#BlueSpring Steel

[jiaxiao-mtc]

Crafted for precision, strength, and durability. 💙 Our Blue Tempered Spring Steel Strips are designed to meet the toughest demands while maintaining flexibility and resilience. Perfect for springs, saw blades, and beyond. 🌟 Experience the unmatched performance of premium heat-treated steel.

[fanesavin]

The Commander of the Rajisthangard is summoned for questioning by the High Inquisitor and some truths are uncovered.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (x) | (x) Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 (x) (x) | Part 7 | Part 8  (x) | Part 9 (x) | Part 10 | Part 11 (x) (x) ]

(All the props to Lori for writing NPCs :D)

Fane had ordered for the Commander to be brought down for questioning. The room in which he’d been sat was small with nothing but a desk, a side-table and a couple of chairs around it. The man had been unarmed and asked to sit and wait. A tactic to let him sweat a little and met some power the Inquisitor’s way. After a little while, Fane let a guard open the door and stepped in carrying a jug and a couple of glasses that he set down on the side table. “Commander, I’m sure I don’t need to explain why you’re here, do I?”

Eagle Commander knew that everyone was to be questioned in the Keep, that was only fitting. He marched down at the appointed hour when his time came, and stood ramrod straight in the Inquisitor’s selected room, waiting for the noble to arrive. He was used to waiting for those of a higher status to arrive after him; and when the Inquisitor did, he bowed low (but with little courtly flourish) and then clasped his hands behind his back. He knew the Inquisitor through news - not as an Inquisitor, but as a Dawnguard leader. The respect was clear on his soldier-neutral grizzled face. “I do, Inquisitor.” He only sat - stiffly, like it was unused to sitting - when the Inquisitor explicitly requested that he did. It was more out of obedience than desire to be seated.

Fane let the man sit, not that he looked comfortable on the little wooden chair that creaked a little. Good. Fane remained standing, his posture relaxed as though this wasn’t an interrogation just a small conversation. “Tell me Commander… How long have you held the role?” seemingly unrelated questions, but conversation enough to break down the barrier if only a little. The man was a soldier after all, he mused thoughtfully “it must have been quite an honour to be asked to take up such a position… Tell me, how did that come about?”

“I was appointed Commander of the Golden Eagles, five months ago, after my predecessor was killed in the Battle of Seven Coins, when it reached the Bluesprings Keep walls and the Gates almost fell. He died protecting it.” A momentary pause of respect for the late fallen Commander. “I - ” The Commander wasn’t sure if he should say this, the Lady Ciara was so secretive about her position, but that was her role. The Prelate Theodore was well so, although the High Raj’s announcement should have made all of it public. But the High Raj was dead now, so the man made a decision then. “I was appointed as part of the High Raj’s Council, peace be to him. That was about one month and fifteen days ago, before the tour of the crown, as you recall.” The crown had of course made its way up to the North. “Before I was made Commander, I was a part of the Golden Eagles for fifteen years, under the various Lords who oversaw the Capital before it was called ‘the Capital’.” Those Lords, of course, hardly lasted during the war. The Capital was such a lynchpin location, it was constantly being warred over.

Eagle Commander looked up at the Inquisitor then. “I could go on, if you like,” he said, his tone offering, willing to obey should the Inquisitor need it. He also also added, in a reflective way “My daughter was a Dawnguard…”

Fane listened and where it was necessary nodded sympathetically it was sad indeed but a man that should have put an end to the death would have been a welcome relief for so many battle-weary soldiers. “Many people died in the wars, many good men and women,” the mention of the council caused him to tilt his head ever so slightly. “And were you aware of anyone else to be appointed to the council alongside you?” Of course, by now he already knew of Ciara’s position but it didn’t hurt to get confirmation of such matters. “Of course, we spoke a little when you visited the North,” he shook his head a little to say he’d spoken enough. Though the mention of his daughter, “aye… Mira? Was that not her name? I recall you mentioning her… I’m sure your whole family were proud of your achievement. Which is why it’s such a shame that this is where we end up don’t you think? The man meant to usher in a new golden age of peace… Killed by his own crown…”

“Yes,” the commander replied about the war, that familiar haunted, steely-glazed look in his eyes that many solders got when they thought of the war. The Golden Eagles were well-trained but also largely ceremonial, being guardians of the Keep. Fighting for the Keep, with the enemy so close to reaching the Castle, brought the reality of war to their doorstep. “Yes, Inquisitor,” he also replied with another glance. He didn’t particularly owe Lady Ciara anything now, so he stated, “Prelate Theodore, as you know. Lady Ciara Florent, and myself.” He nodded then, thinking of his now dead daughter. “We are prouder of her achievement, Inquisitor.” Another pause, respect for his child’s memory. “I am not happy this has happened. The High Raj had great plans. I think he could have benefitted this realm greatly. That crown…” He became slightly more casual then, because this was the Inquisitor and this seemed more like a discussion between two commanders, rather than an interrogation. He adjusted in his seat. “…that was no way to die. Was it poison or something, Sir? If I may ask? That’s the method of cowardly Lords and cunning Ladies, if you don’t mind me saying. If anyone challenged the High Raj to a proper duel, he would have bested them easily. I tested his mettle myself, at his request of course.” The Commander had enjoyed that, and it earned his respect of the young High Raj.

“Hm, and tell me, what did you think of your fellow council members? No doubt you had opinions of them and their potential ambitions?” Fane opted to move to take the seat opposite, no longer standing over and presiding a supposedly higher authority but maintaining the impression of equality. “Losing a child is one of the worst things to experience, I would not wish it upon even my greatest enemy” he sounded solemn and a flicker of sadness crossed his features the pain was unimaginable and he grew silent equally for his own late wife and child as much as for the Commander’s. “Venom it would appear… A cruel way to die… But he did not suffer.” Was it true? He couldn’t rightly say. “What were those plans if I might ask? Did they affect anyone in particular in a way they may not have liked? You and I know the justice of steel and taste of blood… These lordlings and their ladies who sit on their satin cushionings only know the game of masks. Which is why justice must be served to the late High Raj.”

 “The Prelate is a representation of the Cloverry, and a good one. Lady Ciara was knows the Capital well, she has been installed here for a while now and her knowledge is vast. I respect them both. If you don’t mind me saying, Inquisitor, I do not think either one would ever harm the High Raj. Perhaps they might be capable of it - I suppose you could say we all were - but he chose his Council well. Their loyalty to him was profound. As was mine. We all obey the High Raj, whomever that person may be; but Avitej Sharma should have been the High Raj.” The commander didn’t seem to understand that there was any difference between poison and venom, and so just nodded respectfully. “He suffered enough,” the man spoke in a low growl, not directed at the Inquisitor, just an emotional anger at the injustice. At the Inquisitor’s question, the Commander outlined some general political strategies that the High Raj had, which could be seen as imposing or strict, but nevertheless with an effort to be fair-handed. “I suppose there are Houses who may not approve, but no one can like everything across the board. In terms of post-war recompense, I believe every major House was intended to be both taxed and rewarded equally. With the exception of House Cardero of course, being on their Islands; and begging you pardon - your House. As you did not participate in the ten years of war.” He didn’t mean to imply anything negative by that, so he added, “Not as much as other House factions.”

“So you wouldn’t say anyone had any apparent motivation to wish him removed? No eventual gain of influence?” Though the mention of loyalty caused Fane to lightly drum his fingers on the table, not enough to make noise but an indication of contemplation over what the man said. “On the topic of loyalty, and I can tell you’re a very loyal man Commander… Tell me about the tour of the crown around the Kingdoms? Were there any incidents during the journey? I know you and your men guarded it… But were there any occasions that come to mind where it was left unguarded?”

“Here? In the Castle?” The Eagle Commander frowned, his heavy brow giving him the look of a giant grizzly bear. “I don’t…dally in the politics of the nobles, Inquisitor. ” The man looked like he wasn’t sure what to say, because he wasn’t sure what he was being asked. “I apologize, but I only look after my men, and protect the High Raj and his estate as it’s kept in the Keep. I hope that satisfies you…” he said a little warily now. Because although he was somewhat complacent about this new Inquistion being installed in the Keep (mostly because he knew what sort of man Savin was) he did of course only want a new High Raj appointed again. A good High Raj ideally, but he would serve a bad High Raj if that was what the Cloverry and Inquisition decided. And he assumed the North would return to their lands once it was all over. He didn’t think Inquisitor Savin had any desire to place himself on the throne, and he hoped that wasn’t what the question was implying. “My…duty is to the High Raj,” he said, to impress on the Inquisitor what the Commander’s life was. When the Inquisitor turned away from talk of court intrigue and about the tour, the Commander physically relaxed. “I can provide my detailed records of the tour, Inquisitor. I kept a record, as per the request of Lord Sharma, and Lady Ciara. The crown held the longest stays at Blackspire, Summerset, the Kesley lands, Hathurana of course…” He also rattled off a couple other holdings in addition, both of middling power, similar to Summerset and Kesleyland. “The most visitors attended those places as well, as I recall, hence the long stays. The Princes from the Forty Isles were all in attendance at Summerset, and there was a Red Priestess or two in Hathurana, but not the Lady Priestess who attended the Coronation. Two different ladies, if I recall. It had short stays in Honeywild, the High Peninsula, Eades…” And then some other smaller lands mentioned as well. He looked down at the desk that separated them. “The crown may have been left alone on a few occasions in the larger Holdings…I would have to check my records. Or you can verify them yourself, Inquisitor.”

Fane‘s fingers curled a little on the table knuckles knocking on it momentarily. “If your duty was to the High Raj, as you say, and he charged you and your men with the task of guarding the crown. Explain to me how the item in your charge ended up being the very thing to kill him? You claim to love the man you served and yet you appear rather complicit in his demise wouldn’t you say?” His voice had grown stonier and a touch more accusatory, eyes thinning as he stared across the table aiming to make the man uncomfortable after settling him into a state of complacency. “I was led to believe your men kept vigil on the crown for its entire journey… Are you implying that isn’t what happened Lord Commander?“ his inflection grew a touch harder on certain words, to drill home the blame and guilt presently laying at the Commander’s feet.

He pushed his chair out, moving to the side table where he had placed the jug and cups earlier speaking while he poured the water out. “This doesn’t look very good Commander, at all, you and your men became lax in your royal duties and are therefore complicit in the death of the High Raj.” He poured water in one, and surreptitiously twisted a ring on his other hand, the gem swinging aside to reveal a small divot inside filled with a teal coloured powder and he emptied into the other cup before it too was filled with water. Nothing potent, of course, he wasn’t cruel but not above such tricks for getting the truth. It would mimic the symptoms of toxin, stomach cramps and the like but ultimately not do any harm. Fitting the gem back in place he turned back swilling the cups a little as he returned to his seat pushing the laced one towards the other man before a sip was taken of his own and setting it side. "What do you have to say in your defence?”

The tone shifted immediately, and the Commander stood up then, slowly so it didn’t look threatening, and assumed a stock-still at-attention stance. That of a solder being berated by his High Commander. Who, at the moment, the Inquisitor was. “If you find fault in my records, Inquisitor, then you may find me culpable of blame there. The tour was one of celebration, and although I took my best soldiers with me, their vigilance was, I admit, sometimes fractured and distracted while we were out of the Keep. If you are accusing my hand in the murder of the High Raj, however, then I respectfully deny this accusation. However, as there is no way to prove myself and your word is all that is needed to make me guilty of regicide, then - ” He blinked. “Then I understand your duty to do so.” He saw the water, and knew he was meant to drink it. Swallowing hard, the man waited for the Inquisitor to give him permission to step out of attention. He reluctantly took the water, and took a drink from it. He put the cup back down, and returned to standing at attention, his eyes forward and staring at nothing.

Fane watched the man’s features and here he stood Fane’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “sit down Commander, you shall not be leaving this room until I give you permission to do so. Where are the records presently? I shall have them fetched and brought here forthwith.” After receiving an answer and summoning one of his men to go and retrieve them, he returned to the table. “Perhaps you were lying to me about how much you loved our High Raj… Your men are loyal to you… They follow your word, and a word would be all it would take for the murderer to have the chance to tamper with the crown. Every man has a price, tell me… What was yours?”

The Commander had no intention of leaving, only in standing in order to re-establish their power dynamic: that the Inquisitor was solidly in charge and the Commander’s rank was decidedly lower, and friendly banter was over. Confused, the man sat down again, but still just stared ahead, as if sitting at attention. “Very good, Inquisitor,” he said, when Savin said he’d get the records fetched. He felt dizzy and broke out into a sweat. The man stared unhappily at the water but snapped back to attention once the Inquisitor returned to the desk. “I have no price, Inquisitor. I did not plot against the High Raj.”

Fane took no pleasure from treating another this way but to ferret out the truth it was unfortunately necessity. “No? I find that hard to believe, no one approached you, offered you anything to leave your post and let them have a closer look at the crown?”

The commander’s mouth was dry, but he refused to drink more water. The dryness was unnatural. “No, Inquisitor. I would never betray the Crown, or the High Raj.” He hated doing this, but the Commander wanted to believe that the Inquisitor was only going down this path for the sake of justice. He had to believe that, as he said, “During the tour, I was unable to stand vigilant at every hour of every day. I had to rely on my men…I had to trust my men.” Now he was angry though, appalled at the idea that perhaps, the men he’d hand-picked for the tour were not as trustworthy as he’d thought. But it was hard to concentrate. “Inquisitor…” he gripped the arms of the chair, his face turning read, nausea setting in. “Inquisitor please…I did not plot against the High Raj.”

Fane studied the mans reddening face he didn’t like having to do this, but it did seem apparent that the man was unfortunately telling the truth. He grimaced, and from his pocket produced a small white vial and slid it across the surface. “Drink this, it’ll settle the symptoms of the root” he waited wondering if the man would take him at his word. “I apologise for the necessity… But I had to ensure you spoke the truth… There’s too much treachery to trust anyone at their word these days.”

The Commander grabbed at the vial without hesitation. If the Inquisitor wanted him dead, then so be it. He was sworn to do anything for the good of the High Raj and right now the Inquisitor represented the High Raj. So he took the vial and drank its contents. He slumped forward, breathing heavily as his world was agonizingly righted again. Slowly, he tried to stand up, return to the stance he was most familiar with in the presence of someone who outranked him: standing, at attention. It was a stance of deference and respect. “I understand, Inquisitor,” he coughed. He didn’t actually understand, but it wasn’t for him to understand either. “If you will allow me to handle this matter. I will personally investigate each of the Captains who traveled on the tour. I swear to you that I will find out who stepped out of order. That is unacceptable. I will do this for the sake of the Crown and the High Raj - ” His now-red, watery eyes turned to look directly at Savin. “And for the Inquisition.”

Fane didn’t rush the man and he looked genuinely apologetic when the Commander’s eyes returned to him. As the man coughed Fane picked up his own cup and made a show of taking a sip himself to show there was nothing in it before offering it for the man to have, “here this’ll help with the cough…” But the man’s resilience in the face of what just transpired caused Fane to look at him with a newfound respect. “Very well, my Lord Commander, take some time to right yourself and when you’re able, conduct your investigation. Once you have a report give me - and only me - a full run down of what you find… We need a measure of the men in charge of the crown when you were touring. Their former and potential remaining affiliations and alliances. We need to know when the crown was at its most vulnerable… You have all the resources of the Inquisition at your disposal should you require anything.” He grew silent for a few moments pushing up straighter, “I swear on my oath as High Inquisitor that wewill find the person responsible for the Raj’s death… They will be brought to justice and pay for their crimes.”

The Commander was tempted, but shook his head at the offer of water. He’d withstood worse, in training and out in the battlefield. And now he had something to prove to the Inquisitor. The Golden Eagle Commander might not personally approve of the Inquisitor’s methods, but that didn’t mean the man thought he was ill-suited to the position of Inquisitor. There was a lot that the Prelate and the Master of Whispers did and said that he didn’t agree with either. Everyone had a job to do. He clipped his heels together, but did not salute the Inquisitor; a salute was only towards the High Raj. “Yes, Inquisitor,” he said in a clipped, militaristic voice. Emphatic and now with a new determination to find the traitor under his command. “If that’s all Inquisitor. I want to conduct my questioning before it’s learned that we have been speaking….” He growled then. “And I want to take the bastard down before he does any more damage.”

Fane gave a short nod looking over to his man by the door and giving a short nod for it to be opened. “No, nothing more, Gods be with you and your inquest Commander.”

The report came in after about a day and a half. 

Only the Eagle Commander and his Eagle Captains were allowed to stand vigil with the crown. Six men in total, taking shifts in pairs so one would always be guarding at all times. Each Captain was from a different region, for the sake of impartiality, including Kesley, Blackspire, and Forty Isles. The other three from small/middling Houses included the Commander’s House itself, which was a noble House from the Capital.

The Forty Isles Captain

Angrily admitted that he was bribed to step away from the crown while they were in Summerset when there was a diversion outside to lure away the other Captain. He was bribed with Forty Isles coin, and he didn’t know for sure but the sneaky-spy-person who bribed him seemed to imply that this was the work of the Queen’s Consort Juan Carlos. Hence the Forty Isles Captain feeling loyal to Juan Carlos took the bribe.

The Kesley Captain

Following its visit to Summerset the crown then went to Kesley land, the Kesley Captain broke down and admitted that he went away from his station (while his fellow scheduled Captain was relieving himself) to go snog a mistress illicitly while they were in Kesleylands. He just didn’t think anyone in Kesley would care to tamper with the crown, because Kesley supported House Sharma.

Both the Kesley Captain and the Forty Isles Captain were arrested and put in prison. The Forty Isles Captain, however, found a way to kill himself.

[rydenbolt]

~ Gods create out of nothing. Wonderful you say. Yes, to be sure, but they do what is still more wonderful: they make saints out of sinners. ~

House BalcasterRegion: The North Blazon: A leaping wolf over silver Seat: Dyrerow Words: Steel over Ice Origin: Ryan the Headstrong Lineage: Of dark hair and grey eyes

In the northernmost regions, house Balcaster is the last border between the south and the vast Everwinter wastelands to the north. Its generations had lived and died in the snow, never seeing a day of spring. Castle Dyrerow, a stone-cold edifice built into the mountainside, had always been the stronghold that had kept the south safe from the wildfolk of Everwinter. It overlooks the Tomb-lake, where an everlasting storm discharges lightning and cracks thunder over its surface for the last two hundred years.

Forgotten by the rest of the world and happy to leave it that way, the Balcasters have never taken interest in the politics of the outerlands. They seldom ventured out and were even more rarely visited, superstitious and warlike as they were, too stuck in their own ways to adapt or compromise. It wouldn’t marvel anyone if they were blown off by the eternal storm that separates them from the civilized world and frankly enough, none would probably miss them either.

Yet house Balcaster has had many a reason to turn its attention to the outside now. The last three generations of their lording house have fallen ill to a peculiar madness, dying young and under strange circumstances, the last leaving no heir to the people of Dyrerow to follow.

What they all had in common was their adviser, popularly known as the Man in Black. No lord he had sat next to had survived long enough to be honored. So, a group of those loyal to the banner of the house had set on a mission to find what was assumed to be the oldest surviving bastard child to the last lord Balcaster. What they’ve found was a Ryden Bolt, a young poacher scrapping a living off nothing, a crude, unfit youth of no honor or glory.

What they brought back to Dyrerow was both a shame and a hope.

Not having grown up in Dyrerow’s cursed halls, the young man had failed to fall in any of the Black’s deadly traps, except the last one. The boy was, in his brute simplicity and hardheaded ways, beyond the evil magician who had schemed against the family. Save for the one the Man in Black had prepared for him when Ryden finally took his life.

For two weeks, the young lord was nowhere to be seen after that dreadful night and when he was found, it was in the eye of the eternal storm, without a scrap of clothes on him. Odd markings riddled his body and now, on the night of every full moon, he bears a curse to walk among the beasts, in the skin of a wolf.

Years had passed and the young lord governed successfully despite his many misgivings, surprising the skeptics and surpassing all meager expectations. But his mind is occupied with the curse. His inquiries and researches had given clues to dark forces in the Dead Woods. The Man in Black was of similar ilk, looking to spread darkness over land and thrust all respectable men into despair.

So when the news that a High Raj, a ruler to govern all, was to be appointed in the capitol, Ryden had done what may of his predecessors didn’t care to - he stepped into the outerworlds to represent his house in his unusual, often frowned upon but strangely effective ways.

It was a long journey from the edge of the world and to the sun-blessed cities of Bluesprings and the bastard lord arrives weeks late. The tidings that await him were not what he’d expected. But then again, he wasn’t expected either.

[fanesavin]

Guests settle in while trouble brews in the market.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 ]

Collette indulged in sampling what few luxuries there were at this coronation. The food was lavish, even if it wasn’t the gold leaf and truffles that she’d heard the last king served at his own. She’d only ever eaten so richly as a named warrior for an ancient and long dead noble house.

There was a long table spread for reception, although that would likely come after the coronation ceremony took place. He couldn’t help but notice the one person actually partaking of it, while the servants quietly tried to bustle and work around her to finish setting up. His tried to hide his smile, but it came anyway, watching in amusement as the White Lady sampled things, turned her nose at other things, slowly picking her way through the large but still austere eating choices. If anything could symbolize the spirit of this day, it was certainly embodied in that food. It made perfect sense to Iann; food being such a literal and symbolic description of security.

Collette carried a small silver plate of her favourite choices and a glass of a golden meadlike liquid. She headed towards her captor, the food and alcohol in her belly making her of a far less aggressive disposition. She did have to thank him for one thing. ‘This mead is lovely.’

Iann looked surprised again, when the White Lady approached him of her own volition. He came to a full pause, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed down at her. “Our honey is the pride of our nation, second only to the Freewinds Fleet,” he stated, but Iann was clearly pleased, his chest puffing out as he looked at the cup of mead in her pale white hand. “Third is our obsidian flint, of course. As our Isles are formed from the Sea Goddess’ incessant belching, while she lay pregnant under the ocean,” he laughed, because he loved the Sea Goddess myth, and in many ways believed in her. In addition to paying lip service to the Cloverry, of course. “Volcanic rock, which can light a fire faster than any flint found on the mainland.”

‘Charming,’ Collete said as she sipped the mead. ‘Obsidian is the only gemstone I have time for. It’s rather useful in all kinds of things.’ Perhaps he’d have won her favour if he hadn’t covered her in the symbols of wealth and power like golds and silvers, then. ‘I prefer the myth I heard long ago about the battle of the Fire God and the Earth God, which then gave birth to the stones, glass and metals.’

“Obsidian isn’t considered a precious stone on the Forty Isles, it is a tool.” Indulging the White Lady, he pulled out a dagger that rested on his hip, the blade black and shiny enough to see her reflection in it, dark and luminous. “Forged in the fire created by the selfsame obsidian flint, in an ocean fire that burns even underwater. It strengthens the blades, unbreakable when they clash with mainlander steel.” He slid it back into its sheath, and then took the Lady’s cup. “May I?” he asked, then sampled it. “Ah - this is from Melis Island, I think. Their apiaries make honey of blueberries and lavender.” He returned the cup to her. “Fire God and Earth God? Are they related to the Sea Goddess, then?”

Collette reached out to touch the blade but found Iann had slid it back in its sheathe before she could. ‘Hm?’ She let him sample the mead and watched as he decided where it was from. ‘Lavender is lovely.’ She took another sip of the mead and nodded. ‘It was over the Sea the two were fighting. Earth won which gave birth to rivers and lakes. But even though Fire lost, he birthed a bastard with the Sea.’

Iann hummed. “I’d never heard that aspect of the myth,” he murmured, but he couldn’t help but make connections to more recent legends. Namely the one of the Forty Isles once being one large Island, up North, connected by a natural stone bridge that spanned into Savinlands. The Dragon War had fractured his beloved islands long before Iann had been born, and dragon magic pushed his islands south, creating the Forty Isles as he knew today. He recalled Inquisitor Savin confirming that part of the legend, albeit from a Northman’s point of view (which was neither wrong nor right, just different. This was in no way a slight on the North or the way Northerners thought or carried their legens. It was merely an additional perspective on a history that Iann had grown up learning on the Isles, which Iann welcomed, especially from al ally such as the Savins). “I myself have many bastards. I admire this Fire God and Sea Goddess for doing what they chose.”

Collette White ‘Maybe. But every recollection is different. For some, it’s an affair of the heart. Others it’s a sign of the savage Fire consuming what wasn’t his.’ Collette swayed a little as if dancing to the music that was playing. ‘All myths are different, after all. And not everything gets better with age.’ She made no comment on Iann’s bastards. Who could pass up the chance to further their legacy?

Iann smiled. “Then I like it even more. Myths with multiple claims and versions have always fascinated me. It’s like looking at your reflection in the ocean, the most natural mirror of the known world, but always changing. When you look into the ocean, you never know what face you will see, staring back at you.”

‘And how many reflections have you had? Ones of gold and silver like today? Or ones of black and red, like the day I was captured?’

Iann inhaled, unclasping his hands to stroke at his beard. It was flecked with grey at the corners of his mouth, which was kept so perpetually down-turned. When he smiled, when he frowned, when he sulked, when he felt stress and strain breaking his back. “My ocean defines who I am, and nothing else,” he replied, calmly, his words carefully chosen. He looked down at Collette, her white hair in smooth, elaborate braids that emulated snow-capped mountains to his eyes. “What defines you, my dear Lady?”

Collette made a small noise of her own, an unintended scoff. ‘I’m only defined by my actions. I kill in protection of the land I love the those I am loyal to.’ And that had been a long time since. ‘I am defined not by my money or the people I surround myself with. But it all lies on what I fight for.’ It wasn’t the place of the north she fought for. But the historic ideas of the honour and protection of its people. But it was the blood and fire that followed was what defined her to the people.

“Well said, and wonderfully traditional, as well. Honourable creeds to spark true inspiration within any good, earnest soldier’s heart,” Iann praised her, then smiled. “You see? We have now turned the tides as I promised, and I shall only shower you in accolades.”

‘So you’ve finally stopped gloating?’ Collette’s lips curled into an almost sweet smile. ‘But thank you.’

“I have, it grew boring and there was simply no satisfaction in gloating over you. No one here enjoys a good triumph, not any longer. Everyone’s beholden to one single morality, with no room for anything else.” He glanced around, then motioned for a servant to bring him a cup of mead. He took it, and sipped it. “So you’re not much of a prize, unfortunately. Everyone only pities you and despises me. So I’ve decided to leave you to your own devices.” He looked around the slowly gathering courtyard, then down at her. “Return to the north, as you please. Your captivity has no strategic service within the new high-minded post-war structure now being built here in Bluesprings. It’s a damned shame to release you, though. I was starting to like you.”

‘How dull! Are you sure you’re telling the story correctly? With all the fire and death? How I held your men hostage after you attacked?’ She was unimpressed with how weak the people down here seemed. ‘No, You’re the only person who treats me like the legend I am. I’ll stay with you so long as you respect my myth.’

“Bragging is considered unseemly here, people are so desperate to maintain peace their only care is the same as yours. Good of the people. The people, the people,” he shook his head. “Everyone’s minds are on the well-being and harmony of the people.” He shook his head. “Can I even blame them? Hardly. My people have lived as freefolk on our islands. Those who fought in the wars on the mainland were soldiers and sailors, not innocents.” He looked at the White Lady, with some sympathy. “And you, my dear, have become a lovely but old-fashioned relic, in light of all this blessed, necessary peace among both nobles and commonfolk alike. The White Lady of blood and fire will now be the White Lady of squabbles over sheep-theft and pregnant unwed farmer’s daughters. After the coronation, I’ll return you to your beloved North. Your personal escort - I’d like to visit my son in Blackspire anyway.”

Bella had not left the Dead Woods since she was a much younger woman, the war outside was not something she wanted to involve herself in, a battle for power mattering very little, but now the dust had settled and it seemed appropriate she venture out into the Kingdom to represent what was hers. By no means did she imagine this future ruler would have any command over the forest, she doubted he could make it inside without the magic that was at the root of everything there tearing him apart, but that was her ego and she needed to see for herself. The company of so many humans already quite daunting to her as she walked into the courtyard of the main city where the coronation was to occur. Black gown falling over her slender frame her face wore green and black staining over her eyes that were golden she listened in on a conversation being had by a collective of people with regal postures and titles being thrown about.

Collette stared at Iann for the longest moment. ‘There have been supposed peace’s since I was born. There’s not a single moment I deluded myself with the idea that the battles will not return. If not after this king’s death, his children’s. Or a squabble between houses with no bearing on the throne. I’m not afraid of peace because I know it will never exist.’

Iann gave a one-shouldered shrug, mouth once more down-turned at the corners. “Then you are set for the rest of your existence, my Lady. And as this fictional peace degrades over years, I’ll continue to live my meaningless mortal life out, on the sea where I belong.” He flinched at his own words though, angry at himself for thinking of the sea first, before his Forty Isles. Dammit, when would his father die. For now he gave the White Lady a small, if formal bow. “And I wish you well.”

Collette felt something shift after what she said. Even her reluctant captivity felt more pleasant than being there right now. This freedom he’d given her felt empty and unearned. What had she done? Nothing? Had someone else won her battle for her, or was he simply surrendering. Whatever he was doing wasn’t going to work on her. She wanted to win this victory, not to be handed it. ‘I’m not leaving your captivity,’ she said, chin up.

Bella looked to the woman whose hair was perhaps the polar opposite of her own, listening as she implied peace had once existed, Bella could not recall a time and no social graces retained in her she interjected without introduction or elegance. “Why should your life be meaningless because it is short?” she asked the gentlemen whose skin seemed worn with age and deeper than her own or the other woman’s there. However as she had missed much of the conversation for the woman to say she was choosing to remain his captive seemed to make each of them less endearing.

Iann blinked, unsure he heard the White Lady correctly. “You - ” he was about to say, when another Lady he did not recognize seemed to materialize near them. She had a dark, chilling way about her. Claustrophobic even, even though she was only a small thing. But Iann hated small spaces that were not within the bowels of a ship. And this new strange lady was certainly no ship’s child. She reminded him of the strange woman he’d met earlier, Faye of Lacroy from the Wildwood Marsh. Someone truly connected to land. Iann gave her a formal bow. “My apologies, I don’t believe we’ve made introductions. I am Prince Iann de la Cardero Reyes Ojeda Lopez, and this is my - ” he stopped, then looked at the White Lady. “This is my…esteemed bondwoman, the White Lady of the North.”

A prince, he did not quite appear as one, he was terribly old to be a Prince. “Queen Bellamy Jacqueline Chevalier of the Dead Woods,” Bellamy introduced herself but she wore no crown, nothing so ostentatious, and her wolves she had left at the gates, for the time being, as to not seem as aggressive as she could often be. “What is a bondwoman, if I may? Is she your wife?” Bellamy questioned, curious if perhaps these were just unfamiliar words to her, ones from other Kingdoms or that had sprung up in her absence from a more gallant society.

Iann had the exact appearance of a Heir Apparent Prince, considering the wealth of his deportment, and his imposing stature that both commanded power while also exuding the comfortable casualness of one who knew how and when to wield said power. That this little Queen held her doubts spoke of her own inexperience, more than anything else. He opened his mouth to respond, then Lady White filled in the answer for him, which Iann rather loved. “So like a wife, one could argue. Especially to someone as unlovable as myself.”

Bella looked over the man, curious to see if there was any sort of enchantment on him. “You really are a pathetic sort of Prince if you deem yourself unloveable and your life lacking in meaning, I hope you have older siblings far more worthy of whatever Kingdom you are in line to inherit,” she said without hesitation, or even malice, her tone was lower and slow, as she merely voiced her opinion. Looking to the woman. “I’m not sure why you would voluntarily be something akin to a wife,” he wasn’t even attractive, but this was coming from a woman whose partner was in the form of a wolf for more than half of the time.

‘A wife? I’m nothing like a wife! I’m a willing captive, until the moment someone finally acknowledges this man’s strength on the field of battle. And if that means until he’s bested his enemies, then so be it.’

Iann looked down at the White Lady, his arm snaking around her armoured back. Not to protect her, but because Iann had a feeling the White Lady would not hesitate to launch into violence if she felt insulted. She’d already fought an exceptional battle with many of Knight Harrison’s own men, when they had kidnapped her. He didn’t touch her back, it was more of a demonstration that he stood beside her if things turned sideways. The Queen of the Dark Woods. It seemed strange and unfamiliar to Iann, not that he doubted this self-titled creature. She was here, after all, and must hold some merit on the mainland. The idea of the White Lady calling herself a 'willing captive’ was similarly fascinating to Iann. This 'Queen’s’ petty and childish insults washed off of Iann like water. “As you wish, our Highness,” he said neutrally, and then looked at the White Lady. He bowed to them both, although his bow to the White Lady was considerably lower and formal than it was to the Dark Woods Queen. “If you’ll both excuse me, I shall take my leave and attend to other business.”

Bella practically sneered at the woman’s detestable sort of personality, not that her own was shining very brightly then. “And how exactly is that going to make anyone acknowledge anything about him? Latching yourself onto him like a leech, so far you’ve only made him seem more pathetic to me than his own words have.” She was glad for him to leave but imagining his 'captive’ would follow soon after.

Collette stepped forwards, towards this ‘Queen’. Her hand flew to her sword, that Iann had stolen along with her other effects. She was unarmed, thankfully to the others’ opionions. ‘He bested me in combat when I rendered the odds impossible. And so far no one has acknowledged the achievement no other man has managed!’ Two hundred years and in her first visit south she had been insulted deeply.

Faye let herself be led towards the stables by… the Inquisitor, she’d heard him called. She didn’t dismount just yet, not caring to be shorter than most around her. Especially since the Lord himself was far taller. “I don’t think I caught your own name in the confusion, m'lord. Unless of course, you didn’t give it.” Her horse, Abraxas was his name, shook his head and clapped his teeth in the Inquisitor’s direction. Faye spoke something to the stallion, a few soft words, and he shook his great head again but fell quiet.

Fane knew the sigil of the Guard embroided onto the breast of his jacket would likely be a giveaway as to who he was. Even if he was a frequent visitor to these parts people had some idea of who he was and more than one curious look was shot at him and the woman astride her horse with whom he walked. It wasn’t a far journey but he was unaware of the kerfuffle that had taken place not long after their departure a fact he would no doubt learn of later. “I didn’t give it, and technically neither did you,” he intoned in slightly put upon amusement, “but in the way of introductions, my name is Stefan. High Inquisitor of the Dawnguard and Lord of House Savin.”

Faye made a humming sound, a tiny smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. “That’s quite a mouthful. I’m afraid mine is less impressive. Faye Lacroy. Of House Lacroy. It’s an honor to meet you, Lord Savin.” She glanced at him again. “I don’t seem to remember the Dawnsguard having an Inquisitor in the past. Though I’m not current on many things, it seems.” Her tone was slightly humorous, meant to keep her fears hidden. They arrived at the stables, and Faye entrusted her horse to a groomsman, giving him the required coin from a small purse hidden deep inside her cloak.

Fane merely tipped his shoulder lightly, “everyone here has some extended title or epithet, honestly the struggle is remembering them all and the right honorifics to go with them… Duke, Lady, Lord, Prince so on and so forth.” Arriving at the stable he leaned his shoulder on the wooden column supporting the thatch roof, “so in that regard, it’s quite nice really,” he said of her seemingly unimpressive title. Though he was aware of the other little epithet that she and her kin had garnered but he held his tongue on that for now. Perhaps he would ask later, “there have been a few Inquisitors when the realm has need of them, with the ushering of this peace perhaps we won’t have need of them at all… But for the time being, I hold the mantle.”

“Peace,” Faye said, mostly to herself. “I’m not sure most people know what that word means.” Now stood on the ground, she was shorter than him by a head. But she watched him with her strange eyes, looking for any signs of falsehood. “What will you do then? If the world has no need of you?”

“Indeed, I doubt many do… Nor anticipated to see it in their lifetime yet… Here we all are.” Now that she was on foot he could see those infamous violet eyes that had supposedly cast many a soul asunder. It seemed they were of a mind, gaining an estimation of the other. Fane wished to see the peace maintained, even if he doubted it would ultimately last and that meant gaining an understanding of those that also seemed to wish to support it too. At least, support it for the time being. “I look after my people’s interests and see our wares are traded for goods we require in return.”

Faye: “I certainly didn’t. War has seen the end of my House. I wonder how many more will see their own end during peacetimes?” It had been a false sense of peace that had slain her ancestor, if the stories were to be believed. But war had gone on for so long, and what did she really have to lose? Nothing at all. “I have no people, Lord Inquisitor. I have only myself.” She tilted her head to indicate they should walk back towards the Keep if he wished.

Fane inclined his head solemnly. “The wars have been the end of many once great houses, but perhaps an era of peace will allow for those that have suffered to rebuild.” He couldn’t say if it would happen, but perhaps there was a tentative hope. “That seems a rather lonely existence,” her nod caused him to step back ever-mindful of giving her space and not crowding her considering how she’d reacted when her horse’s rein had been caught earlier. “So might I ask then, what does Lady Lacroy do to pass the time in the Wildwood Marshes?”

Faye: “Perhaps,” she said of rebuilding. Though Faye held little hope for finding a husband at this point in her life. She was in her third decade now, far past the age of marriage and children. The best she could hope for is that her House was not forgotten completely. “It is.” Faye grew lonely all the time. She remembered a time when there were always people in her castle. When the hearthfires burned all the time and the smell of cooking and sound of laughter and music could be heard. But not anymore. Not for a long time now. His question caught her offguard, because why did it matter? “Read. Tend the garden. Sometimes I go for a walk.”

Fane knew to some degree of loneliness once widowed and without heirs. While he had not loved his wife for it had been a marriage of politics he was fond enough of her and she had passed in a fever-bed too young to see the end of her days quite so soon. But that was the way of the world it would seem. Though no one needed to know his thoughts on such things they were his own personal council. “What do you grow?” he asked on her mention of a garden “I can’t see how marshland is very good for agriculture unless you’ve managed to find a system to grow on such land?”

“I grow what I need,” Faye told Lord Savin. “It’s just me after all. I have a garden in the courtyard. The soil there is good. I have a few chickens. Some caged doves. I hunt the occasional swamp deer or boar.” Though she saw those rarely nowadays. “Some things grow best in the marshes. Though I doubt you’d want to eat them.”

Miguel had spent a few hours with Adeline, reading to her and asking her questions about the houses, making sure she was ready to face all the nobles that would be milling about. Making sure that she was safe. A few of the castle guards had been added to her entourage, and Miguel asked his own two crew members to watch over the child. And then he took back to wandering. This time in a more respectable outfit, fitting for his station as a lesser son of the Cardero house. A flowing cream colored shirt with gold embroidery and obsidian buttons. His broad sword, ever present at his hip. An obsidian dagger to match Iann’s at his belt - and one in his boot. He smiled and greeted everyone it would benefit him to greet. And some he greeted for fun, his amusement benefit enough. The food was interesting, with variety from across BlueSprings. He stayed away from the food that reminded him of home, he wanted to try new things. His curiosity brought him back to the violet eyes of the witch of the wilds, he had met her once before and he wondered if she remembered him. Perhaps, it didn’t seem like she had many visitors at least. He circled once, taking stock of the inquisitor and whomever else wound in and out of the conversation. “Inquisitor, Lady Lacroy.” He nodded his head in greeting.

Faye’s attention was brought from her current conversation by a familiar voice. Granted, one she never thought to hear again. She stopped, peering at the man who’d been one of her rare visitors in the last few years. “M'lord,” Faye greeted him. “Fancy seeing you here.” Though a tiny smile lifted her mouth. “You look well.”

Fane nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes I suppose you’re right… I’m rather unaccustomed to Houses having so few people belonging to them… Normally there’s so much that needs to be taken into consideration… We have glasshouses that we use to grow the things we need… The rocks don’t lend themselves to very good growing conditions.” But as another approached, Fane found his eyes studying the newcomer. Ah, one of the other princes belonging to the Isles. “Your Royal Highness,” he greeted with a small bow, more formal than Fane had greeted his elder brother earlier.

Faye glanced at the Inquisitor, wondering if he was insulting her or not. She was quite literally the only person left. No husband, no children. Just her. “One may find things a bit less complicated when everyone else is dead, m'lord.” The words were said flatly, but held little heat.

Miguel smiled at the two. “Oh everyone is here Lady Lacroy. But I am happy to see you.” He smiled an extra special Forty Isles honey smile for her. She was overlooked by the other nobles far too often. And he wouldn’t be making that mistake. “I’m happy to see you as well Inquisitor,” he said and his smile turned a little cheeky.

Fane had meant no offence, it was a simple truth. He wasn’t accustomed to Houses with only one survivor. Small households yes, but one individual alone was… something else entirely. “I apologise… I meant no disrespect truly.” But Miguel’s arrival saved him from a little too much awkwardness. “I can say the same of you and your brothers, it seems like an age since we last wrote to one another. How have you been fairing on your voyages lately? Any new discoveries to regale us with tales of?”

Faye nodded at the apology, but said nothing else about it. Her attention turned to Miguel as her two companions seemed to know one another. “You as well.” His smile was returned with a bit more familiarity than Faye had given anyone else.

Miguel pretended not to notice the end or the awkward discussion and instead kept his jovial persona in place. “Oh yes! I recently got back from the Western continent. There I learned about some interesting blacksmithing techniques. Have you heard of crucival steel?”

Fane was thankful at least that no commotion was made of what he said. Some nobles could be incredibly tetchy about things and even if peace was looming some were still far too high-strung for Fane’s liking. “Oh aye? Crucival?” he shook his head a little, “I can’t say I have but you have me intrigued. How does it differ to typical steel?”

Miguel was perked up and grinning. “Well! It’s a mix of pig iron, iron iron, and steel. Along with ashes or glass. All melted in a crucible. The addition of the junk actually makes it stronger. I tested it against my obsidian blade and my blade splintered.” He glanced around and frowned. “I’ll talk to you again Lady, Inquisitor.” He didn’t want to spend too long with any one group. Plus there was still food he wanted to try.

Fane politely inclined his head as Miguel excused himself, not particularly minding. “I apologise… If I did cause offence earlier,” he said more quietly and sincerely then as they walked. “I only meant to try and understand what it would be like to live as you do. But in hindsight it was callous of me to phrase it the way I did and for that and any offence i caused you Lady Lacroy I’m sorry.” He wasn’t full of himself enough to know when an apology was needed and this felt as though it required one.

“No harm done. I don’t speak to people very often. Not unless they need something.” She pulled her cloak tighter around herself. “Why?” she asked, frowning down at the ground as they walked. “My way of life is…” Faye stopped talking lest she make herself out to be the rude one. “You have far greater concerns than me, m'lord.”

Fane made a quietly sympathetic noise as they walked. That was something he understood, people wanting and asking things of you but ultimately that was their job. Though in Lady Lacroy’s case he assumed that perhaps it was a slightly different beast if rumours were to be believed. “Need there be a why?” he countered thoughtfully, straightening himself he clasped his hands behind his back “I take the position that if we are all expected to live in peace surely there needs to be some degree of understanding that exists between us no? How else do you understand a person but by asking the questions to learn about their life?” Perhaps a tad philosophical but no less true in Fane’s opinion at least. “Perhaps,” he allowed to her statement of his greater concerns, “and yet I choose to walk here with you instead.”

“There’s always a why,” Faye said rather shortly. Always a why. Or a how. Or a what. An addendum to everything. “And it’s hard to understand something when you fear it too much.” She meant that as a general statement. Even now as they walked, people glanced at her and upon meeting her eyes many moved quickly away. Some stared. Some even looked angry. And for what? A rumor. A superstition that lingered over her family for ages. Though she was certain by now word of her presence in the city had spread. The Witch come to curse the new ruler. Or something equally horrendous. “Perhaps not the best choice on your part,” Faye told him, though it seemed to keep people from staring at her too long.

Fane tipped a brow at the abruptness with which she answered, well then. “Perhaps there often is, but in this case the why would be I’m curious.” Fane pressed his lips together as he considered her words. “Aye, ‘tis true,” he conceded patient but no less curious despite her attempts to deflect said curiosity, “but I’ve seen things worth fearin’ and I can’t say you happen to be one of those things. Not by my typical estimation of things that’ll maul me to death on the spot at least.” Fane noticed the lingering looks but where Faye seemed uncertain of them he chose to not acknowledge them. “No, perhaps not and yet I choose to stay because I would like– if you would allow me to that is, to try and understand.”

“And I should merely bend to the whim of your curiosity?” The words were only slightly less heated, but she did glance up at him as he returned his own opinions of things to be feared. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want you to think.” Most beautiful things were dangerous in some way. Faye was no less so merely because she isolated herself. She shook her head as they walked. “Stay if you wish. It will only serve to show you that I’m not worth the time.”

Fane looked rather amused by her prickly nature. “Now that’s smart but that wasn’t what I said, I may be curious but you don’t have to indulge my curiosity.” His hand rested loosely on the pommel of his sword, a casual stance and more for comfort than any other reasoning. “Aye, perhaps so. But I’d rather meet my end as such than torn limb from limb by Nightspawn if I had to choose.” Content for the moment he continued to walk alongside her. “That said, it seems unfair if I’m the only one asking questions. If you haven’t socialised for as long as you say surely you have questions about the state of things, no?”

Maya started by walking through the market just observing. You could learn a great deal, she knew, just from observing. It was easy to spot the spice sellers. From a stall a little down the way she watched the only woman among them haggle with someone. After the customer left, Maya headed in the direction of the stall. She was almost there when someone bumped into her. “Have you considered watching where you’re going?” she asked as she straightened herself. She turned to see who had run into her, hoping that it wasn’t a noble.

Aedan was pleased to find that peace would fall on the country. So he was beaming and a little in his cups when he brushed past someone. He wasn’t expecting the woman to take so much offence. He raised his brows at her and sipped his drink. 'I was watching.’

Maya stood with her back completely straight. Despite her slightly worn and common clothing, there was still pride in her air. She noted that the man didn’t actually apologize. She swallowed any annoyance she might have at that fact though. Any trouble she caused would fall back on her master. This was especially true at an event like this. She liked working at Blackspire and didn’t wish to find herself jobless again. “I apologize sir,” she replied, “It has been a…trying day.”

'Events like this are always trying. But perhaps next time be a little politer. Most of the gentry would have leapt at the chance to attack you.’

Maya raised an eyebrow. “Attack a servant in the marketplace? When the land is finally so close peace? I should think most nobles smarter than that,” she replied, “And as for politeness, perhaps you should consider heeding your own advice.”

'Nobles are idiots. And either way, a small nudge didn’t justify your reaction.’ Aedan polished off his glass and handed it to a passing servant. 'But I apologise nonetheless.’

“And it is yours to decide my reaction?” Maya asked, “Perhaps I was concerned that while you managed not to injure me the next person might not be so lucky.” She did give a small curtsey when he did apologize. “I, as well, sir.”

Aedan reached for another drink. 'Lord Ruaidh, King’s Master Architect. You?’

“Maya, no one of importance,” she replied. “What brings you to the market if I may ask? In my,” she chose her words carefully, “limited experience, most nobles send their servants for such tasks.”

'I prefer to buy things for myself. How am I meant to choose the right thing through a servant?’

The Red Priestess had been slowly making her way through the market, getting the feel of the people gathered to see this new ruler crowned. They were an odd mix of nobles, petty lords, and townsfolk. Though a few caught her eye here and there. Those with certain… attributes. Though it was rare to find anyone that was humble. Which is why the woman’s voice caught her attention. As did the man’s next to her. “Sometimes a servant knows exactly what their lord requires,” she said as she made her way towards the pair.

Maya replied, “That must take up a great deal of your time.” It brought up questions for her of if he simply didn’t trust his servants or if he couldn’t employ trustworthy servants. Neither spoke especially well of him. Maya turned at the sound of someone chiming in. She curtsied to the priestess as the woman approached. She also did not respond, seeing as she was now in the presence of two people of more equal rank to each other. Better to wait until it was clear when she was being spoke to.

The Red Priestess dipped her head at the girl. “Hello, Maya of No Importance.” The priestess gave her an appraising look before giving an equally appraising look to the young lord standing next to her. “You yourself are but a servant of the king, are you not?”

Maya “M'am,” she replied with an incline of her head and a short curtsy. It concerned her a little the way the priestess looked at her, but she was still fair from where anyone knew her name. It was going to be fine.

Bella sensed the power of a strong Priestess in the marketplace, having abandoned the courtyard in search of the woman she had given shelter to for some time. Bella’s black gown clung to her form as she moved through the market, wolf now at her side as she was not so close to the castle, no money on her person it would have been the jewels that hung down her back that a thief would go for. So far as she could tell there were many that were going to take advantage of such an event, and she doubted that the wolf would deter them when they were already facing the myriad of guards that had come with royalty. “Octavia,” she called, but her eyes were on a dark haired woman whose energy felt opposed to Bella’s own.

Octavia followed closely behind Bella, keeping an eye on the merchants and customers alike. “Yes, my Queen?” she answered. Her leather bodice held a knife ready for protecting herself and mainly Bella, she never left her room without it. She brought her hand up to it, tracing the outline of it hidden by her long black cloak.

The Red Priestess looked at the girl again as she curtsied. “Do I know you, child?”

Bella looked to her as she stood in the square before her eyes flickered back to the Priestess and the people she was speaking with. For a time Bella had felt guilty that Octavia had readily taken her station, calling Bella by a title she held over people who chose to live in the Dead Woods when Vi had one of her own, but there had been little discouraging her. “Have you been to this place before?” she asked. “Does she look familiar?” Bella continued to question, pointing a hand towards the Priestess as someone curtsied before the woman. Bella knew people had come long distances to the coronation, but even though Ruby was not from the area Bella could not know any better.

Maya shook her head, “I wouldn’t imagine so. As I said, I’m no one of great importance. Merely a kitchen girl in the employ of House Savin.”

“It has been a very long time, but I have been here once before during a peace summit. What good that did.” Octavia said, mumbling the last sentence under her breath. “I do not think I have seen her before.” She whispered close to Bella as she studied the woman.

“I doubt it has done much good now,” Bella noted. Based on her conversation with the self loathing Prince she didn’t imagine many royals were happy, but it was their choice to acknowledge any of this. Still as she watched the Priestess engaging with the slender girl before her she thought perhaps it was not so unlikely that peace could remain. “How would your father have felt about all this?” Bella asked her as she began in the direction of the two women, no tact to speak of she had merely decided she wanted to speak to them and would.

Octavia looked down to her feet, her stomach dropping any time her father’s memory crept into her mind. “He would have loathed this show they’re putting on today. Pretending to bring peace to this war ridden country. I’m sure he would have had a say against this High Raj.” Octavia smirked, following Bellas change in direction towards the woman she had previously asked about.

The Red Priestess: “So you say,” the priestess told Maya. “Most truly important people don’t realize it. Those that do are usually either gluttons or fools.” She recognized the name of the House, and nodded. “A fine name to be connected to. Where’re you from, if I may ask?”

Bella heard Vi’s words, wondering if perhaps these sentiments were what had actually killed the man, rather than his daughter. If you were in the way of peace why would those seeking it not remove you in a less than peaceful way? “I suppose we shall see what the High Raj is like momentarily but for now,” Bellamy moved on as she reached the Priestess and the girl about her own height and build. The Priestess was speaking and, though Bella did not share whatever beliefs this woman had, she would by no means interrupt her. Instead waiting patiently for the girls answer before leaning in. “Excuse me, Priestess,” Bella spoke, eyes dipping to the other girl. “And company. May we join you?”

Maya couldn’t help but smile at that, “One might argue that the gluttons and fools aren’t as important as they claim though.” She paused before answering the priestess’ other question. Luckily, she was saved by two more people’s approached. She curtsied to the newcomers and didn’t answer the woman’s question. I t was not her decision if they joined her and the Priestess.

Octavia lingered close behind, giving the two women a smile. She pulled back her hood to reveal her long waist length hair, feeling it fall down her back.

“Spoken just like someone who wants that indulgence, but also want to appear humble.” Faye eyed the way his hand rested on his sword, a habit she was certain, but something to note regardless. Her own dagger lay inside her cloak, long and wickedly curved, it wasn’t just for show. She thought about his words, and whether or not she did have any questions. She had just opened her mouth to ask something, when there was a commotion to the side. Something heavy careened into Faye, knocking her off balance and into a market stall. “You fucking witch!!” the crazed man screamed at her, brandishing a rusty blade beneath Faye’s throat. “You’re not welcome here! You’ll bring a pox! A plague! A-” The man made a sudden tight, huffing sound, and suddenly grew very, very still. Though his blade was still held to Faye’s throat, and a small trickle of blood ran down her neck. “Release me,” she said, her words wavering slightly, “or you’ll be carrying you entrails in a handbasket.” Her dagger was pressed to his stomach, the tip piercing the soft flesh but not deep enough to truly harm. The crowd around them had scattered, and the hushed whispers of 'witch….’ spread through the onlookers. Faye’s eyes tightened slightly as fear started to settle in.

Fane had to laugh at how she spun the situation. “Now that’s incredibly presumptive of you Lady Lacroy.” She was an interesting character to boot, and by the minute he found himself all the more intrigued by her. Unfortunately, their peace was interrupted rather abruptly and Fane grunted as he too was knocked though not directly enough to loose his footing. It all happened in the space of a second but a second was all it took. Fane’s smaller dirk had been drawn from his side, “now– there’s no need for this… Release the Lady and you’ll come to no harm…” his voice was sterner now. “If you harm her you’ll answer to the full authority and justice invoked of the Guard.”

He stared in shock as Hadwin only pressed the blade tighter to Faye’s throat. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his dirk that remained at his side, the other hand raising non-threateningly. “Lady Lacroy is here to make peace just as the rest of us are – by invitation of the Crown.” The wild-eyed man’s eyes snapped across then considering the small area of space that had been made by the crowd backing away from the commotion chattering nervously amongst themselves. Hadwin spat a thick brownish globule of spit in Fane’s direction but the Inquisitor remained unmoving, eyes fixed on Lady Lacroy and the man holding her at blade-point just as she had him. “What gives you the right t'invoke the Guard for this stinkin’ witch?!” the blade was pressed tighter and Fane instinctively took a step forwards so that he was closer to intervene if forced to.

“That’s why they’re fools,” the priestess smiled. “A true ruler doesn’t have to remind anyone of who or what he - or she -” A pointed look at Maya. “- is.” Before the girl could answer her other question, Scarlett turned at the sound of another voice. Though as she took in the woman in black and her armored companion, the priestess’ smile faded ever so slightly. “Of course. We were merely speaking of the market, and all its finery.” A small lie, but the priestess knew this woman, if not personally, then by reputation. “What brings the Deadwood to the Capitol? Other than the obvious.”

Octavia looked over to where a slight skirmish had occurred. She watched as a mad hovered over a woman with a knife to her throat. “Ma’m, may I assist the woman over there? She seems she may need the help.” Octavia whispered lightly to Bella before she realized the woman had possibly already begun to defend herself.

Bella only knew of her reputation in the most peculiar of ways, since she rarely left the Dead Woods it was more from those who ventured in that she understood the way that she appeared. Blood magic was not something typically practiced. It was strange to imagine that her parents had twisted things enough that she was the villain in their story, in reality things were a little different. “I thought perhaps with the war ending that things might be different out here than they were in Chevalier,” she answered of her families Kingdom, none of whom had shown their faces so far. “I don’t imagine I know either of you though but your presence is unrelenting,” Bella said of the Priestess. “This is my ward and protector Octavia,” Bellamy introduce, the girls had at her own dagger unmistakable but hopefully not threatening.

Bella gave Octavia a gentle nod that she could do as she liked, Bella would quite see what she was speaking of but she had her wolf at her side and that would be enough.

“And how is that?” the priestess asked of the woman’s home. Her tone was genuinely concerned, and not mocking. “Or do you speak of the rumors that circulate about things people don’t understand?” She dipped her head in thanks at the compliment. “As is your own, m'lady.” The priestess greeted the woman’s guardian as well, not treating her any differently than she did her mistress.

“Ladies.” Octavia gave the three women a slight bow and took a step backwards, pulling her sword from it’s place at her hip to ready herself. “Is there a problem here, M'lady?” She asked. She saw a man at the ready as well, attempting to talk down the crazed attacker. “Sir.” She said giving him a nod.

Fane opted not to draw his sword, considering the close confines of the square there was no way to swing a blade of any real length without potentially risking harm to other commonfolk gathered nearby. So Fane kept his short blade handy while he spoke to the man holding Faye presently. A few of his sworn shields that happened to also be in the city, the crest of the Dawnguard emblazoned on their shields and tunics stepping up behind Fane. “There appears to be… unrest… here over Lady Lacroy’s presence in the city…” he explained without taking his eyes off the situation at hand.

Faye stayed quite still, even if the fear in her eyes was real. She was no fool, and this wasn’t the first time she’d ever been set upon. Though it had admittedly been a long time. Since the dagger in his belly hardly seemed to do much, Faye’s free hand reached into a small pocket in her robe. Into the small satchel she kept there. When the man glanced aside at Fane and another woman that come up to help, Faye blew the small handful of grey dust into the man’s face. He sucked in a breath as Faye held hers. Instantly, he started shaking his head, clawing at his eyes and throat. He dropped the blade as he staggered and fell to his knees, still clawing at himself. Faye stood up, closing her fist until she could wash off the powdered fireberries. Sheathing her own dagger, she wiped the blood from her throat. “Still think they wish to understand me, Lord Savin?” she asked, moving off to clean her hands, ignoring the crowd as they parted to let her pass.

The woman still had not introduced herself and just as Bella went to say had designs on what was once her home there was an announcement that there was to be a celebration, something festive in preparation for the event staved off to the following day. “Would you like to walk together?” she asked of them, her hand drifting over the head of her wolf and running fingers through it’s fur. “Perhaps you can tell me what you are a Priestess of, I haven’t come across another since my time at home.” The church in Chevalier was more known for its choke like hold over the people in conjunction with the monarchy. It made her nervous to be here, though it seemed the church here had done a lot to bring the unsavory war to an end.

Iann from the crowd, Iann applauded loudly. “What a show! Such a magnificent demonstration of elegance, of power. The reason we are all here today, wouldn’t you say?” He looked around at the watching crowd, still anxious but now confused. “Scatter now. You have all heard the announcement. Go enjoy yourselves, rather than seeing your blood stain the swords of the Dawnguard. I heard the mead is delicious.”

Octavia:pulled out a handkerchief from her bodice, offering it to Lady Lacroy. “M'Lady.” She said eyeing the woman. “Will you be attending the celebration this evening?” Octavia asked the two keping an eye on Bella as she made her way to the festivities with the other two women.

Fane blinked and before he could quite say what had happened the situation was… resolved. He looked after Faye as she cut through the crowd, and while he wanted to say something… What else was there really to be said that hadn’t already? Grunting, he shoved his dirk back into his belt and walked over to the man clawing at his eyes using the toe of his boot to roll him over onto his back and look down at him for a moment. “As for who invokes the Guard, the Inquisitor does,” the man’s eyes and nose were flushed a snotty scarlet red. Unimpressed by the man’s display Fane kicked his blade aside and indicated with two fingers for him to be seized, “put him in irons and let him think on his actions behind bars.” He said nothing more as he watched the man be picked up and hefted away while Iann thankfully got the stragglers to scarper.

Octavia followed Lady Lacroy through the crowd.

Miguel had watched the clamor, interested in what it would mean for everyone. He found he was content when Faye came out on top. The image of her blowing the powder. Of the hard look in her violet eyes, like sharp crystal, it was elegant and exciting. Something that Iann echoed a moment later. He went to his brother and bumped lightly against his shoulder, a habit from simpler times, when there was more affection between the eldest and youngest of House Cardero. “Is the mead or the honey from our Isles?” He asked.

Faye heard the jeering from the crowd. A mocking voice she’d heard earlier in the day. Typical for someone else’s pain and fear to be amusement to the ones in power. Nothing ever changed. She looked up as the woman who’d come over to assist Lord Savin spoke to her. “Thank you,” Faye said, accepting the handkerchief with a nod. She only felt a bit ashamed of walking away as she had, but her anger was none of Lord Savin’s fault. And she didn’t wish to take it out on him. “I think I shall. If only for the mead.”