Hidalas were major members of the churches of Hieroneous and Tarantor respectively.  And while high priests might have eagerly jumped to meet the Crown Prince, she was not so sure if they would be as eager or able to meet an unknown, old crone...

“I have the ring,” Valaron replied in equally quiet tones.  

Raven gave a nod in understanding.  No matter how dilapidated a crone, if that old witch bore a signet ring from the Imperial family, they were someone of immediate importance.

The two continued up the streets and alleys of Kulloden, gradually going into wealthier and more well to do neighborhoods.  Finally, some twenty minutes after they had left the inn behind earlier that morn, they arrived in a massive plaza, its white brick streets dominated by a massive central obelisk, and the hulking forms of the city temples to the three largest religions in the Empire; Tarantor, Hieroneous, and Pelor.

“Aunt Tess said that Harrapias will be there,” Val motioned towards the northernmost of the three temples, its columns like marble blades, “...and that Hidalas will be there,” he nodded towards the Tarantor temple.

“Well, if I tell the acolytes in the Hieroneous temple who I am, they will most certainly let me see Brother Hidalas,” Raven offered, only to be met with a disapproving scowl from the face underneath Val’s hood.  

“I’ll head inside the Temple to Hieroneous first,” Val said directly, “You keep watch outside, and run in if you see anything suspicious.”  When he saw Raven’s eyebrow raise in annoyance at her menial role in his plan, he gave a growl.  “It’s better than you letting some acolyte know we’re here, so our cover will be blown!”



Valaron Caladron, Prince of the Empire, walked into the great halls of the Kulloden Temple to Hieroneous of Valor.  Instead of the immediate bows of reverance, he recieved bows of respect from young acolytes towards what to them appeared to be an elder, come to pay her respects to Valor Incarnate before age and time claimed her elderly form.

Once again, Val was thankful for Raven’s work on his disguise as he looked about the ‘Path of Victory’ beyond the Temple gate, that led towards the main Temple entrance proper.  To either side of the wide boulevard hung the trophies of a struggle long gone by.   Massive dragon scales were erected on pillars alongside the route, as well as the broken banners of orc and gnoll hordes.  

As he drew closer to the temple entrance, he could see the massive wall beyond the marble columns decorating its front.  Its marble face was covered with frescoes depicting the finest hour of the paladins of this temple;  They climbed over the red walls of a city, blades upraised, leading rank upon rank of troops Valaron recognized as troops of the regular Imperial army.  Not too far away, a dark, foreboding palace loomed, blue and red lightning arcing to its rooftop.

_Sictri et Tyrpan, Balan Sul_ read the massive inscription above the fresco, and while Val was not one too keen on lanugages, he did recognize this piece of Celestial writing.

_”With Faith and Heart, Truimph is Certain”_

“May I help you, madam?” a pleasant voice interrupted Valaron’s gawking.  The prince turned slowly, and found himself facing a smiling man, clad in the robes of not an acolyte, but a lesser priest... one who was approaching entering the brotherhood of paladins himself.

“Yes,” Valaron said, still surprised by the way his voice came out as a croak.  “I have special tidings for one of your number,” he said quickly.  This part hadn’t been planned out, and Val was operating on instinct.  “Is Brother Harrapias here?”

The priest smiled with a slight chuckle Valaron didn’t understand at first.   For a few seconds, the prince feared he might have been discovered, until the priest spoke again.

“Yes... _Commander_ Harrapias is here,” the priest chuckled.  “Madam, it must have been quite a while since you have visited our temple... Harrapias has been our High Priest and Commander for some twenty years now!”

“Oh,” Valaron said, recovering as fast as he could, “Why yes.  It has been quite a while.”  _Perhaps I can see him without flashing my signet ring?_

“Were you once one of the brotherhood yourself, madam?” the priest pressed, not acceding to Val’s request, “You must have been one to have known Commander Harrapias!”

_Is he testing me?_ Val wondered as his mind stumbled for a response.  Finally, he blurted out, “Yes, indeed.  I rode with the paladins in the rebellions some sixteen years ago!”  _Val, what did you just do?  You lied to a priest of your patron god!  Idiot!

Ah... too late now.  If I’m going to lie to a priest, I might was well lie about something I know a little about, I guess!_

“Ah,” the priest folded his arms, and raised an eyebrow in question, “so you must’ve rode with the Emperor in the procession through Iskeldrun after the end of the rebellion.  That was quite a sight... especially considering at the time there were only five women admitted to the Brotherhood.   Which one were you?   Estrella?”

“Um... yes... I was Estrella,” Val said uncertainly, his voice raising in pitch, the tone hopeful as he finished his most recent lie.  Instead his hope was crushed, as the priest glowered.

“Estrella Myrmachis was killed before the walls of Holstean, before the parade,” the priest growled.  “You have some explaining to do, considering that you have some kind of magic based disguise on!”  Gently, but with a distant backing of command, he took Val’s arm.  “Follow me, please.”

_Fine, I tried being nice,_ Val sighed, before showing his left hand, the silver dragon ring of House Caladron catching parts of the still morning sunlight. 

“That will not be necessary,” he croaked to the priest, whose face had by that point fallen.



_Now I can see why Vintressa gets so annoyed with him sometimes,_ Raven moped outside the temple a few minutes after Valaron went inside.  She looked up and down the Temple plaza, to some of the places she’d heard stories of since her childhood.

_Great fighters live within those walls,_ her father had told her once, and she knew that many of the heroes of Demon Rebellion came from these very buildings.  In her youth, it had made her swell with hometown pride that such renowned people came from where she lived.

_Now we might just have to call on them again,_ she reflected, glancing up into the crowd.  None looked at her... the few that looked in her direction were those headed into the Hieroneous temple for the morning services, or those seeking absolution.  However, one set of eyes suddenly caught hers, causing her breath to stop.



Rose Dice stopped walking, and stared at the person leaning on the wall in front of the Hieroneous Temple.  For a second, underneath the hood, she caught a set of deep green eyes, and a tendril of black hair handing in front of the woman’s forehead.

_Nah, couldn’t be_, Rose shook her head, before moving on.  _Raven’s in Iskeldrun still!_  The girl gave a short laugh at her own silliness.  _Probably a paladin returning from a secret mission... or more than likely, something far more mundane._



Another set of eyes also watched the girl in front of the Hieroneous temple.  If it hadn’t been for the Dice girl in the crowd staring at the brown cloaked woman by the temple wall, Hemmel might not have caught her.  Now, his curiosity was piqued.

_Who is that there?  Someone that might be of importance if Rose... Rose is her name, yes... stared at her so.  Perhaps a long lost friend?  A lover?

A source of information?_

Hemmel changed direction from his previous course towards the Plaza of Guilds towards the Temple of Tarantor.  While he would not be headed directly towards the woman that interested him, the course would bring him close by her... 

...close enough to confirm a suspicion.

As he drew nearer, he noticed his quarry kept looking nervously back towards the temple... as if she was waiting for someone.

_Someone talking to a Temple elder, perhaps?_ Hemmel’s mind reasoned.

It was not long before the woman’s glance flecked the crowd, her face passing, just for a moment, within his view.  


It was enough for him.



Tesseron Keldare gave a slight sigh as familiar rocks crunched underneath her feet.  To her left, the mighty Inerman River, which flowed two thousand miles away to the sea, trickled by as little more than a rambunctious stream.  On either side, massive whitewashed cliffs rose, beautiful as if taken from an artists painting.

_So many memories begin here,_ Tess thought back.  _If it hadn’t been for a little side job I had taken sixteen years ago..._

If she hadn’t needed that money, she would not have met Pellaron.  There would be no organization.  In all likelihood, she would still be plying the Valley circuit, shuffling between Irulas, Kulloden, Holstean, Obash and Santriplas, as a well-known, but not famous, singer.  She would have never met Siabrey, or Lucius, or Shaun and Elenya.

As she walked further, she came upon the same open cave in the cliff face that she, Siabrey, an old cleric named Dingalas and a future traitor named Rogar had nervously stepped into, searching for the lost Lord Lucius.

She clambered up the rough stone steps, looking to the side.  The tree where they had tied up the goblin informant was still there, though dying.  Just after the entrance, she brushed aside a few cobwebs... to her relief.

_Well, if they came in here... they didn’t walk in,_ Tess smiled to herself.  Then she remembered how she’d gotten so far in a day.  If one was good at teleportation, one _could_ in theory, teleport through rock.  Tess did not trust herself that much yet.

Carefully she checked the chambers that, so many years before, they had ransacked looking for the lost prince.  The brittle, well worn skeletons of the goblins slain within the chambers, as well as the dusty forms of the mummies put to rest, were still there, undisturbed.

Satisfied, she closed her eyes and sighed.

_Now begins the vigil..._ she thought quietly.  The next three days would be lonely for her, but that is how long it would take to get a half-regiment of troops to the Caladron family tombs from Holstean.  Someone in the meantime needed to make sure that Elsidor couldn’t get to these bodies, if his intent was to raise a Caladron to fetch the Fire Stone.

_And not much can happen to Valaron and Raven... Kulloden is her hometown.  And if I know her father, he probably showed her all the secret culverts and hiding places in that city..._



“Look yonder, Simeon,” the young noble heard the same deep, frighteningly friendly voice speak.  “Therein lies your doom, young man.”

It had been seemingly days since the young man had first felt the jostling, nauseating flash of natural, unrestricted teleportation, thanks to Elsidor and his companions.  The six had been infuriated that their spell had gone awry, placing them several days off course, and two had taken it out on Simeon, kicking him down when he whined or groaned.

For the previous two days... or so Simeon guessed... he had been forced to march in what resembled a portable set of stocks, locking his arms in place.  It was extremely painful, and Elsidor’s companions always threatened to tighten its grip, causing even more pain, unless the boy cooperated fully, and without question.

_Elsidor has not been threatening to me,_ Simeon’s battered mind rambled as he felt the drow’s hand gently lift his head up.  Ahead, through the trees, Simeon’s tired eyes could make out whitewashed heights.

“It will be over soon,” Elsidor’s voice said reassuringly in the boy’s ear.  “Soon there will be no bindings on your arms, and you will be free...”

“And by that time, you will be begging for release from your mortals coils,” the drow added beneath his breath.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 15, 2004)

“So, what is so special about a ‘paladin’ running about?  They are warriors, are they not?” Royukgan asked in confusion.  Vintressa shook her head, and cleared her throat.  The High Commander of Hieroneous had left several hours before, and Vintressa was hoping she could bounce ideas off her beau’s mind.

“No... paladins are sworn to a certain religion, vowing to do their deity’s work on this world,” she started to explain.  She gave a slight smile when Royukgan’s face lit up in recognition.

“Oh... like an order of fighting monks then?” the foreign prince asked.  When Vintressa nodded yes, he nodded in understanding.  “So, this... Evermyn... broke all the bonds of her order?  Ah... I see how it was so unusual.”

“Yes... and unfortunately she managed to disappear into the woodwork, just like the Erelion children,” Vintressa added sourly.   After Tesseron had reported what she knew about Evermyn, the city security people had been notified.  Even now, they knew nothing, save a few people of that description broke into the now dead goblin Chamoval’s antique shop.

_If we can find her and follow her, she’ll lead us to Elsidor and the Erelion devils before they find the Fire Stone!_ Vintressa’s mind had reasoned the day before.  Now, it looked like the window of opportunity was closing... rapidly.

“Well, shouldn’t you let your vaunted security personnel handle that?” Royukgan asked.  “Considering the three messages laying on the table in front of you?”

Vintressa looked down at the coffee table in front of where she sat.  Three letters, stamped with the seals of the Imperial Governors of Chalcedon, Erelia, and Montador, blazed white against the coffee table’s ebony wood.

The Princess gave a sharp growl, the contents of the letters flashing into her mind once again.  All three regions lay to the east of the capital, close to the area where the captured Erelion messages indicated the rebel army would be massing.  And all three letters reported that there were various, “delays,” in the governor’s marshalling the local levies to impede the rebel progress.

“Yes... I suppose I should,” she said with resignation.  Her mind went back to the numbers game it had gone through when the letters had arrived only a half hour prior.

_Mother has two score thousand, father has the same... how many could the rebels put together if they can combine their armies?_  Her mind ran through the names of the nobles listed, but with a grunt of frustration, she realized that while she knew who they were, she didn’t have the slightest idea how many troops each had.

_Assume five thousand each,_ her mind thought.  She knew that while some, such as the small Baron of Freyburg, would barely be able to put together one tenth that amount, there were others such as Erelion himself, who could easily marshal several times the amount.  Her mind agilely went through the additions.  _Fifty major nobles... five thousand troops each..._

“I wouldn’t worry about those letters much,” Royukgan said absently.  “As a foreign prince, in my opinion, your Imperial Guard is full of some of the most disciplined troops I have ever seen.  Eighty thousand of them should handle... what is it?” his voice dragged to a halt once he saw Vintressa’s face.

“No... that can’t be right,” Vintressa said softly, her eyes locked on the distant problem.  She shook her head, and looked at her friend, eyes slightly wide.  “For a major noble in your realm, would five thousand be a good guess on how many troops they could marshal?”

Royukgan’s face squinted slightly as he went into thought.  “No, that’s a tad low, actually.  If I had to guess, the Bey of Shi, the smallest of the nobles in Han, could pull maybe three thousand.  Most of those would be culled peasant lev-“

“They’re marching into a trap,” Vintressa said softly, the numbers dancing in her head.



“Vin... _are you insane!?_” Royukgan snapped a few minutes later as he desperately tried to keep up with the Princess.  He’d seen her when she was stalking through the Academy at this breakneck pace.  Usually she was hell-bent on something, and no one, not any of the great wizard’s there, her friends, or even her parents would dissuade her.

Her eyes flashed towards Royukgan, their blue taking on an icy, steel hue.  Her rapid stalk through the palace had not changed pace... if anything she was moving faster.

“Vintressa!  Please!” Royukgan desperately changed tack.  “I am merely the third son, I do not head armies, but even I know that is patently foolhardy!”  

A sharp turn later and the two were coming up the hallway towards the Princess’ royal chambers.  Several manservants stood about, and it was in front of them her barreling form stopped.

“You!” she pointed, “Fetch for me the wizard Aegrifyr!  You, find the Chief Court Mage!”  The sharp tone of her voice gave the command all the urgency neccessary.

“Vintressa!  If you’re going to do this,” Royukgan shouted again, trying to be the voice of reason, “At least take more with you!  What the in the Nine Hells do you think barely a hundred guardsmen, five wizards, and you can do against an army of over ten score thousand!?”  _I have all the respect in the world for your personal bodyguards, and I love you, Vintressa... but even I can see the odds..._

“I don’t know, I’m thinking that part up as I go,” the princess replied coolly, resuming her march.  Two hands shoved her chamber doors wide, and she promptly charged towards the dresser that contained her ‘normal wear.’  A quick minute later she had tossed aside several items until she pulled out some riding jerkins, and a light chain shirt.  A few seconds later, she was behind a changing screen.  “Now, are you going to help, or not?” she asked.

For a split second, Royukgan paused.  His own mind edged towards the political, and the consequences of what action he chose weighed heavily in his mind.  Interfering as a royal in the revolt within another nation could draw his father into the mess... a potential disaster.  But not acting might cost him something else he held dear...

“Yes... someone is going to have to save you from this hare-brained scheme,” he sighed finally.  “And here I thought I was in love with a cool headed, clear thinking princess!” he snorted.

“Who says I’m not clear headed?” she challenged from behind the screen, before emerging in her jerkins and chain shirt.  

The armor itself made Royukgan wince.  Normal chain shirts covered the torso down to the thighs, with short sleeves to cover the shoulders and upper arm.  Hers had the shoulder and arm portions removed, leaving those areas only covered by her traveling clothes... nothing that would stop an arrow or blade strike.  Nothing one should wear into battle... and while Royukgan trusted his own reflexes to keep him safe, he knew Vintressa was not nearly as fast as even Raven... let alone him.

Vintressa saw his eyes looking on disapprovingly.

“What?  It interferes with my spellcasting,” she pronounced simply, before putting on another thin tunic that covered her armor and the jerkins underneath.

“You _cannot_ ride out into battle like that!” Royukgan snapped.  “You’ll just get yourself killed!  Valaron is the battle-minded one, this is his realm!  Yours is...”

“So you are saying I can’t handle myself?” Vintressa’s voice asked dangerously as she strapped on the rapier she’d used to wound the assassin not long ago.  

“No, that’s not what I meant,” the prince tried to correct himself.

“That’s damn near what it sounded like,” she replied icily, before rumaging around in the same location she fetched her sword.  A split second later, he found a rapier thrust into his hands.  “Here... protect yourself with this.”

“I... I don’t know how to use this,” Royukgan stammered.  “It is not a jian, or a mao deng...”

“A blade is a blade in desperate situations,” Vintressa thrust the sword towards him.  “Practice with it, it’ll give you further reach than those little daggers you tossed at people,” she growled.  “Or are you saying you need help taking care of yourself?”

The prince’s nostrils flared, as rage coursed through his veins.   A vicious, biting reply leapt to his tongue, until his mind intervened before it left his lips.

_She is under immense stress... that is why she is being so... sharp._ Royukgan’s short, shattering reply died in his throat.

“A blade is more effective when its wielder understands its strengths and weaknesses,” Royukgan replied slowly, measuring his words to avoid making the argument any more raucous, “...and I’d do better if I could be taught how to use this.  As for my _sai_, I have known how to use them for the better part of seven years... and for being small, they _can_ be effective,” he forced a slight smile.  His hopeful humor had its desired effect, and Vintressa noticeably relaxed from her former, bristling stance.

“I can teach you,” she said simply, adding a weak smile of her own.  “Now, we need to get ready, as I doubt Aegrifyr or Aeron will be very pleased once they hear what I have in mind...”



“You’re riding out with _what?_” Vintressa’s former teacher sputtered.

“Your two eminent personalities, myself, Royukgan, and a hundred members of the Household Guard,” Vintressa replied calmly.  She’d hoped if she relayed the news in a normal tone, it might reduce or delay some of the shock.  No such luck.

“Highness,” Aegrifyr stumbled onward, mind in confusion, “you realize that 100 will not have a chance versus the _200,000_ you refer to!  You are a clever girl, surely you see this!”

“Yes... and I am thinking ahead of you, Teacher,” she smiled.  Her delay arguing with Royukgan had given her time to think, and she had already found one thing in her favor.  “When we ride, we will not face all 200,000 at once.  If we don’t act, my mother and father _will_ have to face them all at once!”

Aegrifyr sighed, and rolled his eyes.  “You know your numbers, Highness!  100 versus 5,000 is still horrible odds, nearly as bad!”

“104, Teacher,” Royukgan’s voice jumped in.  _If I am jumping into this, I might as well back Vin.  I trust you, love..._  “And that number is magnified if we have one of the greatest enchanters in the Empire, as well as one of the most powerful wizards all around on our side.”  _A little well placed flattery..._

“Prince Wei Royukgan Liaodeng!” Aegrifyr snapped, using Royukgan’s full name, “Do not tell me that you, too, have fallen into this mad thought!”  The wizard’s robes swished angrily across the palace floor.

“How long of a ride is it... to a location that we could catch them on the march?” the other wizard present asked rather calmly.  Aegrifyr spun towards the Chief Court Mage, eyes ablaze with disbelief.

“Are you backing this madcap idea as well?”

“I have seen stranger ideas come to fruition,” Aeron replied simply.  “Though before we go into battle, I’d prefer we’d have an idea what is to happen.  And I’d like to bring several other Court Mages along... perhaps ten.”

“Well, if one mage is good for firepower, ten more won’t hurt,” Vintressa reasoned.  “And its not like we would be increasing the force by much... 104 to 114.”

“Do you have _any_ idea what the plan will be, once we catch this vast host on the march?  We cannot go charging in, blades above our heads!” Aegrifyr grumbled.

“Hmm... we could enchant some of their number, and make them march in circles,” Royukgan offered.

“We can think enroute,” Vintressa countered, already rising.  “We do not have much time... likely some of the rebels are already moving towards the marshaling grounds as we speak.  The sooner we can get there, the better... “

The image of her mother and father, riding into battle against overwhelming odds... they’re forms surrounded, being crushed by the rebel masses…

_If I can’t stop some of them..._ Vintressa’s mind thought, before shuddering.  _Enchantment… might work…_

The princess’ young mind was already working furiously when the orders were discreetly issued to head out.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 17, 2004)

Valaron had never been inside this particular Temple of Hieroneous, but as he was hurriedly led through its corridors and alcoves, he recognized it followed the same, simple layout as most of the others across the Empire.  From above, its main building’s form would look like a sword, the blade forming the long hall down which one must travel to reach the worship chambers.  The sermon hall itself would form a cross, the entrance coming from the ‘blade,’, two of its wings forming a ‘hilt’ and the nave where the priest conducted the service forming the ‘pommel.’

The priest cut to the left, and out a side door from the main hall, leading the croned Crown Prince out into the sunlight, towards one of the numerous side buildings in the temple complex.  The building they headed towards was small, lightning etches along the edge of its roof.

“The Commander is here, I shall fetch him,” the priest said nervously, giving the old crone before him a bow before rushing off.  Valaron had a few minutes to admire the well tended trees and gardens on the temple grounds, before his erstwhile escort returned, announcing that the High Commander of the Temple would meet him in his personal quarters.

Valaron was led around the small building to its northern side, where a single door lay.  The priest opened the door gingerly, allowing Valaron through.

The quarters inside were simple and small... perhaps twenty feet long by fifteen wide.  Along one side of the room was a large bookcase, containing volumes ranging from numerous prayerbooks for Hieroneous to a few volumes on the Great Rebellion, and one on the birds that could be found in the Valley.  Hanging above the door was a longsword that seemed to shine with unusual brilliance.

A simple desk was in one corner, a rather simple bed to its opposite.  Sitting behind the desk was a tall man, clad in robes far simpler than those of the priest that had brought Valaron there.  The man gave a slight nod, and Val heard the door closing behind him as the priest took his ordered leave.

“Please, sit,” the man, undoubtedly the High Commander, motioned towards another wooden chair in the crowded room.  With a nod, Valaron shuffled over towards the indicated seat, and made himself comfortable.  Harrapias then sat down behind the desk, across from Val, and gave the crone before him a great smile.  Val felt a hot, burning sensation suddenly wash over his face, spreading to the back of his skull.  In an instant, the sensation vanished.

“You may remove whatever magical disguise you have on, sir,” Harrapias said, still smiling.  “Should your identity need to remain secret, surely the Commander of  a Hieroneous Temple can be trusted?”

Val’s heart stopped momentarily.  _I’ve been discovered!_ his mind jumped.  _How?  How did he know?_

“I would like the courtesy of knowing who I am addressing,” the priest added, still with that large, if unnervingly calm smile.

Valaron gave a sigh.  _There is no point to the ruse if he knows it is such._  HE cleared his mind, and followed Raven’s directions on causing the magic to cease.  A few muttered words later (some of which he fumbled over), he could see the wrinkles on his hands vanishing, their paleness being exchanged for the deep ruddy look his skin normally held.

The priest’s smile did not change, but Valaron watched as his eyes grew wider and wider in recognition.  Just when the prince thought that the man’s eyes could grow no wider, Harrapias blinked, and they seemed to return to a slightly more normal size.

“My prince,” Harrapias said, voice only slightly shaky.  

“Commander, I apologize for my disguise,” Valaron gave a slight nod, “It was deemed necessary, given the urgency and secrecy of my mission to see you.”

“And what... may the Church of Valor do to help Your Highness?” Harrapias replied, his voice resuming his even keel as he regained control of it.

“I am in need of information... on an item called the Fire Stone.  Outside my companion, Lady Raven Dice, is waiting.  She has come to assist in the search.”



“So is this the infamous book on the Demon Rebellion?” Raven asked some time later, her voice hushed in awe as Harrapias laid before them a large, dusty tome, its cover cracked, its pages yellow with age.

“No... at least not the Demon Rebellion you are familiar with,” Harrapias said quietly.  The priest had cancelled all of his duties for the day, after hearing of the assassination plot, and the Crown Prince’s mission to discover where the Fire Stone lay.  “This assault on our world by demons is one that is far more ancient... have you heard of Ananias and his war?”

“Um... wasn’t he the ancestor of the Countess?” Raven asked, and Valaron gave a nod.

“Yes... he was the Count of Holstean and your father’s ancestor.  He reigned several hundred years ago, and it was he that originally made the staff and the two stones that gave it so much evil power.  His creation destroyed his human form... and so your father encountered him in a form that was frightening, to say the least.”  Valaron nodded, remembering the stories they told of the ice demon under the mountain.  Suddenly the prince’s brow furrowed, confusion beginning in his mind.

“He was a powerful sorcerer, as his grandfather was not... human,” Harrapias continued, not seeing the prince’s reaction.  “He placed within the Ice Diamond the power to control the orcs of the mountains, and create creatures of icy power.  No one, however, knows what he put into the Fire Stone, though an obvious guess... what is it, Your Highness?”

“Um...” Valaron started slowly, “this Ananias was my father’s ancestor?”

“Why yes... his loins gave birth to the Caladron family line, a line of Counts and Countesses that went unbroken until your father surrendered the title to take up the Imperial Crown,” Harrapias said, his voice gently conveying what he thought was obvious.

“So... this means father did not take the title from the Countess?” Valaron asked, repeating the phrase Lucius had told him when asked how he took the title of Count from the evil leader of the Demon Rebellion.

“He did, of course!  When his mother signed that pact with the demons of below, he took the title of Count and led the fight against her!  Right brave and valorous thing to do, leading a fight against your own mother, and indeed, your whole family...” Harrapias’ voice trailed off as he saw the Crown Prince’s face.

_The Countess was... my grandmother..._ Valaron’s mind raced, confusion and fear mixing together.  _So... I have demon blood in me!  The blood of the same that created the evil staff, and the blood of the one that used it for so much destruction... they all run in my veins!_

“Um... Val?” Raven asked, gently touching his shoulder.  “Are you okay?”  To her surprise, a few moments after her hand touched his arm, it was shrugged off.

“So... I am the grandson of the evil Countess herself,” Valaron said slowly, his voice breaking lightly.

“Yes, but-“ Harrapias jumped in, now reading the confusion in the boy’s head, “...but the evil hasn’t spread to you.  Your mother, father and their friends took care of that!”  The priest’s halting speech during the last sentence told Valaron there was far more to the stories than he had ever been told.

“How?” the prince said, his voice growing heavy.  _Why did they not tell me?

Maybe they were merely trying to protect me.  Maybe they did not know if I would understand?  Maybe... if I knew... they were afraid I would misuse things, and hurt people like the Countess did?  Why... how..._

“Would it be wise if I continued, Highness?” Harrapias asked slowly, now realizing he was treading on ground the boy’s parents had not told him about yet.

“Continue... that is a command,” Valaron’s voice grew darker.  _I must know!  If the Countess was so evil, and her magical blood is in my veins, why should I be free from that curse!  How was my father free from that curse?_

“Are you sure Valaron?  You could wait to ask your father-“ Raven started, before Valaron’s stare cut her off.

“Well... um... do you know of the Battle of Irulas?” Harrapias started slowly.  At the prince’s nod of assent, the priest continued, “Well... um... the Countess’ goal was to corrupt your father... and just before the battle, she succeeded in kidnapping him.”

The prince’s eyes went slightly wide.  He had heard that during the battle his father had been injured, and his mother had fought mightily to save him and the city.  

“The Countess managed to turn your father evil... and at the height of the battle, sent him to kill your mother and his former friends,” the priest continued slowly.

“So my own _father_ went evil, and tried to kill my mother?” Valaron asked haltingly, fear in his eyes.  _So then, it DID spread to him?  What is to keep it from spreading to me?  If it made him go so far as to try and kill the love of his life, I... I could hurt my mother... father... Vin... Raven... any of them!_

“Yes... but your mother and Tess saved him!” Harrapias interjected again, as quickly as possible.  “Your father bore down them, and your mother stood in his father, refusing to even draw her blade!  Your father paused, long enough for Tess to knock him out, and for them to use some magical force to bring him back to his senses!”  Harrapias thundered in the voice of one who was present, and witnessed the entire affair.

“But does the Countess’ blood still flow in my veins?” Valaron asked.

“Yes... but it is worthless, inert to evil,” the priest replied.  “Tess used some magic I do not understand to banish away.  It was arcane magic, power I do not understand.  A mage like your mother,” Harrapias nodded to Raven, “would have more understanding of it possibly.”

“I don’t trust it,” Val growled.  _The evil that ran in the Countess was deep... deep enough that it pulled in my father!  And he is far stronger of heart that I am!  It will pull me in as well!_

“Val... don’t worry,” Raven put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.  “You won’t harm us.  If the priest states this is so, and he was a witness, it _must_ be so!”



It was getting towards afternoon, and Hemmel absently gnawed on a small roll he had purchased from a vendor on the temple plaza.  It had been some three hours since he’d seen the Dice girl go into the temple... and he had no idea when she or the old crone she’d gone in with would come back out.  He highly doubted the old crone was really an old crone, however.

_So simple,_ his mind chided him for forgetting about the Dice family’s magical powers.  _Magically alter the prince... well... tricked once, shame on me..._

His ears, ever alert, were picking up the first nervous rumors and undertones of something major.  Rumors were circulating that something had happened in the capital, and Hemmel had to chuckle at the stories circulating among the provincials.  Kulloden was near the remote edge of the Empire’s western border, and rumors were circulating that the Emperor was dead, that the local Count had declared martial law, and all sorts of other nonsense.

_A herald has finally made it through the other towns closer to Iskeldrun, and teleported here,_ Hemmel chuckled.  _Heralds will probably go out and proclaim the Emperor’s safety tomorrow..._  It was always how major news worked in from the capital.

_Yet none of this provincial backwoods chelpers knows that the Crown Prince himself is here..._ Hemmel chuckled.

The rumors and hushed gossip were lost on Hemmel shortly, as he returned to tracking the crowds coming in and leaving the temple plaza.  He had already catalogued two other cloaked individuals that seemed to be hanging around the marketplace as guards, and he’d made sure to keep shifting about so they didn’t see him staring too long at the Hieroneous Temple.

He was rather surprised, however, to see the form of the original Dice girl he had been tracking come back into the large plaza... another cloaked figure in tow.  Carefully, Hemmel made as if he was headed to the Temple of Pelor... which took him on a path closing with the two.

Drawing closer, he could see a faint glow of some kind reflecting off of the dull green interior of the second person’s cloak.

_Ah... so the dragon makes his presence known_, Hemmel realized.  _Myself versus the Prince, Raven, and two bodyguards is reasonable... but myself versus those, the other Dice girl, and a prismatic dragon?  Hardly fair odds._

The assassin checked his pocket with a hand and, to his relief, found numerous jingling coins.  He knew in the small pack on his back were several platinum trade bars as well.

_More than enough to teleport out of here, and return with some reinforcements..._



“I will worry about that later,” Val added, somewhat gruffly.  His attempt to hide his continued fear and concern was not masked well enough for Raven to be bluffed.

“Val, if you-“

“You were saying, Commander,” Val said rather coldly.  He saw Raven’s face fall after his rebuff, and part of him immediately regretted the sharp comment.  The rest of him willed himself to quiet.  _The priest had more to say that involved that Fire Stone.  We must find out what this Fire Stone does!  And if it hurts someone like the Ice Diamond!

What if it does pull one towards evil?

It is no matter... I alone here in the Valley can carry that stone.  I must, regardless!

Duty over self... it is the way,_ he thought, shoving aside his own fears for the problem at hand.  _I cannot let it affect me!_

“Um... well...” Harrapias paused, unsure of whether to continue until the prince’s concerns had been dealt with.  Seeing Valaron’s icy stare, the priest took his cue to continue.  “We do not know much about the Fire Stone, other than it never fell into the Countess’ hands.  It was originally part of Empress Zoe’s dowry to marry your father, but in the chaos of her reign and death, it was lost, somewhere around Irulas.”

“What exactly does this Fire Stone _do?_  You said it _might_ give on the ability to control fire, but does anyone know for sure?” Valaron pressed.

“If anyone does, it is not me,” Harrapias replied.  “As I said, if the Ice Diamond gave one the ability to control cold, logically its partner the Fire Stone would give one the ability to control heat and fire.”

“But does it do anything else?”

“I do not know... and I am unawares of anyone that would know,” Harrapias said again.  “It is a gem that supposedly has great magical power... and up until Zoe taking, it had been locked in the Imperial vaults for centuries.”

_And now it lies out in the wilderness... its terrible power undisturbed...or so we hope to the gods..._ Val thought.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 18, 2004)

“I look like a brigand,” Royukgan grumbled.  He was not a prince for being proud like a peacock, but he was not used to dressing in plain, even torn, jerkins either.  His face was still too young to form stubble, but he could see the other members of the Household Guard had already grown such.  _It must itch terribly_, he reasoned.  

All, even the twelve normally haughty court mages, were dressed down in rather common attire.  Not rags, but nothing fancy either.  Only twenty remained out of the original force of six times that number.  Vintressa reasoned it would make sense to send the groups out piecemeal, to attract less attention.  Outside of the city, the six groups would meet up, and actual orders would begin.

“Good,” Vintressa retorted with a smirk as she tossed a few essentials onto the back of her horse, Winter.  Unlike many royalty, she didn’t mind not having a long baggage train full of courtiers, outfits, and food to drag along.  The more Royukgan looked at her prepping her black mare, the more he realized she might very well think this all was one gigantic joyride.

“You really think we can fool them?” the Prince of Han asked quietly.  “I mean... the odds...”

“You are _still_ hung up on the odds,” Vintressa smirked again as she set her rapier into its riding scabbard.  “Don’t worry about them!  I stayed up last night, in my father’s chambers, researching.  We’ll be fine!”

“Vin,” Royukgan growled again, “attacking people fifty times your number isn’t like one of Aegrifyr’s magical theorems, or a mathematical equation.  You can’t solve it through research!”

“Oh really?” she turned to him, and once again he noticed her eyes slightly sunken in, red blazing around their edges from lack of sleep.  “I’ll have you know that through some studious work, I have found some situations where such things have happened.  And I’m going to simply copy what worked before.”

“Which is?”

“Surprise them when they’re on the march... hit and run, real fast,” she started to explain as she checked over the final arrangements for her saddle, “and then use some simple illusions, the Household Guard’s fighting ability, and false information to convince them to turn around.  Simple, huh?”  She gave a slight grunt of satisfaction, and swung up into the saddle.

“That sounds about as simple as a mathematical formula,” the prince complained.  “I’ve never heard of any simple illusion to create an army... or _any_ illusion to create an army!”

Vintressa’s mind reflected back to an afternoon in a past not to distant where she had spent several hours with her Aunt Tess, talking about the bard’s former life as a performer and about theater.  Up till that day, Vintressa had found theater to be boring at best... something to go to only when her mother, father, or nanny’s insisted.

But her idol’s explanations on how she used ‘theater’ in real life, the young princess had taken a keen interest... not in the plays or scores, but one what happened to bring them alive.

“Have you ever been an actor, my Prince?” Vintressa smiled, bringing her steed around.  The horse’s hooves clattered along the cobblestones of one of the many side entrances to the palace.   Royukgan gingerly brought his own bay alongside... it was not his usual mount, and this animal seemed slightly skittish.

“Of course not,” Royukgan replied rather stiffly.  He was slightly offended at the question.  _Actors and the like are loose people!  They make money however they can... including selling themselves out to whoever and whatever wishes their... _

“Well, you will be in the coming days!” the princess laughed, and spurred her mount on.



Eyrna’s stomach jumped and quivered unnaturally as the stench of her own legs and shoes filled her nostrils.  As the mists continued to swirl about, for several moments, she was sure she would vomit yet again.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she nauseating feeling began to subside, as the mists of shifting time and place began to lift.  To her left and right, muddy boots once again came into view, a stark reminder of Eyrna’s present state.

“On your feet!” came a growl from a deep voice, one belonging to Evermyn’s lieutenant, Vanerthorpe.  Eyrna didn’t need to turn around to see the sharp, vicious gleam that was likely dancing in his eyes.  Her ears also picked up the slightly whispered exchange that was likely not meant for her ears.

“Why did we bring her at all!  For all the harm she has done, we should have left her in the woods!” Vanerthorpe’s voice hissed quietly.

“She is our only link to where Elsidor is headed,” a cool female voice replied.  Evermyn’s.  “After we deal with Elsidor, we can turn her over to the Imperial government.  They will met out justice.”

“What if she leads us astray?” came another male voice.  Eyrna had not yet been able to place a name with this voice... she thought the warrior’s name was Constans.  “What then?  I wouldn’t put it past her... treacherous woman!”

“Then we will deal with her..” Evermyn’s voice began.  The rest of the red headed paladin’s statement went beyond Eyrna’s hearing, as the slight noise of the group marching through the wooded dales covered the whispering voices.

“Traitor,” Vanerthorpe’s sharp voice addressed Eyrna again, “that up ahead.  Are you sure that is where they would have been headed?  Your life rests in your honesty!”

Eyrna raised her eyes upward, and was met by sharp, gleaming white heights... cliffs.  Lazily, in the sky far above, hawks circled.

“Yes... the Caladron family tombs... it is the only place he could be headed,” she breathed out.

“It would make sense... they need a body, do they not?” Constans’ voice asked.

“Not necessarily... they need either a whole body, or a partial body and items made by that person,” Evermyn’s voice corrected.  “Items a tomb undoubtedly would be full of.  Are you sure, Eyrna, that these are the only tombs of the Imperial Family?” Evermyn’s voice asked.

“I know of no other tombs of anyone in that family.  The Valley tombs are the only known ones... they hold family members since they first took the title of Counts of Holstean,” Eyrna replied softly.  She had researched it, long before the failed scheme had begun.

_And now... it all falls apart,_ her mind numbly thought.

“We are about five days travel from the entrance to the gorge, and according to her,” Eyrna could imagine Evermyn nodding to the group’s captive, “it’s a further two days into the gorge till we reach the tombs themselves.  A week’s march, people, so ration accordingly.”

With an ungentle shove, Eyrna found herself lurching towards the ravine so far ahead.



“Are you sure Raven is in there?” Ari asked, his voice filled with doubt.  He was not nearly as naive as he had been even only a few years before.  “She’s supposed to be in school in Iskeldrun... and that is a long way from here... even if I fly!”

“I _swear_ I saw her outside of the temple here!” Rose said defensively. 

“She’s not here now,” Ari stated the obvious.

“I can see that!” Rose snapped defensively.  If there was one thing she hated, it was being proven wrong.  “Maybe she went inside, to ask for some prayers or something!”  The intrepid girl immediately started towards the gates of the temple complex.

“Why would she do that?” Ari asked, still following despite the innocent doubt in his voice.  He still hadn’t caught on that Rose was annoyed with his observations.  “Isn’t Raven fairly a-religious?  Or is the term unreligious?  And when she _does_ go to ceremonies, it is for Pelor, not Hie-“

He finally understood after Rose gave him a dangerous growl.

“Okay, Miss Rose.  I’m sorry, I’m not sure what I did,” Ari replied quietly.  Rose looked back, and saw his brilliant lavender eyes had changed to slightly blue... a sign that he would begin to cry soon.

_One nice thing about prismatic dragons... their emotions are easy to read.  One only needs to watch their eyes,_ Rose remembered her father saying sometime long ago.  She gave a sigh, and a brief nod.

“I’m sorry, Ari.  It’s just, I know I saw her here, and now she’s gone.  And I want to find her... because if she’s back in Kulloden already, something must have come up.  Okay?” she said gently, hoping the dragon would accept her apology.  Immediately, his eyes flashed back to their deep lavender color, flecks of gold dancing in their depths.

“Okay, Miss Rose!” the human disguised dragon laughed.  “And if she’s not in here, maybe she went up the street!  Raven is not as good at hiding as you are!” 

Rose had to laugh at Ari’s last comment.  Of all of their father’s children, Rose had been his closest heir... able to sneak about quietly when she needed to, tell tall tales and persuade even her parents they were true.  Skills that came in handy on more than one occasion.

“True,” she smiled, as the two entered the walk approaching the main temple doors.  As they walked inside, an acolyte was immediately at their side, asking how they could be helped.

“My name is Rose Dice.  I am the daughter of Elenya Dice, Chief of the Mage’s Guild in the city,” Rose offered bluntly.  “I am searching for someone... my sister namely.  I believe she found her way in here... and I have some important news for her,” Rose added quickly.

“Um... I am unaware of any Dice family members entering said temple...” the acolyte said politely.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind us talking a walk around, then?” Rose said innocently.  “It is a very important message... and perhaps you missed her when she entered?”  She started forward, quickly building up speed, forcing the acolyte to catch up.

“Milady,” he called from behind her, as she looked left and right through all the alcoves she passed in her brisk walk, “If you wait patiently, I can ask some of the other priests if she has been here, and then tell you!”  He kept looking uneasily at Ari... unnerved by her companion’s shining eyes and strange colored skin.

For a second, he thought his statement might have persuaded her, for Rose stopped suddenly.  Her face changing into a look of shock and surprise, as well as the little shriek, let him know she’d spotted something instead.  Before he could respond, she’d lunged out of an open side door, into the private gardens of the temple.

The hapless acolyte dashed after her, the strange colored man on his heels.  When he burst into the sunshine, he saw the rather stunned High Commander of the Temple staring at two girls, both looking like the original Dice daughter hugging each other.  And to the priest’s astonishment, a boy fitting the description of the Crown Prince looked on in confusion.


It was raining when Baron Valdemar Erelion finally spurred his horse to a trot through the gate of his family keep.  The downpour was vicious and hard enough that the Baron could not, for minutes at a time, see more than a hundred feet in front of him.

_An excellent mess to march in,_ he thought, dark thoughts towards the gods rumbling in his head.  Behind him came the canter of his knights, loyal to him alone.  He spurred his horse on, towards a lope.  To his right, his foot soldiers flashed by, apparitions dancing within the curtains of rain.  On all of their chests was emblazoned the snake-headed mark of House Erelion.

In the Baron’s mind raced timetables, levy times, and meeting locations.  The rain hid the otherwise impressive snap of his organized, professional troops into march column after he and his knights passed by, but they did not hide his levies from his gaze.

Drenched, already tired, and woefully equipped, most of those former and soon-to-be peasants looked at their lord, passing by in all his finery, with little more than anger.  Anger at having been dragged from their fields during the height of the planting season, anger at having been forced into a war, and finally, anger at being forced to stand out in this rain with little more than leathers on.

In the Baron’s mind, he had prepared a powerful and moving oratory, detailing the crimes of the Imperial family against him and these very peasants... many of whom could not even spell their name.   He rightly judged that now, in the midst of this driving storm, would be the worst time to lecture them.  With a nod, he issued the orders to get them moving... mostly to find some drier campgrounds up the road.

_Hardly an auspicious beginning to my quest,_ his mind darkly thought.  _Perhaps, should Tarantor and the gods smile on me, this shall be the only ill in my campaign to restore to my family what is theirs..._


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 22, 2004)

The smell of roasting stonehog wafted into the air, quickly filling the small stne chamber with its... less than pleasant odor.

To Tesseron, however, the smell was utterly delectable, and her mouth began to water as she turned the roasting form of the hapless creature over and over again.  Her vigil in the tomb kept her from properly hunting, but the small creature’s curious adventure into the tombs for shelter in the brief rainshower that morning had been its last sojurn.  Compared to the hardtack and other rations Tess had brought with, even rough stonehog flesh would be somewhat of a treat.

It had been two days so far that she had been stuck inside the tomb, with nary a sign or movement of anything.  The first night, she had been up, on edge, sleeping only in ten or fifteen second spurts instead of the minute long bursts she’d trained herself to do over the years.  The memories of the place were still strong.

Now, not even rat’s called it home, the once living bones about the place long having been stripped of anything edible.  It was something of a relief to Tess... if something moved, she knew it did not belong here.

Finally, she lifted the spit from above her small fire, and with a judicious eye, she inspected her meal.  With a grunt of satisfaction, she decided it was cooked enough, and removed it from the spit.  Within a few moments, she began her meal... only to stop because of something very faint, coming from outside the cave...



“Look up there, Simeon,” Elsidor smiled at the tired, and weary boy.  “There are the tombs... and there you will find release!  And Lord Vecna will have his requirements met!”

For two solid days the boy had been shuttled, shoved, and driven through the woods, briars tearing his skin, his bindings stretching his legs and joints.  The bruises from his most recent beating that morning were still smarting, adding to the deep, roiling ache that covered his body.  

_They keep this from Elsidor,_ the boy’s tired mind reasoned, _They beast me so that my clothes cover the marks!  If he knew how they treated me, he would help!  Elsidor only wants to make me feel better!_  Simeon looked up at the drow, and while his face grimaced from the pain, his eyes told the drow of pain, suffering, and fear.  

“Ah... do not worry.  It will be quick, and thence you shall leave your pain behind,” the drow smiled wickedly.  He easily read the boy’s mind... that the young man no longer wanted to live.  Over the days before and since the teleport, Elsidor’s companions had assured that.

_And a willing departure only will increase Lord Vecna’s response,_ the drow smiled inwardly.   _This boy was altogether easy to break... he was made of weak noble’s stuff.  He was raised in fine rooms on silken sheets, not underneath the beating sun in pauper’s rags..._ Elsidor darkly reflected over the last such sacrifice he had made, some five centuries prior.  That ranger had been most hard to break into wanting to die.

Together, the sorcerous priest and his sacrifice stared at the heights above them, and a single entry into the mass of rock above...


Evermyn raised her hand suddenly, motioning for complete silence, her sharp eyes locked on something beyond the rocks ahead of them.  Instantly, her large group went from hardly any noise to becoming almost a ‘hole in the rocks.’   Instantly, the all went low to the ground, one of the slamming Eyrna down as well, muffling the woman’s protesting grumble. 

 It was several minutes later when the redheaded woman stopped her looking, and hurried over to where Eyrna was being pinned by Constans.

“Stay back, and watch her,” Evermyn whispered quietly.  “They are up ahead, I am sure of it.”  She nervously looked beyond some rocks, before switching her gaze back urgently.  “If it should go ill, you are to take the girl back to Holstean, and from there teleport to Iskeldrun and report what we know.  Understood?”

“But Lady, the Church would most certainly punish us if we returned empty-“ Constans started to protest.

“The Church matters not!” Evermyn snapped back quickly.  “Even if we succeed I have no doubt we would receive a cool reception!  Defend her from them to the death if they come this way!” 

As Constans opened his mouth to reply, Evermyn spun and darted to her former position, at the head of her group of warriors.  Silently, her blade slid from its sheath, a move quickly followed by the others in her party.

Quickly and silently, their cloaks rose over the sides of the gorge, black panthers darting towards the large tomb above...



“What the devil?” Tess whispered to herself as the noise continued, growing louder.  It was a mix of sounds... scraping, as if figures were dashing across rock, tumbling, as small rocks were falling, and whispering... as if a cape or net was fluttering in the breeze.

Instantly, Tess moved to a place where she could clearly see the entrance.  The bard backed up until she felt the far recess of the chamber against her back.  A quiet, soft tune started to hang in the air... notes that would soon shriek across the stone hall.



“Stop!” Elsidor snapped to the six behind him.  Instantly, the black cloaked group halted, eyes immediately searching about, stabbing forth to find what danger their leader had spotted.

The drow’s eyes flared for a second, as he stared intently at the rocks on the far side of the tomb.  _They were not supposed to know it was here!  This tomb was supposed to be forgotten!_

The drow crouched even lower, and gently raised his right hand.  His keen ears listened as his eyes watched, and instinct became suspicion.  

“They are ahead.   They call themselves hiding... so we shall wait them out.”  With a slight snarl, he added, “When they step into the open... unleash ice upon them.”



Evermyn’s blade glinted brightly in the sunlight... too brightly for her tastes, but it was a necessity.  The rocks about meant danger could leap out instantly directly in front of her, and there wouldn’t be time to draw a blade.  

Finally, the half-elf nimbly jumped up to a rock just belong the tomb’s entrance.  The thin, fine hairs on the back of her neck were raised in alarm, as her instincts screamed danger was near.  She flashed a look behind her, and saw her companions were drawing close... 

With a wave, she motioned Vanerthorpe and another comrade forward.  The two bounded forward, lightly and easily over the stones, towards the entrance so close to them...



The scraping noises continued, louder and more insistent.  

_They’re closing!_ Tess’ mind reflected urgently.  Her humming rose to a song, and then even more.  A shriek, powerful and earth-shattering, rose in her throat, before exploding towards the mouth of the cave, just as a shape flashed into view...



Elsidor heard one of his comrades rumble a “There!” in Infernal, before the sky’s opened, and a hail of ice thundered down upon his hapless foes...



Vanerthorpe was fortunate.  The sudden, piercing blast of sonic power only partially hit him.   The screaming noise grated his ears, as if a thousand sandvipers were rubbing their scales together.  He felt his muscles seize violently.  He tried to issue a scream of his own in fear, but his mouth could not move.  He saw the world tumble, spin, as he tumbled down the mountainside, crashing past rocks and over gravel.

Before the powerful shriek had fully died, Evermyn was on her feet. The half-elf leapt over the rock that had been her cover.  _They are inside!  We must storm the tombs!_  Her sword flashed upwards, and quickly her other companions swarmed up the hillside, thirteen altogether.  

She did not know how many were inside the tombs opposing her, nor their strength.  _It matters not!  The fate of our very world is at stake!_ 

As she came just below the entrance to the tombs, a single, last image flashed into her mind.  Her mother and father, skin blazing red, bodies horribly disfigured by scalding, deadly heat.

And a vicious, snarling cry rose to her lips as she burst into the tombs, darkness enveloping her.



Tess had seen the first figure fall, and within a mere second three more had thundered in, one screaming a warcry.  The bard realized sourly that her voice wouldn’t help her much now, with her foes directly in her face.  With a flick of a hand, her blade of old, a jeweled dagger by the name of Fa’rallan, flew out.  Her voice simultaneous changed from its shriek to a pleasant, lilting note, and a bright, blazing light filled the chamber...



Evermyn’s full blown charge skidded to a halt.  For starters, she saw that in the darkness, she had been headed towards a crumbling statue along the wall of the chamber.   As she spun hurriedly towards the light source, she suddenly stopped.

Before her stood something her eyes could not believe, someone that hovered like a distant memory.  The woman’s blonde tresses were braided and tied about her head like a crown.  On her back was an ornate and well made harp, and in her hand a famous jeweled dagger.   Beautiful musical notes still came from her mouth... notes that were haunting in their perfection.

The five that had already made it into the chamber behind Evermyn were also standing dumbfounded... confused... as a figure of legend stood before them.  The Bard’s eyes flashed uneasily between the six.

“Baroness Keldare!” Evermyn was immediately on a knee before the founder and leader of her organization... her league to fight for right in this world.  _How?  Why?_ the half-elf’s mind asked in desperate confusion.



Tess looked at the six before her in shock and confusion.  There was no drow among them, and her continued humming and notes showed the powerful bard there was no magical trickery at work.

For several seconds, Tess merely stared back at the group that was now kneeling before her.  Finally, her mind sorted the confusion as best it could, and she asked a simple question.

“Who are you?”



“The paladin Evermyn, milady, lately of the Iskeldrun wing of the Angels of Mercy,” the half-elf replied.  “I have come here to secure the tombs of the family of our Lord Emperor Lucius, to prevent them from falling into dark hands!” she hurriedly blurted, as her mind rushed with sheer panic.

Evermyn had never met Tesseron before, and through her mind raced the stories that were told of this woman.  That she could turn someone to dust with her voice if they displeased her.  That she could teleport at will.  That she could read into one’s heart and shatter it if one lied.

_Do not find me wanting!  Understand my quest is truthful!_



_Evermyn?  The missing paladin?_ Tess asked herself.  

“Madam,” she said slowly, her mind still processing, “there are a great many people looking for you after the message you left with the goblin Chamoval.”

And slowly, cautiously, the two sides began to explain their reasons for being there...



Elsidor’s face soured in disgust a few moments after he laid sight on the creature.  Not at the sight of the mountain lion’s body, battered to a pulp by hailstones twice the size of a half-orc’s fist, but by the waste of arcane power.

“It appears it was misidentified,” one of the other drow said sharply.  None dared challenge Elsidor directly, but the statement could not be interpreted as anything but an offhand swipe at their leader’s mistake.

“It does,” Elsidor growled.  “Nonetheless, if no one responded to that racket, it is a good sign that for now, we are alone.  Let us head up into this cave.”

The party of seven clambered up the rocks ahead, and found themselves in what looked to be an abandoned mineshaft.  Timber beams still went over the top and sides of hte entrance, and more than one drow wrinkled their nose and complained the place still smelled distantly of dwarf, even centuries after they had left the mountain.

Carefully they followed several sets of stairs and winding tunnels into the heart of the mountain, finally coming to a massive chamber, a thigh deep morass of water covering its floor.  Deep cracks showed in the sides of the chamber, where rivulets of water had coursed down from the ceilings above. 

“The remains of the ice that used to cover this place,” Elsidor said simply as the seven sloshed through the chilly water.  “Keep your eyes about for any ice that remains.  Such is what we are looking for.”

For what seemed an eternity, five of the drow scoured the hall while Elsidor stood beside the still bound and now freezing Simeon.  Finally, one of the drow emerged with a piece of ice, no larger than a thumb, still freezing to the touch.

Gently, reverently, Elsidor took the ice in hand, and noted with calm and surprise that it did not melt in his touch.  Smiling, the drow placed the small piece in a small, elaborately decorated pouch.  _So this is what is left of you… Oh Great King?  How ironic._

“Come, Simeon,” he then smiled.  “It is time for you to find your release.”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 23, 2004)

Another long break.  Vacation to see my brother... next update will come next Wedensday.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 30, 2004)

Part one of a double update
 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The blood red sun sank lower in the sky as Elsidor and his small band led their sacrifice up the slopes of the mountain they had only hours before traveled through.  

_How appropriate_, the dark elf thought as the final, despairing heat of the ending day fell over his face.  The light was growing dim enough he no longer needed to shield his eyes.  His eyes looked up, towards the summit of the mountain, barely a few more yards ahead.  His eyes finally caught sight of a long boulder, its top long and flat... and Elsidor smiled.

“Perfect,” he said quietly as the sun’s red rays seemed to illuminate the stone, as if Vecna himself wanted the dark deed to be consumated there.



“Why didn’t you tell anyone you were going to be here!  It would be at least a common courtesy to let me or Mother know you are here, so we can at least properly prepare!” Rose snapped, glaring at her sister and Valaron across the table from her.  The servants in the Dice manor then set down more berries and sauces for the five to eat upon.

“Well, we _were_ trying to find out information quietly,” Valaron said with only a slight amount of grumpiness.  The furrow made the wrinkles of his disguise go even deeper.  “However, these berries are better than stale bread anyday!”

“You at least got a disguise.  Everyone in two probably knows _I’m_ here now,” Raven replied a little sharply.  Before even going into the Temple of Hieroneous to leave, Raven had altered Valaron’s appearance again.   “Which probably means you’re going to have to remain an old crone for even longer in the eyes of the public.  No making young ladies faint!”

“When have I ever done that?” Valaron asked.

“So, this Fire Stone?  Do you need help finding where it’s at?” Shawn Dice asked eagerly.  His hair was jet black, like his father’s once was, and he shared the thin, wiry build of his father as well... so much so that he’d been nicknamed, ‘the Younger.’  

“And I can guard Val,” Ari said loudly, before the lavender boy let loose a series of draconic growls and snorts.  They quickly ended when both Raven and Rose shot him a sharp, vicious stare.  The young dragon’s head went down, and meekly he said, “Sorry... I won’t mention his name aloud again.  I forgot.”

After a few more moments of glaring, Raven turned to her brother.  “Yes... but not in the actual searching.  I need you two to develop a reason I’m in town with this old crone,” she motioned to the disguised Val, “a story that we _all_ can stick to, with _no adlibbing!_” she looked pointedly at her brother.



Tess did not feel like smiling once Evermyn finished her story.  Not because the paladin’s quest had deprived her and the Imperials of vital intelligence, or the fact that her band had gone for Tess instead of Elsidor.  Instead, her mind was wrapped around one, all-important question.

“Where are they?” Evermyn said softly, reading the bard’s mind.

“Perhaps they are late,” Vanerthorpe said quietly, rubbing the sore spots still besotting his arms and legs.  “Maybe this whelp’s brother held them up,” he looked towards Eyrna, now dragged into the cave with the others.  “As what she told us was false, I believe she still owes us much... including her life,” he growled darkly.

“Stay, my good sir,” Tess said quietly, but firmly.  “Elsidor has shed enough blood.  Let’s not add another soul to his account, and instead focus on finding him.”  The bard then turned, for the first time all day, to the prisoner that Evermyn’s band had brought with them.

Tess took in Eyrna’s frightened face.  _They have been rough with her... especially the one called Vanerthorpe,_ Tess read the way the girl’s eyes flashed uncertainly to the hooded man next to her.  _I must gain her trust... and then she will tell us what information she knows... after all... her brother’s life is at stake now as well._

“Unbind her,” Tess commanded.  A muffled grumble started to arise, until the bard’s eyes flashed around the group assembled around.  Rather meekly, Vanerthorpe undid the ropes binding Eyrna’s arms and legs, and for the first time in a while Eyrna was able to stretch her arms and legs.

While a burning sensation blazed through the girl’s limbs, the ability to move felt divine.



“Simeon, my child,” Elsidor said quietly, gently, his already white eyes glowing with power and strength beyond those of normal men, “lay yourself flat on this stone.”  Dully, without a blink or look, the young man obeyed as if under a powerful spell.

At seeing his obedience, Elsidor smiled.  Once of his companions brought forth a rope, until Elsidor waved them away.  “That is unneccessary.  We have no need to fear Lord Simeon shying away from this.”

As the sun drew closer to halfway below the horizon, Elsidor drew a knife, its hilt gilt, the head of a beast as its carved pommel.  Its length was long and bone white, jagged in relief.  The sun’s rays seemed to stream into the blade, as the twilight made it seem to be made entirely out of blood.

Elsidor whispered a few silent words, phrases of arcane and abject power, before carefully placing the knife at Simeon’s throat.



“Well... how about we tell the story that this crone,” Rose flashed a smile in Valaron’s direction, “is a teacher from the Academy come to speak to mother about something,” the girl waved her hand around uncertainly, “magic related!”

“No!” Raven shot back.  “If people find out someone from the Academy is here, one, it will attract undo attention from mother’s guild, and two, it will seem like I am in some kind of trouble!”

“Well, you are a _Dice_,” Younger replied dryly.  “Trouble _is_ in your middle name!  Everyone in Kulloden knows this!  Ever since father rode off to the east and started his adventures under the White Mountain!”

The old crone in the corner smiled unusually at the mention of the White Mountain.  Its mere utterance brought to his mind the stories of valor of combat he had been raised with...

_Bravely the band of five watched the oncoming horror that had once been a man.  Oh, how great and terrible it appeared!  Under this hail of blasts did your father and mother stand, the brave Tesseron and Dice the thief by their side!  There they stood, facing the King Caladron of old, Ananias!_

“Val!  Here and now!” Raven’s sharp rebuke yanked him from the world of story back into the present.  “Would you be okay meeting with Father Hidalas at the Tarantor Church?”

“Um... sure,” the Prince replied uncertainly.



“My child,” Tess said softly, a hand gently lifting Eyrna’s eyes to her own, “You have been through much.  Have you eaten recently?”  When Eyrna shook her head no, the bard reached to the spit over the now embers that had once been a fire, and pulled off several pieces of stonehog.  “Here.”

“Why do you feed the traitress?” Vanerthorpe’s harsh whisper echoed in the halls.  Tess shot him a bladed look, and the man shrank away slightly.

“Eat!” Tess urged, and with a smile she watched the woman gobble down the pieces.  _She is of noble blood... this is probably the first time she has felt want... has felt starvation.  So quickly are table manners forgotten when one is starving!_  “I am sure that food would taste better if some water followed it into your belly,” Tess said with an earnest smile, offering her waterskin to the girl.  Eyrna eagerly grabbed the proffed water, and took several swigs from it.

“Do you feel better now?” Tess asked softly.  The bard read the young woman’s eyes and her nod yes.  Her eyes were fearful, but something told Tess the nod was heartfelt.  _She is questioning whether this is a ploy... but part of her thinks it’s not,_ the bard smiled.  “Eyrna... my name is Tesseron, the Harper.”

“I... I knew it was you, Baroness,” the other woman, replied, her dry mouth now replenished.  “I thank you for your kindness.”  The final line was delivered with a genuine gratefulness, as well as a barb directed at her former captors.

“Eyrna... I wish to help you.  They tell me Elsidor took your brother captive,” Tess said slowly.   The bard watched as the other woman’s face suddenly flashed through a series of emotions.  Fear... fear that this information was going to be used against her.  Even more apparent was a pang of loneliness, and another fear... one that she would never see her brother again alive.

Tess pressed on.  “I can help rescue him... if you wish.  I merely need know who Elsidor plans to raise.”

“What would you do with me and Simeon afterwards?” Eyrna asked.  The woman had moved slightly away from Tess.  

Tess had expected this question, yet she still didn’t have a firm answer.  By all rights, the two should be turned over to the Imperial government and sent to trial for treason.  _But we need this information!_ Tess’ mind reminded her.  _Otherwise, the trial of two traitors might be the last thing we’ll need to worry about!_

“I shall make sure no harm shall come to you.  On my word as a woman,” Tess replied, somehow covering the uncertainty in her own voice.  _How can I do that?  By all rights, Siabrey and Lucius can claim her head!_  Mentally, the bard shook herself.  _Such matters can be arranged later!_

“You might support the Usurper, the one that follows those of Hieroneous when he should follow Our Lord Tarantor, Tesseron Keldare,” the young woman replied, “but one thing I have never heard you called is dishonorable... or a liar.”  Tess saw Eyrna blink and give a deep sigh.

“Elsidor seeks to raise Ananias Caladron, the King of Old, the only one whose body does not lie here.”

A split second later, a curse erupted from Tess’ lips.  _Of course!  How obvious!  He knew that this tomb was likely to be guarded, so he seeks the one who never really died...

Until we killed him outside of Kulloden, under the White Mountain._

Memories from a time long before flooded into Tess’ mind.  Once again she saw Siabrey and Lucius as they were long ago, two warriors seeking the Ice Diamond, and unknowingly seeking each other.  Once again, she saw the uncouth, sharp tongued thief named Shaun Dice.  And she felt herself tighten in anger at seeing the image of Rogar the Traitor.

Once again, she felt her desperation as she launched her last, desperate charge... a lone dagger in her hand, a screaming warcry on her lips as her broken body lunged towards the wounded beast, knowing it was either her life, or the lives of all of her friends...

“M’lady?” Evemyn asked quietly.  “If this Anias is no more than a mere mummy or wight, we have faced such before.”

“He is no such creature,” she said softly, her voice filled with the terror of memory.



Elsidor waited, looking on patiently as the red disk grew lower and lower in the sky.  The ritual required precise timing.   Carefully he watied, as he had done so many times over the course of his five century life.

Gently he pushed the blade down, further and further onto Simeon’s young neck, careful to not spill any blood until he saw the last tiny point of light disappear over the horizon.

With a sudden and swift movement, the young blood that was in Simeon’s veins formed its own red glow, high on the top of White Mountain.  The young man’s form hardly moved as his life’s blood pumped out onto the gray slate of stone.

Without a word, Elsidor held forth a hand, and quickly the small shard of ice was placed in it by one of his band.  The drow held the shard up towards the blazing red of the western sky, and deep, infernal words rose high in the air, growing loud as thunder rolling off of the hills and into the forests below.

At once, it seemed as if the young lord’s lifesblood, spilled onto the mountainside, seemed to glow, going from deep rust to a bright crimson, rising in the air, then swirling about Elsidor’s tall frame.

The very air around the drow hummed with power, and with a sudden roar, the blood of Simeon Erelion gave new life to something that should have remained dead...



“What is _that!?_” Rose asked in awe as she and her siblings stared out the window of the Dice manor towards the dark eastern sky.

A pillar of white light seemed to stretch from the ground upwards to the heavens, its top swirling to and fro, thin wisps blowing from the top of its lofty heights. 

“Val?” Raven asked next, “have you seen anything like that?”  Her eyes were still locked on the sight.  “Val?” she asked a few seconds later.  Silence greeted her ears, and annoyed, she turned to get his attention, before she became speechless in confusion.

Valaron was doubled over, pain apparent even amongst the wrinkles of his disguised face.  The pale skin her spell had given him was bathed a deep, pungent red, and small gasps of labored breathing came from his lips.

“Val!?”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Jul 30, 2004)

And the second part of a special double update 

= = = = = = = =
Night had spread its dark wings across the sky when a damp Baron Valdemar glumly poured over the thin parchment of maps spread throughout his camp.  The maps reflected dark orange and blood red back at him, as light reflected from the two precious candles he’d managed to save from the soaking of the past two days.

 The Baron gave a slight grunt of tiredness, as his eyes traced a route between two small marks on this large, sprawling depiction of the center of the Empire.  One was his home seat, the minor lands House Erelion had not lost in his elder brother’s ill-conceived rebellion some twelve years before.

The other, the small village of Thuyciden, was barely more than a lightly marked speck, its tiny dot now covered with lines and marks from where Erelion’s other commanders present had drawn lines.

“Lord Haldmar needs the Taynor Road _clear_ before he can move his columns in!” Erelion’s ears caught his senior vassal and chief bannerman, Sir Albrecht Manse complain.  It was Manse who had provided most of the mounted knights presently in Erelion’s force.  “If that road is blocked, Haldmar’s columns could be delayed from joining us!”

“Of good Lord Haldmar even marches at all,” Earl Jyl Bearsan complained.  The knight was of small stature, and his massive main of coarse, black beard seemed far out of proportion to his small size.  None doubted his arms... as many on the battlefield had found to their despair that this small man could fight with the viciousness of the wolf that was his family’s sigil.  This strange combination had led to an odd nickname in his younger days... before the old line of Emperors had ended.   Beardstone... for his massive beard and his stout heart.

“Haldmar will march,” the Baron finally spoke, “as will Birstol, Martok, Mays and Harper.  They know the time of this upstart house ruling our Empire is over!”  Erelion’s hands clenched, voices of the past filling his mind.  His brother, on that lost field, watching as his peasants and kerns all fled on the sight of that woman.

_The witch in dragonscale, they called her... as they dropped their arms and ran with all the power their legs could muster,_ his thought bitterly.  _Mere peasants and kerns... and my dear brother... believing an army with those as a backbone could withstand the Emperor’s battlehardened Imperial Guard!_

_But we have learned now!  Now, we marshal the nobles, and those who would sell their swords for coins!  We have an army of honed veterans of fighting, of people eager for the clash of arms!  No longer do we rely on the farmer taken from his field, but on the knights who are eager for more than a mere tourney!_

“We have learned,” he muttered softly.

“My Lord?” Sir Manse asked.

“It was nothing,” Erelion said quietly, waving away the looks of concern. His eyes once again looked to the maps, taking in the lines of march drawn in.

“Our scouts confirmed what I suspected,” Manse continued, assuming his lord’s silence was a sign to continue, “the Imperial Army has left Iskeldrun, and is making haste towards Thuyciden.  They are marching in two wings... the northern under the command of the Usurper,” Manse spat his name for the Emperor out, “and the southern one by the Desert Dragon.”  The second name was said far more respectfully... all present had seen what she did to the previous rebellion so long ago.

“How many do they march with?” Erelion said quietly.  His mind was already elsewhere, the mentioning of Iskeldrun bringing back other pangs in his heart.  

_There has been no news of Eyrna or Simeon... no word at all,_ the lord reflected mournfully.  Part of his mind had come to grips with the likelihood that they were already deep in some Imperial cell...

...all the reason more to march with haste.

“The Usurper moves with some forty thousand spears, some five thousand of which are horse,” Manse replied.  “The Dragon moves with the same, save fifteen thousand of her number are also horse.”  Manse then pointed a finger towards the large walled city drawn on the map to represent the capital.  “Our spies also point to the fact that Iskeldrun itself has another twenty thousand, the defense commanded by one of the Usurper’s children.”

“Which one?” Erelion asked.  _Four children of the Dragon walk in this world... but only two can harm us.  If it is the Princess, Iskeldrun shall be an easy mark.  None who have spent their lives studying meaningless magic would know how to defend a keep.  But if it is the Prince... he has spent his days studying how to fight, and he would make any keep nigh unbreakable..._

“We do not know,” Manse confessed, with a bow.  “Our network of informants in the city has come under direct assault, and many have been silenced, or refuse to speak any more.  The last report we have states that a, ‘great many riders’ left the city two days ago, riding east.”

“’A great many?’  How many is that?  Fifteen? Fifty?  Manse, your ‘informants’ told us the Empress would be an easy mark once a servant had gotten close to her!” Beardstone snapped.  

Manse’s jaw tensed, and he glared at the other knight, before once again confessing, “We do not know.  We do know that someone from the palace likely was leading them.”

“Well, that could be anyone!” Beardstone grumbled again.  “If this is another column, that means we could be facing upwards of five score thousand!  And m’lord,” the smaller man turned to Erelion, “with our columns dispersed as they are, we are in a most perilous position!  Should the Usurper concentrate his forces...”

This entire time Erelion had been grating his teeth, slowly and silently.  Once Beardstone spoke the obvious, the Baron’s voice erupted into a snarl of his own.  “We shall _not_ suffer the same fate as my brother’s armies!”  His eyes flashed to all in the crowded tent, sharp with command and fury.  

“M’lords, see to your troops.  From now on, they shall rise at two hours before dawn, and march until two hours past sunset!  We _must_ concentrate our armies into one force!”



Vintressa’s eyes opened, fluttering as darkness covered her vision.  At first, she thought it was her eyes adjusting, and then maybe that she was blind.   But as her tired mind realized it was deep in the night, the darkness tried to call her back to the realms of sleep.  A rustling nearby caused her to sit up suddenly, pushing aside her thoughts of sleep.

“Are you feeling better?” Royukgan whispered quietly.  The princess blinked, realizing his voice was not part of any of the nightmarish dreams that had been haunting her the past night.  Vintressa could feel bumping distantly along her side, as Royukgan struggled with his covers next to hers.  Beneath her back, the bumps and ridges of the grassy ground under her blanket reminded her she was not in the safety of the palace any longer.

“Yes,” the princess lied.  It had been two days since the vicious pain in her chest that had almost doubled her over in her mount.  She had tried to grit her teeth against the sudden onslaught, only to cry out in agony after only a few seconds.  Her world then blacked out.

It had been some five hours later, with a worried Royukgan at her side, that she had come to.  His hand had been clasped fiercely around hers, to the point that she now was surprised her fingers had not been crushed.  Even now, her stomach and her chest was still sore.  It was a distant, far away pang, like a great distant fire causing the night sky to glow faintly.

She heard a sigh of relief, and felt a hand crawling along her arm, till it clasped her own.  “Good,” she heard Royukgan’s voice say in the darkness.  She could imagine his face, with that loving smile that before this mess had driven her crazy with delight in happier times, beaming at her in the darkness.

[]Then again, that might be some of the herbs they fed me,[/i] her mind darkly glowered.  She remembered earlier that morning, when she come to after another dark night.  The band had not moved since she had fallen ill.  And she’d raved to Aeron and Aegrifyr about it.  She remembered them trying to explain, and her shouting that they needed speed.  Then Aegrifyr disappeared, and came back with a warm tea, which she had drunk greedily.

And then she’d woken up just now.

_We need to move,_ her mind mumbled again, coming back to reality fully.  Numbers, movements, and maps popped back into her head, and she remembered why they needed to move.  Her mind’s call changed.  _We MUST move!_

For a split second, she wondered why there was no fire, until remembering her own command when the entire force had joined together.

_Only one campfire should be lit, in the center of the encampment, beside the wizard’s tents.  We want to keep the chance of our discovery to a minimum!_

Gingerly she slipped to the side, away from the voice she had heard earlier, and was rewarded by a fresh rustle of blankets.

“Vin, what are you doing?” Royukgan asked in the darkness.

“We must move!” she complained, urgency giving her voice a texture of command.  Her stomach’s aches seemed to not matter anymore.  

“Vin, its two hours past midnight.  There won’t be any moving for a while... at least until sunrise,” his voice replied.  Its measure of calm amazed her dazed mind, giving her pause.  “You need your rest, Vin.  Neither Master Aegrifyr nor Lord Aeron know what happened to you, but if you are feeling alright now, you’ll feel even better in the morning.  And since this is _your_ crazy scheme, we need you to be up and ready to lead us in it!”  Vin’s imagination once again provided the smirk she new Royukgan had on his face.

The darkness still called to her, asking her to sleep.  _Sunrise... four hours_ her mind thought.  _Six miles of travel.... Eight if we move... not too much..._ she closed her eyes.



Royukgan looked into the darkness where his love lay asleep.  Wearily, he laid back down, the words of Aeron the Court Mage occupying his mind.

_Something related to the very blood running through her veins caused that.  It can be the only thing,_ the wizard’s craggy voice repeated in his mind.  _Something happened... some kind of powerful magic the likes of which I do not fully understand.  If it affected her... it could have affected her brothers and sister... or even the Emperor..._


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## Mahtave (Jul 30, 2004)

I hate to "dirty up" this thread with something other than this fantastic story, but I'm sure Emp. would like to know at some point that the lurkers from his old thread are reading this thread as well...

As always, nicely done!  I find I am waiting for the next update immediatley after I read the current one.  

Thank you for yet another brilliant piece of writing Emp.!


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## Emperor Valerian (Jul 31, 2004)

Oh, I don't mind the cluttering.  Thank you for the compliments, and glad to hear from some of the people reading. (I know people are reading... I haven't viewed this thread 500 someodd times by myself  )

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

Is this truly wise?” Eyrna heard Vanerthorpe’s voice ask from behind her.  The man’s hawk-shaped face was framed by the green of the woods they now slipped through.  Once again, the noblewoman saw the nose of the tall bard beside her flare, before turning to confront the annoying man.

“It is, sir,” Tess replied coldly.  Her tone conveyed to everyone that she was starting to get annoyed with Vanerthorpe’s antics.

The hooded ranger’s attempts to cow and threaten Eyrna the first night had plainly angered Tess... and his ignorance of her hints and eventual demands that he stop angered her more.  These last few days, he had begun questioning her choice to abandon the Caladron family tombs, in favor of moving immediately towards Holstean, then Kulloden.

Part of Eyrna wanted to smile at seeing Vanerthorpe shrink back.  The girl held no illusions that Tesseron was a champion under her banner, or that the bard would defend her from all who would threaten; less adept minds might have jumped to that conclusion, but within Eyrna’s head was still one of the better political minds within the Empire.  
_She’ll likely turn me into the Imperial government... her reputation is for honor and righteousness guarantees that,_ the noblewoman had already realized.  

“What if they were merely late?  What if this little one has lied to get us away from them?” Vanerthorpe’s voice asked again as the noises of birds and animals continued around them in cheerful irony.  At this, Eyrna was not surprised to see Tesseron suddenly stop... indeed, she’d been expecting this for the past day or so.

“Do you think you would do a better job in charge, Vanerthorpe Eldyr, son of Japes?” Tess said coolly, her face devoid of emotion, only the ice of her voice conveying the very real threat.  Eyrna could easily imagine the air coming from the Baroness’ lips wafting in chilly clouds over the ignorant man’s face.

“I would never suggest such a thing, Baroness,” Vanerthorpe tried to backpedal, now realizing how far he’d pushed the powerful bard.  “It is merely that you seem headed for something important towards the north, and we know of one vital goal Elsidor needs to succeed.  That goal isn’t in...”

Tesseron took a deep breath, and for a second, Eyrna thought she would quickly witness the end of Vanerthorpe.  Legends of Tesseron’s dedication to right had also included legends of her power... powers that would have made even the most powerful mages shudder in wonder.

“Do you wish to know what is in Kulloden!?” the bard snapped, stopping her northward march.  The undercurrent of anger that had been rising the previous two days suddenly broke through her resolve.  “Do you really want to know?!  The Crown Prince is in Kulloden!  That is why we must get there as quickly as possible!”

At this, Eyrna’s eyes went wide.  The memory of Valaron at the ball... angry and haughty in some ways, came back to Eyrna’s mind.  _So he is so close..._

“Baroness, is it wise?” Constans asked quietly, nodding towards Eyrna.  The bard’s furious face glanced at the girl, and gave a sickening growl.

“Does she have an army?  Do you see a blade on her?” Tess said after a few seconds of silence.  “She cannot hurt him more than any of you.  Now... cease your prattle!” the bard barked in command, “we have to get to Holstean and raise the alarm!”

“Alarm against what?  If they raised Ananias, it is but one creature we fight... and we have the great bard on our side!  What should we fear?” Vanerthorpe said, a nervous smile accompanying the flattery on his lips.

“You know not what you speak,” Tess growled, turning with a huff to finish the last few hours journey to Holstean.  

_In Holstean, we can send some messengers to Vintressa in Iskeldrun... as well as teleport all of them to Kulloden,_ Tess’ plan reflected in her mind.  _I would teleport ahead, but Evermyn seems to have less and less control over this band of... people,_ her mind picked a word just above ‘ruffians.’  _I can scarcely trust them to not blurt out that I was at the tombs, or anything else.  They must be close by._



It was the second day of a new world for Ananias.

The first was bleary, confused, a series of lights and muffled sounds that he could not understand or decipher.  His mind screamed at him he was still under attack, that the bloody woman was still running at him, screaming, that knife above her head.  He found his arms, powerful as they were, would not respond.  His mouth could not open.  His wings could not move.

This day, it was all different.

“My Lord Ananias,” a deep voice greeted his first clear sights and sounds... the dark green of trees.  In the distance, he saw a familiar form, one he hadn’t seen in over two centuries...

The outside of White Spine Mountain.

He attempted to jerk his hands free, to find the interloper that addressed him so casually, only to feel his hands held by something immense and powerful, yet invisible even to his magical eyes.  He twisted, hard, to feel the same powerful, immovable thing holding him in place.  

“You have been bound, with some of the most powerful arcane imaginable.  I am afraid you should cease your struggle, before your form becomes injured,” the voice said, before a dark face with blazing white eyes came into view.  He felt a finger lightly touch either end of his mouth, and the immovable force seemed to vanish from his lips.  To his surprise, he felt his mouth open reflexively, the muscles burning as if they had been locked in a closed position for quite some time...

_But I am dead!  I am an ice demon...  I can rest my sinews as I see fit, and they do not scream in pain as thus!  How... why?_

He took a deep breath, and as he breathed out, he felt the air rushing over something in his throat.  A groan came out... another noise that surprised his mind.

“You may speak, my lord,” the man hovering above.  “After you have had your peace, I shall explain to you why you are this way.”

“Who... are... you?” Ananias found yet another surprise.  His voice was raspy and thin, not the deep, resonating thunder of an ice avalanche like he remembered from his last form.  _What AM I?_

“My name is Elsidor, we have never had the pleasure of meeting, Your Highness,” the creature said.  As Ananias looked back through his memories, he realized what was staring at him.

A dark elf.

“Why... am... I... thus?” Ananias heard his strange voice rasp out again.  _It is almost as if I am alive again.  My voice in life was this way, after the first battle..._  Memories once again flooded back to him... the banners of Iskeldrun dancing in the wind ahead of him, his own falcon banners fluttering above his own head.  A shout, a roar, and the thunder of a mailed surge crashing together...

“I have need of you.  And I believe we can reach an amicable agreement...  if you assist me, I shall assist you,” the dark elf smiled.  “It appears you are bound by powerful magic... magic I can rid you of.  In return, I need a certain object from you... it is about the size of two fists, and red...”

“Ah...the...Fire...Stone,” Ananias replied, feeling his voice growing a little stronger.  His mind was now absorbing the other sensations flowing over him.  The feel of the breeze blowing over his body.  The slight tickling on an arm... which Ananias eventually placed as likely a fly.  By the chill all over his body, the once King assumed he was naked.  “Why...do...you...want...this?” Ananias asked.  _It brought me to my doom... once SHE took the staff!_

“Simply put, King Ananias,” the dark elf replied, using the man’s proper title, “I wish to destroy the Empire of Iskeldrun, something you tried to do when you were alive,” the face disappeared from his view, though the voice continued, “and after your conversion from living flesh into demonic corruption. I know this.”  The voice continued, “I know how the Empire stole your victory from you... and after you chased them so long, how you were undercut by them... that they stole the staff from you!”

_The staff..._ Ananias went back to the long, black shaft of iron that had been his power... and his bane.  Its voice, persuasive and cool, echoed in his mind, almost as if it was calling him.  _But it is not,_ Ananias recognized sadly.  The call was merely a shadow of the voice he had heard so many times in life, as a sunflower gave pale reflection to its namesake’s glory.  There was no guidance now, no clear call to action, no warning of what traps, what plans, and what deceptions lay ahead.

“Surely you still wish vengeance on them?”  the dark elf’s voice asked.  “You merely need to give me the Fire Stone.”

Dark rage built in Ananias’ heart, as he remembered past the mailed fist that had slammed into him as his banners flew overhead.  The screams, the pain.  His keep, burning.  His wife and three children carried off by steel monsters clad in the livery of the white and gold, dragons emblazoned on their chests...

And then his mind found itself, and suppressed the rage for his lips could move... his former senses, his suspicions, his reactions honed from years on an iron throne came flooding back.  _What does this drow want with the Fire Stone?  Why would he promise so much for it?  Can he deliver on his promises?_

“Why should I trust you?” he said, his voice halting, but faster than before.  “I scarcely know you, yet you promise me the fall of Iskeldrun.  Why should a bare man trust a skulker promising him that mountains can be moved, and seas lifted into the skies?”

“Ah... wise words,” the drow replied.  “Simply, this drow shares cause with you, and an enemy of an enemy is a friend in dire times.  That, and this ‘skulker’ raised your form not only from the dead, but back into your original, kingly form.  A form worthy to sit on the Dragon Throne itself, and put fear in the hearts of those currently there, and the mighty silver dragon that is their guardian.  I believe you and this Xanadu are old acquaintances, are you not?  Does not the falcon of your House deserve to fly from the banners of the Dragon’s Palace?”


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 2, 2004)

_Nothing,_ Raven’s mind reflected darkly as the light patter of a rain shower pelted her hooded frame.  She idly kicked a loose cobblestone on the street as she jogged between carts and carriages.  _Nothing at all about the Fire Stone...

...but there was much about many other things..._ 

She hurriedly pushed through the gates of her family manor, and dashed towards the large front doors, already held open by a worried look Rose.  _How is he doing?  Did he eat more after I left this morning?  Is he sitting up?_

“Is he better?” Raven asked, taking off her wet hood.  Her mind still recoiled at the image of Val two days ago... her disguise for him peeling away, his real face blanched, eyes rolled back, his breathing coming in swift, labored gasps.  For an instant, all thought of the Fire Stone, or of assassins vanished.  Instead, she found herself over these few days focused on two things... Valaron, and what caused him to collapse so violently.

To her relief, her sister smiled.  “Much better,” Rose replied, “he’s eating again, and those fits he kept having didn’t come back.”

“Has he uttered anything since I left this morning?” Raven asked, already rushing towards the stairs.  

“Nothing... he’s quite coherent now.  I asked him if he remembered some of the stuff he said during his hours of delirium, but he all he recalls is pain,” Rose said, before looking at her sister funny.  “My, aren’t we in a hurry... I told you he was fine.  I had to tell him repeatedly to lay down!  Hey, did you find anything out about-“

“Yes,” Raven called from the top of the stairs, already dashing towards the bedroom the Prince laid in.  _He needs to know what I now know!  Maybe it can help us piece together what happened!_

Part of her feared that when she opened the door, Val would be up and about, despite strict instructions by Raven, and presumably Rose, to lay down.  He was a very headstrong and stubborn young man, and Raven was relieved he was merely sitting up on the bedcovers... looking rather cross.  That alone showed he was feeling better.  

“I am forbidden to move from this bed?” he eyed her defiantly.  “That is what Rose tells me your command is.  What other things may I do for my lady?” he added mockingly.

“Continue to get better.  And you would not deny a lady’s wishes, would you?” Raven shot back.  A smile came to her lips, as well as a sigh of relief.   “You are looking much better this afternoon than you were this morning, even.”  She headed towards the dresser across the room from him, where several of the few herbal remedies she knew from watching her mother were waiting to be mixed.

“And I am feeling better... good enough I should be allowed to get up!  Every time I move, your sister threatens to turn me into a jackass, because of my stubborness!”

“And you believe her?” Raven asked, carefully removing a few cloves of parsley, king’s wart, and other small flowers and plants to form a mush.  

“One can’t be too careful with your family,” Valaron rejoined.  “We need to get going.  Rose says I’ve been down for two days now... we need to find-“  Raven heard covers shifting, and spun around in time to chase Val’s dangling legs back onto the bed with her disapproving gaze.

“Be patient,” Raven said, finishing her mixture by adding some water to it to make a cold tea.  “While she watched you, I went out and did some searching of my own.”  She poured a cup of the mess... altogether it did little more than relax the muscles and slightly dull pain.  She held the cup out to him.  “Drink.”

“I’m fine.  Much better,” Val protested, before her stern look made him finally take the cup.  Raven blinked, and suddenly realized that her hand was poised within less than an inch of his forehead as he closed his eyes and drank as she commanded.

_What are you doing, Raven?_ her mind jumped.  His eyes flashed open, and he made the now familiar look of terrible pain on sipping it, as if all the Nine Hells were playing in his stomach as the liquid landed.  A sharp rebuke ran through her head, and Raven snatched her hand back before he could notice.  She rolled her eyes to cover up her action.

“It’s not _that_ bad.  If you keep that horrible acting up, I won’t tell you what I found out.”  Valaron immediately stopped his looks of horror at her statement, and Raven grinned.  “I’ve spent the last two days looking at the small libraries at the Temple of Pelor, after you made those cries in delirium.”

“Which one?  The one about you?”

Raven shook her head, as the memory of his night of sickness came back.  Instinctively, a knot of worry formed in her belly as a result.  Among his many calls to the figures of fever dancing in his mind, two had struck her.  

The first, even as Rose, Ari and Raven managed to manhandle the prince up towards a bedchamber, exploded first as bits of idle chatter, that suddenly coalesced into a frightening series of words.

_”I see it!  I see him!  A mountain flanked with snow, boned beast rising from the green sea!”_

It had then degenerated into worthless drivel.  For the first day, she’d puzzled over the phrase.  From his eyes, whatever or whoever ‘it’ and ‘him’ were, they were frightening.  She had heard of this before... those with magic in their veins struck low, visions of the future and the past flashing before their eyes.  

It was later that night when his second meaningful utterance came.  His feverish mind was seeing many things... he mumbled out about beasts, his family, for home.  At one point during the soft, feverish chatter, his eyes looked directly into hers, and she had seen something far different in those blue and red orbs.  

It was as if they were searching her soul, her past, her future, her very being.  A second or two later, they narrowed, and a soft, rasping phrase came from his lips.

_”You’ll make the broken eaglet fly again.”_

“No... you never said one about me,” Raven said quietly, her mind disturbed by the second, the one she hadn’t been able to find an answer for.  _I don’t understand what this meant?  The broken eaglet?  Him?  His family used to have an eagle as its crest... but Val’s not broken...  maybe I’ll never understand..._  Val needed rest, and she didn’t want him stretching his mind trying to figure out something meaningless.  “Did Rose tell you that?”

“She said I muttered something about flying... she couldn’t hear the whole thing,” Val replied.  He looked slightly downcast.

“Well, I did find something that resembles the first one you muttered about... the mountain and boned beast?  Have you ever heard of White Spine Mountain?”

Valaron’s eyes narrowed briefly, his eyes flashing as his mind made a connection.  “Yes... that was where our parents defeated a creature of some kind.  It was early on... I don’t think our mothers had even met at that point.”  Val slid himself further down the bed, so he could lay flat on his back.

Raven nodded.   “Yes... according to the records in the Church of Pelor, it was an Ice Demon, the remains of a tortured soul that had abused evil magic.  The ancient King Ananias.”

“Oh!” Val’s mind laughed.  “Of course!  Where mum says she was encased in ice, and father had to rescue her!”  Raven could see in Val’s eyes the story replaying.  “And Ananias was the ancient King holding the original Ice Diamond!”  His brow then furrowed.  “So, what makes this significant?”

“Um...” Raven said quietly, “White Spine Mountain is only five days ride from Kulloden... to the east.”  _The same direction the column of light came from when you fell out..._

Val’s eyes widened in understanding of what she was thinking.  “Something happened under White Spine?”

“Do you remember if you parents ever completely destroyed Ananias’ body?” Raven asked quietly.  _If not... we might have solved where our adventurer’s looking for a Caladron corpse might have gone..._ 

Val’s brow furrowed again, and after a few moments, he shook his head.  Raven sighed.

“Well... Val?  Ananias was originally a King of Holstean... and a member of the Caladron family,” she said softly, deciding bluntness might be best here.  “He accepted the powers of undeath given to him by the staff, and it was he your parents killed under White Spine,” she burrowed onward.  “And that light we saw two nights ago, something happened to you then... a magical resonance, like some magic power had blasted through your very blood...” 

Val nodded slowly, following her yet unspoken thoughts, his own eyes wide in understanding of their implications.



_The sky seems so red... deep crimson... like blood,_ Vintressa’s mind wandered, as a distant headache sounded in her head, much like the beating of the distant drums that rolled into her ears.  The boughs overhead seemed to rock as her horse cantered onward, the dirt underneath dulling the sound of her movement... and that of the riders behind.

A black roan cantered past, slightly faster than her, Royukgan’s form laid low along its back.  She watched as he gave his horse spurs, and she joined shortly afterwards into a light gallop, ducking as branches swung by her head.

Both kept an attentive ear, for their goal lay ahead.  Once it was little more than a line on Vintressa’s maps.  Now, between the trees up ahead, its brownish form was visible between the leaves of oaks and birches.  Above the noise of their own horses was that of the five mounts behind them... the rest of the scouting party.  Royukgan suddenly reined up, his hand held up.  Vintressa followed suit.

“Do you hear that?” he whispered, his eyes sharp, his slightly pointed ears swiveling.  It was one thing about his ancestry that did unnerve Vintressa a bit, and even in this tense situation, her stomach knotted slightly at the movement.  _He is of the princely blood of his realm... it is common,_ her mind corrected her momentarily thoughts.

Instead, she concentrated on her own ears, and she heard it as well.  Murmurs, a few louder than others... laughter.  Clanks... like that of someone repairing a blade or armor.  Horses whinnying... steeds far less trained than their own.

“Yes,” she whispered back.  A second later, she was already off of her horse, and the dark bay was quickly tied to a nearby tree.  She looked up in time to catch a look of surprise from Royukgan, and gave a small, tense smile.  _He still thinks I should be back with the main group._

A few seconds later, he was off of his animal as well, his mounted tied next to hers.  Slowly, carefully in the deepining night, the two, now with the five other guardsmen caught up, slipped closer and closer to the noise... coming from the brown strip up ahead.

The forest here was congested, the undergrowth thick, ivies and small trees covering everything.  A recent heavy rain had thankfully merged the dry leaves in the underbrush into far more quiet muck that mixed with the muddy ground.  As the slipped closer, the brown ahead seemed to shift, and move.  Soon, the shifting revealed itself to be a company of soldiers, clad in dusty brown liveries that now had the shade of mud from a wet march added to their colors.

“Soldiers... the coat of arms is from Baron Haldris... an ally of Lord Erelion,” Vintressa whispered, as the company of soldiers marched by slowly, their spears waving lazily like long, black fingers pointed into the sky.  As she watched, an order by some unseen sergeant was barked, and the group stopped, breaking to make camp.  A glance further down the road, from whence the small group came, showed lights of dancing fires as far as the eye could see along that brown ribbon in the forest.

“There’s got to be a thousand or more,” Royukgan said quietly.  There was a slight tremor in his voice, the noise of someone weighing odds already set heavily against them.

Vintressa looked at the fires, the soldiers putting up tents, running further back to an makeshift armory likely set up further back, two officers or knights in platemail looking at papers.

_This is merely the head of the first snake... the first of at least four,_ her mind visualized the maps she had seen in Iskeldrun.  Erelion’s columns were approaching Thuyciden, and Vintressa’s parents, from four directions... the north-east, the north, east, and southeast.  

_This is the Myrnon Road...the north-east column,_ she reasoned.  The column that if nothing was done, would take her parent’s army in the rear.  The Princess was not a formal student of military tactics, but anyone with half a mind could easily see that having someone strike you from behind as you were being struck from in front was a _very_ bad thing...

_Can we take them?_ her mind wondered, looking at the numbers again.  On hundred and fourteen versus easily a thousand... and that was only those belonging to House Haldris.  There were at least ten other houses with soldiers stacked behind this vanguard... a line of steel that probably stretched from where they were to maybe twenty, or thirty miles back.  

_A long river... a river of steel..._ her thoughts turned dark.  _How can we stop such a river?_

And then it hit her... it was obvious.  Her mind whirled into motion, plots going.  She quickly grabbed Royukgan’s arm, and started pulling him back to their horses.  The guardsmen followed.

“Vin?” he asked.

“We’re going to get the rest.  We strike them tonight,” she said, confidence brimming in the voice that had been wracked with pain for the past three days.


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 4, 2004)

“My Lord Haldris,” Sir Albrecht Manse gave a bow.  The candelight within the lord’s tent made the knight’s plated armor seem like it was bronze, making him look like an Imperial commander of old.

“Manse, Lord Bearsan,” a portly man with a grizzled stubble gave Manse a polite bow, and his erstwhile travel companion a sharp gaze.  The candlelight made his normally dully brown livery seemed dull red, the leaping hart in its center now blazing orange like a setting sun. “Welcome to my camp.  I trust this night finds Lord Erelion in good health?”  

“Excellent health, but not settled in mind, m’lord,” the Beardstone spoke, cutting off Manse before he could reply.  “He is concerned with the pace of the march of you and your fellow barons... Mays, Martok and Haldarman.”

Manse winced at the smaller man’s frankness, and wanted to desperately snatch those words out of the memory of Baron Haldris as the large man before them glowered.  _Not the way to start a conversation with the proud Baron...  especially considering the past these two men have..._

“You are very blunt, my lord,” Haldris said after a second or two, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.   Something else that made Manse wince, as the Baron motioned for them to approach the table in the middle of his tent.  “Why does he have such concern?  We made ten miles today through roads still muddy, a very good pace!  My troops are mostly foot knights... I cannot ask men _walking_ in chain hauberks to jog an additional few miles because your mounted Baron thinks its doable!”  

“My lord,” Manse jumped in as the Baron’s voice rose, “Lord Erelion is merely attempting to ensure that all of our forces arrive on the marshalling grounds within a day or so of each other.  The enemy is moving, quite rapidly, and we must ensure all of our striking power arrives in one fell blow!  You are the vanguard of a column that has the forces of no less than eight houses, and the others cannot move after your troops set camp so soon... the other columns marched till two hours after sundown, while yours made camp before the sun had covered itself for the night!”  

Manse allowed a slight bit of pleading in his next request, “Only one quarter of your troops are foot knights.  Is there any way your other soldiers could march an additional hour or two past sunset, with you knights making camp off of the road? Or perhaps take a break in midday to march an additional two and a half after sundown?”

“M’lord,” Haldris looked up at Manse, eyes blazing, “first your Lord sent me orders to keep my columns tight, and now he requests I split my forces?  After a few days, my knights would lag far behind the others... and should we run into anything, a great deal of my best troops would not arrive at the head of the column in time!  Your Lord Baron is no more-”

“Now listen here!” Bearstone snapped.  “Lord Erelion is the leader of this army, and he has issued-“

“Erelion is a _Baron_, the same noble rank as _me!_” Haldris shot back.  “_I_ have more combat experience than that sad sack of cow dung, and yet he-“

“So you insult your commander!?” Beardstone roared back, a hand rushing to the hilt of his sword.  “No wonder Eloise is my bride, and not yours!”  Ugly words began to fly, and Manse could feel the ears of the entire camp listening to the shouts coming from their commander’s tent.

_So it rears its ugly head... again,_ Manse sighed as the other two jumped into a yelling match in earnest.  _Lord Erelion is more clever than many of the other nobles... it is too sad that so many Dukes, Counts and the like put ranks and honor above brains..._



_Breathe, Vintressa,_ the princess slowly reminded herself, her heart racing as she gently brought her horse around to face the campfires shining through the trees.  _Breathe, calm..._ she closed her eyes, seeking to focus her anxiety.  After a few seconds, she opened them again, and looked down at the sentry from Haldris’ troops, cut down by an excellent arrow shot from one of the guardsmen now forming behind her.

_He could have warned them all!_ her terrified mind said again, and she felt her heart start to race once more.

She felt, rather than heard, a presence next to her, and saw a black hood, floating just above the mucky ground.  It turned, and fell away to reveal the face of Aeron, the Court Mage.

“Did he tell them?” the mage asked, eyes wide.  He had argued long and hard the entire ride that this would be folly, that he didn’t know if any of it would work.  Even now, Vintressa swore she could see the proud man shaking a bit.  At Vintressa’s insistence, he’d put a small levitation spell on himself, to keep down the noise his panicky feet might have otherwise created.

“No... Captain Ulis’ arrow silenced him,” she nodded to the body on the other side of her horse.  The wizard floated up slightly, and gave a wince.  Body’s with arrows in their face were rarely a nice sight to behold.

Vintressa glanced behind her, her mind wanting to double check after the near disaster.  Her eyes, long adjusted to the dark, spotted the hooded figures of several guardsmen behind her... and slight movements further to the left and right... more guardsmen.  Somewhere further behind was Aegrifyr, waiting for his instructions.  And amongst the guardsmen themselves was Royukgan.

_Without a sword,_ she groaned again.

Only two hours before, as they had been rounding up the other riders and moving them into place, she had seen him unbuckle the rapier she’d thrust in his hands, and pack it away.

“Why are you doing that?” she’d demanded.

“I’m going to fight with what I know how to use,” he’d replied, moving the cloak back to show one of his two _sai_.  Vintressa remembered her worried response.

“Those things can’t stop a heavy sword blade!”

“Neither can your needleswords, I bet,” was his reply.

_Hieroneous, watch him,_ she whispered to herself, before pushing the thoughts and concerns about him from her mind.  She needed total focus... this was not a riding romp in the woods with Val, or a fun spar in the armory.  

_This is the real thing,_ she thought in a mixture of awe and dread.  She felt her hand grab the hilt of her sword, and almost immediately she felt better as her hands gripped the blade tightly.

“Shall I go?” Aeron whispered quietly to her, and Vintressa nodded.  As she watched the wizard mumble a few words and then seem to vanish into thin air, her grip on her blade tightened.  Slowly, carefully, she drew the rapier out, and held it up.  She heard the soft scrapes of other blades coming from their scabbards behind her.

For one last moment, the stories of old, of the deeds others had done floated in her mind.  Long ago, she instinctively would have laughed, and said that battle was Val’s future.  

_How wrong I would have been,_ she thought.  She blinked, at then set her mark... a campfire ahead that was near a the largest tent they’d spotted so far... probably commanders.  _Quick, fast, do not pause for combat.  A slashing ride..._

She put her spurs into her horse’s flanks.



“Bearsans,” Manse said, now annoyed.  In vain he tried to get between the small, combative man and the larger and no less angry Lord Haldris.  “M’lords!  Please!”

“You dare to call my motives into question!?” Haldris roared over Manse’s pleas.  “You, a mere _Earl_, and a mongrel cur at that!”  Haldris’ own hands danced dangerously close to his own blade, and Manse was sincerely worried that if the argument did not stop soon, blows would be traded.

“Everyone knows that you, Halderman, and Mays are cowardly little curs!” Beardstone hissed.  “You ran away from the Imperial tourneys!  You were supposed to march to defend the Duke of Erelion and yet you sat back and picked your bottoms with pitchforks!  Go ahead, show your bravery!” Beardstone growled, “Draw you blade!  Draw it, so the world may know how to get Lord Haldris to actually fight!”  Manse was about to shout a sharp rebuke at Bearsans to try to get him to reel in his tongue, when the world suddenly seemed to explode around him.

There was noise, shouts, screams, the ringing of steel against steel.  Horses screaming.  The tent seemed to suddenly fall about them, poles collapsing, tables collapsing in the chaotic din.  For a few seconds, Manse could not see, and it was only by feel that he grabbed his blade and pulled it from its scabbard.  In a panic, not caring who or what he struck, he swung, and was rewarded by a ripping sound.  The darkness of fallen canvas fell away from him, and his eyes saw a vision terrible to behold, his ears now fully able to appreciate the chaos about him.

As far as he could see, were horses with black riders, their blades slashing to and fro in the light of the campfires.  From the woods to the right came hundreds of pinpoints of light... thousands of torches, as well as the distinctive _tramp_ of a thick, powerful battleline thundering through the brush, their armor clinking in the night air.

Manse could not see his horse, so instead he spun in a circle, ascertaining his situation, his blade ready to deal with any foe close to him.  A _whoosh_ flashed close to his head, and he heard the dull _thwack_ as an arrow hit an unprotected body.  He spun around to see Beardstone up, blade drawn as well, Lord Haldris beside him, an arrow coming from the larger man’s shoulder.

“M’lord!” Manse called, rushing back towards the other two, “We must get you back!  They are upon us!”  He grabbed Beardstone’s gauntlets and yanked the smaller man behind him.  

He could hear another noise, the sounds of feet running as soldiers dashed up the road, towards the other columns in a panic.  Their voices were raised in screams, calls for whatever gods they worshiped.   Many were only half clothed, and none had weapons.  Beyond them, powerful blasts of fire and light lit up the road, where the next camps would be.  The mounts of many knights and lords streamed past, riderless, screeching in fright. 

Suddenly, right before them, a rider thundered to a halt.  Immediately, Beardstone swung his blade, a blow against most riders would have normally struck the animal.  Somehow, this creature yanked his mount away, and Beardstone’s blade met only air.  A split second later, Manse saw steel flash into the man’s hand, and suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his shoulder, almost knocking him down.  AS he stumbled back, Beardstone caught him.

“He’s gone,” Manse heard Beardstone say, “Damn!  Can you make it to the woods?”  Manse did his best to nod, the pain shooting from his shoulder and down his arm.  He felt arms grab him, and slowly, then faster and faster, he came closer to the woods.  More horses thundered by, each one making Manse wince, expecting a deathblow.  No such blow came, and some thirty seconds or so later, Manse welcomed the feeling of green leaves striking his face.

Once he and Beardstone were safely off of the road, Manse turned back, clutching his shoulder.  His good hand snaked to his shoulder, where he felt for his wound.  Instead of merely a wound, he felt steel, in a shape he had never felt before.  With a grunt, he pulled the unusual blade out.  He felt Beardstone put something on his shoulder, and tie it tight.  It was then that he realized Lord Haldris was not with them.

The man was still in the middle of the road, screaming at his soldiers and even his foot knights streamed past, running towards the camps of Count Mays and Duke Haldarman.  A loose band of foot knights had formed around him... a small wall of iron, no more than 15 bodies in a tight circle around their Lord, whose blade shone brightly in the firelight.

Arrows flashed from the woods, slicing into their ranks.  Manse could not see for sure, but he thought he saw Lord Haldris go down.  From up the road the tramping noise grew louder, stronger, and finally Manse could make out the dense ranks of Imperial infantry, shields locked, spears lowered, coming in a massive, irresistible line of battle.

A black roan trotted past, close enough that Beardstone was able to grab his reins.  Quickly, the smaller man brought the steed back into the woods.

“Manse, quickly!” he called over the noise, and Sir Albrecht was forced to tear his eyes away from the scene, and awkwardly mount the horse with Beardstone’s help.  The Earl then clambered up behind him, and took the reins.  He put his spurs into the horse, and Albrecht had a moment to turn around to take in the fading scene as the horse’s speed and his own encroaching darkness took him away.

Receding into the night, he could see seven riders clustered around the form of Lord Haldris, who was attempting to rise.  The lead rider took his hood off, and Albrecht had only a moment of shock to realize the rider was no he... but a she.


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 6, 2004)

“Can you feel it?” Ananias heard the drow rumble beside him.  The once king closed his blue eyes... closing his mind off from the darkness outside. Instead he opened up to a world he had not felt since he took his last living breath as a living man, more than two hundred years before.

He could not _see_ anything, at least in the normal sense.  But he could _feel_ things all about.  The trees all around... he could feel them, stretching off miles into the distance.  He could feel every squirrel, every fox, every fly in the area.  Through the tendrils of his mind, he felt them.

And there it was... blazing in power, like a beacon in the darkness.  _So close,_ he thought, before taking in its location... then laughing.  It sounded like a distant melody to his ears.  _So obvious!_

“Yes,” he replied simply.  “Follow me.”



“Why do I need to go back to Isky?” Ari’s musical voice asked.  The young dragon’s bright lavender skin pulsated with curiosity, reflecting off of the mansion’s foyer.  The darkness outside only made the light coming from him stand out more.  “Does Mother Siabrey want to see me?”

“Yes... yes she does,” Raven nodded sweetly, even though her own heart was racing.  _He’s so innocent!  He doesn’t realize what danger we’re all in!_  Quickly she put Ari’s favorite cloak, deep crimson with a fur fringe.  It was expensive and showy, but the reason Ari loved it was simply because, “It feels fun.  It feels like silk, furs, and wool at the same time!”

_If they managed to raise a dead king, why are you still here?_ Raven asked herself, before she heard her answer in the room next to the foyer.  The scraping noise of a whetstone on steel increased, until Val wandered in, working to work his blade to the keenest point possible.  Inside the Dice manor, Val didn’t need his disguise anymore, and Raven’s breath caught slightly at his focused gaze, his red hair now stringy and dingy from not being cleaned.

“Ray?” Ari asked, using his nickname for her, “what’s wrong with Val?  You’re-“

“Nothing,” she jumped, quickly turning back to the young creature that didn’t understand.  “There,” she pronounced, diverting his attention, “you look like a rather wealthy noblemen... save your skin colors.  You know you’re going to have to go as a more drab human.”

“I know,” Ari sighed, his face rather unhappy as his lavender skin shifted to a normal, suntanned brown.  He preferred being as close to his dragon form as possible.

“Does he have the money?” Val asked, now holding his blade up in the light, his eye running along its length.

“Yes, Val,” Ari replied. A jingle came from the (now) young man’s pocket.  Suddenly, Raven found herself in a deathgrip of a hug from the dragon.  “I am sorry I did not get to see you more than a day or two, Ray!   I miss giving you rides in the fields!”

“I miss it too,” Raven thought back to only a year ago, watching the world flash by as a prismatic dragon’s wings thumped under her.   “One day, you’ll get to do that again!”

“I hope so,” Ari said, muffled into her shoulder.  After a long embrace, the dragon gave Val a fierce hug as well, before Rose came into the foyer.

“Come on, now, let’s go!” she said hurriedly.  Despite the tone of command in her voice, to both Raven and Val the shimmering of water in her eyes was apparent.  “The sooner we head out, Ari, the sooner you get to Iskeldrun and Siabrey, ok!”  She spun to look at Raven and Val.  “I’ll be back in only one ring of the bells, maybe two.  Don’t run off and get into trouble, ok!”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Raven said rather dryly.  “Undead king and a sorcerer after the Fire Stone?  We’ll be focusing entirely on that.”  She heard Val give a grunt of agreement, before the scraping resumed.

Raven stood, watching out the windows beside the door as the two cloaked figures disappeared into the night.  A riot of emotions ran through her head... sorrow at Ari’s leaving, worry over him, her sister, and Val, and confusion.

_Why did Val react that way, when Ananias rose?  That’s if he rose...  magic can act through the blood, but there’s no telling.  Perhaps someone made a curse on his family from the hill.   Perhaps he merely had a convulsion on his own, and the light in the east was a mere coincidence...

Who am I decieving?_ her mind shot back at her, _something very wrong happened on that mountain, and the easiest explanation would be that the demon there has arose again!  And what was it that Aunt Tess always said... the simplest solution is usually the correct one...

That means there’s a demon lose, with a mad magician... and we don’t know where they are, or where they are going..._  Her mind immediately started filling with scenarios, all of which ended in grisy, terrifying death.  She felt her breath coming faster, and sweat starting to form on her head as her mind expected a massive giant of ice to loom out of the darkness at any moment.

Then her ears picked up the same noise that had been echoing since Ari and Rose had left... _scrape, scrape scrape_.  She looked up, to see Val, now sitting on one of the ornate wooden benches in the foyer, his blade across his lap, glaring at a point near the tip.  He gave a disappointed grunt, and started his whetstone across it again.  He looked entirely focused, no rapid breathing, no fearful eyes.  

_How?_ Raven’s mind wondered.  Only a few days before it had been Val that had been worried once he had discovered his lineage.  Now his ancestor, a demon, was on the loose, and yet he seemed focused entirely on the tip of his katana.

“Are... are you afraid Val?” she asked softly.  She expected him to look up at her and give the cheerful laugh he always gave when asked a question he thought was dumb.  Instead he looked up, and she saw his seemingly calm eyes look directly into hers.

“Are you?” he replied, voice seemingly calm, even.

_How do I respond to that?_ Raven wondered.  _I don’t want to have him laugh at me!_

“Very much,” she said softly, guardedly.  She expected his bravado to come forth, for him to laugh and say she shouldn’t be, and that he wasn’t afraid at all.  It was the way he always responded... when they were ten and first ran into Ari, it was Val who first approached the dragon, utterly without fear.

“You’re brave,” he gave her a soft smile.  “Do you know what my mother always told me?  A fool and a coward will never admit they are afraid.  A brave and wise warrior will _always_ admit they are afraid.”  He held up his katana at arms length, his eye going down the length of the blade again, before turning back to her. 

 “And yes... I’m afraid too,” he said with a sigh.

“You are?” Raven asked, disbelief rising in her voice.  “But you aren’t quaking in your shoes, your knees aren’t knocking, and your breathing is calm!   All you are doing is sharpening your sword!”

“That’s _why_ I’m not up in your room, hiding under the bed,” Val replied with a tense smile.  “My blade was already sharp... its just I needed something to do, to keep my busy with something _other_ than fear!”  His face went a little red, as he let loose his secret.

_So the mighty Valaron the Brave is scared...  it’s alright to be scared!_ Raven’s mind jumped, and suddenly she didn’t feel quite so alone in her fright.  _I just need to find something to do..._  She reached down to her belt, and pulled out her _nagaika_, before she suddenly went stiff, looking at Val.  Instead of the look of anger she expected, she saw a nervous smirk on his face.

“No sparring,” he said with a grin, before pointing to his cheek.  “I’ve been smacked good once by you.”

Raven’s face went a deep red, and she stifled a nervous giggle.  Even as she was relieved, and began checking her own weapon, part of her mind started to wonder.

_What happened to Val?  He was so uptight... a complete jackass at times.  Now..._  For the first time since waiting in line to enter that fateful ball so long ago, Raven’s heart fluttered.  And to her complete delight, Val gave her a huge smile before going back to his blade.


Vintressa glared at the man below her.  He was bleeding from an arrow in his shoulder, another in his thigh.  In one hand he still held aloft a blade that was easily a greatsword... too large for him to swing in his wounded state.  She edged her horse closer, her long, thin rapier now gently poking the side of his neck.

“Your men are scattered, they flee before my legions,” Vintressa heard her voice say in an icy tone.  _Was that me?_  “Drop your blade and surrender, or you have meet your ancestors far sooner than you anticipated!”

Behind her, the great shadowy columns in Imperial livery continued to move forward.  Haldris merely glared at her, and her own anxiety grew.  She pushed the blade a little further, drawing a drop of blood.

“Drop your sword!” she snarled.  _For all that is holy, drop your weapon now!  Before it gets here!_

The Baron’s eyes met hers in nothing less than utter defiance, but slowly, his blade came down.  He gave a sigh, his tired eyes closed, and the sword of his House clattered to the ground.  Immediately, one of the six guardsmen with her had it scooped up, and handed it to her.

Vintressa removed her rapier and gave a laugh, relief coming into her mind.  _One piece to bargain with,_ she thought, as the vast Imperial columns coming up the road closed, and finally marched _through_ Vintressa, her horse, Lord Haldris, and all gathered.  

“You... what?  How?” the old man looked confused, the adrenaline in his body waning, his body sinking to the ground in pain and exhaustion.  His eyes looked about, terrified and confused as boots seemed to pass through his head.

“Darius,” she motioned to one of the guardsmen nearby, “go inform Aegrifyr he may end his incantation.”  Far ahead on the road, the resounding booms of explosions stopped, and she heard the excited groans and whinnys of her horsemen coming back.

“Incantation?” Haldris asked again.

“My dear Baron... surely you should expect a lady to fight far more intelligently than yourself,” she quipped at the helpless man.  She motioned to the other five guardsmen, before spurring her horse to a trot.  Anxiously, she searched the faces of the guardsmen coming back up the road, more than a few with cuts in their cloaks, red blood soaking their clothes.

_Royukgan?_ she looked, as the lines coming back grew thinner and thinner.  Now some of the hooded riders came back with comrades laid over their mounts.  Others limped back, without mounts.  Vintressa’s worries grew.

Eventually, she grabbed one rider by the arm.  “The Prince of Han?” she asked.  _Please tell me he’s alright!_  The man’s eyes were almost crusted shut from drying blood that clung to a cut on his forehead.  He gave a grunt.

“Unhorsed,” he mumbled, rocking in the saddle.  “Fell... middle of...”

Vintressa didn’t see the man collapse onto his steed’s neck.  She was busy charging up the road, towards the other enemy camps... at full gallop.


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## drag n fly (Aug 7, 2004)

Very good  I've been lurking too, I'll admit. Seeing as I used to play Siabrey, I couldn't help but follow up on the children of my beloved character 

Great job EV. As always.  Can't wait for the next update!


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 7, 2004)

And you missed the update by about 20 minutes... 

And I knew you were reading it... you were the one that asked me to keep writing!  
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

“Royukgan!” Vintressa called in the darkness, despite the proximity of the enemy.  Her only answer was the moans from the wounded laying all about her, some cut, many burned.    She reined her horse up, fearful thoughts dancing in her head.  _What if he is laying on the ground, and my horse steps on him?!_  Her eyes scanned the bodies laying about even more feverishly.

Slowly she made her way further, her ears ignoring the groans of the wounded, and instead searching for a whisper, a familiar groan.  She heard none... and saw nothing like him… no black cloaks, only body after body in the lighter shades of their enemies liveries.  For another twenty minutes she cantered onward in the darkness.

_WHERE ARE YOU!?_ she started to panic, fear crawling across her mind like a spider settling into its web.  For a moment, she saw a black cloak laying face down on the road, a spear imbedded in the man’s stomach.  Terror shredded her heart momentarily, till a light in the gloom showed her that it was the face of a normal man that stared unseeing into the heavens.

“Hey!  You!” she heard a voice snarl, and her mind jumped in surprise.  _Light... here?  In the road filled with the dead... Dammit!_  Her eyes caught a brief glimpse of a torch, and dark figures silhouetted in its orange glow, before she spun her horse around.  She felt a rush of air slash along the side of her face, and the snap of an arrow impacting a tree behind her.  “Stop!” voices called, as she spurred her horse on.

_This road is too obvious... they’ll be able to see me from a hundred feet off!_  She spun her horse to the left, off the clear road and into the woods.  Ducking and weaving, she avoided the low branches and boughs that lashed at her from seeming nowhere.  She zigged and zagged, desperately hoping her trail would go cold.

After a few minutes, she reined up her horse, and halted, listening.  Off in the distance, she heard the crashing of underbrush, as well as faint shouts.  She thought she was safe, until a few minutes later, she heard a loud groan, very close to her... and very familiar to her.

“Royukgan?” she whispered.  Even as her heart soared, her hand clamped on the hilt of her rapier.  _If it is one of them, I mustn’t let him cry out!_  She heard another groan, followed by a sharp hiss.

“Who… are you?  No… Prince… of Han… has…ah… been taken… alive, and I… shall not be… the first!” the voice rasped slowly, and she heard leaves whish and branches snap as he stood.  Not more than ten feet away she could see him, standing in the shadows.  He was rocking lazily, looking as if the slightest of breezes would tumble him over.

In the blink of an eye, she was off of her mount, and grabbing him fiercely.  “I thought I’d lost you!  Oh... you poor thing!” she cooed, holding him out to try and get a look at him.  It was then she noticed her hands were wet, and she gingerly felt along the middle of his back.  To her alarm, there was a large spot where his tunic was sticky.

_Blood!_ she thought in worry.   “Don’t worry!” she whispered, clasping him tight again, “Don’t worry!  Your Vin will see you back safely!”

Up till this point, Royukgan had been silent in stunned shock.  His eyes glowed slightly, as was their part feline nature... and the orbs seemed massive in the dark.  He was confused, and finally in the midst of her second embrace, he sputtered her name in surprise.

“I...I’m fine,” she heard him say, just before she heard a slight hiss come from his lips.  She pulled him closer to her mount, worry dancing in her unseen eyes.

“Can you ride?”

“Not well,” she heard him admit, grunting more than speaking, “They hit my leg as well... but I can try.”  Carefully, she tried to help him up on the mount, only to hear him give a slight cry when his weight fell on his foot in the stirrups.  He slid backwards onto the ground with an ignominious _thud_.

_What do I do?  He can’t mount!_  For several seconds she stood in fearful panic, the noise of the men searching the forest growing ever so louder.  They were working their way in the direction of the Princess and her friend.

“Stand,” she whispered, helping the prince to his feet.  She slid till her shoulder was underneath his left thigh, and hissed for him to try to mount again.  “I’ll push up, so your leg doesn’t have to push so hard!”  She heard a grunt and a muffled protest, but soon she could just barely see his foot in the stirrup again.

“One... two... three...” she counted quietly, before pushing upwards.  She gave a grunt of exertion, which matched his of pain.  She slowly rose higher, her legs pushing, until she felt his left leg slide over the animals back, presumably to the other side, for he didn’t slide off this time.  Quickly, she clambered on behind him, and grabbing the reins, spurred her horse back towards the south-east... towards home.  

The entire ride, she had time to look at his wound, and worry rose even higher in her mind.  The wound was large and ugly, obvious a deep stab from a broadheaded spear.  A large gash in his tunic was rent, leaving the wound angry and open.  

She winced, her Academy mind realizing what this entailed... parts of his clothing were likely imbedded deep in the flesh, and would need to be fished out, otherwise festering and infection would set in.  It took little imagination to shudder even thinking about the pain such a procedure would cause.

As they bobbed, the horse cantering slower because of the extra weight, her eyes were caught watching his right leg, the shaft of an arrow coming from its slightly quivering form.  Vintressa closed her eyes, and whispered a short prayer as the hushed voices of her own men approached her.



Harrapias’ eyes closed, as he absorbed the last of the pre-dawn silence within the large sanctuary of the temple he was charged.  To his ears, the silence that hung in the air was precious beyond all of the gold, silver, and gemstones that decorated the statues and icons.

It was at this time, so early in the morning, where he could focus, and it seemed like there was nothing that separated him from his faith.  No bookkeeping, no wayward acolytes to discipline back into the fold, no reports from paladins to listen to, no wayward traveler’s who needed healing.  

Because of this, he was immensely annoyed when he heard the stiff, military clip of boots striding down the long nave of the main temple, growing louder as the person approached.  Harrapias closed his eyes tighter, hoping the boots would move on, past him, so he could focus on his god.  Instead, he heard the boots come to a halt, probably only feet behind him.

His concentration finally disturbed, the priest opened his eyes.  _I left express orders to not be disturbed.   If I am to be disturbed, Lord of Valor, then hopefully it is something important enough to justify it._  He turned slowly, and what annoyance filled his heart sank away when he saw the face of the young man in front of him.

On normal days, the paladin would have cut an imposing figure.  The young man, Harrapias thought his name was Thurgil, was a brand new admittee to the ranks of the brotherhood, was a young man... barely twenty or twenty-five.  His gilt armor was still new, and the sword by his side was undoubtedly sharp and keen.  Instead of a fiery warrior of righteousness, Harrapias saw a scared boy.

“What is it, my child?” the priest asked.  _I’m not so sure of his name now... is it Thurgil, or Thengil?_  “You look as if you have seen a ghost!”

The paladin swallowed hard, and with a shaky bow, held out to the priest a small piece of paper.  “A summary of a body discovered by the City Watch earlier tonight.  It might be of-“

Harrapias’ eyes latched onto the florid writing, taking in the details.  The first part of the note, written clearly in the hand of the Captain of the Watch, detailed the body of a young boy had been discovered.  It had been rotting for several days, and it was easy to see the boy had died from a small but extremely deep stab wound in the back of his head.  

Immediately, the martial part of Harrapias’ mind worked into gear.  _A dagger?  That dimension..._ he reread the description of the wound, _No... at least, not a dagger I am familiar with..._

As his mind wrestled with that problem, he continued reading.  _Why does this bear my personal watching?  A murder on the streets is heinous, but Thungil here could have handeled..._

He stopped, and backtracked over the section that had caught his eye.

_”In a grate near the young man was found a rather unusual ring.  It had a ruby at its center, with a dragon’s mouth agape on either side.  One mouth held a sapphire, the other a diamond.  A request to the Jeweler’s Guild revealed this ring is exceedingly rare... only five have been made.  Four belonged to the Emperor, Empress, the Crown Prince, and the Princess Vintressa.  The fifth was made at the Crown Prince’s request for his manservant... one Hemmel Manquiris... currently a brigand wanted for treason in the recent plot against Her Majesty..._

_That_ changed everything.  Harrapias had heard all about the plot... far more than many of the upper crust in Kulloden even.  The official story spoke of how an assassin had tried to draw blades on the Empress, and had been badly wounded before escaping.  Harrapias, as one of the ranking members of the church the Empress personally attended to, knew the full story.

_So he is here, then..._ the paper was released from his grip, fluttering to the floor.  It made sense now...  an assassin good enough to, at least temporarily, best the vaunted Empress with a blade was someone dangerous indeed.  Someone that the mightiest warriors in the land might be needed to stop.

Harrapias looked at the young paladin, and gave him a tense smile.  “Report to the temple praetor.  He is to ring the bell of muster.  Then, report to the mustering grounds, and await my arrival.”  The young man bowed, his form not shaking as much at the priest’s precise orders.

Harrapias then picked up the paper again, and rose from his kneeling position.  His knees gave a crack, a grumble at this movement, protests the priest was used to.  _I am growing too old for this,_ part of his mind mumbled.  For all his devotion to the God of Valor, Harrapias was no fool, and he realized that his body had seen fifty-eight winters.  

The priest in simple robes was soon out in the cool morning darkness, walking briskly, if stiffly, towards his quarters.  _I fear this is going to be my last campaign, My Righteousness,_ he prayed silently.  _Give my arms the strength to wield my blade as much as it needs wielding... to safeguard His Highness and banish evil from Thy sight..._


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 8, 2004)

“How are you?” Manse’s ears picked up a gruff voice.  The knight blinked, and groaned as he felt the world rock slightly and something bumped his sore shoulder.  Slowly, he opened his eyes, and saw the tired looking face of Lord Bearsans looking down at him.

“I’ve...been better,” Manse hissed, pain shooting from his shoulder down his arm and back.

“Well, we found what caused you so much pain,” Bearsans turned, groping for something.  When he turned back around, he held a strange dagger-type object in his hand.  It had three prongs, one long, thin one in the middle, and a shorter, curved one on either side.  “It took us an hour after getting back to Lord Erelion’s camp to discover what it is... and where it came from.”

“Eh?” Manse raised himself up using his good arm.  His other one felt heavy as well as hurt, and he realized that the bandages on its length were heavy with his own blood.  His mind was focused enough that he noticed canvas hanging above him, and realized the rocking motion he felt was that he was in a wagon, trundling along... 

“Its a _sai_, I guess,” Bearsans tossed the thing up, and caught it by its handle, “very light.  The areas between the prongs are good for catching other people’s blades and wrenching them from their hands, and its light enough it can be thrown.... which appears to be what happened to you.”

“And have you figured out who, or what, is tossing those things about so carelessly?” Manse replied with a wince.  

“Well, its got some kind of writing in gilt relief on its side, but no one could read it.  One of your lord’s other bannermen, Sir Yusel, I believe you know him?  He knew what it was... and that it does not originate from Iskeldrun, or any other part of our realm.  It comes from Ak Konylu, across the mountains.”

Manse’s face grew puzzled.  _How would a weapon from a realm a thousand miles away come here?  The Empress has a tendency to carry exotic weapons... but she is with the main army... no where near Haldris’ columns..._  “How... did it get here?”

“We thought about it for an hour or so, and Lord Erelion has come up with one solution.  Are you familiar with the realm of Han, in Ak Konylu?”  When Manse shook his head no, Bearsans merely plowed on, “Its a part of the nation of Ak Konylu... imagine a Duchy, save larger and ruled by a Prince.  The heir to that house is in Iskeldrun... a Prince Royukgan.  We hadn’t watched him often, but likely it was members of the Han Royal Guard that did this.”

“Han Royal Guard?” Manse immediately had problems adjusting to that theory.  “But why would they interfere in a civil war in _our realm_.  If anything, they’d be backing us...”

“Do I look like an expert on imperial diplomacy?” Bearsans asked.  “I didn’t know where this ‘Han’ was until a few hours before!  All I know is that the riders that hit us were a mix of the Imperial Houseguards, and members of the Han Royal Guard.  Which means major trouble for us!  Han’s armies are likely coming into the Empire as well!”

“Wait... did any of you find a ‘Han Royal Guardsman’ dead on the field?  Or capture one?” Manse asked, his mind focusing on this puzzle more than the pain.  _If so... we DO have a major problem.  If they haven’t, it might be a ruse..._

“No, we didn’t.  But no Imperial troops carry a weapon like this,” Bearsans shrugged away Manse’s concern.  “And because of this, Lord Erelion has changed his plan.  We’ve changed course, and now march for Iskeldrun.  We must take the capital before the Han armies arrive... then Lord Erelion thinks we can come to terms from a position of strength, holding the Princess hostage and all.”

“What?” Manse cried, before wincing in pain.  It hurt to breathe too deeply.  “So now the entire army is marching on Iskeldrun?”

“No... just Haldris’ wing, and the northern column.  The other two are still going to Thuyciden... distract the Emperor while we take his capital from behind.  If we tried to concentrate, it might take too long, and the Han armies would have a chance to interfere!”

“Beardstone,” Manse rasped, his pain clouded mind trying to understand, “if Han is across the mountains, it would take _months_ for them to march here!  We have time to destroy the Emperor’s army, and seize the capital!  Why are... augh!” he fell back, it was hurting too much to prop himself up.  _As long as the Emperor and Empress have an army to command, they will pursue... and try to destroy us!_

“The plans have already been changed... the troops are moving now, even though dawn hasn’t come over the horizon yet.  Lord Erelion has vowed we’ll march all through the day and two hours into the night to steal this march!”  Beardstone said eagerly.  “Haldris’ command has been shattered, so we’re leaving them behind as a rearguard with Haldarman.  The rest of the two columns will move out... some thirty thousand spears, ten thousand horse.”

“And... what of the Imperial columns that hit us earlier tonight?  If they are bold enough to attack Haldris at night, that tells me there was a major power behind that force,” Manse tried to reason, as if persuading Bearsans the current plan was a bad one would change things.  _That was a third Imperial army… one not under the command of the Emperor or Empress.  How many are there?  What if IT hits us?_

“Haldris and Haldarman will act as a screen.  After Haldris’ issues, Haldarman acted less than willing to move in council... so he has been banished to be the backbone of the rearguard,” Bearsans said matter-of-factly.  “He has eight thousand foot, and a thousand horse, not counting what’s left of Haldris’ men.”

“A soiled squire and a few panicked kerns?” Manse sourly groaned.  _They won’t be able to hold against a nanny armed with a broomstick, let alone whoever unleashed those columns and decimated Haldris._  “And Lord Haldris?  Did he escape that woman?”

“No.  No one has seen him.  And I think you were delirious when you saw that ‘girl’ you claimed was holding a sword to his throat.  The only one that would fit that description and _command_ Household Guards would be the Crown Princess herself!  And _she’s_ not about to be out here leading troops!” Bearsans laughed.  “Never seen a mage in my life pick up a blade!”

_The Emperor does,_ Manse thought dimly.



At this early hour, the teleportation chamber in the Mage’s Guild of Kulloden was usually quiet... few legitimate souls traveled at six bells before noon.  There was at least one mage present, however, just in case someone _did_ need their services... but the young apprentices that manned the device at this hour often referred to it as ‘sleeping duty.’  No one had teleported in during this time since many of these apprentices were small.

Thus it came as an immense surprise to the two young men on duty to feel a massive surge of magical power in the chamber... the sure sign there was an incoming transit, and a large one at that.  With a few shouts of surprise, the two cleared the room, and began readying spells, just in case.

A fine whisker of fog rose in the midst of the room, climbing higher and higher until it touched the ceiling.  Then it flashed outward in an instant, bathing the entire room in its distant foggy glow.  The room, in theory was large enough for a transit of fifty people, and enough shadows gradually built in the teleportation cloud it seemed very well possible that many were appearing.  The clouds started to slow their spin, until finally they abruptly and magically lifted, revealing to the shocked mages a sight they would not likely see again.  

Before them was a small menagerie.  Darkly cloaked men and women, one with fiery hair and a greatsword, stood in front.  Behind them were a bevy of men clad in armor and hauberks made of chainmail, their tunics displaying a gold eagle on a blue background.  In the midst of this was a tall, striking blonde, her braids of hair tied ‘round her head like a crown.



_Meanwhile..._

Hemmel gave a growl, as he dumped a bag of platinum coins onto the small table in front of the halfling.

“Is that enough for you?” he sneered.  It had been a long series of days, and the halfling was annoying him with an endless stream of questions.  Asking where he was going, who he was.   _I thought this was a PRIVATE teleporter, where I would not have to answer such babble!_

“I... um...” the small creature stammered, looking at the pile of wealth beyond his wildest dreams laying in front of him.

“Half of that is yours, if you just let us go about our business.  As I said _earlier_, our master wants us to conduct this inspection of his mines _quickly_, before his rivals can try to sabotage their appraisal.  He is most willing to pay this much extra for expediency on your part, and the part of your master, Bladonicus.”  Hemmel had not lied completely... if Lord Erelion had known what was happening, he certainly would have handed over extra cash to hurry things up.

“Um... by all means,” the halfling scribbled something down in his books, and hungrily pocketed half the coins in the bag, perhaps a hundred or so... likely four or five times what he made in a single year.

Hemmel paid no attention, as he and his band exited the “public teleporter” into the darkness of the early morning of Kulloden.  Distantly, he heard the bells of the main temples toll six times, their notes ringing loud and true through the darkness.

“Where is the young dragon?” a whispery, feminine voice asked from next to him in the darkness.

_Where would he be?_ Hemmel’s mind clicked.  He still was not completely sure the Crown Prince was here at all.  He’d only seen the Dice girl that was supposed to be in Iskeldrun waiting in front of the Hieroneous Temple...

_But she was waiting... for someone,_ he reminded himself.  On his brief return to the capital to get reinforcements, he’d listened to rumors... and confirmed that the Crown Princess was still there.  That left only one person the Dice girl could have been waiting for...

_The Temple of Hieroneous would be the safest place for him,_ Hemmel thought, _but it would also be painfully obvious... and Valaron is clever..._  The manservant in him still remembered the tricks the boy would pull, or how he adapted quickly in a sparring match.  

“I have my suspicions... but for now, we lay low.  I do not want us to launch ourselves needlessly about, attracting attention,” he replied.  He felt, more than saw, the imperceptive nod of the lady next to him.

As his mind thought, his hand travelled to the inner pocket of his coat, and wrapped carefully around the gift the same woman had given him.  He felt the petals, still soft and moist, despite not having seen water in three days.  He ran a finger gently over the thorns lower on the dark flower, and reflected on how odd it was that someone could be killed by a rose.



“We cannot hold here!” Aeron’s shout rang in Vintressa’s ear once again.  The wizard’s face was flushed with fury and disappointment.  “Thirty riders lost!  That’s a quarter of our forces!”

“We crushed Haldris’ column!” Vintressa shot back, her own fury reflected in the glow of candlelight inside her tent, “And have plugged up another nine Houses!  They had one road... one road that is strewn with wreckage, and they think a large Imperial force is nearby!  They will not advance quickly!  If we stand here and demonstrate, we can-“

“There is not the strength,” one of the higher ranking guardsmen replied.  “My scouts have reported that there are movements to our north... the northern column has left its road, and is moving southwest, not south...”

“Towards us!” Aeron jumped in again.  He glared at Vintressa for a few moments, but once she returned his sharp gaze, he gave a sigh.  “Princess, I must be frank.  I know you hoped they would be stalled... and they are!  But for the sake of your men, the ones injured... _please_, we must retire back to the walls of Iskeldrun!”

“...for Royukgan,” she heard Aegrifyr’s voice say, and instantly she went from disagreement to combative.  Her mind roiled at the thought of how she last saw him.  Flat on his stomach, a guardsmen attempting to pull the arrow from his thigh as one of the few healers that could be spared tended to the large wound in his back.

“_He needs rest!  He may not survive a hard ride!_” she shouted.  Her mind instant regretted the outburst.  _A princess needs to look to the whole... not the parts,_ she heard her father’s voice say from the distant past.  _If one needs to be sacrificed for the many... the one needs to be let go..._

“The other injured need rest as well!” she changed her statement to satisfy her father’s memory, her voice still raised but now lacking its former deadly edge.  “We smacked them across the face, and they’re stunned!  If we continue to peck at them, we could stall them completely!  We just need Lord Aeron’s offensive spells, and Aegrifyr and the other mages to continue their illusionary work!  By the time we’re done, they’ll think there are hundreds of thousands here!”

“We rode out with one hundred and fourteen... thirty have fallen, and thirty-two more are wounded.  We have only fifty-two people healthy to ride...and of those, only forty are people trained in standard combat,” the guardsmen said, leaving the mages’ powers unsaid. 

“Your Highness,” Aegrifyr, who had so far remained silent, spoke up, “we have done what you set out to do.  Your parents no longer face a force that will outnumber them... indeed, they will outnumber the columns striking in their direction.”  He walked over quietly, and put a hand on her shoulder, “we must retire behind the walls of Iskeldrun.  The city watch has ten thousand to guard the city walls, and in the city the injured can receive proper care!”

Vintressa fell silent, her skin seeming to boil as all eyes bored in on her.  _I am the leader... it is my decision.  My mind says to ride back... my heart warns me that Royukgan might not make it!_  The memory of her father’s lessons on government, little quips and statements, and the memories of the words of wisdom Tess left for her echoed in her mind.

_What would you do, father?  What would you do, Aunt Tess?_



“Wake up!” Raven gently touched Val’s shoulder.  She’d been up since before the sun had risen, and now its golden rays coming through the windows of her home seemed to frame Val’s face perfectly.  He stirred slightly, before a hand rather limply went up and slowly swatted at the sky.

“Go away,” the mumbled, half-awake.  He yanked the covers up over his face, so only his fire red curls showed.

“The sun has risen... and we have much that needs to be done!  I need another pair of eyes in the Temple of Pelor if we’re going to find the Fire Stone’s location!” she said, purposefully injecting as much cheerfulness in her voice as possible.   “Come on... Rose fixed breakfast downstairs... and,” she added to the temptation, “it is roasted ham, raspberries with cream, and  eggs speckled with peppers and spices...”  It was Val’s favorite breakfast, she knew.  _Maybe that will rouse him._

“Rose can be your extra eyes,” she heard him grumble, “and ham can last till later.”  He groaned again, covering his head up.

Raven’s eyes narrowed.  _So, you won’t move!_ she thought, _I know how to fix that!_  She reached over the blankets, and yanked Val’s cover from his eyes.  He squirmed in the sunlight, flailing in the air to cover his eyes.  Raven’s blood was up, and with a giggle, she used the same tactic her mother used with her when she was a child;  she pinned his arms, keeping his closed eyes bathed in the morning light.  Val’s gave a groan of protest, his eyes squeezed shut.

It was then she paused, her breath stopped.  Her eyes took in Val’s bare chest, and something bloomed in her heart.  Her heart, its feelings pent up for the past few weeks with the feelings that flashed over her after she saw him at the ball where everything began, suddenly leapt into action before her mind could respond.  Before she understood what was happening, she felt her lips touching his as her eyes closed.

It couldn’t have lasted more than an instant before her head wrested control back from her heart, shouting, _What were you doing?!_ in her head.  _He is the son of the Emperor!  He could have all of those pretty noble daughters!  He wouldn’t want you!  After you cut his face open, he doesn’t trust you!_  Terrified, she pulled back, hoping Val would not be incensed by her actions.

“Um...” she stammered, looking down at him.  Val’s eyes were wide open, but instead of anger, he had an eyebrow raised in confusion.  His mouth was a little open still, and she watched it close quickly as he swallowed hard.

“Um...” he echoed, his own eyes darting about, his skin flushed a deeper shade of crimson than normal.  She locked on his eyes, her own full of pleading.  _Don’t be angry,_ her heart and mind pleaded.  As she watched his own, her mind became confused.

_His eyes are darting around like he’s frightened,_ her mind thought.  _Like he’s confused too?_

“I...um...” she continued to stammer, “I...I...woke you up, didn’t I?”  She nervously giggled.  It was a major effort to disguise her fear... one that failed miserably.  _Is he upset?  He doesn’t look like it..._

“Um... well... um... yeah, you did,” he stammered himself, before a nervous, shy grin formed on his lips.  He sat up, his eyes still looking at her... questioning, probing.  She found herself locked into the gaze, falling into the deep blue sea...

“Um... well.  Myself, Rose, and the servants spent quite a while getting that breakfast ready!”   Raven said nervously, a little too loudly for the situation.   The smile she gave was a false cover, as she stood.  “If you’d like to just head down when you’re ready, um... we’ll...um... have it waiting, ok?”  _So awkward..._

He stared at her eyes for a few moments after her statement, before suddenly blinking, hard.  “Um,” he stammered, “Sure...um... let me put on a shirt, and... I’ll be right down.”  He rather slowly climbed out of bed, and walked over towards the dresser, his eyes not watching where he was going, and instead looking at Raven’s. 

She could tell there was curiosity, still some surprise, and... something else.  Caring?  No... something more.  It took her only a moment to figure out what it was... she’d seen in before between Vintressa and Royukgan.   Something deeper than simple caring.  Then she realized his smile the night before had contained the same thing.  Outwardly, her awkward smile grew a little more, but inwardly, she was leaping in the air, shrieking her happiness.

 His gaze suddenly, shyly broke from hers, and he seemed to be putting entirely too much interest in opening a simple dresser drawer.  _He feels the same way... its too awkward right now for him!_ Raven realized, and she wanted to whoop again.  Seeings the shyness of the normally brash prince, she realized that babbling in happiness might scare him.  An internal debate exploded within her, on whether to leave, or tell him everything.

Eventually, her feet started speaking for her, as she was already backing towards the door, and narrowly avoided backing into the wall instead of the door as she watched him.   For a second, the same part of her that had taken over when she was waking him up tried to take over again, but she forced it back... keep it under control, until she was out of his presence.

Once she was in the hall, her beet red face flashed an enormous smile.  She knew she was still within earshot, and so her whoops of joy were hushed, but for a second, the rest of the world didn’t seem to matter.  The fact Ananias and Elsidor, and who knows who else was after them were matters that did not bother her any more.

_Today is a good day!_ her heart sang.

Up ahead, Rose had just reached the top of the stairs and was marching down the hall in a fury.  “What is taking you and him so long!” she shouted, before suddenly sliding to a halt.  Rose looked at her sister with a confused stare.

“And why are we in such a good mood suddenly?”


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 9, 2004)

“Um... no reason!” Raven said hurriedly.  She saw her sister’s eyes glare, as Rose demanded, without words, to hear the truth.  For a second or two, the tenseness in the hall between the two grew, until Raven was on the verge of blurting out the good news.  Finally, she gave in.

“Well, Val’s coming to help me look at the Pelor Temple Archives!” she lied... poorly enough that Rose’s eyebrow rose in question.  Thankfully, before Rose could probe her little story any more, an insistent, hard knocking at the door interrupted.

“I wonder who that could be?” Rose said suspiciously, glaring at Raven the whole while.  Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned and started back downt he stairs.  With a sigh of relief, Raven followed.  She caught a glimpse of his sister looking up, her face accusing her of some hidden secret as she slipped towards a window to peek out.  Rose then spun around, her jaw slightly agape.

_Its not the dark elf or the dead king,_ Raven reasoned, _they likely wouldn’t knock to come in... more crush down the door._   “Rose?  Who-“

“Raven?  Um... were you expecting a large group of people in dark cloaks?” she asked with worry.

“No...” Raven replied, backtracking up the stairs.  Towards her room, and her nagiaka.  _Dark cloaks... en masse... NOT GOOD._

“Get Val!” Rose shouted, before dashing into the kitchen.  As Raven reached the top of the stairs, she heard pots and pans falling, as well as her sister’s high pitched voice screaming at the staff. 

Raven was sure no one had covered the upper hall distance as fast as she did running to get Valaron.  He was the only one in the house presently with a real blade... Raven had a real weapon, but a long whip in the narrow confines of the house might do more harm than good, and Rose’s dagger was little more than a fancy butcher knife.

“Val!” she yelled, sliding to a halt on the varnished floor just outside his doorway.

“Huh?” he had his tunic on now, but his armor was neatly packed in the corner.  _Not enough time for him to put it on!_ Raven’s mind jumped.  Val merely looked confused and somewhat bemused at first.  Once he saw Raven’s look of panic, however, his look changed to concern.

“Your sword!  Get it!  Dark cloaks! Many outside!” Raven sputtered loudly, running into the room and shoving him towards his two blades stacked beside the armor.  She saw him start to reach for the extra protection, so she helped him by shoving his hands back towards the blades.  “No time!”

“Alright!  Alright!” he complained, picking up his _katana_.  Raven grabbed his other, shorter sword, which she couldn’t pronounce.  For a split second, her mind looked at the blade in confusion.  _I don’t know how to wield this!_  She then thought back to her nagiaka, and with ease saw it getting caught on a chair, or a chandelier, leaving her in a world of hurt.  She’d worry about this later.

With little regard to politeness, Raven then hurriedly shoved him in the hallway.  He broke into a mere jog... a jog that only turned into a run after she ran past him, and bounded down the stairs two steps at a time.

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw the small menagerie of an army Rose had gathered.  Raven’s sister had armed herself with a butcher’s knife.  The butler held a metal pan, and the two maids held brooms.  The latter three looked ashen, and rocked in fear as if a slight breeze would blow them over.  They all looked relieved to see two people arrive armed with real weapons... and at least one look as if he could properly wield his.

“Rose, Raven?” a female voice faintly asked from outside.  It sounded vaguely familiar, but none trusted its tone.  It was too muffled by the door to be sure.

“When I throw the door open,  be prepared,” Rose said quietly, slipping quickly and silently behind the door.  She unconsciously flipped the knife in her hand into a knife-fighter’s grip.  Everyone tensed, as silently Rose mouthed counting to three, and then yanked the door wide.

_That almost sounded like Tess... but she’s down at the tombs!  Maybe its the assassins returned!  Or Elsidor trying to use the arcane to get in!_  She closed her eyes, held the blade high, and tensed her legs to launch a charge forward.  _If it is the dark mage, I must be fast!_

Momentarily the outside glare blocked their view.  Raven heard the butler and maids give growls that in any other situation, would have been comical.  As it was, Raven had lurched forward, the shorter blade high above her head as she let loose a cry.  Alone in the group did Val have his blade pointed expertly at the figures in the doorway.  

Even as she rushed ahead, Raven expected to hear a shout, a rose, and feel the slash of steel going by her.  Instead, she heard a _very_ familiar peal of laughter.  A tall blonde slipped into the house, hands outstretched, a playful smile on her face.

“Hold, Raven!  I’m no thief!” Tesseron Keldare called.  Raven’s planned forward charge sputtered to a stunned halt.  Rose’s knife wavered shakily, a confused expression on the girl’s face.  Val’s sword lowered to the ground, his face also showing his confusion. The maids and the butler upon Tess’ sudden movement inside promptly dropped their impromptu weapons and dashed to hide behind the dining room table.

“Aunt Tess?” Raven asked quietly.  Her eyes could see it indeed was the bard, but her mind was still confused.  The bard stepped forward again, and now there was no doubt.  Behind her streamed in armed men clad in the colors of a city watch that Raven didn’t recognize, even more clad in black robes... and one familiar face.

_Eyrna Erelion?_ Raven’s mind looked at the disheveled black-haired woman in the midst of the dark cloaks.  _Why is she here!?_ Rage started to fill in Raven’s mind, remembering how this entire mess began.  _That... that... bitch!  Why did she do that, and start this!?_ 



Eyrna herself had been looking forward to this moment with nothing less than complete dread.  

_So this is my punishment... to see the Prince and his ‘friend’ again..._ she inwardly had scowled.  _Will Tesseron turn me over to him for... exile?  No... she is more honorable than that... I have no doubt I shall have my life... but what kind of life will he leave me with?_  His mother’s fury was legendary, and in the short space of two weeks, she’d done more to injure this young dragon than many in the previous sixteen years of his life.

“You...” she saw the Dice girl... _Raven, I think_, lunge towards her.  Eyrna saw the sword in her hand, and the murder that was dancing in her eyes.  The noblewoman expected to feel a momentary blast of steel and then an eternal nothing, but to her surprise, the bard stepped in the girl’s path.

“No, Raven,” she heard the bard say, “there will be no shedding of blood this day.  Far too much will be shed on her account.”  A small, tiny part of Eyrna wanted to gloat towards the Dice girl.  Her common sense intervened, however.  _Contrite should be the order of this day... at least for now,_ her astute mind reasoned.  With a great deal of self control, she did not respond to the girl’s rage... indeed she did not even look up at her.

_Tesseron has shown me much more kindness... perhaps that will be her downfall, as well as the downfall of this motley group._   No amount of kindness would bring her father back... or set the wrong that it should have been her father on the Imperial throne...[/i]



Hemmel ducked his head a little lower, his hand reaching over the vendor’s table and picking up a rather ornate and useless butterknife.

“This one looks like its worth quite a bit,” the assassin observed, his improvised village drawl coming out perfectly.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as various cloaks and hoods slipped into the day’s business crowds, having observed the panic signal.

“It is, sir!” the young man selling the various knifes and tableware at this stall agreed eagerly.  “Its fluting design was done by Master Xederla, the famed bladesmith!”

_I have never heard of a master bladesmith with a name like Xederla,_ Hemmel grumbled in his mind, _And no famous bladesmith would be carving mere butterknives!_  The assessment of the salesman’s attempts at lying were a welcome distraction, to keep him from sweating up, or otherwise showing his guilty visage.

_Why are so many Hieroneous paladins about?_ Hemmel asked as the tramp of their boots echoed through the crowded stalls of the marketplace.  He felt a push forward into the booth in front of him, as the crowds behind him pushed him forward to make way.  Seeing the rest of hte crowd turning to gape, Hemmel freely joined them.

_Twelve paladins... one of whom is clad in the armor of a Commander,_ Hemmel counted quietly.  _That’s far more fighting power than I would normally tangle with... where are they headed?_  His mind ran through the possible destinations, and he gave a slight smile.  

_They cannot be headed to the Pelor Temple... Pelor’s own paladins protect that...

Too bad that’s where we are headed..._ he smiled, before turning back to the knife salesman.


Ananias looked around, and gave a blinding smile.  It felt good to feel the life force draining out of a creature again.  He turned down to look at the kicking, struggling man, a sun disk on a necklace flying about as he desperately bucked and twisted, trying to remove Ananias’ hand from his throat.

“Your god will protect you... surely,” Ananias smiled darkly, remembering the clerics that had deserted him so many years before in the face of the Empire.  “I can feel Pelor’s power right now,” he hissed, eyes wide in delight.

The poor man underneath him struggled only a few more moments, his eyes bulging with the exertion.  When he fell silent with a dull finality, Ananias released his body, feeling refreshed.

“Excellent!” he heard the dark elf’s voice in the woods to his left.  Ananias turned, and watched as the air seemed to shimmer, before the drow seemed to coalesced out of nowhere.  “We shall pattern our disguises after him!  Accurate down to the holy symbol itself!”

Ananias’ smile dimmed somewhat... he had already made it known he was not keen on _polymorphing_, even temporarily, into a cleric of Pelor.  But Elsidor’s logic was undefeatable... clerics and paladins of Pelor were the only ones going into the temple that would not be thoroughly questioned upon requesting to enter their ‘lower vaults.’

_They likely don’t even know what treasure they have!  And to think that it was the Emperor himself that sent those items there!_  Ananias thought it was the greatest irony.  Elsidor had told him what had happened... how the Countess had tried to rise up to overthrow the Empire and been brutally repressed... the staff destroyed, save the Fire Stone.  _Part of the lost jewels of Zoe, handed over by her brother to the paladins of Pelor to thank them for destroying my great-great-granddaughter!_

The last part stung the most... how the Emperors of Iskeldrun had so callously destroyed his family line, and his life’s work... the staff.  That all would soon be avenged, in good time.  The Countess Lucilda, her infant son Lucius... they both shall see the light of day once again, after he had shattered the Empire that had so vilely destroyed them.  The undead king had already begun making plans of what he would do once he was properly seated on the Throne of Emperors.  His first order of business would be to hunt down that silver dragon... Xanadu...

Elsidor’s chatter interrupted the king’s daydream.  

“...and you would think Holstean would be the appropriate place for Your Majesty to declare your ancestry, and the new order... with myself as your Chamberlain and right hand assistant, of course,” the drow smiled.

Ananias had the urge to frown.  The drow had raised him from his end, true, but _something_ about him didn’t seem right.  _He means to dominate me,_ Ananias had decided eventually.  _That will never happen!_

“Of course, my friend.  I always trust your advice,” Ananias reached back to his former life as a noble, and lied with a sincere smile on his lips.  He gave a slight bow, before turning and looking at the brick walls looming in the distance.  He heard a few arcane words come from the drow, and felt his skin twist, growing pale in color, his robes changing to a traveler’s leathers...  and a small sun disk hanging from his neck.

“I think it is time, my friend, that we go visit some of our comrades at Pelor’s Temple,” Ananias said, pleased at the deeper, more resonant voice of his disguise.  Little did he know the chain of events that was about to unfold...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 10, 2004)

Raven felt less secure than she knew she should have.  A bevy of blades, as well as a legendary woman were now her guards... but as the group marched through the streets of Kulloden, she knew that the large band of people in black cloaks clustered around her, Valaron, and Eyrna stood out like an opal amongst a sea of diamonds.

_Thank the gods they’re going to be outside of the temple when we are inside._  She realized that in reality, it made no difference... with this menagerie of followers, everyone would know that _something_ was happening, even if they could not see for sure who was in the midst of the throng.  

_He’s still out there... along with it,_ she thought of the undead king, the descriptions of old rising in her mind.  She gave a mental shudder, and her hand slid a little further away from her body.  She felt warm fingers grasp hers, and instantly felt more at ease.  Looking in that direction, she caught Val’s eyes on her underneath the plain cloak he wore, and while no smile crossed their lips, she felt protected.  

It had been only moments after she’d explained what they had seen off in the east that Aunt Tess had revealed her own suspicions, and the two had agreed on a different direction.  There was no way to realistically stop them from raising whoever the drow’s target was... if the person indeed had yet to be raised.

But, if they could find where the Fire Stone was, they could grab it before him.  That would mean more searches in the Temple of Pelor’s libraries...



Val looked down at Raven, and let a small, brave smile go to his face.  He knew what was going through her mind.  _It is running through my mind also._  He’d seen her with her glass-studded whip, and having her beside him put him at ease.  _She’ll watch my back... and I’ll have nothing to fear,_ he told himself.

_Far cry from what I thought before coming here._  Before the lights in the east, the attack that had laid him low.  He’d watched how she’d fretted over him, and at first thought it silly.  Then, by the second day, he assumed it was a deep caring.  And he found he liked being cared for like that.  He felt safe... something he hadn’t felt since blocking an assassin’s blade with his own katana.

_And this morning, Val... your slow and dull mind realized what it really was!_  He’d never looked at Raven in that way before;  she’d been more a tom-boy cousin, in his eyes.  Someone he admired, laughed with, and trusted.  But now...

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden shifting of the bodies around him as the black cloaks parted, silently breaking ranks as one.  Some slipped to the small shops and stands that dotted Temple Square, others went towards the gates of the Hieroneous Temple, acting as gawking outsiders.

Up ahead, Valaron saw the whitewashed marble wall surmounted by brass sun-disks... the outer wall of the temple complex dedicated to the Light, the Sun-Disk.  By far it was the largest of the temples in Kulloden, its expanse larger than the local baron’s manor house and curtain wall.  Beyond the wall, the main temple loomed, squat with a domed roof, its gilt covering shining bright in the rising sun.

“I’ll need you to show me where to search.  I have never had to search for tomes before, they are usually brought to me,” Valaron admitted to Raven.  Before this morning, part of him was happy he hadn’t gone with.  He would have been embarrassed to have Raven poring over tomes while he was lost trying to find his first book.

He heard a soft but tense giggle from next to him.  “It is not that hard, my prince,” her voice sounded.  

_I...I’ve never noticed her voice like that.  It sounds like... oh curse my poor skills with poetics!_  Various descriptions ranging from a cool, clear stream to a the warmth of a newly forged blade ran into his mind.  He suddenly realized that these descriptions were on the tip of his tongue, ready to burst out in a hurried drabble of words to her.  Quickly he reined his mouth in, before he could embarrass himself further.

“...are you even paying attention?” he heard her say, the same very nervous hint of a chuckle in her voice.  Instantly his copper skin when crimson, as he realized he hadn’t been looking at her, but _staring_.  _Valaron Lucius Caladron!_ he heard his mother’s voice scold in his head, _You are a prince of the royal blood, and yet you don’t have the manners to properly listen to someone when they speak to you!_

“I... um... was, but I...” he said quickly, looking for an excuse, before finally giving a sigh.  “No.  I grew distracted,” he said, a nervous laugh of his own coming from his lips.  “I’m afraid books don’t hold much interest for me,” he spoke before thinking.  Quickly, he stumbled out the addition of, “But perhaps you can teach me today to start an interest!  In the books I mean.”  As she beamed at him, the temple walls loomed ahead, as the two passed acolytes and healers streaming in and out of the complex.

_I am a prince of royal blood, capable of staring down the most silk-and-satin-clad lady of noble blood... yet Raven makes me stammer and stumble over my words?_  He looked about, and realized they were almost to the temple.  _At least we are here safely.  After we get inside, I have to focus!  Focus!_  He tried momentarily as they fell into the line of worshippers and petitioners entering the temple, but found Raven’s face kept him from his goal.



_Now I must sit inside Pelor’s Temple?_ Eyrna gave a slight grunt of dissatisfaction as the line in front of her slowly moved.  Beside her stood Constans, the man’s black cloak covering his longsword.  Eyrna was not foolish enough to expect him to be impeded in drawing his blade.

She listened carefully with her ears, and heard the small chatter going on behind her... between the Crown Prince and the Dice girl.  There was no doubt in Eyrna’s mind that something was going on between the two.  

_If only I could probe her mind, like many of the mages’ can,_ she thought darkly, _I could find out what has happened... what kind of mount this prince is..._  She gave an inward smile at that thought.  _Perchance, after I’ve killed her, I can use him before he dies._  The dark inward smile formed slowly on her face, and her mind once again plotted upheavals to unseat House Caladron... dreams, she knew, and little more.  

_The bold,_ she heard her father’s long gone voice in her head, _can make their dreams reality.  You only need to see the situation, and to act!_

_And act I will,[/]i she promised herself.



“Baroness Keldare!?”  The name came from the assassin’s lips like some vile curse of old, causing Hemmel to chuckle.

“You speak as if she is a goddess of some repute,” he replied glibbly. 

Chali, head of the Blackroses assigned to help him, gave a sharp frown at his rebuke.  “I do not fear her, but I have a deep respect for her abilities, and for good reason, Hemmel,” she said sourly, “You walk about as if you are some god yourself.  You are not!”  The woman returned her hands to tying her long brown braids up, to remove them from her way in combat.  “I respect the power of someone that killed an elder in our guild, as well as killed the elder’s paymaster, and the paymaster of the paymaster!”

“You speak of that Ilia as if she was worth something,” Hemmel replied quietly, as his hands slid over his torso, checking his weapons and supplies were in place under his own cloak.  “She was not even a member of an assassin’s guild.  She was a damn freelancer, and no more!”  I am more professional than her!  I slipped close to an Empress, and would have killed her save unforeseen circumstances!  Ilia could not kill a band of rangy travelers... and let herself be killed by them!

“She was formidable enough that our Elder Belyia thought her worthy to take a job from,” Chali retorted, her eyes not looking at Hemmel at all, instead looking for her other agents.  “You speak as if you knew her well.  What was she?  Lover?  Relative?”

“Business partner,” Hemmel said simply, looking out into the Temple Square crowds for his own agents.  Unlike the ‘Roses, Hemmel’s people weren’t as skilled with fist to come in unarmed.  But their talents lay elsewhere... and they would be no less deadly.  “She stole a couple thousand gold from me and ran off.  I chased her for a bit, but then after accepting Lord Erelion’s offer some twenty years ago, I became too occupied making money to worry about her errant ass.”

“Ah... so you sold your skills out twenty years ago?  For being house-trained, you’ve kept your skills at a fine hue,” Chali chuckled lightly.  Those in the ‘Roses, and other professional assassins guilds, looked at assassins who contracted themselves to specific Houses as traitors... they took away from the guild’s customer base.  And, in the eyes of many guildmembers, they grew soft in long years of inactivity.

“I try my best,” Hemmel replied, shifting his cloak to the position he liked.  Satisfied, he gave a nod, and the two of them joined the crowds on the Temple Plaza, arm in arm as if husband and wife on a shopping run.  They made their way towards the throngs gathered outside the House of Pelor.  

“And back to the topic at hand,” he really did not want to talk any more of the only person that had cheated him, “yes, I saw the Baroness Keldare and twenty or so folks clad in black cloaks.  They were closely packed, like they were guarding someone.”

“And you think that is where our dear friend is?” Chali said quietly.  He noticed she refused to say the prince’s title out loud, despite the fact that it was virtually assured that no one in the crowded plaza around them would be able to hear.  Yet again she was rubbing her so called professionalism in his face.  “Him, and his friends?”

“Yes... it fits his style,” Hemmel commented.  Blunt, brash... that tends to be Valaron.  His mother was right... subtelty is not his middle name.  “I couldn’t see directly into the midst of their group, but I swear I saw a redhead.  I think we should go say hello to him before he gets busy paying his respects to Pelor.”  I don’t have time for tricks of the mouth!  Be quick about what you are saying!

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out, so long as we don’t stop too long.  I don’t think everyone is going to want to go see the plaza for too long.”  She gave Hemmel a brilliant, if empty smile.  Hemmel nodded in agreement.  Dispersed approach would indeed be best.  My crossbows can watch from afar while your fighters close.



Tess was standing in a seller’s stall that had a clear view of the three streets that emptied into the Temple Plaza, as well as the line into the Pelor temple.  It is still so easy, she thought, giving a halfway glance down at the enamored vendor’s wares.  Her eyes instead uneasily watched those streets.  Evermyn was on the opposite side of the plaza, watching the two streets that left the plaza that Tess could not see.

There was a lighter throng that usual today, likely because today was not one of Pelor’s many feast days.  That left the plaza, especially the sections close to the Temple of Tarantor, fairly clear... clear enough that Tess’ sharp eyes could spot anything that appeared too odd.  

“And this’n here,” the vendor, a young man obvious more concerned with Tess’ cleavage than the prospect of her patronage, “is especially... special.”  Tess paid no attention to the man’s wince, or stares.  By her eyes, she was watching the sun glint off of the statue of the Emperor Alexander that graced the top of the Tarantor temple.  Her mind, in fact, was watching the young woman clad in well-made dark leathers that was approaching the very stall where she was at.

She’s not armed, Tess observed, something that did not put the bard necessarily at ease.  She’d dealt with too many people skilled with using their bodies as weapons.  She wasn’t particularly pretty, or oddly clothed.  Tess wasn’t sure what had caused her unconscious mind to scream an alarm... until she looked at the woman’s arms.

She’s... holy crap, Tess’ mind jumped.  The woman was not heavily built, but her arms were wiry, as twin thin yet viciously powerful mambas.  She leaned over, picking up one of the vendor’s ‘less-well-made’ items... a necklace that had several broken stones.  

Why is she looking at that necklace? Tess wondered.  Her clothes are well made, she should not be looking at a piece of trash like...  Nervously, she started to hum a light tune as she feigned looking at another piece of jewelry.  It was then the woman shifted angles just slightly, and Tess caught a momentary view of something inside her cloak that solved the entire issue immediately.  

The hum changed into a vicious shriek, causing the woman to shudder violently before collapsing to the ground, blood streaming from her ears and eyes.  As her cloak fell open, a rose, black as midnight, fell to the ground.

Tess immediately vaulted over the vendor’s stall, and ran at a full tilt towards the now scattering lines in front of Pelor’s House, one thing on her mind.  

Protect the Prince!



“What in the Nine Hells?” Val looked up and behind.  The noise had sounded like a lady’s scream, yet it echoed strangely, as if it had come from the far end of the plaza.  But it was far too loud to have come from that far away, his mind realized.  His hand flashed down to the hilt of his katana, as he felt Raven’s hand flash away from his.



Hemmel’s eyes immediately looked to where the shriek had come from.  If some young lady dropped her bag of fruit, I swear... he started to grumble, until his eyes saw someone... one of Chali’s assassins, his mind realized, go down.  Even before he saw the woman that had seemingly cut her down charging across the plaza, Hemmel had realized all hope of surprise was gone.

“Go! Go!” he shouted, longsword flashing into his hand.  The crowds around him broke out into screams as he and Chali broke their hold of each other and charged at full run into the plaza.  Once of the ‘peasants’ in front of him sudden spun to face the line of people in front of Pelor’s temple, knelt, and flashed out a large crossbow.  With a dull clunk, its bolt slashed through the air.  

Hemmel heard more clunks, and saw more momentary lines of black as bolts slashed through the air.  Beside his head, he also heard much higher pitched whistles.... arrows.  City watch or bodyguards! his mind affirmed, before he ducked into a crowd of people running away, screaming.  While going against the crowd would be difficult, it would also make one of those flunkies shooting arrows at him have a harder time hitting their target.

Black cloaks were about, and out of the corner of his eyes, Hemmel could see fighting, some of the cloaks whirling and kicking... Chali’s assassins.  Others he saw with blades that danced faster than those belonging to any city watch.  The Baroness’ people! 

Chali had broken ahead, and unfortunately the crowd of fleeing townsfolk was growing thin.  The assassin had also abandoned all hope of surprise, and instead her black rose was out, as she dashed forward, crouched low to be able to slash with her dark weapon or deliver a stunning series of blows.  

Not far ahead now, Hemmel could see them, clearly.  The Crown Prince, in a brown cloak, had both of his swords out, set in classic scheme.  Just like his mother.  Beside him, the Dice girl had a long whip drawn... something that made Hemmel want to laugh.  A dark cloaked man had a greatsword out next to both of them, and then there was someone else.... he didn’t have the time to know for sure.

Another sharp vicious shriek filled the air, this time coming from above, and Hemmel literally saw Chali’s head vibrate hideously before exploding.  The corpse’s entrails flew forward, causing a massive red splatter on the formerly pristine plaza.  Hemmel did not need to look up to know what had happened.  

That muscial bitch! he wanted to snarl.  In one fluid motion, he spun from his low crouch charge towards the prince and reached back into his flowing cloak.  His eyes momentarily met her form, screeching and floating in the air, as he slipped out his special jitte.  It flashed through the air, and he had the grim satisfaction of watching the Baroness’ form fall ungracefully some twenty feet onto the plaza below.

He’d hoped to use it to take down the Crown Prince, but the Baroness would have to do.  He had a longsword and his fists... likely more than enough to take down his former master.


“Pelor’s Flaming Armpits!” Eyrna heard Constans shout, as chaos started.  The sounds of screaming, of cries of terror filled her ears, even as whistles and thuds sounded around her, bolts and arrows flashing through the sky.  The Prince had his two blades drawn, and the Dice girl had a whip of some kind out.

Eyrna might have been of noble blood, not trained on the rough and tumble streets, but she did have common sense.  Initially she slipped behind Constans body, before ducking close to the temple walls, making herself as small a target as possible.

She saw four people rushing towards Constans, the Prince, and the Raven Dice... and she saw one of them literally explode after another one of the horrendous shrieks tore through the air.  As the lead man of the other three attacks spun a weapon out towards the floating Tesseron, Eyrna caught a glimpse of his face... and her heart soared.

Hemmel!?



Valaron saw him coming as well, and let out a gutteral snarl.  Two weeks of waiting had been satisfied, and the prince bared his teeth in welcome.  As the assassin who had so sorely hurt his own mother drew to a halt, Val looked at him.  He’ll have much of his breath, but not a full breath.  He ran a small distance through a crowd to get here.  You have an advantage.  As the other two men closed, Val saw in the corner of his eye Raven and the dark man on the other side draw up to oppose them.

“Keep them off of my back!” Val hissed, watching Hemmel closely.  Traitor!  Traitor! his mind screamed.

To his surprise, Hemmel licked his lips, and to Val’s surprise, he drew a black and wicked looking longsword.  So... the wretch knows swordplay? Val’s mind rang, just before his tactical mind took control.  A briefest flash of memory from the night of the attack on his mother flashed in Val’s mind.  

Watch his free hand, Val’s tactical mind reminded him, as well as his legs.  They can be as deadly as his blade!  The voice sounded amazingly like his mother’s.  Whirling against him might be dangerous... you cannot leave your back on him, even momentarily! 

“My prince,” Hemmel said, his voice sounding as if a thousand sand vipers had rubbed their scales together.  Val resisted his urge to strike at the mockery, or pay attention to the whistles that sang over his head.  Instead, he focused on the man in front of him.  The whole man, Val!  Look at HIM, not his fists or his blade! his mother’s voice rang.

The noises of battle washed over Val again, as he heard Constans’ blade sing in combat with the assassin that opposed him.  The crack of Raven’s nagaika shattered the air next to him, a crack that turned to a grunt, a shout, and a flurry of noise.  Nonetheless, Val watched his opponent.  Hemmel’s face held a slight smile... a joy at finishing an unfinished piece of work.  But when Val took in his eyes, he saw there was nothing... no emotion at all.

“I shall enjoy this immensely, my Lord Caladron,” Hemmel said, and then struck._


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 11, 2004)

A blinding white light was all that Tess could see in front of her.  The bard had been to Celestia, and seen where souls traveled for judgment, and this most certainly was not the path.

_Where am I?_ her mind wondered, as a slight murmur filled her ears.  _Is it monks chanting?  A prayer for the dead?  Am I not dead, but not alive?_  The murmur was rising now, until it thundered into a gigantic roar.  Desperately, her mind’s eyes swam about, trying to find its source, trying to find the monster she thought was bearing down on her.  As she panicked, the roar grew louder than a bombard’s blast, and changed... instead of a continous noise, it broke apart, as if a massive drum was beating right next to her eardrum.

It was then she realized it was her own heartbeat.

The bright white light revealed the white Temple Plaza of Kulloden as she blinked, chaos still enveloping its once pristine walks of contemplation.  It took the battered bard a moment to realize what was happening, but her mind jostled back with a sense of urgency once Vanerthorpe’s face fell into her line of sight, blood streaming from his mouth as his eyes stared lifelessly at her.  She remembered herself high up, striking low the attackers headed towards the prince... and then a sharp pain... then falling...

_Valaron!  Raven!_  The bard tried to turn over, and instead felt a massive, searing pain flood her arms, soon to be complimented by a similar pain filling her belly.  _Take it easy... you’ve probably been hurt.  Move slowly... you will be less likely to be noticed, and you won’t injure yourself more..._  Slowly, carefully she moved her head downward, and saw the hilt and part of the blade of a thin, rather nasty dagger sticking from her belly.

_That’s how I fell,_ her mind thought rather dispassionately... something that surprised her.  She then moved slowly to look at the arm she had tried to push off with, only to see it bent two directions, part of her forearm bone sticking from her skin like a bony knife.

_That’s why I can’t push myself upright,_ the same analytical mind said.  _Maybe I can roll on the other arm..._  Gritting her teeth, Tess shifted her legs, pulling her body around slowly.  To her relief, her other arm hurt, but not nearly as bad.  Now partly on her stomach, the bard could look towards the Pelor Temple, and saw Val’s red head circling ‘round a dark haired man with blade drawn.

She looked down at her belly again, the knife still rising from it angrily.  _If I don’t get that blade out, I shall soon bleed to death._  She moved her legs till she was more on her side, and reached her good arm down, grasping the dagger’s hilt.  

_You have felt worse Tess.  This won’t feel bad at all, compared to what devils have done to you,_ she lied to herself.  Her breaths came rapidly as she coached her courage up, before gripping the dagger tightly and wrenching it out.  

Her scream of pain echoed over the plaza.



Raven did not hear Tess’ cry of pain, for it came at the same time as the scream of the assassin in front of her.  The woman had charged her confidently, unarmed, and had been surprised when the rough whip at Raven’s side had lashed forth with more than mere leather.  Now blinded, the woman stumbled to a halt before another snap of the nagiaka cut her throat to ribbons.

She did hear, however, the rapid song of two blades dueling next to her, and turned in time to see Val and the man opposing him at each other’s throats, their blades whirling and striking faster than her eye could track.  

_Val!_  Her first instinct was to jump in behind the man attacking her prince. _Hold on!_ her mind raced, as she frantically tried to gauge distances, trying to track the blur that was the other, darker haired man.  However, the whirl and swirl of blades was too fast, too quick for her to get a clear line, and she realized that her nagiaka might very well slash Valaron instead of his attacker.

More yells and shouts caused her to spin back around, and she saw a small group of the dark clad assassins charging towards the prince and his adversary.  _Six... six of them,_ she counted, her heart sinking.  She knew she could not take them down with her nagiaka alone... and her mind flashed back to the armory... and her practices.

_Focus, Raven..._ she heard a cool, calm voice inside her say.  Despite every part of her body screaming not to, she closed her eyes, her nagiaka arm drifting out, away from her body.  The battle seemed to slow, and the shouts became beacons in her mind.  She felt the magic in her veins flow... rivulets of power forming a mighty stream down her free hand.  When her eyes opened again, the panic that had been in them was gone.

As the closest of the six drew within about fifteen feet, she spun her entire body, putting all the torque and power her small frame could muster.  The nagiaka sang through the air, whistling as it went.  She _felt_ rather than saw, the end of the whip snap around the lead assailant, and yet she kept spinning, stepping backward as she moved.  A terrible scream filled her ears, and she could feel the glass shredding through the poor man’s body.

When she again faced the five remaining, their comrade was tumbling to the ground, his stomach shattered open, gripping his innards.  She gave the whip a yank that brought it flashing back in front of her, cracking just inches from the other five.  They skidded to a halt, as her free hand extended towards them.  She felt a powerful release, as if a dam had collapsed in her arm.  A small, tiny bead of light flashed from her hand, tumbling through the air towards the midst of the five...



“Move faster!” Harrapias shouted as the loud thunder of some kind of explosion echoed in his ears.  His blade was out, as he felt his old legs piston like they hadn’t done in a long time.  His breath came quick and deep, the rush and excitement pushing back the pain his body was likely screaming at him.

They’d marched to the Dice manor, only to find it empty.  The servants stated that their Lady and the Prince had left for the Temple Plaza to go pay their respects to the Pelor House.  _I hope to Hieroneous the Merciful that they made it..._

As they rounded the last corner and the seventeen paladins poured into the Temple Plaza, they could see a scene of horror and chaos.  Bodies were strewn about, as arrows and bolts continued to sail through the air from archers behind turned over stalls and wagons that had been turned into sniper’s nests.

He looked about desperately, only to see something he had dreaded since the first screams had come that violence had exploded in the Temple Plaza.  On the far end, he saw the prince, just as the Dice servants had said, save his blades were whirling and dancing about another man’s.  There was no air of play in their movements, only the speed and deadly precision of moves intended for deadly results.

An arrow flashed by Harrapias, shortly followed by a small hail of bolts coming from three upturned stalls just in front of the paladin’s own temple.  “Flush them out!” he snarled to four of the paladins, who charged towards the offenders, blades raised to inflict the ultimate punishment.  The battle priest, for his part, broke his tired legs into another run, across the plaza towards his prince...


Eyrna pressed herself closer to the wall, as bolts and arrows clattered on the stone pavement around her.  The noise of swords ringing hurt her ears, which she held covered.  Out of barely opened eyes did she see Contans sword come crashing down on the man in front of him, only to have the assassin deftly dodge the heavy blow.  Beyond him, the Prince and his attacker were in the midst of a deadly dance, which neither side seeming to gain a good hand.  The Dice girl was nervously eyeing the Prince’s combat, and watching a slew of new people charging into the plaza.

_How shall I strike out in this, Tarantor on High?_ she mumbled to herself.  She was not gifted in bladework, or much fighting at all.  She was quick... _That might serve for something,_ she thought as she watched the massive blows Constans tried to level on his opponent strike air again and again.  

_But she is unarmed..._ Eyrna thought watching his opponent, _Yet she moves with an arrogant confidence even greater than his._  Constans face was now filled with rage at the small creature deftly ducking his blows, and Eyrna caught what was happening.  _She is tiring him... but for what?  Her fists are too small to..._

Her mind froze as she saw the young woman flip out something small and black... a small rose.  Immediately the entire situation made sense, as the woman deftly dodged another powerful, yet clumsy swing from the bigger man, before flicking the rose along his arms.  Constans eyes bulged out, and he stumbled back, gurgling.  He collapsed back, shaking lightly in death spasms.

_The Black Rose!_ Eyrna thought with excitement, and now she realized Hemmel’s confidence in charging into the plaza.  By now, she had uncovered her eyes, and openly watched as the Black Rose woman now looked to Valaron’s combat, trying to slash the prince.  

_He and his line deserve nothing less,_ Eyrna hoped, only to see the Dice girl dash her hopes to the ground.  That damnable whip of hers that had downed so many of Hemmel’s comrades lashed out again, and the Black Rose lost her hand in its first strike.  As the woman screamed, a second strike opened her from belly to throat.

“Dammit!” Eyrna snapped.  _Boldness in this?  How am I to be bold?_ her mind thought.



Valaron gave a sharp curse in frustration as he and Hemmel parted momentarily.  The prince was breathing heavy, and his arms seemed to be made more and more of lead rather than flesh.  Hemmel’s eyes danced with laughter, and his taunts had yet to stop.
“My prince, your mother always said you needed to build up your endurance.  Growing tired in combat can be deadly,” Hemmel mockingly chided, before a flurry of blade thrusts and swings from his free hand assaulted him.  Val swung his two blades in quickly, slashing circles in front of him, and move designed to force his opponent to give him space.   His shoulders were screaming at him... Hemmel had landed a sharp blow on both early in the fight.  His heart raced, his face flushed with exertion and anger.

_He is trying to anger me,_ Val heard part of his mind.  Valaron heard his mother’s instructing voice in his head again.  _Taunting is a two edged sword, son.  Don’t let your opponent make you strike in anger.  Strike only with sureness and resolve, not fury._  Val edged back more, his blades in guard positions.  He was on defense already, and he could sense the wall of the Pelor temple close behind him.  _I’m out of room._

“I think of your mother and sister often, boy,” Hemmel smiled wickedly, “and of how I shall use them again and again after you and your father are dead!”  He laughed, circling Val like a vulture marking a dead carcass.  “Or perhaps I should leave you alive, and let you watch?”

Instantly what coolness remained in Val’s mind was replaced with blind fury.  _Traitor!_ Val’s mind screams.  Without bidding, only on unseeing, primeval instinct, did Valaron’s katana and washazaki lash out, twin blades of death each intended for one of Hemmel’s eyes.  

It took only an instance for Val to realize the mistake he’d made, when he saw Hemmel’s blade dip then slash upward with immense force, catching both of the prince’s swords.  Val felt a powerful slug in his stomach, and his body crumpling as he doubled over.  A second sharp pain slammed through the back of his head, and he suddenly found himself on the ground.  The back of his neck prickled as he felt something ice cold slide along it.

“Stop!” he heard Hemmel’s voice call, and Raven’s voice cry.  “Move another step, and His Royal Highness will find himself without a head!”  That was Hemmel’s shout.  He heard a laugh... a raving laugh, one of triumph.  “My prince, it is over!  It seems the Dragon did not teach you all her abilities!”  There was the noise of him sucking in air, before a whisper floated down to the prince’s ears.  “I shall remember this moment when I break in your sister.”

_I failed,_ was all Val could think, rage coursing through his veins.  He felt himself tense up, even as his mind realized any movement would result in the blade slamming even sooner into the back of his neck.  He heard Raven’s voice crying, offering everything, even herself, if Val might be spared.  _He does not want you, Raven! Run!  He wants me!_ Val wanted to shout.  _I have failed...  and now the drow will get the Fire Stone... my House will fall, and there will war upon war..._

Val felt the icy feeling on the back of his neck move with a sudden jerk, and for an instant he thought it was the end.  He expected to suddenly have his sight go black, and feel himself flying to the winds of Celestia, but instead he heard an odd, strange gurgling sound, like someone trying to breath through water.  He glanced up, only to see an image that would be burned into his soul the rest of his days.

Against the bright light of the sun, Hemmel’s dark form rocked, then crumpled backwards, the sharp tip of a blade coming from his chest like a spire of Hieroneous rising into the heavens...



Eyrna wanted to scream when she saw Hemmel fall like a ragdoll, the Hieroneous paladin’s blade sticking from him like an obscene finger.  The old man gave a sharp curse, rolled Hemmel’s limp form over, and pulled his blade from the assassin’s back.  Hemmel had backed the prince so close before dying that Eyrna could almost feel the assassin’s last gasps of life rattling from his throat.

_Bastards!_ she wanted to snarl, her fists clenching and unclenching.  Her eyes desperately cast about, until she saw Constans’ still warm corpse only inches from her... a dirk still strapped to his waist.  

She heard Val say something to the priest, but she did not focus on them now.  _Be bold... this is your moment!_ her heart cried, _Strike back for your father!_  She fumbled with the dead man’s belt, and within seconds had the dirk.  Her eyes, wild and feral with fury, looked at the prince and his savior.

Valaron was starting to rise, clutching his stomach.  The Dice girl was beside him, an arm around his shoulder.  All eyes were on him, and Eyrna realized none were watching her.  It was then she drew close...



“Are you alright?” Raven was already by Val’s side.  When he grimaced and motioned at his stomach, she was already lifting his tunic... which revealed a blue and black bruise, already massive and angry from where Hemmel’s fist had knocked him low.  Another bruise was forming on the back of his neck, and she noted with alarm that he couldn’t move his left arm.  

She paid no attention to the silence now surrounding her... the crashings had all ceased.  The only thing she noticed was Valaron, and the obvious pain on his face.

“Is anything broken?” she asked again.  She heard his teeth click as he gritted them hard, and he nodded yes.  Running a hand along his stomach bruise, his ribs underneath felt unnatural... they moved far too easily, and he bit on his lip so hard when she touched them that a small trickle of blood formed when he grunted.

“His ribs are broken, Commander,” she looked up at Harrapias.  He was also quickly by the prince, his own hands feeling along the ribs.  With this intrusion, Val let out a shout of pain, and then a whimper.  

“He has three broken ribs at least,” the priest said quietly.  “Run into Pelor’s House, and tell the Holy Light to come forth.  Tell him that his friend Harrapias demands it.  He will know.”

Raven was up even before the old paladin had finished his request.  When she spun towards the Pelor Temple, she suddenly stopped.

For there Eyrna stood, inches from Valaron, a long sharp dirk in her hands.

“No!” Raven screamed, lunging forward, but the Erelion woman had cat-like reflexes, deftly slipping aside, her blade flashing in front of the Prince’s neck.  Her eyes flamed with something dark and evil, and Val let out an unholy cry of pain when she hefted him to his feet with dark strength borne of angry vengeance.

“If any of you _twitch_, you shall find your prince with a new mouth in the midst of his throat!” she snarled.  Her eyes were feral, as she pulled him back towards the temple, the blade mere inches from his throat.  “I believe Lord Valaron has a Stone he must fetch!  She looked about, desperation blazing from her eyes.



_The dreams of the bold come true!  I am bold!  I shall have the Fire Stone!_ her mind raved as she pulled the Prince closer to the gate entrance to Pelor’s House, putting distance between herself and the terror-struck muddle of survivors.  The Prince was thankfully pliant, save it appeared Hemmel had battered him quite bad.  He could hardly move.

_No matter... I need him only take this stone back to my Uncle... and then... and then..._  Her mind dismissed the problems posed by using the stone.  She had committed... it was too late to change course.  She saw the Dice girl headed towards her, eyes pleading again.

“Back away!  He will carry the stone for _me!_” Eyrna shouted.  _It is so close... only inside the walls of that Temple..._  She backed closer and closer to its gate.

“That won’t be necessary,” a deep, horribly familiar voice echoed from beyond the walls of Pelor’s Temple.  There was a rumbling chuckle of laughter, before the same voice spoke, “You see, dear Lady Eyrna... we already have the stone!”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 12, 2004)

Ananias felt warm all over as the girl spun to face him, a feeling like warm butter flowing over his body, coming from the large stone clutched in his left palm.  It was about the size of a large apple, a perfect sphere that was solid ruby, polished and opaque.  The once king fondly thought of only a few minutes before... when he’d first laid eyes on his lost prize, flames seemingly licking in its depths.

As her words echoed in his mind, his brow furrowed.  _He will carry the stone for me?  What stone?  They couldn’t be speaking of this one... only I can carry it!  I am the last of the line..._  He looked over to the craggy old man next to him, clad in the bright armor of a paladin of Pelor.  Elsidor’s disguise couldn’t hide the malacious smile that filled his lips.

“Very good!” he heard the girl stammer, “Now, hand me the stone, as you promised!  Your reward will be the fall of the Imperial line!” she called, making Ananias raise his own disguised eyebrows.  _It seems Elsidor was busy before he fetched me... the drow is smarter than I assumed._  Ananias’ past life had been filled with intrigue and treachery... and he refused to assume that this drow had raised him and would honorably treat to a bargain.

“Lady Eyrna... poor creature,” he heard the drow rumble next to him through his disguise, “you see... I have the Fire Stone now.  I have no need for you!  Go ahead and kill the Crown Prince... it shall only make our job easier!”  As Ananias watched, the wizened crone of Pelor shift, shrinking in height and darkening in complexion until an ebony skinned drow stood, his white eyes blazing.  Elsidor’s five companions came up behind him, and they too shifted back to their natural forms, shrugging off the drow’s powerful magic.

The woman’s eyes below them blazed with fury.  _I would too,_ Ananias wanted to chuckle, watching her tremble as she held the dirk close to the young boy’s neck.  The once king found his gaze drawn to the young man, who likely had no idea what was befalling him.

_He has red hair... rather odd.  There are no redheaded noble families in the Eastern Empire, where the Emperor comes from..._ the once King rumbled, before assuming some intermarriage had occurred.  Seeings that his erstwhile allies had shifted back, he closed his eyes, and let his magic wash over him.  The cloaks and furrows of Pelor’s servant washed away, leaving a tall, gaunt man, a mop of red hair cascading from the crown of his head.  

_Why do the drow always taunt?_ he thought as Elsidor continued to mock his former patron as they walked down the temple steps, ever closer to the gate.  Bored, Ananias let his gaze look over the rest of the motley people gathered in the plaza.  He saw several paladins of Hieroneous, marks for destruction in his first demonstration of what the stone could do.  He saw several wounded black cloaks, some with crossbows, some with bows, some unarmed, some with swords.  Behind the woman and her captive ‘prince’ was another girl... a few years younger, looking on in abject horror, what looked to be a whip at her side.

Then his eyes caught _her_.

Off in the distance, laying on the ground, but not dead.  Ananias’ eyes alone saw she wasn’t moving, but his other senses told her her heart still beat.  Instantly, the once king froze up, the last image of his previous demonic life flashing across his vision.  The bard charging him, screaming a deathcry, a dagger high above her head... then blackness.

Dark thoughts immediately flooded his mind, plotting how to get rid of this woman.  His mind grew so focused that he did not see the enraged woman holding the prince charge at Elsidor.  HE did hear _her_ death scream, as her mouth suddenly began spewing blood.  Her charge collapsed a few feet in front of the drow’s feet, and he watched as she gurgled, clawing at the air.

_Ah... drowned in her own blood.  How... quaint,_ Ananias thought.  He then looked down, towards the still stunned gaggle.  “May I kill off the prince with the demonstration of the Stone?” he asked Elsidor.  _My stone..._ Ananias thought.  Only _he_ would know how to use it properly, not the drow, nor any of these fools below.  When Elsidor nodded, Ananias gave a wicked smile.



Harrapias stood, his feet feeling like lead as he watched the Erelion daughter run at the drow, only to see her collapse, blood streaming from her mouth.  He saw the drow lean in to hear something the tall red-head next to him said, and the redhead grin at the crown prince.

He wasn’t sure what the brief comment was about, but the look in the man’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.  Harrapias’ blade was out, and from somewhere within him, the old warrior found energy again.  He leapt forward, a lion charging towards his prey.

_I must get close!  If I can, their spells will not avail them when steel slices their throats!_  He heard a suddenly rush, the clank of armor, and knew his paladins were close behind.   A brief, unsaid prayer to his protector echoed in his mind, as closed with the two wizards...



For a brief instant, it all appeared as from a bard’s song... the paladins streaming forward, blades above their heads, their echoing call, “Valor!” thundering around the plaza.  Until Ananias pulled forth the Fire Stone.

The air all across the plaza seemed to grow thick, shimmering as if the stones beneath were baking in heat.  The shimmering fell into globs... red sticky globs, that quickly grew and shaped into the forms of men in full armor. 

Thousands of them, covering the plaza, slowly rising to form an army...

The paladins streamed forward as Ananias’ army formed, still coming... until Elsidor’s hand jutted out from his body as a craggy rock overlooks an impudent sea.  The elderly lead paladin, along with his comrades, was suddenly lifted skyward.  Shouts, cries and screams arose from the throats of some of the paladins, but the old man in the lead merely glared.

Elsidor gave a vicious snarl, and with a horrific snap of crunching bones and shattered skulls, he squeezed his hand shut.  What fell to the earth were not the bodies of men, merely piles of pulverized blood, bone and gore.



Raven’s eyes went wide in horror at the scene of mangled ruin that now covered the entrance to the House of Pelor.  The two wizards and their five companions started down the stairs, their eyes focused not on her, but on the coughing, pain filled form laying in front of her.

Valaron.

_They mean to kill him!_ she panicked, seeing their approach.  _I need to do something!  Anything!_  No thought crossed her mind of what would happen if she interfered, no fear for herself entered her mind.  Instead, only fear of what these two wizards would do, now that one of them possessed the Fire Stone.

Then her mind stopped.

_It can only be carried by someone of Caladron blood!  Yet that red head is carrying it... which means he must be..._

Her knees quaked again, as she saw Ananias coming closer.  The stories her father had told her echoed in her mind... of a beast powerful enough to nearly kill their group of heroes, a towering monilith of ice.  Somehow, seeing that creature in the form of a man was all the more frightening.

The four dark drow behind the lead one started forward, past Ananias and Elsidor, towards her love.  _What can I do?_ her mind raced.  Her mind flashed back, towards a time six years before... and a lecture from her father.

_”You should NOT have gone in there with that young dragon!  How could you have known it was safe?” he asked her, eyes filled not only with anger but deep concern.

“It was safe!” she heard her own voice reply, bubbly and young.  “Valaron, Vintressa, Rose and Shawn were with!  Amarine was there too, and if it wasn’t safe, we could’ve fought him off, just like you fought off a dragon, daddy!” she replied smartly, hoping she’d trapped her father.

“No, my dear.  It’s not the same.  You had a choice whether to fight.  In those stories when I fought those demons, those monsters, I had NO choice.  There are times where one must be prudent, and avoid danger... and there are times where one must rush danger to overcome it.  This was clearly the former, NOT the latter.”

...There are times where one must rush danger..._ Raven’s mind repeated.  _Valaron needs my help!  He can’t defend himself!  I have to defend him!_  Gone were the normal voices chastising her that she was a mage, not a combatant.  Gone were the feelings that she wasn’t up to the task... all replaced with a simple desperate realization of, _I must do this!_ 

As if unbidden, her hand rose, pointing at the drow closing with Valaron.  There was no repitition of an incantation learned at the Academy, there was no moment of contemplation to focus her energy.  The stream of magic running down her arm became a torrent, her desperation, her fear building its power.  It rose, frothing higher and higher in her mind, thundering down her arm, until exploding from her fingertips.

Pain shot through her arm, and a primal scream echoed over the noise of the unholy army assembling behind her.  A brilliant, explosive crash flashed through the air, a blinding burst of light causing her eyes to see stars.  

As the noise died, the purple and green spots in her eyes cleared, and she saw five piles of dust where the drow once stood.  Her arm still flared with pain from the untrained, uncontrolled magical blast, yet she found her feet walking forward, towards the other two, her nagiaka once again out, away from her body.  

“Oho!  A fighter we have here!” the drow openly mocked her.  “Her little burst of magic makes her think she is strong!”



Ananias blinked in surprise at the girl’s blast of power.  Part of his brain was rather impressed, that so much magic could flow from someone so young.  Another part found her foolish, especially when she started advancing on Elsidor.  _I could have used someone like her in my army that day..._ he reflected on a time long ago.  There was fear in her eyes, but it was controlled, used for extra strength and speed, not soiling her trousers.

“I am Raven Dice, daughter of Maestress Elenya Dice, chief of the Kulloden Mage’s Guild,” the girl said coldly, precisely, as she moved forward.  “My powers pale in comparison to those of House Caladron, whose son and blood you are harassing!” she growled.  She kept advancing, even as Elsidor laughed at her.

Ananias’ mind, however, was hung on her last phrase.  _House Caladron?  It can’t be... my line is dead!  Killed off by the Emperors of Iskeldrun!_  He looked up towards Elsidor in confusion, as he let a small burst of magic he had not used in a long long time towards her.

“The Imperial line will soon be a ragged house, not worthy of note!” the drow snapped back angrily, his hand already rising in power.  “None care of the power of House Caladron, not the power of its Emperor, its Empress, or this jackled fool of a prince!” Elsidor’s hand began to glow with power...



Raven felt nothing but pain... immediate and vicious pain, as if someone’s hand was wrapped around her heart, squeezing and squeezing it, not letting her breathe.  She felt her nagaika slip from her grip, the pain growing more and more intense as the drow’s hand glowed more and more.  Finally, she felt a burning in her chest, as her lungs screamed for air.

Suddenly, the burning stopped, and the pain abated.  She felt her heart beating again, as she fell to the ground, gasping hard for air.  She turned her eyes towards the drow, only to see the drow himself hanging just inches off of the ground, as if an invisible set of hands had held him there.



Ananias’ blood boiled, as he stared down Elsidor in his fury.

_”I thought you said my House was dead!?  My family ruined!?”_ he roared, his hand still outstretched, fingers splayed wide as Elsidor continued to float.  

“She lies!  She lies!  You would believe that girl who openly defends the son of the Emperor instead of the elf that raised you from your deadly slumber!?” Elsidor rasped in indignation.  “Fool!”

“She tells the truth!” Ananias snapped back.  _I know!  I felt it through the small magic I judged petitions with when I was a noble long ago!_  “My family lives, and rules from Iskeldrun!  _You would have me kill my own blood!?_”

“It did not stop your great-granddaughter!” Elsidor rasped back.  “Now drop me, you fool, before you do something we both will regret!”

“I shan’t regret watching you choke!  Dung left by mother earth!” Ananias shouted back.  _You are in no position to threaten me, scum!_

“If you kill me,” Elsidor’s voice was growing thin a reedy, as the air to his lungs was being cut more and more, “you will die too!  The magic that raised you is tied to me!  If... I...die...you...die...”  The drow kicked his feet, trying to wriggle loose, and he managed to open his airway a little more.  “You agreed this for the Imperial crown?!  Its still yours, if you let me go!” the drow offered.  “All yours!”

Ananias regarded him darkly, thoughts crossing and recrossing his mind.  The images he’d constructed from the drow’s descriptions... his descendent, the Countess, and her baby burning to death in a fiery pyre... the cruel Emperor Alexander supervising the rapine and destruction of his city. 

_I hated the Countess... she stripped me of my magic when she used the staff... but she was my blood... MY BLOOD,_ he had snapped when Elsidor had told him.  _My family is ruined!  

And so as my family fell, so shall the Emperor’s House fall!_

“Yet now they are alive,” he whispered to himself.  His great-great-great grandson was now Emperor in Iskeldrun.  Was his mother, the Countess Empress before him?  Ananias did not know which part of Elsidor’s stories were lies, and which were truth.  Rage filled him again...



Valaron blinked, every part of his body screaming the same thing.  Pain.  Her arms, his back, his stomach, every part of him had pure pain coursing through it.  He heard Raven’s voice, her threat, empty as it was, and he knew he had to stand.  For his family, for her, for the Empire.

_Come on Val!  Get up!_ he yelled at himself, as he pushed off the ground with his good arm.  His back muscles let their anger be known, but tightened as he lifted himself up.  Now on his knees, his bleary eyes saw Raven fall to the ground, and then the dark drow lift to the sky.

_GET UP!_ his mind screamed hurriedly, as he set his good arm on the ground, and carefully, painfully moved a leg.  Each breath he took burned like a thousand iron daggers into his chest.  _I cannot fall!_ he realized, _My ribs are broken... a bad fall and one could end up in my lung!_

His eyes still fastened on the image of the drow kicking in the sky, yelling at his companion.  He then turned to see the red haired man snarling at his companion, as Val reached for the walls about Pelor’s Temple.  Leaning into his good arm, he slowly rose, one foot, then the other.  Unsteadily, weakly, he stumbled one step forward.  He tried to talk, but the pain was too much, and he only wheezed as Ananias looked at him.



_That is my blood!  Right there!_ Ananias looked at the copper skinned prince, clinging to the wall with his broken body.  The sight of him so broken caused Ananias’ rage to course even higher.

“I came to avenge my defeat!  To avenge my family!  And I see that has already been done!” he growled, feeling his own magic course through his veins, towards his outstretched fingers.  Each digit seemed to crackle with power, and from his fingertips five points of light formed.

They grew larger, lengthing from points into long daggers, the ice that made them shining clear in the morning light.  With a roar, he launched them towards the drow.  As they grew slammed into his chest, a bright light seemed to silently build from both of them, increasing in size and intensity.

As the light dimmed, the Fire Stone fell to the steps of Pelor’s Temple, before rolling down the last few steps.  Like a bauble, it bounced and skittered, rolling forward until it came to a rest at the feet of a stunned Valaron...


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 12, 2004)

Ari looked about him.  The midday sun hung high in the clear, cloudless sky, its light reflecting all the colors in the rainbow from the stained glass windowed Hall of Kings towering above the dragon.  He sniffed... his human form had the sniffles sometimes.

From Ari’s bright yellow hair, flecks of green, blue and red seemed to trickle down only to vanish before his shoulders.  His sky blue eyes looked down, and he gave a worried huff.  His clothes were garishly bright, just like he liked them... a bright yellow doublet matching his hair, and lavender trousers that matched his skin.  The colors were meant to make Vintressa laugh when she came... they said she would be sad.

A rumbling screech of metal echoed from the far end of the plaza inside the Imperial palace complex, from one of the elegantly designed inner gatehouses whose spires reached gracefully (and from a military standpoint, quite uselessly) into the heavens.  A clatter of hooves on stone rose to a rumble, as a column of rideres, their dark cloaks streaming behind them, thundered inside the palace.

Ari looked about them, and quickly found the blonde girl in the lead, already jumping off of her horse.  She was working at untying a dark bag of some kind thrown over the back of her mare, and Ari stopped, puzzled as two of the other riders dashed over to help her.  They then slid the bundle off the back of the horse, carefully to the ground.

Then Ari saw his head.  The dragon didn’t recognize the fellow, his skin was a very pale orange... a color Ari thought strange.  There were no other prismatic dragons, and he also watched as the young man’s ears swiveled about as he groaned.  No human ears did that.  The two riders that had helped Vin carried him off, with Vin looking after them hopefully.

“Vinny?” Ari asked, his voice musical and sweet as he spoke.  

Vintressa turned, and Ari saw her blue eyes were deep as the sea, shimmering for a second before a tear coursed down her cheek.

“What happened, Vinny?” the young dragon simply asked.  She didn’t answer, instead grabbing him tight and giving him a massive hug. Ari coughed for a second, the hug was so hard, until Vintressa let him go with a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Simple Ari,” she sighed, looking into his eyes.

“You’re hurting?  Why?  What happened?  Can I fix it?” Ari asked in quick succession.  “I’ll fix it if I can!”

“Simple, loving Ari,” she smiled sadly.  “Unless you are a master healer, I don’t know if you can fix some things.  Unless you are a master commander, I don’t know if you can fix other things,” she said softly, before one of the dark cloaks loomed behind her.

“Your Highness,” the man bowed, and Vintressa gave Ari one last pat on the shoulder.

“I need to talk to these gentlemen, Ari.  Go on up to the your chambers... I’ll meet you up there as soon as I can,” she said gently, before turning away.  Ari stood for a moment, before realizing she meant for him to leave.  As he walked away, the dragon could hear hushed tones, hurt tones between Vintressa and the man.

_Hushed means secrects.  Hurt means... politics,_ the dragon thought simply as the long shadows of the palace enveloped him.



“Your Highness, we have only ten thousand to watch the city walls... the city is far too large for us to man every portion of the wall... even if we call forth the city watch!” 

Vintressa heard the voice of her Household Guard commander, and bit her lower lip, trying to focus her mind here, on the grounds of one of the palaces many plazas, and not in the building next door, where the wounded were being tended.  _Vin... Royukgan needs you here!_ she barked at herself.  _Here, listening to Avaril and the other city defenders!_  She pushed the painful images of his badly injured form from her mind, his groans and cries during the hurried ride back to the capital.

“So you are saying that unless my mother or father’s armies come up, the city is undefendable?”  She started walking towards the Hall of Kings, the usual place for meetings between the Imperial government and its military commanders.  “There’s no possible way my mother or father can force-march themselves back to the city before Erelion’s troops arrive.”

“I fear we may have to abandon the city,” Avaril said quietly, the tone so hushed so that no one else could hear his suggestion.  

For that, Vintressa was thankful.  The last thing her beleaguered Regency needed was a mass panic that the Imperial family and army were abandoning the capital.  That would have sparked a mad panic... prices would have soared, and tens of thousands would have clogged all roads leading out of the city trying to flee.

And Vintressa closed her eyes on thinking what they would be fleeing from.  Her father had spoken of it in hateful terms, as he told her of the noble rebellion when she was four.  The noble armies of Erelion and Comnitas had seized five villages and towns on their way to Iskeldrun, and even to this day, her father’s description sickened her.

_When we marched back through, the towns were all burnt.  Mothers, some missing limbs, all horribly violated, stumbling through the ashes, calling for children long dead.  Men hung from boughs, or were dangling from stakes, doomed to death for defending the honor of their wives or children.  Not a child was to be found alive within that expanse... some were dead... many more were dragged off into slavery, cleaning the feet of the knights that had tramped through... or worse..._

She shuddered, her mind’s eye watching as Erelion’s army marched into Iskeldrun.  The city burning, soldiers running through the streets carrying off the gold and jewels of ten thousand homes, having their way with the women, manacling the children, and slaying the men, the streets running red, oh so red, with the blood of thousands.

“No... we cannot abandon the city,” Vintressa replied softly.  _I can’t do that to all of these people.  There is no way for them to flee the city in time!  And this Lord Erelion’s armies are lkely to commit the same atrocities as the last one!_

“Pardon, Highness?” Avaril stopped suddenly, looking at her.

_We can’t flee... we can’t sit here?  What do we do?_ her mind raced.  She heard the noise of feet running behind her, but paid no attention as her heart sank.  _I don’t know what to do!  We have to fight, but how!?  Ten thousand versus sixty?  My mother or father could beat those odds, but I can’t!_

“Highness!  Highness!” Vintressa recognized the voice of one of the under-court mages.  His heavy breathing belied his portly status... for one of his size to be running towards her meant something important.

“Highness!  A teleport came in... from Kulloden, Your Highness!” he breathed out, before having to grab his knees and catch his breath.

_Kulloden?  Valaron!_ 

“Your brother, His Highness, has returned to us!” the man breathed heavily.  “He... he is gravely wounded, but he comes with a stone... large, round and red!”

Vintressa was dashing towards the teleportation chambers before the man could say any more.



“Fetch him some water!” Raven barked, relaying the command from the healer already looking over Val’s battered form.  The pain in her chest remained, dull and insistent, but fading.  

“Will Val be okay?” Ari’s look was curiousity mixed with concern.  Raven nodded her head a hopeful yes, even though her eyes screamed a, “no!”  Her mind remembered the tortured look on his face after the drow and Ananias had gone up in that flash of energy… when he reached down to pick up the ruby now caught in his grip, and had fallen forward, more sickening cracks coming from his chest.  His agonizing cries as Tess’ warriors helped her drag him to the teleportation chamber, to rush him back to the Imperial palace and its expert healers.

Val’s face looked even worse than before.  His normally coppery skin had bled dry of color, and his breathing was quick and shallow, only coming through gritted teeth.  The healers had seemed relieved that no blood came from his mouth... at least his broken ribs had not hit his lungs.

“It’ll be alright, Val!” she ran a hand along his forehead, a tear coming down her face.  She saw his eyes still followed her, a fact that was giving _her_ strength.  _He still watches me... he has not faded._  “The healer will make things right!”

“If Ray says things are going to be okay, it is!  Ray doesn’t lie good!” Ari added with a child-like smile on his man’s face.

“I... hope... so... it... hurts...” he rasped out slowly after the clerics had finished their probings of his wounds.  Sweat was forming on his brow, just like it had during the teleportation.  And like then, she now cradled his head gently.

Nervously Raven looked towards the other traveler that had come with, who sat in a tired heap in the far corner of the chamber, another cleric checking her over.  Raven could hear her Aunt’s protests, very soft.  “Go see to the prince.  I am fine.  See to him,” she kept saying softly, demands the cleric ignored as he bandaged her stomach.

“Go tend to your Aunt Tess, Ari,” Raven said softly.  “Someone should be beside her just as I’m beside Val here.”  In truth, Raven felt her defenses giving, and the last thing she wanted was to start crying in front of the young prismatic dragon.  _While he takes the form of a young man, he is only six... young even in human years._  She watched sadly as his naive optimism jogged over to Tess’ location, a cheery, “You’ll be okay Auntie, Raven said so!” coming from his lips.

“I...still...have...it?” Val asked her slowly, his eyes looking deep into hers.  Raven blinked away the nascent tear in her eye, and cast a reassuring glance to his less injured right arm and smiled at the ruby sphere clasped there.

“Yes.  Yes you do Val,” she whispered back, over the start of prayers to Honoria and Pelor, requesting his broken body be mended.  She saw Val’s eyes close, and he visibly winced as a rather sickening crunch came from his chest and stomach.  The huge black bruise there seemed to lift, as if his insides were being re-arranged.  Raven quickly took his hand into hers, and felt a vice-like grip almost crush her palm.

“It’ll be alright... it’ll be alright,” she kept saying softly as the priests moved their hands across Val’s body, other horrible noises rising as Val’s body re-adjusted, wounds bound themselves, and bones slid back into place.  The small noise of the whispered prayers and calls finally died away, and the priest of Honoria, one of the elders in that church, turned to Raven.

“He needs rest.  Rest for this day and next,” he said softly.  “He will be very sore, for quite some time.  Some servants should mix some lavendar milk, or poppy wine if the pain becomes unbearable.”

“The... pain...will...not,” Val said hoarsely, still in apparent pain.

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” Raven nodded to the man, only to hear a loud crash from behind her.  Before she could turn around, Vintressa was beside her, tears streaming down her face.

“Not you too!” she kept repeating, running her hand over the bruise covering half of his stomach.  “Not you too!”

“What happened?” Raven asked, her attention partially diverted to Vintressa.  _Val is healing now.  Now another needs healing of a different kind._  She put an arm around the Princess.



“It’s my fault!” Vintressa blurted out.  _It’s all my fault!  Royukgan was right!  A battle was not my place!  If I hadn’t rode out there, intent on saving the day, he wouldn’t be on death’s door!  And enemies would not be marching on the city!_  All of her pent up guilt and fear tumbled forth, as she leaned over the broken form of her brother.

“What is?” she heard Raven’s calm voice ask.  Between tears, Vintressa managed to tell Raven what had happened... her plan gone awry, Royukgan’s grievous injuries, the armies marching on the capital.  

“...and that’s why its all my fault!” the Princess sputtered at the end, tears still coursing down from her guilt-riddled eyes.

“They’re... coming... here?” Ari’s musical voice asked, before changing to a growl, rumbling deeper and louder than no man’s should.  “Then I will turn to a dragon, and shred them before they can hurt my Aunt Tess, my Ray, my Vinny, and my Val!”

Vintressa only could cast a sad smile towards the dragon.  _You are so young... you don’t understand yet what this all means!_   Her tears increased as she imagined Ari bravely trying to fight... she wasn’t even sure if he knew how to.  Vintressa’s head lowered, until she was looking directly down in her guilt... directly into her brother’s eyes.

“That... was... very... brave...” Valaron’s quiet voice could be barely heard, but in Vintressa’s mind, it came with the power of a thunderbolt.  “...You... saved... mother... and... father.”  When she looked down at him, she saw pride in his pained eyes, and a tense, terse grin on his pained face.

“It... was?” she sniffled.

“If... Ari...can... help... I... can... help...” he said again, turning his head slowly towards the orb in his grasp.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 13, 2004)

“Now, how did they make this work?” Vintressa said an hour later.  A warmth flooded her body, radiating from the ruby orb in her hand.  _It already feels warm._   Her heart had slowed, once it became apparent Val was okay.  As for Royukgan, she hadn’t seen him, but the clerics had assured her the worst had past.  “You said it started to make... soldiers?”  She looked at her tired looking friend.

“Yeah, they were forming until Ananias vanished,” Raven mumbled back.  Her eyes were no longer strained, as the tenseness in her chest was long gone.  “He mumbled something, I couldn’t hear what he said clearly, and I couldn’t make it out on his lips.”

“Well, you aren’t the best lip reader,” Vin replied, before looking back at the stone.  _Now that we have this thing... how do we use it?  Do we WANT to use it?_  “What language was it?  Could you tell?”  _I can’t use my magical sight on this thing... I think my eyes would burn._  Her regular eyes could easily see the air around the stone shimmering from the magical power within.

“None that I know... it sounded harsh, and had lots of growls I think,” Raven tried desperately to remember, only to have her mind draw a blank.  “Maybe it was the language of the drow?  Or... maybe it was a demon tongue.  Ananias gave up his life to be a demon, right?”

“Umhm...” _If it requires demonic speech to use the power of this stone, I’m not so sure we should keep it._  Vin finally set the orb down on the ground, sitting down next to it, thinking as the warm feeling left her body.  _Do we want to use this?  If it makes soldiers, we could defend Iskeldrun... but how would I tell them what to do?  Are the soldiers illusions?_  Vin asked Raven the questions on her mind.

“I... don’t really know,” Raven said thoughtfully.  “They were almost materialized when Ananias killed off the drow, and they melted away once he died,” she shrugged.  Vin then looked up towards the five most senior court wizards, who were all busy staring at the stone in puzzlement.

“Master Aeron, can you tell me anything more about this thing?”

“Other than its magic is powerful, deep, and has been touched by evil, no,” the Chief Court Mage sighed.  “I would not advise Your Highness to be in contact with it for too long... we do not know what effects it could have on the body.”

“It did not affect Val in an ill way,” Vin replied, picking the stone up again, and feeling the warmth fill her body again.  “It... might be useful in defending the city.  It makes soldiers, Raven has told us that.  What we need to do is figure out _how_.”  The Princess then turned to Avaril, the officer having changed into the more formal silver plated armor of the Household Guard.  “How long do we have before Lord Erelion’s hosts arrive?”

“Perhaps two days.  His vanguard marches through the villages of Thorpe and Genays as we speak,” he replied.  “What does Your Highness intend?  As things are, we cannot stand with them in an open battle.”

“I fear it will have to be an open battle.  We cannot abandon the souls inside these walls without one,” Vin said slowly, her mind returning to the images of a conquering army inside the walls.  She gave a mental shudder.  “I am their Princess, I have been charged with defending them.”

Avaril’s eyes looked into the Princess’ briefly, and Vin could tell he was trying to judge her resolve.  After a moment, the armor-clad man gave a bow of deference.  “As you command, Your Highness.”

“Aeron... you are a master of languages as well as magic.  What are some common command words in the Demonic tongue?” Vin asked pointedly.  _I don’t like this thing either... but I don’t see any other way.  If it can help us hold off Erelion long enough we can evacuate the city..._



“_Nik’Tados Mil’Farghan!_” Vintressa snapped, watching the five apparitions form into a line.  While her heart trembled as if she had seen a ghost, the five were clearly not phantasmal.  They were clad in heavy chain hauberks, the metal being dyed a deep, rusty red.  Their shields were blank, the same red coloring that steel.  Each carried what looked to be a well made longsword, and their helms were closed-faced, the steel flowing in feather shapes to completely cover their heads.  No single part of their body was uncovered by armor or tunic, so it was impossible to see what was underneath.

“Highness, I am not sure if this is wise,” she heard Aeron’s voice repeat, echoing off the walls of the plaza inside the palace.  It had taken two hours of guessing to find the command words to make soldiers form.  And instead of hundreds, Vintressa created five.  It had taken even more guessing to find the ways to get the five to do simple things such as walk forward, move back, and draw their weapons.

 Vintressa shot him a defiant look.  _I got all of us in this mess... and now I will get all of us out!  Val is down, Royukgan is down!  I have to defend them!_ her eyes blazed.  She heard another voice... this time of her father, coming into her head.  

_Sometimes, in order to save an angel, once must be willing to dance with a devil,_ he’d told her long ago after a particularly raucous Council meeting.

“It’s better than the alternative,” she said simply.  “Now that I know ‘forward,’ ‘back,’ ‘draw swords,’ and ‘form line,’ we have at least the basics for a battlefield command.”  _Its all I’ll need, hopefully,_ she hoped, her mind still sorting together parts of a plan.

“Val is the one that I can see in combat command,” Vin heard Raven say simply, and she turned to look at her friend.  Raven’s eyes were a little wide in disbelief at her friend’s change of tack.  “You never go onto something without a plan, Vin.  What are you thinking of doing?”

_I did once go without a plan... and it got us in this mess,_ Vin’s mind thought darkly.  _Not anymore._  “If we can convince Lord Erelion that there is a far larger army here than he expects, he might pause... hopefully giving mother and father time to catch up.”

“Highness, no one knows the location of your parents or their forces,” Aeron jumped in, prophesizing more doom.  “Perhaps your Majesty would be inclined to send out a message by raven or carrier pigeon.  Just in case they do not know of our predicament.”

Vin ruffled slightly at that suggestion.  _My parents are excellent commanders!  Of course they will come!_  She knew if Val was beside her he would say some comment about uncertainties of war... one she knew she would have to agree with.  “Yes.. of course,” she replied.  

That seemed to set the Court Mage a little more at ease, and he quickly bowed and left to make the arrangements.  As he left, Raven walked up to the red soldiers, smacking the helm of one with the flat of her palm.  She backed away, wincing as she held her hand.  

“Real steel,” she said simply.  She wiggled the hurt limb back and forth for a bit , mouthing her pain, and then looked to Vintressa.  “So... you are going to make an army of these, to fight the real army of Erelion?  How many?”

“I don’t know.”  Her mind wrestled with the problem of how to _control_ these things once they were made... and there wasn’t time to go piddling through records in the Imperial Library or dash back to the Temples in Kulloden.   She still didn’t know how to make the soldiers go away...  _And if I control these beasts wrong..._  Images filled her mind of the raping of Iskeldrun, now at the hands of red-helmed warriors with no faces.

“Maybe make some and keep them as a backup?” Raven offered, her voice rising in naive hopefulness.  “Or not use them at all... considering we only know the barest ways to use it?”  Vintressa’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she ran her hand over the ruby orb now in a pocket of her cloak.

“I’m thinking we only need the barest ways to use it,” Vin said hopefully.  She had an idea, more and more parts of a plan falling in place in her mind.  “Come with me, I need to go check my mother’s chambers.”

“What for?”

“A certain suit of armor,” Vintressa smiled, stories of old forming in her head.  “Armor of the person Lord Erelion fears most.”



“Vin?” Valaron said weakly.  The Prince sat up, wincing as he did so, but that movement alone was far more than he would have been able to accomplish only a few hours before.  His eyes wide in wonder was a far larger reaction than he would’ve given then also.  Of course Raven assisted him with the former... her eyes had already done the later a few minutes before.

“Yes, its your sister!” Raven cried proudly, looking at the apparition that now loomed in the doorway to Valaron’s chambers.  “Come on, Vin!” Raven waved her friend forward.

Uncertainly, the Crown Princess clunked into Val’s room, each step seeming to take an eternity.  She wore an elegantly carved steel breastplate, dyed red with gilt, plate armor colored the same covering the rest of her body.  Her shoulder guards were made of dragonscale, bending upwards to form vicious looking spikes that jutted from her body.  A long sable cloak fringed in gold was clasped around her neck by a brooch of crossed swords, while her head bore a blood red helm, the massive, beautiful form of a dragon cast in shining bronze as its crest.

Her head wandered about slowly and uncertainly, the massive helm and crest undoubtedly weighing down on her head.  At her hip hung a katana and washazaki... two weapons she was not familiar with at all.

“How do I look?” Vin’s muffled voice came through the closed helm.

Val’s eyes were still wide.  _Inside that thing... her voice even sounds like mom’s..._  “Um... terrifying would be a good word,” he said, awed.  “Isn’t that the armor...”

“That scared off the last Erelion revolt?” the muffled voice finished.  “Yes.  Which is why I wore it.   If I can make this Lord Erelion think the Empress opposes him, maybe he’ll run just like his brother did!”

“His brother didn’t run... his soldiers ran.  The ArchDuke fought like a lion till he was surrounded and brought down,” Val corrected.

“Same difference,” Vintressa tried to wave her hand, and gave a grunt on trying to raise the limb.  She gave up after a few seconds.

“You know in that mess you aren’t going to be able to do any magic of any kind,” Raven said, walking over to her friend and taking the helm off the young girl’s face.  “And from your attempt right there, I don’t think you’ll be able to swing that huge sword there.”

“I know,” Vin replied, breathing hard as her body drank in fresh air.  “I’m not going to be tilting in this outfit!  Just sitting there, looking imposing!”

“What if they call your bluff?” Val asked.  It was not with a voice of contempt, but concern.  “They’ll still outnumber you, and sis... you don’t know how to wear armor like that!”

“See, that’s where Ari comes in,” Vintressa replied.  “As well as the Fire Stone... and our hurried marching.”



“Milord Manse!  I do hope you are feeling much better today!” 

Albrecht Manse gave a nod, as his hand reflexively grabbed the shoulder in question.  A dull remnant of pain still ebbed there, but now he could move his shoulder almost as if nothing had happened.  _Thank Tarantor and His priests._

“Albrecht, you know the drill.  One of the servants will have your spiced wine along shortly,” Baron Valdemar Erelion smiled, patting Manse lightly on the back before returning to his other guests... the gathered lords and bannermen of two thirds of his forces... nearly fifty thousand horse and mercenaries, and some thirty thousand peasant levies.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Manse smiled in return at the new title Erelion had given himself.  As his liege lord turned away, Manse had a second to look at the crown he now sported on his head... an iron circlet with seven gold swords rising ‘round his head.

_Iron to show his resolve, swords to show his means, and gold to show his blessings,_ Manse repeated the words of the Tarantor cleric that had crowned him the day before.  _Emperor Valdemar the First, Lord of Erelia, Prince of Comnitas, Keeper of the Northern Marches..._ 

Manse then felt along his head for the small circlet there as well.  His was brass, not iron or gold, and no swords or any other markers rose from its ring.  It was simple, all Manse desired for his ‘raising’ to a Barony.  As he looked about, all the other nobles had similar circlets on their heads as well... Emperor Valdemar had announced every noble backing him was to recieve an raise in rank, and more lands.  Manse managed to track down an unoccupied servant, and quickly had a goblet of spiced wine in his hands before Erelion could rise at the front.

“Milords... those of us who rise to defend the honor of our Empire by defending its rightful heirs,” he spoke clearly, above the noise of over a hundred nobles rising out of their seats in the massive central tent.  “We sit tonight barely one day’s march from the rightful hall where this morning’s ceremonies should have taken place.  And, I have just recieved word...” he paused, before beaming brightly, “that Lord Hyppyn’s columns have engaged the Imperial armies at Thuyciden!”

A loud roar of approval came from all the barons, their eyes glinting with the idea that Iskeldrun was ripe for the taking, even as Manse’s own smile slipped away.  Manse knew the full content of the message strapped to a raven’s leg that had come only an hour earlier.  Hyppyn had indeed engaged Imperial troops... a heavy column that included Imperial Guards and heavy horse.  But he could not verify if he faced _all_ the Imperial armies, or only one.  

And Manse wouldn’t rest easily until _all_ the Imperial columns were accounted for.  Even if Hyppyn indeed was battling and pinning down the Emperor and the Empress, there was another column out there... the one that ambushed Haldarman and Haldris’ columns only days before... and then vanished.

_We are only one day from Iskeldrun... but we could have an entire Imperial army in our rear!_  He’d been there, twelve years before, when the Desert Dragon had melted away the first Erelion’s force as if it had been ice stranded under a desert sun.  _We have thirty thousand levies in our force... if the Dragon is there, we can’t count on them..._

“Sir Manse... or should I say, Baron Manse!?” Bearsans laughed, walking up to him.  “Your face is long, yet life is short!  What is on your mind?”

“I am doing my job as a chief bannerman,” Manse replied.  “We know where at most, two Imperial columns are.  There’s still another column out there... and I wish I knew where it was at.”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 13, 2004)

Lord Philemon Haldris, Baron of West Haeld gave a sharp growl at the tunic the servant was handing to him.  The brown cloth lacked the mud and dirt that had covered it only recently, but still smelled of blood and earth, a smell that contrasted greatly with the clean, fresh smell that permeated the mundane but clean room in the Imperial Palace he had been detailed.

“Your tunic, milord,” the woman bowed politely.  Haldris grabbed the clothing from her hand, and gave a growl of dismissal.  To his anger, the serving girl did not leave, she continued looking at him as he donned the cloth over his doublet.  He gave her the same look he would give one of his own disobeying servants, only to see her not flinch even.

“Her Majesty also deigns to speak a moment with you,” the woman added.

“Don’t you mean _Her Highness_?” he replied rather crossly, thoughts rushing through his head of how he would never allow his servants to misbehave in front of guests or captives.  She didn’t reply, and he gave a gruff wave of his hand, mentally preparing for the ransom negotiations he knew were about to begin.

_That little whelp tricked me!  She shan’t get more than a thousand gold from me, that trollop!  Ambushing and using tricks instead of honorably facing us on the open field!_ his mind thundered, as he paced the room.

For ten minutes he paced, growing more and more angry, as his ‘patron’ did not enter.  Thoughts ran into his head that she was intentionally playing him a fool, that she was rubbing her heels into his face.  Finally, just before he was about to leave the chambers to go find her himself, he heard the door to his chamber creak open.  It was the servant girl again.

“Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Siabrey,” the girl bowed, her eyes cast nervously to someone outside the door.

Haldris’ mind was filled with confusion.  At last report, only a few days ago, the Empress was far away, marching on Thuyciden.  _It couldn’t be her!  Impossible!_

Then a familiar, frightening clank echoed up the halls towards his room, and Haldris’ blood ran cold.



“Albrecht,” Manse heard his wife call.  He looked up, and saw her carrying one of his young boys, the lad kicking and fighting all his worth to get free from her grasp and dash to look over the battlements of their keep again.  The Baron Manse laughed.

“I’ll help!” he said quickly running to his wife’s aid.  Her portly frame was well suited for carrying many things... struggling ten year old boys were not among them.  “I’ll take him aside.  Behrtic!” he spoke to his son, “Why do you want to want to get so close to the battlements?  You could fall.”

“Papa!  Papa!” his young son called, “She’s here!  That’s why!”  The boy struggled from his mother’s grasp, and dashed over to his father.  Quickly grabbing the older man’s hand, Behtric dragged his father to the battlements as well.

When Albrecht looked over the last of the stones, his heart sank.  A sea of steel stretched out below, banners bearing the sigil of a silver dragon rising from innumerable places within its mass.  A single, thundering roar echoed in the as a figure clad in blood red armor sat in front, mounted on a midnight black steed...

Albrecht sat up, his breathing coming in pants.  His back gave him a slight of pain as a reward for sleeping on his lord’s benches the night before, and as Manse looked around, he saw many of the other lords were still there.  Some were still snoring away in drunken slumber, while a close few huddled near the front under the light of a short candle, Erelion in their midst.

“Ah... Albrecht.  I left instructions that you were to sleep... help you recover from the injury,” Erelion’s voice came in normal tones, despite the bevy of sleeping people around.

“I thank you milord,” Albrecht blinked, “But why, may I ask, is an apparent council of war so urgent it could not wait?  We had two days...”

Manse blinked again as Erelion pushed forward a familiar figure, confusion mounting in his head.  After meeting Haldris and hearing what he had to say, Manse was even more dumbfounded.  

“You were right, Lord Manse!” Erelion boomed happily, “The Empress was not at Thuyciden!  But she wishes to discuss terms... she likely didn’t bring her army with her!” Erelion chuckled.  The ten or so nobles around him chuckled as well.  

“She wants to discuss _terms?_ In a parley?” Manse asked. _It doesn’t make any sense!  This is the Desert Dragon... the Warrior from the West... the One that Never Surrenders!  She would sooner place her blade in half her opponents than talk terms of surrender!_

“Yes... in parley!” Erelion laughed.  “It appears the dragon that bit my brother has lost her teeth!”  The ‘Emperor’ then waved to the maps on the table below.  “I’ve been busily myself with determining my Imperial Governors.  Might as well be productive if our greatest opponent is surrendering!”

“I... I highly doubt she is going to surrender,” Manse said slowly.  “It... it is not in her personality.  She would fight before surrendering...” he managed to say before Bearsans, ever active, interrupted him.

“Albrecht... she has a city at her back that cannot evacuate... and she knows what will happen if she fights us for the city and loses.  I can keep my troops in line, but many other nobles are not as... diligent,” he waved to some of the slumbering bodies around.  “She would not risk the city of Iskeldrun to be able to say she never surrendered to a foe!”  There were grunts of assent from the other nobles gathered.

“Well then, milord,” Manse nodded to Erelion, “as your chief bannerman, may I request the honor of accompanying you to this parley?”

“No,” Erelion said, before quickly adding, “Your counsel is well advised, and I treasure it.  At this moment, however, I prefer you to watch the army and try to keep in line the more... rowdy elements, while I discuss surrender terms with Lady Siabrey.”

Manse nodded... the slap in the face was unintentional, and part of him realized why he was asked to this.  Erelion trusted him.  “Your Majesty, shall you be needing an escort to the parley site?”

“Um... yes.. I believe I shall take Bearsans, Lord Wescena, and perhaps twenty of their finest knights,” Erelion said thoughtfully.  “The parley site is only five miles from here, and I think that the Empress surrendering might be a sign.”

“Of what?” Manse asked, confused.

“Think about it, Albrecht!  The Empress is _abandoning_ the Usurper!” Bearsans said excitedly.  “Imagine, if we could use the Desert Dragon against him!” the small man was positively excited. “Imagine!”

_Madness,_ Manse thought, before his mind reminded him, _Those in euphoria tend to believe in the stars..._  “I should think, Your Majesty, that a larger escort would be appropriate.”  Manse thought for a second, before twisting their logic around to his use.  “It would be a great show of your power if your entire army, even saw the Dragon surrender to you.”

“No,” Erelion said quickly.  “We do not want to rub this in her face.  According to Haldris, she is considering supporting out cause.  We want to be able to persuade her to accept a position leading one of our armies.  With her on our side, the Usurper will surely fail!”

“Are you mad?”  Manse could not take it any longer.  The assumptions, the hopes now taken as truth.  “She could easily have lied to Haldris!   What if she has forced marched her army out!  _She is combative by heart!  SHE WILL FIGHT!_” he snarled.

“Baron Manse,” Erelion’s voice was much harder this time.  “I have already decided on this subject, and you should obey Your Emperor.”  With those icy words, the subject was settled. 

Manse stormed out of the tent.



“Are you alright?” Raven asked uneasily towards the rider and mount next to her.  She shook her head yet again, and showers of purple, yellow, and blue sparkles fell towards the ground.

_”I’m fine”_ Ari replied in her mind, his mouth unable to form human speech now.  From atop his shoulders, the muffled voice of Vintressa replied she was alright as well, despite the swaying.

“Okay.”  Raven’s eyes still had trouble deciphering how _big_ Ari had grown.  She had last ridden him when she was in Kulloden over a year prior.  The multi-colored prismatic dragon’s form was easily some 80 feet long, his eyes still the same, but his head and snout larger, and more vicious.  To someone who did not know him, Ari would look downright frightening... a fact made all the more apparent when he launched into happy descriptions of how well he was doing making “fire, ice, acid and shocks,” with his breath.

The two rounded a bend in the road ahead, the new day’s sun now high in the sky.  The forest around cracked and crunched as Ari’s wings, even folded, broke the trees along both sides of the path.  

Raven gave a slight gasp at seeing the small host that was waiting for them, underneath a gigantic white ash tree, as Vintressa had instructed.  An array of twenty knights, shining in resplendent white armor, shields in parade side, their lances, green and white, rising to the sky.

In the middle and in front of this line were three figures.  One, mounted on a bay, was clad in gilt parade armor tinged with green.  A black eagle on a green shield was his sigil.  Another had white crossed spears on a blue shield.  In between them was a man resplendent in gilt armor, a massive coiled snake as the crest of his golden helm.  

And to Raven’s delight, she could see eyes widen at seeing Ari and Vintressa, clad in her mother’s armor and mounted on the dragon’s shoulder.

“Remember Ari... quiet and fierce,” Raven whispered.  In response, Ari leaned his head up and delivered a blood curdling roar, thunder mixed with a scream that would have made wolves run for their dens.

“My Lord Erelion,” the muffled voice said within the formidable dragon armor.

“My Lady Caladron,” the gilt man smiled.  “I have come to you with terms, as you asked.”

“Perhaps Lord Haldris did not inform you correct of my intentions.  I have brought my own terms,” the voice continued.  Raven watched as Erelion stiffened, a little fury and a lot of confusion in his face.

“Pray tell, my lady, what may those be?” the lord crossed his arms, trying to hide his surprise.

“First,” the muffled voice said sharply, “You and all your kind must lay down your arms.  Second, You will submit yourself to the justice of my husband, the Emperor Lucius Caladron.  Third, those nobles supporting you shall report to Iskeldrun, where His Majesty shall judge the conditions of your treachery and judge accordingly.”

Erelion noticeably stiffened, his eyes wide with rage.  The man stared at her, disbelief shuffled in with his rumbling emotions, his horse even shying back, as if prepping for an explosion.

“My lady... is this some kind of jest?” he asked, voice barely controlled.  Raven noticed with alarm his hand was coming close to the sword at his side.

“This is no jest!” The voice within the Empress’ helm shouted, a noise that was quickly dimmed by the noise of horses whinnying.  Erelion spun his steed around, his knights lowering their lances, only to hear the monstrosity on the dragon shout again, “If you move, my lords, I am afraid my friend will be forced to use his mouth as persuasion!”

As if on cue, Ari let loose another, even louder roar, this blast directed almost into Erelion’s face.  The noise of horses increased and from behind Raven and Vintressa, a column of armored riders with black cloaks thundered up the road, lances in hand.  

Erelion’s eyes went wide, looking between the dragon, its rider, and the Household Guard coming up the road.  There was a seconds hesitation, before he suddenly whipped his horse around, spurring his steed on for his life as the twenty-two others set lances and charged towards Ari...


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## Bryin (Aug 13, 2004)

i hate to ruin a great story but....   not the dragon


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 16, 2004)

Technicaly difficulties aside... here is the next update (there's a slew of them... backlogged because of the outage).

And what's so bad about the dragon ?

=========================================
Things erupted into a blur for Vintressa.  One second, the thin view of her world revealed Erelion looking at her in a look of shock and contempt.  The next, she felt the world heave, and suddenly she saw the sky.  A thundering roar shook her very armor, and she heard hooves, clangs and crashes.

She tried to sit up, but the armor was simply too heavy.  It felt as if lead weights were attached to her back when she tried to sit up, and the same tied to her arm when she slowly moved it to the side.  There was a screech, a rumbling loud scream that Vintressa recognized.

_Aunt Tess... there must be fighting,_ her stunned brain realized.  After some effort, she was on her side, and felt hands grabbing her, more than one person.  Suddenly the sky changed to forest, and Raven’s face obscured the narrow view.

“Are you okay, Vin?” she heard her friend ask.  There was a shift again, and suddenly the stuffy, stale air of the helmet was replaced with the fresh smell of the forest.  Vin gasped for breath, her hand reaching into the pouch by her side, and she felt relieved that a smooth orb still rested there.

“I’m fine,” Vin replied, now able to look about.  The twenty-two knights that had charged towards Ari laid on the ground, their legs splayed, broken lances still couched.  No blood showed, and for a moment Vin thought they were dead.  

“Is she alright?” Tess limped into view.  Raven told her yes, and Vin watched her Aunt limp over towards the fallen knights, kicking their lances away and unbuckling their swords, promising the limp forms, “You won’t be hurt when the paralysis wears off... that’s if you do as you’re told!”

“Ah.. paralyzed then.”  Vin looked about.  “Where’d Ari go?”

“He took off when they charged him... and you fell off.  He panicked, I don’t think he meant for you to fall,” Raven said softly.  “He flew off in the same direction that Erelion rode.  Here, you need help up?”  

Vin grabbed Raven’s hand, and the other hands offered to her by the Household Guard, and pulled herself up.  _We failed again,_ she thought morosely, picking up her mother’s helm, _We were supposed to capture him.  How did it go wrong?_

_Think, Vin... _ she told herself.  _There are other options... these twenty two could become prisoners._  From her father she knew that many times nobles would take family members or bannermen of their rivals as ‘guests,’ to ensure good behavior.  _I should get a look at their tunics... see what houses they belong to._  The thought of hostages was one she found morally deplorable... but right now she couldn’t think of anything else.  _Now I know why father said there is no good or evil in lordship... only good people forced to do evil, and evil people in their own element._

She put the helm back on her head, and slowly walked among the prone men, her mind hoping to see sigils of great houses she could use.  She recognized the blue and white family crest of House Bearsans, but that was hardly a major family... merely a vassal of House Erelion.

She ran a hand over the ruby in its pouch, wondering in her mind.  _No hostages here worthy of a throne,_ she thought.  _Neither was Lord Haldris,_ she thought.  Then a thought ran into her mind, and underneath her mother’s helm, a small smile formed.  

“How long are these men a captive audience?” she called towards Tess, her voice once again muffled by the ornate metal covering her head.

“About ten more minutes...  Majesty,” Tess quickly added after seeing the helm on Vin’s head.

Vin gave a small nod of approval, before opening a pouch on her side.  “Gentlemen, I have need of you as messengers,” she said simply as the Fire Stone caught the sunlight streaming down from the heavens...



“I don’t care if the Emperor has not given the orders, I want your troops on the road now!” Manse barked.  “I am the one with the Imperial dispensation to command Emperor Valdemar’s forces in his absence,” Manse waved the paper, “and by all the gods, I will use it!”

“Milord, what is the rush with putting the troops on the road?” his opponent, Duke Illyin Haldarman asked.  His words were innocent, but the tone was questioning more than Manse’s demands.  The Duke had a short, trimmed mane of white, which made his words appear more stately than they were.   “His Majesty is very confident that the Dragon intends to surrender.”

“If she surrenders,” Manse replied sharply, “you may strip me of my sword!”

No sooner had he spoke these words than a young squire burst into their camp, his eyes wide with fright.  The young man’s mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came from his terrified lips.

Albrecht stared at the young boy for a few seconds, before his annoyance boiled through.  “Remove the manacles from your lips!  Speak!”

“Milord... His Majesty...” the young man sputtered, before Erelion’s gilded arms shoved the squire out of the way.  His armor was scuffed, and Erelion’s new, green sable cloak was shredded and ruined, briars sticking from its torn form.  Manse didn’t need to look at his face to tell that his prophecy had come true.

“She tricked me!  Pelor’s pissing eyes, she tricked me!” Erelion snarled, storming into the room.  “Those troops on the road!  I want them marching, now!  Towards Iskeldrun!  We’ll smoke her arrogant ass out!  Smoke her out!”  He ripped the cloak from his shoulders and flung it in his fury.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Albrecht said slowly, despite the small voice in his head that told him he should gloat.  

“Manse!” Erelion spun towards him, “You were right!  By the gods you were right!  And I’m going to reward that, after we burn Iskeldrun to the ground!  You will be governor of the new capital city I shall build, accept?”

_Burn Iskeldrun?_  “Perhaps Your Majesty should weigh the future of Iskeldrun... after the fate of the Dragon has been decided?” he suggested carefully.  _If I can separate the two... perhaps we can spare the city..._

Manse realized he had said the wrong thing when Erelion looked at him with almost feral eyes.  “No.  The city will burn.” Erelion said slowly, viciously.  Later Manse would be amazed how quickly Erelion’s tone changed, once twenty-two bedraggled, wide-eyed men returned, tales of red magic tumbling from their lips.



“The sun’s coming up, Vin,” Raven said softly, shaking her friend.  It had been nearly a full day since the parley debacle, and Raven was surprised she had awoken to quiet and calm this morning... she’d fully expected to awake to horses screaming and swords singing.

_Vin knows what she’s doing,_ Raven told herself again.  _You have never met this Lord Erelion... Vin has met him several times before yesterday... she’s in a far better situation to judge what he’ll do._

Raven’s attentions were rewarded with a screech, as Vintressa shot up, her hand grasping around.  “What!  What!  What...” her breathing slowed, when she saw it was just Raven inside the tent with her.

“It’s morning... and as your ‘aide,’” Raven held her hands up to mimic the quotes around the title Vintressa had given her in front of the military commanders, “I say its time for you to wake up!”  _We have a long day ahead... its a miracle Lord Erelion’s army isn’t in our little midst right now._

“I’m up, I’m up,” Vin repeated, rubbing her eyes.  “Go find Avaril, Aeron, and the others.  By the time you bring them here, I’ll be dressed,” Vin said dryly, her eyes still half shut.

“Um... wouldn’t you like something to...” Raven said, only to have Vin’s grunt and dismissive wave signal she didn’t want breakfast at all.

The camp was exceedingly small for that of an army, but it was the largest camp Raven had ever stumbled through.  The soldiers all bore one of two sigils... the white dragon of the Imperial Household Guard, or the mounted red knight on white that signalled the City of Iskeldrun.  Only twelve thousand were here, and other than a few captains of the city watch and the few that bore the white dragon, there were none mounted.

_And,_ she reminded herself, _One very young prismatic dragon, sorry he dropped his rider and angry that he got poked with a lance._  If Ari’s talk after he returned was any indication, he would not dash away when someone struck him with a lance this time.  _Though I don’t blame him... I would run if twenty men pointed lances at me and tried to run me through too..._

It took Raven a good fifteen minutes to round up the people Vintressa had requested, all having been awake for some time already.  By their eyes, she could tell some of their thoughts... Aeron’s were concerned as normal, as were Aegrifyr’s.  The Chief of the City Watch, someone named Daedles, always was casting worried glances back in the direction of the city, and the commander of the Household Guard, a certain Avaril, was like granite... completely unreadable.

True to her promise, Vintressa was dressed when the small group returned to her tent.  She had managed to put on her wool underarmor and a surprising amount of the Empress’ dragonscale before they arrived.  Rather quickly, Avaril helped her put the rest of the steel monstrosity on.

“Our scouts have seen stirring within the camps of the Erelion host,” Avaril said a few minutes after the war council convened, “the horse is on the move, coming down the Baranil Road... headed towards Iskeldrun.  They have firebrands and sunrods aplenty.  We saw many of the squires also had kindling packed on the backs of their horses.”

“And his foot?” Vintressa asked, looking every inch a commander, save her continued troubles moving about in armor.

“If they are moving, it is slowly, after the horse.  If I am guessing correctly, they will be at the crossroads of the Baranil Road and the road towards Thuyciden by this evening... from there it is only a few hours march till one reaches the walls of the city.”

_It’s rather obvious, Raven.  Erelion intends to burn Iskeldrun to the ground._  The daughter of the thief turned businessman may not have been a soldier, but she did have common sense.  _Why else would they have so many sunrods and firebrands?_  By looking the princess’ face, it was obvious she knew as well.

The City Watch commander could tell as well, and he quickly spoke up.  “Highness... my men are equipped to stop disturbances, and catch thieves... not fight with knights on horseback.  We have only small shields and short swords... no match for their lances!”

“The Household Guard here numbers only five hundred,” Avaril spoke up.  “We can don our heavy mail and function as heavy cavalry in a pinch, but Lord Erelion’s horse numbers over thirty thousand, half of which are knights and their bannermen.  It would only take one heavy charge...”

The rest didn’t need to be said.  Raven had seen many tourney melees... it was an annual occurrence in Iskeldrun, where two groups of knights fought to the last side standing with blunted weapons.  Sometimes one side had a large number of its men dismounted quickly.  All the other side had to do was go to the far end of the ring, lower lances, and thunder down...

“What is the status of their magic forces?” Raven asked.  “If we brought out the entirety of the Brotherhood of Court Mages, how could we fare?”  _Something I understand more than blades..._

“It would be prudent to guess that each house brought their court mages with...” Aeron began, “and in all honesty, while the Imperial Court Mages are picked and trained to deal with enchantments and deciphering illusions and the like, many of theirs are likely picked for how powerful a _fireball_ they can lob.” That told Raven all she needed to know, and she gave a sigh.

“We cannot hope to best them on the field of battle,” Avaril summed things up.  “Unless Your Highness uses _all_ means at your disposal.”

Vintressa looked towards them thoughtfully, before giving a nod... not of assent, but of decision.  “Avaril, Daeldes, form up your troops.  We’ll form line of battle behind the road junction.  Spread your troops wide... two ranks deep instead of the usual six ranks.  Aeron, I want some illusions from you of extra ranks behind the real ones.  The other mages will make what firepower spells they can.”

“Highness,” Avaril started to speak.

“Vin,” Raven interrupted him.  “Didn’t you hear?  They’ll run roughshod over us!  Shouldn’t we go back to the city walls, and wait for help from your parents?”  _Or use the stone… it can’t be that bad…_

“And wait while they build catapults, scorpions and ballistas, and launch all of those firebrands and fiery pitch over the walls into the city?” Vintressa snapped back.  “No!  We stop them _here!_  Outside of the city!”  Her eyes let all of them know that no dissent would be brooked on this matter... and one by one, the council filed out... save Raven.

“You know if we don’t succeed, he’ll probably torch the city anyway?” she asked.

“Yes!  I know!” the princess said, sharpness still in her voice.  She glared at Raven for a second, before shaking her head.  “I can’t sit by and let them torch all of those people, many of them not able to run away!  And if they get their hands on Royukgan and Valaron...”

“Why don’t you use the Fire Stone then?  We know it makes soldiers… and you can command them to defend themselves…” Raven asked.  _It’s the only way, Vin!  You are outnumbered, and the enemy is more than willing to crush you between his mailed fists!_

Vintressa’s eyes flared slightly at the statement.  “Raven… do you remember the stories of that staff, and other items that your parents and my parents fought to destroy so that a great evil was rid of this world?”  

Raven nodded.

“That stone,” Vin said quietly, glancing over at the massive red ruby, “we supposed to be part of Graz’zt’s staff.  The Countess never added it on… my father made a better target.” Vin’s eyes then went back to Raven.  “Wouldn’t it seem that if something was made to be used with such an evil item… it is evil itself?”

Raven suddenly, fully understood.



The day had grown hotter than expected, and by afternoon, Albrecht Manse was fairly roasting in his plate armor, woolen underarmor, surcoat and tunic.  From the side of his horse hung his heavy steel shield, of the old circular design.  His long, heavy longsword hung there as well.  And from the horses in front of his came the heavy, choking dust that had plagued the columns all day on this wide but dusty road.

The day had been one of those that Manse dreaded... excitement and anxiety built up for nothing, only for another rumor of dark columns and mysterious riders filter down the line.  For all the might and pageantry of the long column of knights, resplendent in full battle armor and riding eight abreast, banners streaming behind them in the wind, they acted like small children in the courtyard of their parent’s keep. The most recent rumor was that outriders to the left of the column had spotted something to the east... whispers of a woman on a huge black horse, rumbles of a massive beast.

“These outriders act like children in the dark, even in daylight,” Bearsans had laughed when Manse had told him the tale.  The small lord had recovered surprisingly well from his rather ignominious capture and release.  “Unless that Fire Stone makes people teleport an army, it’s nothing!  It cannot be the Empress... she is before us!  And the Emperor would have had to spend all day yesterday fighting Hyppyn, and only today would have been able to start his march back!”

Manse was still ill at ease.  _I will not be at ease until I have seen the Empress’ army, with her at its head, with my own eyes._

Finally, somewhere close to three bells afternoon Manse guessed, he spotted the ‘Emperor Valdemar’ resplendent in his gilt armor, jade inlays of his family’s twin snake sigil curling around a long lapis lazuli column on his breastplate.  Overnight, he’d had his armorsmiths modify his crest so that not only was there a gilt snake with ruby eyes, but the six iron swords that were on his crown were now on his helm as well.  

“I see you have modified your helm, Majesty,” he said simply.  _Garish_ was Manse’s personal thoughts, but he didn’t let that through.  The Emperor seemed pleased to hear Manse’s notice of the change, and he put spurs into his white stallion to fall alongside the lord.

“Indeed.  I should think I should look both splendid and terrible for the first flexing of my muscle as Emperor,” Erelion responded.  “Something that should come in useful soon.  Have you heard the latest report?”  Manse shook his head no.

“The Dragon has formed her columns athwart this road... just beyond the crossing with the Thuyciden road,” Erelion pointed ahead.  “They say she has a line of battle of perhaps twenty thousand foot, and maybe three or four thousand horse.”

“Small numbers,” Manse said aloud, thinking it best to keep the other idea in his head quiet.  Erelion looked at him closely.

“You aren’t telling me all of your thoughts.  You were right yesterday... likely you’ll be right today to.  That is why you are my head bannerman,” Erelion said simply.  “Speak your mind.”

“That cannot be her entire force.  She is hiding numbers elsewhere.  Our scouts said she left Iskeldrun with forty thousand altogether.   The numbers you speak leave some fifteen thousand unaccounted for, which raises some alarming questions.”

“I understand,” Erelion nodded.  “I was thinking of dispatching Haldarman out of the line of battle, and forming with his foot up facing our east... and taking Eijold and doing the same to our west.  That will leave us with...what... forty thousand versus hers?  And should she try to ambush us, we’ll be able to stall her until the army can react!”

Manse gave a smile.  _You read my mind, milord._  “Two to one is still favorable odds, my lord.  And three to two should be odds close enough that even Haldarman could hold against an ambush.”


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 16, 2004)

“Ari,” Vintressa said softly, running a hand down the dragon’s snout.  A purr rumbled from his throat, drowning out the noise of woodcutters hard at work and the grunts of men doing physical labor. 

_”I’m so sorry I got scared,”_ she heard the dragon’s bubbly voice softly chime in her head, _”I said I would fight, but they poked at me...  I should have been more careful.”_

“There is nothing to apologize for, my friend,” Vin continued scratching around the scales on his snout.  “If twenty knights had leveled lances against me, I would flee as well!”  Vin smiled as she felt the draconic equivalent of a laugh wash into her mind.  “I know you’ll stand and fight when and if we need you.”

_”I won’t run next time,”_ Ari announced in her mind.  She could tell that bravado did not cause this promise... shame and anger did.

“Next time will be this evening, likely,” Vin said softly, “And I could really use your strength.  You may be young Ari, but you are very strong... and smart.”  She felt another purr rumbling through her hand as she petted him.  “I can only imagine what Xanadu has taught you in the months I was at the Academy!”

_His confidence is coming back.  Maybe that breathing he spoke about will come in useful.  At the very least, he can sit there and look imposing..._  “Ari, I know you’ll make me proud, and make your Mommy Siabrey and Father Lucius proud as well.  You won’t run this time.  I know you,” Vin said sweetly.  “I only need you to stand here, in the middle of the road.  If they get too close, or if I yell, then breathe on them... okay?”

She felt his acceptance of her wishes washing over him.  Giving him a last pat, she turned her attention to the noise around her, as men from the city watch cut up logs and fashioned large stakes... enough that each man would have one, it was hoped.  

_Will shortbows be enough?_ she thought, looking at the ancient but well made weapons the city watch people carried.  Valaron would have been able to recite to her the performance of various kinds of shortbows against plate and chain armor, but he wasn’t here... he was still recovering.  

The problem still bothered her when she spotted the first pinpoints of light towards the north.  She didn’t need her brother to know it was the light of thousands of suits of mail in the bright sun.  A massive cloud of dust hung in the air behind the lights, and in the distance, the rumble of hooves, the whinnies of chargers and the rattle of weapons and armor rose in the air.  Vin’s stomach felt like it had tumbled out of her body, leaving a bottomless pit.  She felt bile rise in fear, and she fought it down.

_He’s coming towards us with a mailed fist...  He intends to pummel us to death._  She’d learned her lesson about riding dragons, and now spurred her horse, a roan mare, towards the center of the impromptu battleline that was being formed to block the knights path.  It was easy to find Raven... she was the only one not in any kind of armor.

“Are they ready on the far left?” Vin asked, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.  Her stomach was still queasy, though she didn’t have to fight the urge to retch as much as before.  By Raven’s eyes, the fear was in almost ruling her.

“Um... Daedles says he’s got stakes  But Vin!  What the hell are sticks of wood going to do against mounted knights!  With lances!” she gestured towards the host forming perhaps a quarter mile from them.  “They’ll just run us over!”

“They’ll do plenty.”  _I hope.  They say you can’t find anything by reading over the history of the Empire’s wars.  Perhaps Ananias was good for one thing…_



Albrecht Manse looked up at the sun, now entering the final quarter of its daily ride across the sky.  The air was still hot, and sticky... not nearly as much as Manse was inside his armor.  Erelion had insisted he wear his full plate, just like the others, and Manse was now thankful at how much he’d sweated... the woolen tunic underneath was soaked.  He took another long gulp from his canteen... the third one he’d used this day.

Fluttering above his own head was the huge banner of House Manse, a red basilisk on a yellow field.  Other banners fluttered in the slight breeze around them... the twin serpents of House Erelion, Bearsans white wolf, the black adder of House Yorens.  All around him he heard horses grunting and neighing, knights cursing their squires, and the scraping of last minute sharpening of blades.  _An army about to hurl itself in battle._

Manse looked across the field at his opponent.  _There she is._  The Dragon was mounted on a dark steed, the dragon Bearsans spoke of beside her.  He could make out mounted men... likely Household Guard.  The others on foot Manse could not see clearly, but he could see their banners... the City of Iskeldrun.  _City watch... acting as line foot.  I must give the Dragon this... she is brave to take the field with such a force._  Now that Erelion had taken the precautions of covering his flanks, Manse was far more at ease.

The heavy thud of warhorse hooves came to a stop next to Manse, and as he turned, he saw Bearsans, the man dwarfed by the great beast of a mount he rode.  He flipped up the visor of his helm, and Manse saw the small man was wearing the same fierce grin that he’d worn the day before, setting out to collect the Empress’ ‘peace terms.’

“Looks like we’ll be fighting old men and boys today,” Bearsans shouted derisively.  “Not many spoils from this fight, and few ransoms!”

“When the Empress Siabrey leads them, I have no doubt mere boys will turn out to fight fiercer than you think,” Manse replied.  

“Pah!” Bearsans laughed.  “Look at the shoddy ranks that City Watch has set up!  They can’t form a straight line!  They look like a gaggle of mongrels!  Manse, I care not whether it is a worthy fight or not.  All I know is that I claim that Keldare woman as a prize before anyone else!”

“A Baroness is a prize now?” Manse raised his eyebrow.  _What are we sinking to, becoming like the barbarians to our south?_  “I should think she would be more worthy as a ransom than a prize.”

“When she uses vile magics to _humiliate_ me, she is not worthy of a ransom, in my mind!” Manse grumbled.  “A prize she shall be, and when I’m done, perhaps my bastards by her will be taller than their father!”

_And likely no less fiery,_ Manse thought sourly.  “Good luck to you, Beardstone.”

“Luck is always with the small!  That is what the halflings say... let us see if it applies to men as well!”  Bearsans closed his visor. And armored legs spurred his mounted forward towards the front, the knights of his house falling behind.  Shouts and curses arose even more, as Lord Jaypens’ high pitched yell broke over the plain, screaming about someone taking the lead in front of his men.



Vintressa gave a growl perhaps a half hour later, carefully dismounting from her mare.  Her mother’s greathelm was quickly off of her head, and the princess once again gasped for breath.  She could keep her helm on for only short periods of time, when she needed to take it off, she got off her mount so the enemy couldn’t see.  She gave a cursory glance to the Chief Court Mage, his incantations making shadowy soldiers appear behind her own thin lines.  The raven sent tow days earlier now sat on his shoulder... a sight that made Vin slightly less annoyed.

_She is on her way..._

“They’re still positioning, Highness,” she heard Avaril complain.  He had donned plate only an hour before, and it was plain the heat was harassing him as well.  “They may not come this day, if they continue to jockey around.”

_If they wait on the morrow, we’ll have to deal with Erelion’s foot, as well as his knights!_  Vintressa bit her lower lip slightly, trying to think. _That little plan I read about long ago will FAIL if the foot moves up!_   She needed to encourage these knights to come forward... there was still four hours of daylight left.  _Enough for us to try to finish this business._

_You WANT to fight?  Wouldn’t Val be surprised to hear this?_

“Raven... come with me!”  Vintressa already had the helm back on, and several guardsmen helped her back onto her mount.  “Avaril, go find the court mages, and inform them to be prepared... when they stumble, that is their cue.  I doubt if they charge recklessly they’ll bring focused mages along to block our spells!”

“Um... how are we going to get them to charge recklessly?”  Raven asked after Vintressa as the Princess spurred her horse on.  She could only see the princess’ eyes through the slits of the greathelm, but the way they gleamed told Raven Vintressa had a mischevious grin on her face.  She reined up just behind their lines.

“Do you remember the trick we learned in Aegrifyr’s lecture... about how to speak from a distance?” Vin’s muffled voice asked.  Raven nodded.  “Well, Raven, you’re better at insulting people than I am.  Ride about halfway out there, use that little bit, and hurl some choice insults.  Once they start to move, act like a craven coward and run.  If enough of their lords charge after, I am guessing Erelion will order the whole lot to come forward!”

“Um.. okay?” Raven said uneasily.

“It is hot… and they must be feeling such under all of their armor.  Hotter people are more prone to fury,” Vin said.  “They are more irritable.  Goad them… I have no doubt they’ll come!”

“Two marks for easy insulting... the knight with the white wolf banner... Lord Bearsans.  One of the ones Tess paralyzed yesterday.  And Lord Yorens, the one with the black adder as his flag.”  Vintressa suddenly stopped, and read the look of fear on Raven’s face.  “Don’t worry... you’re riding a quarter-horse, not a charger, and you aren’t weighed down by armor.  It should be no problem to outrun them!”

Raven gave a sigh, not having the same confidence as her friend.



“Oho!  I think that the Empress may wish to parley!” Manse heard from one of his knights behind him.  Albrecht followed their gaze to the young woman in traveling leathers that trotted to the middle of the field.  She bore no white flag, however, which puzzled him.

_A rider to the middle field, with no flag of truce... she is too young to be a magical of great power... perhaps she is a peace offering?  But who would the Empress send that would  be worth trading?  That doesn’t look like one of the daughters of the Imperial family..._

“My Lord Bearsans!” a young woman’s voice sounded loud over the battlefield, as if she was yelling from right next to Manse.  “How does it feel to have been knocked off your mount by a lady’s whisper?  I am sure Lady Bearsans can relate to that experience greatly!”

Shouts and cries of laughter arose from the knights around Manse, before a loud, roar drowned out the cacophany.  Albrecht immediately recognized the shout.  Bearsans.

“You small little piece of crap!  Hog armpit hairs are not worthy of your stench, you little cur!” Manse could hear him snarl, all the way in front.

“And Lord Yorens!” the girl’s voice sounded again, “Afraid to draw your blade?  What is your concern?  An old, toothless fishmonger said you had no problem drawing your blade for her!”

More shouts, and Manse could hear Yoren’s furious shouts for his knights to form charge line, alongside Bearsan’s men.  Yet the young woman continued, her small horse cantering back and forth in front of their lines.

“My dear... _Baron_ Erelion,” her voice called, as her horse reined up.  “My poor...poor Baron.  Craven like his brother’s host!  With a gold crown that is not worthy of a brothel mistress!  Who in their mind would follow one whose path to crown has sold his promises to many men?  Many a brothel mistress should hire your, dear _Baron_, you might help them further their employees work, for surely you could teach common women of the night to sell their promises as well!”

Manse _heard_ the breath intake, as the woman called out again.  “What is _this?_  A mere woman, unarmored, has more bravery than a host of warriors that call themselves the flower of knighthood, the height of chivalry?  I think the chamberpot of a loose man has better aroma than this pack of fools!  Perhaps too many of you have been too busy chasing the flower of village maidens, and forgotten how to draw your steel blades, as opposed to your fleshy ones!”

_She’s goading us,_ Manse realized as his own fury rose at her sharp and vicious barbs, holding his hands up to signal his men to hold ground.  “Do not move!  She’s antagonizing!  Don’t give in!” he turned his horse, trying to address the lords close to him.  “Hold ground!”  Too late did he feel the ground tremble slightly underfoot, and hear the loud calls from down the line... among them Bearsans crying, “Erelion!” 

_Dammit!_ Manse wanted to curse, as the young woman spun her horse around and charged back to her own lines, craven to the core.  He could see now that Bearsans and Yoren’s banners were leading the way, despite the fact that the woman was easily outside their reach, and was screaming away from them faster than they were charging.

“Albrecht!” Manse heard a familiar voice call, and within a second the gilded form of his Emperor was beside him.  His visor was up, and Manse could see his face was flushed with heat and fury.  By the tenseness he gripped his reins, Manse was sure that Erelion wanted to join the attack.

“Recall Bearsans and Yoren!” Manse shouted, as the noise of horses thundering forward increased, more nobles joining the charge, their ancestral battlecalls on their lips.  “Recall them!  She _wants_ us to come at her for some reason!”

“Sound the advance,” Erelion growled.  “I want her force cut down before nightfall!  We’ll ride through the night and destroy Iskeldrun while it sleeps! We have more than her, we’ll ride _over_ her corpse!  No prisoners!  Craven women like these should not be allowed to live!”  Manse could see the vicious glare in his lord’s eye that he meant every word he said.  

Manse saw in his mind the burning of the city... women and children screaming in the streets, as mailed knights cut them down, trampled them with their horses.  Flames licking into the sky.  Then his blood shuddered, as the face of everyone woman became that of his wife, and every child took the look of his young son.

_I cannot do that!  It... it would bring eternal dishonor to me and my House!_

“Sound your own advance, Majesty,” Manse heard himself say.  “My men shall stay here.”  It sounded as if someone else was speaking and Albrecht was only listening from a far distance.  He could immediately see Erelion’s eyes flash, his nose flared, and he began grinding his teeth in rage.

“You... you are no longer by bannerman!  Craven!  We... dammit I’ll deal with you after this, by god!”  Erelion’s visor snapped down, and he grabbed a nearby squire with a trumpet.  Three blasts came from the horn, three blasts echoed up and down the now ragged line of knights, and quickly the rest joined their eager companions in charging.  Manse watched in disgust as about half of his own men leapt forward as well.


----------



## Emperor Valerian (Aug 16, 2004)

“Here they come!” echoed up and down the line, and Vintressa watched Raven’s horse fairly leap past a few of the City Guardsmen, sweat covering its flanks as she reined the beast up hard.

“I think I did well,” Raven said breathlessly, nodding to the chaotic horde building up speed before them.  Vintressa had been right... her horse was back at their own lines before the chargers trying to run her down had come to a full gallop.

“You did do well,” Vintressa put a hand on her friends arm, before her gaze went back to the oncoming host.  She hoped her plans weren’t madness... they had worked before, for a certain lord some two hundred years later.  The history books she had found before leaving with barely a hundred men to try and stop the people threatening her parents had described the first victory of King Ananias Caladron over the Imperial army as ‘the Battle of the Stakes.’

“Archers!” she heard Avaril call, and watched as the thin ranks of the city guard drew their bows, sounds of leather and hide being pulled taut whispering in the air.  The horses hooves thundering towards them sounded like a merely distant rumble, drowned out momentarily when Ari gave a growl.

“Remember, do _not_ shoot at the knights!” she heard her Aunt Tess calling out.  “Shoot at the horses!  You will _not_ hurt the knights!  Put enough arrows in their mount, and the steed _and_ the knight will go down!”

For her part, Vintressa concentrated on breathing, the air inside the greathelm already was hot and stale.  She felt her horse shy back slightly, the rumbling growing louder as the streams of banners, shining plate, and vicious lances thundered closer and closer.

_If they break through, you will die.  So will Raven.  And Val, and Royukgan, Aunt Tess... and most of the city behind you, Vintressa!  You cannot fail!  You MUST win this time!_  She bit her lip again, this time in worry, her hand reaching down to rub the ruby in her cloak.  He could feel its power running up her arm… a warm, fuzzy feeling.  

_I should use the stone…_ her mind thought, seeing the hordes to her front.  _Only it will save me…_  She felt her hand starting to draw it out of its pouch, but then an image flashed into her mind of the city ablaze, red soldiers cutting down its people.  Her hand dropped the stone, and it fell back into its pouch.

 The call for archers to fire echoed in her ears, and she watched a hail of black arrows course into the sky.  A few knights pitched down, arrows coming from their armor in numerous places.  The knights struggled to get up.  Their horses didn’t.

“Reload!”  The command echoed in her ears, as she saw them coming closer, the city watchmen drawing again on command, and loosing another volley.  A few more went down, but not nearly enough to stop the momentum of the charge.  Another volley went out, and then another.  By now, even through her slits, she swore she could see the eyes of the steeds charging towards them, wide and white in battle terror, the cloth and silk covers on the animals displaying their master’s arms flowing gracefully back as they broke into their final gallop.

“Hold!” she heard Avaril calling to the men and boys of the city watch.  Some were already shying, and a few mounted Household guard were quickly positioned behind them to keep shying from becoming a premature rout.  The knights came closer, her ears now able to hear the individual battlecries.  “Erelion!”  “Beardstone!”  “Comnitas!”  

Closer, and still closer they came, their lances lowered like fingers of death, desperately reaching out ahead of their masters for the men on the ground.  It was an immensely powerful, completely unstoppable wall of men, horses, and lances.

“Now!” she heard Avaril call, and the city watchmen dashed backwards, just seconds before the knights would have been able to thrust into their ranks.  They ran as quickly as possible, their masked ranks now unveiling Vintressa’s first surprise; thousands and thousands of stakes driven into the ground.



Manse cursed silently as he watched the knights plow forward, banners streaming behind as if in a massive tourney of some kind.

_But those are no tourney weapons they face... and there will be no laughing and congratulations after one is struck off a horse._  Despite the heat, Manse shivered.  Behind him he could count only fifty of his knights, not counting their squires and auxiliaries... perhaps a hundred and fifty altogether.

He was thus greatly surprised when footmen began running past, coming from the east.  By their tunics, white hawks on blue background, he knew they were Haldarman’s men.  

_So there was a trap,_ Manse thought simply, turning his horse to the left, so they he now faced east.  “Prepare to recieve enemy,” he said simply.  _Maybe I can delay them until Erelion has his way... if she hasn’t planned anything.  If it is only foot, we should be able to charge them down…_

It was then his ears clearly caught what the soldiers were screaming, and his blood ran cold, despite the heat of the summer’s evening.



Horses are intelligent animals, and chargers even moreso than others.  And no intelligent animal would willingly impale itself.  The knight’s steeds skidded to a halt, some in time to avoid death, many others not.  Knights cartwheeled off of their dead animals, others plummeted as their horses stopped short suddenly.  The great crush of knights behind the lead ones drove many of the survivors forward, into the midst of the stakes, unable to turn, unable to move.  Then, the second surprise of Ananias’ old battleplan revealed itself.

The court mages, as Aeron had said, knew few offensive spells, but when a hundred of them focused what they knew, be it weak _magic missiles_ or powerful blasts of energy into a standing, teeming mass, the chaos that resulted was terrifying.  Ari let out a roar, and simply _breathed_ into the mass, crackling fire, electricty, cold and sheer magical power bowling over entire columns.  Explosions of heat and cold, acid and electricity thundered into the massive, huddled ranks of stranded knights, their rear ranks still trying to rein up to avoid the crush.

As the survivors of the charred, burnt and now terrified mass desperately tried to rein their frightened steeds under control, fighting to get away to reform, the final surprise came rushing down into their midst.

The city watch, on orders, turned and drew their short swords, wading into the confused and terrified mass of chivalry. Many of the survivors now found themselves mobbed by men who dragged them from their mounts in the confusion. Many of the knights were no longer mounted, and found themselves hopelessly slow when three or four watchmen surrounded them like a caged animal. 

Despite all of this… despite their surprise, despite coming under a withering magical assault, Erelion’s knights fought bravely, fiercely.  She watched as her city watchmen were pushed back, their lines bending.  

_Use the Stone!_ something in her mind said, and she reached down into her pocket, and the red ruby shone like fire in the sunlight.  The warm, calming feeling rushed over her again, and she closed her eyes.  She felt her lips start to form words, until a something suddenly thudded into her arm.

She opened her eyes suddenly, as the ruby tumbled down to the ground, landing with a _thud_ in the grass below.  She looked up, and saw Raven sitting before her in the chaos, the butt of her nagiaka still in striking position.  All around her, thousands upon thousands of reddish blobs began to melt back into the ground, as the Household Guard thundered into the melee.

“If Iskeldrun must burn,  let it be by mortal means,” Raven said slowly, before putting away her weapon.  

The fighting was desperate and deadly, and those in the rear, fortunate enough to avoid the initial carnage, now spun their mounts around, spurring them on away from the destruction.  Their eyes and reactions screamed the same... not the fear Vintressa had hoped, but rage.  They would charge again if given the chance.

Thirty thousand knights had made the charge, and Vin watched as perhaps twenty thousand or so galloped away.  To her chagrin, many banners were still in good order, especially those that had been in the rear.  But to her front, she could see numerous charred piles of knights, as her city watchmen, dragged others back, stripping them of armor and weapons before tying them up.  

_There’s still some two hours left in the day... they’re going to come at us again.  And I have no more tricks..._  Ananias had decimated an Imperial army with these tricks.  The army of knights to her front was already forming a second charge line, and now would not rush into the mass of stakes that had slowed their momentum at the right moment.   _They’ll either wait for their foot… or call up their mages to charge with them now._  Either result would be devastating;  the bodies of many of the city watch also laid alongside the dead forms of knights.



Manse watched dejectedly as banners streamed back, turning around in their old position, reforming lines while squires fetched new war lances.  He recieved a few looks of derision when the other lords saw him facing at a different angle, looks he met with explanations.

“The Dragon is marching on our flank!  She comes from there!” he pointed to the hill and light woods Haldarman’s men had been posted beyond, “in strength!  Forty thousand or more!”  His shouts were greeted with guffaws, and calls that perhaps Manse had seen an old nanny.  

“Everyone can plain see the Empress Siabrey is there!” they shouted back, pointing to the woman in dragonscale behind the piles of dead knights.  “Reform with us!  Regain your honor, Albrecht!” they called.  “Your Dragons are there!  She is using tricks against us, but we came close!  We shall break through this time, now that we can avoid her traps!”

“Where is the Emperor?” Manse called out to the knights that went by.  “Lord Bearsans, Lord Yoren?”  All he received were looks of confusion, until a man trotted up beside him.

Erelion’s fine cloak had been shorn from his body, his gilt greaves ripped from his left leg.  Blood streamed down the limb from   stab wound in his thigh.  Burn marks had scoured the armor on his shoulders and his other thigh.  Dents ruined his perfect breastplate, and his blade held numerous nicks along its formerly fine edge.

“Manse,” Erelion said tersely.  “Why are you facing this direction?  We almost-“

“Haldarman’s broken!” Manse replied, desperately hoping against hoping that _someone_ would listen to him.  “Someone is marching, in force, against our left!  The soldiers from Haldarman that streamed by said it was-“

A deep, powerful rumble seemed to shake the ground underfoot.  The rumble grew in volume, until an ear-splitting noise, the depths of a powerful thunder coupled with the scream of a thousand wights rose in the air.  Manse heard the _whumph_ of immense wings even before a form out of his nightmares rose above the hill.



“What in the...” Vin heard some of the city watchmen say, in shock.  She turned, desperately trying to see what they were pointed at through the slit in her visor.  She had heard the ear-splitting roar, and at first she thought it was Ari, roaring in triumph.  She had been headed over to give him a scratch for not fleeing when the soldiers began motioning.

All she could see was an immense shadow, covering half of a hillside up ahead.  She assumed it was a cloud, until her mind remembered that the there were no clouds in the sky this day.  She looked up... and gave a whoop of joy.

Some two hundred feet off the ground was a form that would have made Ari seem like a tiny babe.  Its immense jaws had opened, and even from a quarter mile away, Vin could see the beasts’ teeth.  From the top of its head an immense frill, taller than the tallest stallion, ran the length of its back, its great wings moving at a steady beat.  _Whumph, whumph._

Xanadu let forth another earsplitting roar, and Vin could see the knights below wheeling about, their very actions showing them unable to decide what to do.  They had met the small 80 foot Ari head on, and taken a beating.  But now, the shadow of a dragon three times Ari’s size loomed over them, the great creature enraged.

_If Xanadu is here..._  Vintressa’s eyes suddenly lit up, and she yanked the greathelm off of her head.

“Advance!  Move! Advance!” she shouted at the top of her lungs, pointing at the mass huddle of knights twice their number.  “Quickly!  Run!”  She fumbled at her waist, and found her little rapier, and hefted it upward with some effort.  Her eyes caught those of her Aunt Tess, and by the twinkle in the bard’s eyes, Vin knew she had seen as well.  In answer, Tess pulled her harp out, and held it aloft in reply.



“What trickery is this?” Erelion said, eyes looking up at the monster that hung in the sky above them, like an immense agent of divine doom.  

_He looks as fierce as the one on the Caladron banner,_ Manse thought in awe, his ears ringing from the beast’s last blast.  He could _feel_ the fear in the air around him, especially from himself.  _We should have waited for the foot to come up.  We should have waited for the mages!_

Underneath the hanging vision of doom, a thin dark line rose over the crest of the hill, growing thicker and more powerful by the second.  Within a minute, three massive, powerful battlelines were visible, the clank of armored boots echoing up the field, the screams of thousands of steeds and the knights they bore rising above the hills.

“Good gods!” Manse heard Erelion cry as the dragon flashed low over the battlefield, all instinctively ducking as the beast thundered overhead, a veritable windstorm of dust blowing in their face as it passed.   Some saw the beast gracefully bank in the sky, turning around before setting gently on the ground, on the other side of the army.  Some saw the small army that they had charged not long before dashing towards them, at a run.

Manse himself was still looking to the left, his eyes locked on a woman on a black horse.  A curved blade, licked with flames was in her hand, held aloft.  Even from this distance Manse could see her red eyes flashing with fury, her copper skin seething.  Her armor was plain steel, yet shone with more brilliance than all of the false Emperor's jewels and gitlwork.

Manse’s hand let loose of his blade, and it slid back into its scabbard.


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 19, 2004)

Back... moved into my new apartment.  I'll get to work typing up the rest of the story as soon as I can.


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## Emperor Valerian (Aug 20, 2004)

Siabrey was never one to take half measures... and this day, above all others, was stamped with this creed.  

_You march to kill my daughter, and burn my city!_ her mind seethed, _You tried to kill my children, and destroy my family!_  Her crimson eyes caught the sight of her horse drawing itself up along the flanks of her batteline, forming a wall of steel over a mile long.

Still she waited, Kelir aloft, feelings of strength and control washing over her from her blade.  _He has only knights here... we must have smashed through his foot,_ she thought.

_There is dust up the road... more foot,_ she heard the whisper of her blade.  _They do not march steady... kerns, peasants, likely,_ the sword dryly remarked.  Siabrey did not need to glance... over a decade and a half with Kelir had taught her to trust his instincts.

“Orders!” she called, and a young squire reined up beside her.  “Tell Captain Dreggo to take a hundred cavalry from the left, and ride at those people coming up the road,” she pointed with Kelir.  “They’re kerns... they’ll run.  He is to break them up as a fighting body, not ride them down.”  _They likely don’t know what they fight over... and probably want to go home to their crops._

_Yes... give them a reason to run home early, without their lord’s permission,_ Kelir laughed lightly.  _Is it me, or is Erelion being a fool and drawing up his horse to charge?  With Xanadu at his back... along with Vintressa’s force?_

_No one claimed the so called Emperor Valdemar was skilled,_ Siabrey thought darkly as shouts from below echoed the hurried movements of banners to form a charge-line at the far more numerous Imperial forces on the hill.  _Today will be a slaughter of many men..._

_Men you wish to slaughter?_ the blade’s whisper asked.

_I only want the blood of one,_ Siabrey growled, her gaze finding the gilded form of Erelion galloping to the front, shouting commands and encouragement.  Her grip on Kelir tightened slightly.  Behind her, the noise of Casalad Rangers pulling back their powerful longbows creaked in her mind.



Manse looked about him in frightened confusion.    Edging closer to their south was the force of city watch and Hosuehold guards, someone clad in the Empress’ dragonscale at their lead.  Behind them, to the east, was an immense silver dragon... and to their front, the massed ranks of the Imperial Guard.

_They are looking about too, now,_ Manse thought quietly, as other knights let their horses shy away from the threats.  A distant column of dust came from the north, their only route of escape, shouts and panicked screams arising.  _The kerns... they are fleeing,_ Manse realized.

The world seemed to slow, as Manse saw the chaos before them was beyond their control.  They were hemmed in.... a powerful host on three sides and by the shouts, another coming in on the fourth.  _For all I know, that is the Emperor himself!  The Empress wasn’t supposed to be here!_

“Knights and Bannermen!  Rally!” Manse heard Erelion’s voice shouting, “Remember your oaths to your Emperor!  The oaths taken on your honor this day!  He who has honor and loyalty will follow his lord, even unto death!”  _He does look impressive, in all those gilt trappings, his sword aloft,_ Manse frowned.

“If you would follow me into combat, set your lances!” Erelion called.

For a moment, Manse felt his hands follow the usual routine, his lance dipping down to be set at his side and hip, his shield coming up to charge set.  

_What am I doing?_  His wife and young children came into his mind again. _I am about to die, following a man who tried to murder two children!_  Dark thoughts arose in his mind, questions about foolishness versus honor, pride versus right.  Finally, his honor spoke for him.

He dropped his lance.

Manse found he was not alone, as the dull noises of many lances dropping all about him told him that others were thinking as him.  There was no honor in following a promise to an ambitious lord... there was honor in standing against a childslayer.  Manse looked up, and instead of the expected sword at his throat, saw most of the knights around him had dropped their lances as well.

“What is this!?” he heard Erelion’s voice snapping, growling, shouting.  In the midst of all in his mind, it sounded distant, as if on a far off hillock.  He was vaguely aware of the Baron thundering up next to him, the man’s blue eyes piercing, sharp and angry.  “You!?  All of you!”  The man spat at Manse, before swinging his horse around.  “Those of you not craven, follow me!  For death, and glory!”

_So you chose death above honor..._ Manse thought as half of the lances lowered, and thundered up the hill, banners streaming in the twilight...



“I believe I require your sword, sir,” a dark, forbidding voice spoke to Manse only a half hour later.  It was the person in dragonscale, close and foreboding.  Curiously, the steel titan did not raise a katana or hand and a half sword to Manse’s throat, but a pink rapier.

“I yield, Sir Knight,” Manse said, raising his hands, “as do my men and these others.”  Around him milled some ten thousand other knights, the Household Guard and other Imperial troops now in their midst, collecting trinkets from the dead, and taking weapons from the living.

Erelion’s last charge had been a farce.  Before it was headed out at any decent speed, the fire from the Empress’ rangers slaughtered their ranks.  What arrows did not finish, massed spearpoints and a dragon in their rear completed merely minutes later.  Manse for a second had thought he could see a gilt set of armor lying amongst the dead, but this too vanished into the pile of soon to be festering corpses.

“You will be subject to the Emperor’s justice, milord,” the helmed man continued.  “Should you be found treasonous, you will be hanged.  Should milord father have mercy on you, you shall live, forever swearing your fealty to him.”

_Milord father?  This is..._

THe helm lifted, and a clump of matted blonde hair looked at him.  He was slightly taken aback at seeing here the same face he saw the night Haldris’ troops were driven away.


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## Mahtave (Sep 9, 2004)

*Is this it?*

Emp.

Been awhile - is this where you plan on leaving this?


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## Emperor Valerian (Sep 11, 2004)

Um... no.  Its just graduate school and planning another campaign have started to interfere.  I'll try to get a final update up... soon. *crosses fingers*


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## Mahtave (Sep 15, 2004)

Ah... Say no more - I can wait patiently


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## Emperor Valerian (Sep 16, 2004)

“Isn’t this exciting?” Vintressa rolled her eyes and sighed.  The soft breeze that wafted through the wood and daub structure underneath her did not stir her long blonde hair, so tight were the curls pinned by silver and jade brooches.  She shifted uneasily in the ornate wooden chair she was forced to sit in.  The canopy overhead kept the sun from her, at least that was a minor blessing.

“Very,” Raven gave an exaggerated nod.  “Knightly tourneys are my favorite,” she sighed, before adding, “I wish Valaron was here.  He’d be able to explain to me the points and all.”  Raven hadn’t sat through any major tournaments before, despite the fact that St. Valerian’s Square in Iskeldrun was cleared every year on Vintressa and Valaron’s birthday for a series of tourneys of magic and swords.

“And drool over you,” Vintressa gave a wry grin at her friend.  Raven wore a courtly dress worthy of a duchess, jeweled necklaces around her neck and a small tiara of diamonds on her head.  A twin to the princess’ outfit.  “I still don’t know why he was so stubborn.”  Vintressa crossed her arms, thinking of her brother’s anger earlier that day.

“He wanted to come on _his_ terms,” Raven said, “Not your parents terms.  I didn’t mind him entering the lists... I don’t know why your father had such issue.  Valaron _is_ a prince, after all.”  _And since the Crossroads Battle, he’s been practicing with lances as much as his katana...goaded on my his sister’s success, I suppose..._

“They’re worried about him getting hurt, that’s all,” Vintressa sighed, “Imperial Tourney or not, his birthday or not, Father felt it best that he not enter.  Imagine if he got injured, Raven.”  Vintressa nodded politely to a duchess next to her, and the woman twittered happily when the Crown Princess acknowledged her presence.  “Besides, he wants to fight like my mother... and plate-mail and broadswords are not a part of that.  He needs speed to fight that way... and one can’t move fast in a steel suit.”

“Maybe he’s trying to learn another fighting style?” Raven offered, and Vintressa shrugged.

“Maybe.  Don’t know.  Mother tells me he spars better than her now... but don’t tell him that.  He’ll get full of himself,” she said with a smile.

Raven gave a smirk.  “Let him get a cut on his cheek again... could do him some good!  You know he still complains about that?” she said in a mock huff.  The twinkle in her eyes showed she really thought it was funny.  “He can be slightly craven sometimes, when he spars,” she grinned.  They sparred often but rarely practiced... the sparring rooms in the armory were the easiest way to get away from prying eyes for a few hours.

“I can only imagine.  You’ve dealt with him extensively for a year... I’ve had seventeen years of his bravery and complaining,” she grinned herself.  She looked up from her friend in time to see this new list of knights lined up on the far side of the field, lances held high, waiting for her signal to begin.  She gave another sigh.  “I guess we should begin.”

Raven nodded, and stood beside her friend as Vintressa cleared her throat.  Conversations under the noble’s canopy died away, and a hush came over the common crowd... until the commoners saw it who it was that was standing.  Cheers broke out, and Vintressa had to endure a few minutes of approval before she could motion the crowd for silence.  The commons liked their heroines, and some of the songs that bards sang about her and Raven  on that day a year ago made her blush.

The ‘Young Dragon,’ they called her, ever since the battle at the crossroads.  All of her life she thought it would be Valaron that would’ve gotten such a title, not her.  And she teased him about it whenever she could.  She had no doubt that he’d earn more nicknames by the time it was all said and done, but for this once, she was known as a warrior in higher esteem than him.

“Lords and Ladies, both great and small, it is my pleasure to welcome these fine knights to this grand tourney, celebrating the birth of His Majesty’s heirs some seventeen years ago!”  The commons broke into cheers, despite the rehearsed status of the words, and chants of ‘Dragon’ rang in the air. “My Lords, please, come and be recognized, before the snap of lances shall determine who among you is worthy of being named champion!”

As Raven and Vintressa stood, the thirty knights rode past, each stopping as a herald announced his name.   Some were old familiars... Count Mychilis Argyl had been in every year of this tourney since its inception.  Most were names that neither Vintressa nor Raven knew.  Some of the knights stopped during their parade in front of the noble canopy, dipping their lances so their ladies could attach some token of favor.  

“Chivalry rubbish,” Vintressa said quietly.  “Why am I here anyways?”

“Your Father said the commons and knights would appreciate looking at two beautiful women in the Lordly Seat at the tourney instead of a weary old man,” Raven repeated what the Emperor had said, verbatim.  “Besides, the city folk still cheer for you like a hero... they saw the firebrands coming towards them a year ago too.”

“Father isn’t old,” Vintressa whispered sourly as a knight took a rather long time to gain a token from his love.  The woman was rather tipsy, and his lance was too high for her.  “He thought this was boring.  He hates tourneys, and I can’t believe he tricked me into officiating,” she hissed.  _He’s probably altered his appearance, and is laughing in the crowd incognito!_

“Perhaps it becomes more exciting after the pageantry turns into a contest of blades?” Raven whispered hopefully as the next knight in line, one Sir Joyus Marbal, leaned his lance over to a woman two seats down from Raven.  The young maid gave a blushing giggle, and attached a green scarf to his lance.   “I think the trinket bit is rather romantic.”

“You would,” Vintressa replied as the line of knights thinned out.  “Thank god Royukgan thinks this is all rubbish like I do.  I’m so happy he didn’t get it into his head to enter the lists!”

“I would think it funny.  Val has only been teaching him to tilt for what... three months?” Raven laughed.  “He’d probably do at least two cartwheels before he landed on the ground after getting-“  She stumbled to a halt, as the blunt head of a tourney lance hung only a few inches in front of her.

“Milady, may I have a token of your honor?” a muffled man’s voice asked.  His greathelm was plain, his tunic, shield and horse only bore a blue and orange checkered pattern.  Desperately, Raven tried to think of his name, only to realize she’d been so busy talking with Vintressa, that she hadn’t caught it.

“I...um... Lord...” she stuttered in embarrassment at not knowing his name, “I am already spoken for.”  _Val would go insane if he caught me doing something like that!_

“Milady, your beauty is so great that I have little care who this man is.  Let me have a merest token, to speed my steed and set my lance true!” the knight pressed.  Raven looked nervously towards Vintressa, who had a rather triumphant look on her face and her arms crossed.

“Not so romantic now, is it?” she asked with a raise eyebrow, before turning suddenly to the knight.  “Sir Boros,” she repeated the announced name, “she is not spoken for. Lady Raven is merely shy,” Vintressa grinned evilly, turning back to Raven.  “Go ahead.  Give him a token.  It’ll teach Val to be a craven stubborn idiot to ditch us here since he can’t enter the lists!”

Reluctantly, Raven took her decorative belt, green with yellow and forest patterns, and wrapped it tight around the lance.  “My lord, this belt is new.  I expect it to not touch the ground,” she said.  _If it comes back ruined, Sir Boros, I am going to expect you to replace it!_

“Thank you, my lady.  I ride with your honor spurring my steed,” he said gallantly.  As he turned his horse to ride further down, Raven blushed a deeper shade of red, as Vintressa rolled her eyes.

“...Your honor spurring my steed!” Vintressa groaned.  “He’s hoping to spur you into his tent!”

“Don’t remind me,” Raven sat down morosely.  “What on earth do I tell Val?”

“The truth.  You didn’t have a champion at the tourney, and he was being a baby for not showing up, so I urged you to pick that man.  If Boros does anything craven, he’ll answer to me,” Vintressa said, gesturing towards the familiar rapier beside her seat.  Heart’s Rose had a few more nicks than a year ago, but still was in excellent condition.  The Princess put her hands on her hips triumphantly, only to see Raven start to giggle.

“Um... Vintressa?” Raven pointed between snorts.

Another plain-helmed knight was holding his plain wooden lance out to her.  In the midst of the pomp and finery, the poor fellow seemed homely.  He sat poorly on his saddle, his steed lacked cloth covers to display any crests, and his shield was plain steel... there were no crests to display.

“My... Lady... um...may...I have...” a voice stumbled in a familiar accent.  Vintressa’s face turned deep crimson.

“Royukgan!” she shouted, confusion in her voice.

“Yes... milady,” a sheepish voice admitted.  The helm popped off, and the young prince’s face appeared.  “Val told me I should tilt to gain experience, and since all the other knights were claiming tokens, I thought I’d request one from you.”  His head went down slightly.  “If I embarrassed you, I’m sorry.”

Vintressa seemed stunned, not sure what to think of the sight before her.  The young prince did not even have a knightly longsword at his side... instead he had his two sai clinking against his half-plate.  _My poor beau... he’s going to be dismounted on his first tilt..._

She smiled, and walked to the railing that kept her from falling onto the tourney field.  “Come closer, and I’ll give you my token,” she said softly.  Royukgan rather awkwardly moved the charger closer.  Vintressa suddenly leaned out, and kissed him fervently on the lips. 

Cheers erupted from the commons, as to be expected.  Above their roar, Vintressa gave him a heart-breaking smile.  “That is my token to you.  Remember what Val taught you, and whatever happens... I’m very pleased with you,” she winked.  Royukgan’s smile made it apparent his blood was up, and he felt he could take on the world.  With aplomb, he closed his visor, and spurred his horse off... almost into the lists, before he awkwardly pulled the reins back.

“He is definitely going to fall on his first run,” Raven said softly.  “I can see that as clearly as I can see the palace next to us.”



Raven was still wincing from the crash, as splinters went up.  Royukgan, to her surprise, was still mounted, leaning back awkwardly in his mount, his lance broken.  His opponent, the same Sir Marbal, was laying in the dirt, his horse galloping away.  She saw Royukgan sit up in the saddle, and slovenly turn his horse around, cantering to where the fallen man lay. He climbed down, rather awkwardly, and said something to his opponent, before he mounted again.

“Um...” she heard Vintressa say.  “That’s his second victory.  Um... who does he face now?”

Raven jogged her memory of the arranged matches, and calmly replied, “The winner of the match between Sir Boros and Sir Albrecht Manse, I believe.”

“Manse?” Vintressa’s eyebrow raised.  “Wasn’t he one of Erelion’s dogs last year?”  She wasn’t sure why the name stuck out... Erelion had dragged some fifty houses behind him in his scheme.  Many had been ruined... after Earl Bearsans death at The Crossroads, his earldom had been taken into the direct custody of the Imperial family.  

Erelion himself had fallen prey to the Emperor’s rage.  Vintressa knew that her father rarely completely lost his temper... but when Erelion’s trial came a few months after his failed coup, she had witness such a fearsome explosion.

_That’s why I remember Manse’s name.  He spoke against his liege lord, Baron Erelion, at his trial.  Said the Baron was hellbent on burning down the city, and slaughtering those inside._  She shuddered on hearing those details, despite having seen Erelion gathering his mangonels, bombards and scorpions to pummel the city.  

_He sealed Erelion’s fate._

Executions were more rare under the reign of Lucius II... but Erelion and several of his more infamous compatriots were huge exceptions to this rule.  Erelion’s family was removed from their estates, and sent to exile in the far north, beyond even the Empire’s furthest borders... while Baron Valdemar himself found the hangman’s noose less inviting than an Emperor’s crown.

“He was the only decent one of the bunch, it seems,” Raven spoke, jostling Vintressa from her memory.  “Haldarman was incompetent, Yoren was craven, most of them looted and abused during their march.  Manse was one of a few that _I_ know of, at least, that didn’t do any of that.”

“He sounds like he might actually be chivalrous,” Vintressa said dryly, watching with well-hidden delight as the methodical Sir Boros unhorsed Manse in one easy run.  The delight turned to concern when she realized that Boros would be facing her Royukgan.

_He’s utterly methodical... just like Val in the practice turns.  He sits on his mount perfectly, he aims his lance true, he spurs his horse at just the right time._  Her heart sank.  _He’s like a clockwork machine... he moves exactly the same each time... poor Royukgan!_

She had to sit through several minutes of agonizing ceremony as the two final riders were presented, and trotted down the course lances high in salute as they passed each other.  

“He’s going to get pummeled,” Vintressa said softly.  “I don’t want him to be pummeled...”

“He’s done well, Vin,” she heard her friend say encouragingly.  “I don’t think he’ll get pummeled... Sir Methodical is going to get a run for his money.”  By her eyes, Vintressa guessed that Raven didn’t think Royukgan could win either.  “I’m hoping your prince knocks down that man.  He’s already had my belt fall when his lance broke!”   

_It’ll be easier to unspur his eagerness for you too..._ Vintressa thought.

The tension built as the two took positions on opposite ends of the course, squires tending to them and their mounts.  While Sir Boros sat perfectly on his steed, lance and shield set, Royukgan sat sloppily again, his lance waving as he struggled to hold it.

“Stop toying around, love,” Vintressa whispered, as if he could hear her thoughts.  “Sir Boros is serious... he’ll _hurt_ you if you are even the slightest bit off!”  The Princess looked down, and realized she was rubbing her hands together as if it was cold.  She could feel nervous beads of sweat form on her forehead, as if she had her mother’s greathelm on once again.

An eternity seemed to pass by, until the master’s flag flashed downward.  The two horses screeched, iron spurs hard in their flanks, and they charged forward, two masses of steel hurtling towards each other.  Both lances dipped, reaching out towards their opponent.  

Then, suddenly, they both raised high into the air, as both knights thundered by each other without touching.  A dull rumble of boos drifted down from the commons, who had been eager to see their patron... they had been refering to Royukgan as “Sir Drunk,” in their chants, versus the so far unblemished Sir Boros.

Vintressa gave a sigh of relief... the two had refused to match lances, and the contest was a draw.  No doubt Boros saw how sloppily Royukgan was riding, and felt sorry for him... or that he wasn’t worthy of tilting.  The two turned their steeds and rode to in front of the noble canopy.

“Princess!” Royukgan shouted rather joyfully, lowering his lance with one arm and ripping his helm off with the other.  His dark skin was matted close to his face from sweat, though a massive grin covered his face.  “Can you believe it!  I unhorsed two people!”  He was clearly pleased with himself.  Vintressa was merely relieved he was unhurt, showering him with grateful kisses... which the commons loved.

“Sir Boros?” Raven stood as the knight sat before her.  “I believe you have a sash that belongs to your lady.”  _I am not spoken to you.  Hand it back!_

“Milady, you would break a knight’s heart?” a muffled voice said from within the helm barely heard above the roar of the crowd.  Raven was no coward, and shook her head yes.  “Well then,” she heard him sigh, “you shall not have this back unless you grant me one request after I remove my helm.”

_Who does he think he IS?_  Raven thought about viciously screeching at him, giving him a piece of her mind.  _Are you that desperate, boy?_

“That depends on the request,” she replied rather sharply.  “I can grant some, but not others.”  _I will not warm your tent!_  Her anger grew when she heard the knight laughing inside his helm. “Take off your helmet, so I can know who is mocking me!” she snarled over the din.  “I shall have you no that Prince Valeron has spoken for me, you stupid twit!”

The knight gave a nod, and motioned for her to come to the railing.  She complied, if only to be close enough to slap the man.  He reached down, and a handsome face emerged into the sunlight, red hair clinging to his copper skin from sweat.

“Can I make my request?” Val asked, his eyes laughing as Raven’s jaw dropped.  The crowds cheering was still going on, and he missed the words that leapt from Raven’s mouth.  The statement was short, and by the way her mouth moved, it looked like his name.

“Raven, would you like to receive a crown on your head?” he yelled over the noise and shouts for “Sir Drunk!” and “Young Dragon!”  He wanted to laugh as he watched her stammer a reply, before he heard her shout of, “yes!” in reply.

They locked lips, amidst the din of the commons cheering.  Behind the two lovers, Royukgan pranced around on his mount, Vintressa laughing, as the commons chanted for him.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

There's the end to the story   I hope everyone enjoyed it!


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## Mahtave (Sep 17, 2004)

*Excellent!*

A great ending to a great story!  

I hope you will be able to get another thread going on a new "adventure" sometime in the near future.


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## Emperor Valerian (Sep 18, 2004)

Well, I've started the next storyhour (part of the reason the end of this one took so long to get posted).   The new storyhour is here.


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