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Of Blood & Royalty



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Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:11 am
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ScarlettFire says...



Welcome to a realm where blood and magic rule...

Plot: For centuries, mages have been tip-toeing around Yaska, the capital of Sankar. It was an uneasy truce. Mages, especially blood mages, are seen as dangerous and impure, and therefore persecuted for it. It's suicide for one to attempt to practice their craft, let alone consider assination of the king or his queen.

When one succeeds in doing so, it throws the entire kingdom into anarchy.

The assisnation was the last straw. All the mages are seen as suspicious. Eyes follow them everywhere. People avoid them, drawning their children away--even the eldery. Most people despise their presence, treating them as less than human.

Now all the mages are under scrutiny. It's time to rise or fall. Whose side are you on?

Maps:
Spoiler! :
SankarImage

Spoiler! :
Yaska CityImage


Rules:
-Usual YWS/SB rules.
-ALL posts must be readable, co-relate to previous posts and have correct spelling. That means no chat speak.
-All OOC posts to the DT, please. To keep the storybook free of clutter and whatnot.
-800 characters minimum or about 165 words for those of you using MS Word or other writing programs. Use this Wordcounttool if you're not sure.
-Swearing; it's allowed just don't overdo it.
-Romance is allowed but no sex scenes; No one needs to read about details.
-Fantasy creatures are allowed, but be reasonable.
-Don't God-mod. Please, it's not fair. And no Mary/Gary Sues either. They annoy me.
-Please don't double post unless there have been no new posts for at least 24 hours.
-Please have a name and place at the top of each post. Such as
Name | Place. OR, for example; Mia | Town.
-Please PM
me (ScarlettFire) and the creator of a character before killing them off or state in your profile if you are going to die before the end of the SB. No one likes it when they're randomly killed.


Characters:
1 - Mage - Arryn (Blood Mage) - Claimed by @ScarlettFire.
2 - Mage - Asha - Claimed by @Remembrance.
3 - Mage - Hawke - Claimed by @Auxiira.
4 - Soldier - Zephyr - @NPC/Created by @CoffeeCat.
5 - Soldier - Adrid - Claimed by @SirenCymbaline.
6 - Prince - Quintus - Claimed by @LordZeus.
7 - Princess - Emberly - Claimed by @HazelGrace16.
8 - Thief - Katsumi - @NPC/Created by @Sheyren.
9 - Other - Torrin - Claimed by @XxXTheSwordsmanXxX.
10 Mage - Séverin - Claimed by @ChildOfNowhere.
11 - Mage - Aster - @NPC/Created by @Casanova.
12 - Noble/Mage - Charna - Claimed by @ScarlettFire.
13 - Noble/Mage - Lord Istaqa - @NPC/Created by @ScarlettFire.


Character Template:
Code: Select all
[b]Name:[/b]

[b]Age:[/b] (17 or older please)

[b]Gender:[/b]

[b]Rank:[/b] (Mage/Soldier/etc)

[b]Appearance:[/b]  (description and picture)

[b]Personality:[/b] (Include likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses)

[b]Flaws:[/b] (If you have one/any)

[b]Abilites:[/b] (Two only. One Strong, one weak.)

[b]History:[/b]

[b]Up for love:[/b]

[b]Other:[/b]
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Wed Jun 28, 2017 11:27 pm, edited 8 times in total.
"With friends like you, who needs a medical license?" - Paimon, Aether's Heart


“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” - Grace Hopper.





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Sat Nov 26, 2016 7:48 am
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ScarlettFire says...



Image

Arryn | Tavern near the West Gate


Arryn hunched over his mug, staring down into the dull brown liquid, trying not to jump at every single noise he heard. Every sharp sound, every high-pitched laugh and scrap of wood on stone was setting his nerves on edge. Not to mention the way his thoughts started to tumble down dark pathways. It was frustrating, the way his paranoia made him think that everyone who even gave him a look--let alone a second glance--would recognize him. That, of course, was impossible. No one had seen him--the real him, at least. He'd made sure of that.

"Hey." A soft voice brought his head up, and he found himself staring up into the face of the pretty, blonde tavern wench with the small bosom. "Need some more mead?"

He shook his head. "No," he grunted, grip tightening on his mug of mead. "I'm good."

She flashed him a friendly smile an moved on, but not before his mind took his own a dark path that included cutting into her pretty, pale-skinned neck. Arryn swallowed and forced the images away. That was the last thing he needed; to get caught cutting up a tavern wench for the power he blood promised. It had nothing on the power that still thrummed through him from the king and queen. Arryn followed the girl's path with his eyes, then swallowed and dropped his gaze back to the mug. Definitely the last thing he needed.

Speaking of power... Where the hell was the mage from The Guild? He'd been told to wait here, in the tavern near the West Gate. What had the name been again? He barely remembered now... The Golden Egg? No, that wasn't right... The Golden Pony? That sounded more like it. He nodded to himself without looking up, fingers clenching reflexively on the mug. How long had he been here again? A week? Something like that. Where the hell was his contact?

The door opened abruptly, letting in a ray of light and the sound of bells. It cut through the loud, raucous noise of the tavern sharply, and suddenly everyone was quiet. Arryn resisted the urge to look up, listening to the bells toll. That will be coming from the temple, he thought sourly. The bells would be announcing the royal couple's funeral rites. He hated the bells.

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the door abruptly slammed shut, making him jerk his head up and glance towards it. A small figure stood in front of the door, tugging on their hood. As Arryn watched, they moved away from the door and headed straight for the bar. He frowned, watching at the figure spoke to the bar keep for a few minutes, then dragged his gaze away and went back to staring morosely into his mead.
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Tue Feb 07, 2017 11:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"With friends like you, who needs a medical license?" - Paimon, Aether's Heart


“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission.” - Grace Hopper.





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Sat Dec 03, 2016 5:26 am
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HazelGrace16 says...



Emberly | Sankarian Castle

The black threading on the end of Emberly’s sleeve had already began to fray. She had only been dressed in the newly made traditional gown a few hours now, but the restless moving of her fingers tear at its fine silk.

She was not meant to wear this gown today.

She was not meant to wear this gown for many years, and yet, the loud chiming of the temple’s bells remind her that this hasn't been some lucid nightmare. It is real.

The King and Queen are dead...Her mother and father are dead.

She has not cried yet. Her refusal to let herself cry may be due to the deep numbness of grief, or maybe it's an act of defiance against reality. Perhaps, if she does not settle with the truth, then the truth will change itself. But even Emberly is not so easily fooled by such childish whims.

A soft knock at the door pulls Emberly’s attention away from her mother’s dark eyes staring back at her from her own reflection. With a sigh she stands from the spot at her vanity, and approaches the door. She opens it to reveal a friendly face.
Her mother's head lady, and dearest friend, Kaia. Like Emberly, she wears her own dark traditional gown. Her eyes glow red from tears, which makes sense. Kaia and Emberly’s mother had been like sisters. Quickly, Kaia embraces Emberly not saying anything for a long moment. To Emberly, the hug feels like an eternity. Eventually Kaia pulls away, and grabs Emberly’s hands.

“It will be time to go soon. Have you spoken with your brother yet today?” Kaia asks. “Your ladies spoke to me, and told me that you dismissed them before you were fully dressed this morning. The guards have heard nothing from either one of your rooms, and neither one of you appeared at breakfast this morning so I was worried...” Kaia was always rambling. Even in grief, this woman never stopped taking care of everyone else’s lives first.

“Nothing to be worried about Kaia. I just needed the time to think this morning. And no...I have not spoken to my brother yet today. I assume he is working.”

“Surely not. Especially not on-” Kaia cuts herself off. It's almost as if she can't say the words. She coughs. “Well, the congregation will be leaving soon. Shall I have the guards inform him or-”

“I will do it.” Emberly interrupts.

“Of course.” She removes her hands from Emberly’s and curtsies. Then with one last gesture Kaia grabs Emberly’s face and kisses her forehead softly. The act sends chills down Emberly’s spine reminding her of her mother's touch. Tears prick her eyes as Kaia walks furiously away down the hall.

Emberly breathes deep composing herself, and begins the walk to her brothers room. It takes everything she has to not look at the portraits hanging along the walls. Instead, she looks out the glass windows, where gentle rain strokes down the side.

Why must it always rain at funerals?

When Emberly reaches her brothers room, she adamantly knocks on the door. The stirring is quiet, but it doesn't take long for the door to open. She stares at her brothers flustered features. It's clear he hasn't slept much by the dark circles under his eyes, and the stack of papers covering his desk.

“Emberly.” He grabs her shoulders quickly, and hugs her. The siblings hug for a long moment, as tears once again prick Emberly’s eyes. Quintus does his best to smile.

“Please don't tell me you have been working this whole time.” His face falls.

“There is a lot that needs to be done. A lot that needs to be taken care of. The people are restless, and concerned. I'm doing my best to make this transition as easy as possible.”

“Quint...you are allowed time to grieve.” She begins adjusting the flustered details on his uniform.

“I know, but sometimes we must make the choice to overlook personal pain, and look at the bigger picture. Besides, I like the distraction.”

“I understand...We should probably go join the congregation. They intend to leave soon.”

“They wouldn't leave without us...Are you ready to face the public?” He asks

“I just want this to be over.”

“I know, but sadly I think it has only begun.” He holds out his hand, and Emberly takes it.

--------------------------

The walk to the temple sends aches throughout Emberly’s body. Each step feels like a slap to the face reminding her of the loss. Rain falls softly against the pavement sending calm echos throughout the city. It's strange that the loss of two people would cause such silence in the city. People gather on the sides of the streets keeping their heads down, grieving for their King and Queen. The soldiers surround the young royal siblings shielding them from the possible threats surrounding them, but not enough that the people cannot see them. So the people can see their pain. See their loss. To Emberly, it was like being viewed as a painting. Only there to take a stance against those who did this. Even at her own parents funeral, she feels as though she is on display.

The caskets are beautiful. Each carved intricately with the historical golden designs of the royal family. They are carried by close friends and soldiers, and they are closed...The people would not want to see them this way.

When the congregation arrives at the temple the ceremony begins. Rituals are performed, prayers are said, and stories are shared. Emberly begins pulling at the thread on her sleeve again when Quintus grabs her hand. Together through everything. She knows he would never leave her behind. He carries their weight and she knows this.

When the ceremony has ended and the congregation has returned to the palace, people begin to part on their separate ways. Quint and Emberly walk along the halls arm in arm.

"I keep expecting to see them walk down the halls." Emberly says after a long moment of silence.

"I know...Sometimes I look over my shoulder to see if father is looming over me the way he used to." The siblings smile.

"I miss them." Emberly says, her voice quiet.

"I miss them too." Suddenly Quintus pulls away from his sisters grasp. "If you will excuse me."

"Where are you going?" She asks curiously.

"I have some business to attend to."

"On today of all days?"

"Emberly I-"

"It's okay...I- I understand." She interrupts.

"We'll be okay." He takes a step towards her, and places a kiss on her forehead.

"I know..." She watches silently as he walks away.

-------------------------

When Emberly returns to her room, she walks over to the small box placed on her vanity. She promised she wouldn't open it until tomorrow as she was asked, but she couldn't wait any longer. She needed to see the last thing her parents would ever give her. With a pull of a string the box opens to reveal a small roped bracelet with a tiny fire shaped charm made of white stone. A small note lay beneath it reading

To our dearest Emberly,
Today is a day of great change, and we leave you with this advice. Never let the fire inside you stop burning. We love you, and we can't wait to see you shine at your coming of age ball. You will look beautiful, and we are so extremely proud of you. Happy eighteenth Birthday
Love, Mother and Father


And for the first time since the news of her parents death spread, Emberly falls to floor and cries. Not only from sadness, but also from confusion and anger.

She was not meant to wear this gown today.
"Sometimes it is the people who no one imagines anything of who do the things that no one can imagine" - The Imitation Game





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Mon Dec 05, 2016 6:28 pm
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LordZeus says...



Prince Quintus Dharshan Ahr'Man

Quint sat alone in his bedchamber, scowling into his goblet of water. The funeral had been a depressing affair, reminding him of how much of a burden he had to carry. His father had always been an imposing person, making the tremendous responsibility as ruler look easy.

Quint, despite knowing ahead that the transition was going to be hard, and being trained for it practically since birth, still felt that he wasn't really ready to take everything on. But I'll persevere, and push on, for the kingdom's sake. he resolved.

Quint glanced up at the mirror on his all, which reflected the his dark emotions and serious face, and equally dark attire. His leather armor had been replaced by shining black chain mail. His cloak was also plain black rather than his usual Golden Dragon on red.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Your drink,my lord." said a voice from outside, which Quint recognized to be Severin, one of the palace servants.

"Come in." said the Prince, and the door creaked op, revealing Severin holding a tray on which was pitcher of watermelon juice and a goblet.

He stepped into the room, and placed the tray on the small side table Quint was sitting at, filling the goblet.

"My Lord, your esteemed General requested me to call you for the Senate meeting, which is soon to begin." said the servant.

Quint nodded. "very well, thank you Severin. I will go soon." and he lifted up the goblet, taking a few refreshing sips of the chilled liquid, which for the moment helpd him calm his restless mind.

Severin turned to leave, but then halted and turned back. "Uh...my Lord, may I ask you a question?"

Quin looked up at him. "Alright. What is it?"

"Your list of reforms which have been announced publicly included some giving the mages freedom and protecting them from persecution. Why did you choose to do this?"

"Ah, well," started Quint, placing his goblet back on the table. "You see, I have been around their districts a lot. In disguise, of course. I've traveled between their districts and those of the normal folk quite lot. And what I've realized is that there
s no difference, you know? The mages suffer mostly from the same things that the rest of he people do, they play the same games, they even celebrate the same festivals. Apart from the magic, the mages are just like us in every way. So why should we consider them separate from the rest of us? Condemning mages does nothing but damage ourselves, keeping us divided and having conflicts within our on kingdom. That's why I added those reforms."

Severin nodded, seeming to understand, and Quint stood up. "Well, I had better get going, it would be rude to keep the nobles waiting. Please tell my carriage driver to be ready, will you, I will probably have to go out later."

Severin bowed obediently, and Quint nodded at him before leaving the room.

----

"Now that all are present it is time to begin our proceedings for the day." called the Senate Announcer, standing in the middle of the circle of Senators, and brought out a long scroll. "The Crown Prince, Quintus Dharshan Ahr'Man has called this special meeting of the Senate on account of a special list of reforms he has prepared. This is the right of the crown, and we must accept his will, despite the...unorthodox choice of day." and he turned to give a harsh glance to Quint, who rolled his eyes.

He new that the choice of the King and Queen's funeral day had earned him no lack of ill will from the Senate Members, but it would be hard to get all the twenty-one major provincial lords and the Admiral, the General as well as the senior and junior Adjunct-Generals to come together once they resumed duties the day after the funeral.

"I will now read the list of reforms proposed by the Prince Regent." continued the Speaker. "One, All People are hereby free to complain of ill treatment by their ruler or ruling lord without fear of persecution. Two, All Discrimination against Mages is henceforth outlawed, and any who break this law will be punished accordingly. Three, all..." and he continued to rattle off the list of new measures, pausing now and theen to tell the room to settle.

Quint, in the meanwhile looked around the circle of ornate wooden chairs, at the varying facial expressions of the Lords and Military Commanders, dressed sombrely in black. The General caught his eye and smiled, nodding

Quint smiled back, knowing that his Uncle and close friend of the King would not waver from his support to his nephew. And neither would his two subordinates, or the Admiral for that matter. All four having risen from the ranks, they supported the empowerment of the people.

But the rest of the gathered Lords were muttering among themselves, most not looking very happy. Quaint knew he had to get them on his side, if he wanted to get his first list of reforms passed.

The crowd gathered around the round Senate circle in the Great Hall, minor nobles and military officials, none high places enough to warrant a Senate seat, were silent, watching their superiors carefully, to see what would happen.

When the Announcer was finished listing the reforms, he called out, "We will now have a discussion before we proceed to voting. Who would like to speak first?"

Lord Falerius of Yaska City Province raised his hand, and the Announcer nodded at him. "You have the floor." he said, and the thin, elegantly dressed Lord rose. He stood up, his white hair and short beard shining from the light entering from a window.

"First of all," he started, "I would like to commend our young ruler on his enthusiasm. He has been a vibrant new voice to our people." And he bowed to the Prince, forcing him to nod back, despite knowing what he was going to say after.

"But," he continued, "These measures seem to have not been very well thought out. He trusts too much in the mages, that they will not strike again, and wishes to prevent our people from expressing their rightful indignation at the death of their rulers."

"The mages didn't kill my parents, Senator." Snapped Quint. "The Guild did. And the Dragon Guard and Order I have formed are doing great work in dealing with them."

"My Lord, with all due respect, Senator Falerius has the floor." said the Announce, slightly annoyed.

Quint subsided and Falerius smirked as he continued, "These reforms say that we should be more friendly towards the Belasians, despite how many lives we have lost on the border, and should make our people buy from them, making our enemy richer!"

Quaint clenched his fists. That's not what they do!

"Finally," said Falerius, "Our Prince trusts far too much in the poor people, that they will fully understand their liberties. They must be looked after, they do now understand how to handle such new laws. We treat those under us well, but there are always a few dissenters, and this will allow them to undermine our authority. And giving them powers in the hope that they will be able to rise above their current poor state is ineffective and will harm the interests of the kingdom in the long run."

"So, you're basically saying that they are too stupid and uneducated to do anything to live a better life?" growled the General. "Perhaps you should recall that, thirty-five years ago I was a pickpocket in the slums. And now, I live in the palace, am the General of the Army, and my own son is third in line to the throne. Tell me, Falerius, is that or is that not rising?"

"Enough, Senator Zafar!" Snapped the Announcer, "Senator Falerius's time is not yet up. And further more, you know the Law; While in the Senate, you will address each of its members, save the Crown, as Senator.. Senator Falerius, please continue."

"In response to what you said, Senator." He said , turning to the General. "You worked hard to raise your rank. You joined the army, you fought well and your rank rose, and you became friends with our late King. Most do not make that choice. I'm finished, Announcer." He replied, sitting down.

"Alright." Replied the Announcer. "Who would like to be our second speaker?"

Quaint raised his hand, and the Announcer nodded. Quint stood, his red cloak fluttering in the wind, and took a breath. Just stick to the plan.

"Senators!" he called out, "Our comrade Falerius sees no point in my reforms. But the Advisory Council passed them yesterday, with three quarters of the vote, so they obviously did. I understand of course that the Council lacks real power since all they could have done is postponed the reforms by a week, but they have all earned their office, and we should not take their opinions lightly."

He paused to let that sink in, before continuing, "But i understand his concerns, and i will address them one by one. First, he complains about my treatment of mages. But discrimination only fosters division, and there are far more benefits to be reaped from unity among our people. The Belasians have taken advantage of the power of the mages, and their army is far stronger than ours because of it. This has shown clearly in every conflict, with our victories hard to come by while theirs were easy. Our navy have saved us so far, but think what we could do with the mages! many of you have seen their prowess in battle, and if we could harness that to our benefit, it would only help, and the Belasians wouldn't dare attack! The Mages did not kill my parents, the Guild did, and my men are already dealing with them. Senator Falerius also said that I was being too friendly to Belasi, reducing the high tax on their goods. But he neglected to remember that that was in connection to trade from other kingdoms. I've lowered taxes on bulk goods from every kingdom. This is because I plan to make Sankar a centre of trade. Just think, every merchant will realize that it is more beneficial to trade goods in Sankar than anywhere else. Just think how our Kingdom would rise as a centre of free trade, with goods and traders from every corner of the known world here!"

Quint paused as murmurs came from around the room, many of agreement. Quint could tell that at least some lords were realizing the potential profits of the reforms. "Lastly," he continued, "He said the peasants need looking after, that they lack the ability to rise above their station. Tell me, my good comrades, how many of you were descended from the poor who have risen up? There are several of you whose grandfather or great-grandfather occupied a lowly position at first, then rose to great positions as Provincial Lords. Why should people like your honorable ancestors let their talents waste away? And the reforms only allow them to complain of ill treatment, not mere insults! And I believe that if the people are not satisfied or feel mistreated they deserve to be helped. The Kingdom cannot succeed unless its people do, and I intend to help them do just that." Then he bowed his head to the gathering and sat down.

The Announcer then asked, "Does Anyone else wish to speak?" and, seeing no one raise their hand, said, "Very well, then. We shall proceed to voting. All who wish to pass these new measures into law, raise your hands."

The Prince and a number of those gathered raised their hands. The Announcer took count, and declared, "Thirteen. A tie. Therefore the reforms clearly fail to pass for lack of a major-"

'Wait!" said the Prince, thinking quickly. "I cast the royal vote!"

The room fell silent. The royal vote was an extra vote given to the royal family. But it hadn't been used in centuries.

"This is your right once per annum." said the Announcer shakily. "Are you sure you wish to use it now?"

Quint nodded. This first list of reforms was critical to him, to establish his intentions clearly to the people.

"Then, with a majority of fourteen to thirteen, the motion passes. Prince Quintus's list of reforms are now law." called out the Announcer.

"Thank you." said Quintus with a smirk and stood up, and the rest of the room stood with him. "The meeting is adjourned." and the gathered Senators as well as the watching crowd bowed as he turned aand exited the the room through the ornate doors held open by a couple of Guards.

----

In the Castle corridors, on the way to his chambers, his Uncle caught up with him. "Nephew, the Senators are not going to be pleased with you about this." he said. "Not to mention you are the first King in centuries not to have the majority support of the Senate. This is a problem, especially since you won't be able to use the royal vote for another year."

"Yes, I understand, Uncle Babur." he replied. "We're going to need to figure out how we can get at least one more on our side...we'll discuss it tomorrow. For now, I have to meet my sister. I'd like to leave the Senate topic alone for the moment."

The General smiled slightly. "Very well. i prefer the Advisory Council anyway. There there are rich and poor alike, their position based on merit not blood. It's always very interesting meeting them."

"I agree." replied Quint. "They certainly like me far more than several of the Senators do!"

"How are you dealing with your loss, by the way?" he asked, his face clearly showing how much he himself was grieving.

"I'm ....alright, I guess. It's hard though." Quint replied, staring at the floor. He'd been trained his whole life to take over when his father died, but he hadn't expected it o be so soon. But I have to go on, for the sake of the Kingdom.

Babur Zafar nodded. "I understand. I feel the same way. I and your father were great friends you know. We were so close that, when I broke the news that i and his siter had been...meeting each other on the side, he didn't hesitate but granted me her hand in marriage. we've been friends for twenty-five years, and now he's gone. "

Quint patted his Uncle on the back, the memories of his father crowding his mind. He suppressed a sob and continued on his way.

----

Qunt and his sister sat in the stables as the carriage was readied. She was sitting next to him, both leaning against a wall, her head on his shoulder. they had just finished their walk around the castle, which he had taken time off his work for to comfort his sister.

She was crying silently. "Quint, remember when I used to hate Mom for not letting me go out with you? I regret every time I did that now."

Quint put an arm around her and held her closer. "Don't worry, I'm sure she forgives you. She was a forgiving person. father on the other hand...now he's gone to be with th Goddess, I'm sure he knows of every time I sneaked out of the castle! And knowing him, he'll be waiting to punish me when i join him!" he said, making a half-hearted attempt at a joke.

His sister chuckled softly. "Father loved you. You were his perfect son, he'd always say. And even if he knew all the times you disobeyed him, I think he'd say the same."

Quint smiled and kissed the top of his sister's head, before getting up, his sister standing up with him.

A guard ran into the stables. "My Lord," he said, "Your carriage awaits you."

"Come back soon." said Emberly.

"I'll be back by this evening." promised Quint, and hugged his sister one more time before leaving.

-----

Quint sighed as the carriage arrived in front of tent which hosted the Trader's Union which he was visiting to finalize trade deals with Belasian merchants.

Dozens of protesters filled the are between him and the entrance, yelling and hefting signs which read, 'It's Us or Them.'. The entrance itself was guarded by mercenaries, but Quint saw that he wasn't going to make it there peacefully.

His Guards shoved their way into the crowd, forming a corridor for the Prince to pass.
Quint gritted his teeth, put an his cloak over his head and walked through.

"Traitor! Traitor!" chanted the crowd, as they tried to get past the line of Guards, to no avail. Several threw mud and dung, some getting on target.

"No attacking!' yelled Quint, as he noticed the Guards getting incensed. "You will not be the first to cause harm."

His order was obeyed, albeit grumblingly, and he moved quickly towards the entrance.

"My son was killed on the border!" yelled one man. "How can you choose to buy goods from Belasi now?"

The Prince paused and turned. "I am sorry for your loss." he said quietly. "But we've killed them too. And the killing must end somewhere. That's why I'm trying to create a peace, starting with trade."

The man didn't seem to have listened, yelling obscenities, and Quint sighed and walked into the tent.





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XxXTheSwordsmanXxX says...



Torrin|Marketplace


As the Prince entered the tent, the crowd only grew more angered and enraged. A cry went out as a few of the more intoxicated of the crowd grabbed hold of a woman carrying a basket of flowers. She cried in pain as one of the men grabbed around the arm tightly.

"I'll bet you're one of those potion making witches!" he screamed at her, tearing the basket from her hands and strewing the ground with her brightly colored flowers. Four more men joined in with stomping her flora and the wicker basket as she tried to pry her arm free.

"Let me go!" she cried. "Someone help?"

"Shut her up before she casts a spell on us!" A fifth cried before the one holding the woman slapped her across the cheek. Her lips split as she held her reddening cheek.

"Please! I'm not a mage!" she begged.

"Shut up!" the man holding her roared again. He raised his hand to strike the woman again before a small ball of snow struck him along the side of his face. The sting of ice and cold prickling his stubble covered face.

From the crowd came a man tossing a small ball of snow in his hand, despite it being far too warm for such a thing. Dressed in a long coat as white as his waist length hair. His ice blue eyes having an impish glean to them like the smirk on his lips.

"If you want to attack mages," he said in a smooth baritone voice, "You should make sure you actually have one." The crowd around him gave a wide berth to Torrin as he moved a few steps closer. "Now how about you let the woman go before you embarrass yourselves any further."

"Get that Mage scum!" the man holding the woman roared. A larger man charged forward with rage in his eyes.

Torrin only grinned as he spun the snowball in his hand, giving it another coat of glaze and flung it right between the charging man's eyes. The ball of ice gave a loud 'thunk' as it struck instead of exploding into flurries as it should have. The man stumbled back, his eyes crossing and trying to focus before he fell.

"Have to keep your eye on the ball," Torrin said as he turned to the next man that sought him harm. Flicking his hand toward the man a sheet of ice covered the ground under his front foot, letting it slide forward into a split. With a cry of pain the man cradled the apex of his legs as Torrin chuckled. "That had to hurt."

One of the remaining four managed to get close enough to hit Torrin before he noticed. With a somersault, Torrin dove out of the way of the man's fist. His feet in the air before a curve of ice appeared, letting Torrin skate back and away from the man with a grin.

Grabbing a man's pants, he tugged them down so he would fumble with them. The man yelped as he moved one hand to grasp at his fallen clothing while the other tried to cover his dignity, before Torrin pulled him along the ice and slid him face first into a stall table. Stopping as he arrived at the center of two drunken brawlers that planned on crushing the lean mage between them before he shot up on a pillar of ice. The pair crashed head first into the solid pillar and collapsed to the earth with the others.

The final man brandished a dagger as Torrin dropped down from the pillar. "You....you stay away from me!" the man said holding the dagger to the woman's throat.

Torrin's rather impish demeanor took on an air of seriousness as he held his hands out, showing no weapons. The man seemed to relax before Torrin swept his hands about and created a series of ice spikes from the earth that pinned the man to the wall of the building behind him, leaving the woman without a mark.

Stepping forward, Torrin helped the woman to her feet and took out a few gemstones from his pouch. Placing them in her hand he smiled. "For the flowers," he said gently. He stiffened as he felt a spear tip poke at his back. Looking over his shoulder he could see the Dragon Guard circling him, their spears leveled at his chest.

"I guess what I did was a little much?" Torrin inquired. The guards didn't seem amused. Torrin gave a shrug to the woman as one of the guards handed off his spear and produced a set of irons to cuff the ice mage with. "Seems a little bit of a fix system when I'm the one getting cuffed when their the ones that started it."

"Shut it," the guard growled, rough dragging Torrin by his arm. A smirk still playing over his lips as he planned his next move.

Around the corner then snap cuffs for a jump to the rooftops. Should take me straight to the wall if I play it right.

"Guards! Hold a moment," he heard a voice call out.

What surprised Torrin was when they actually stopped. Being roughly turned, he could see the young prince walking towards him. The young man's eyes looked about to the groaning men that were slowly coming around before returning to the white haired mage. His eyes hinted at amazement, before Torrin noticed something else.

Something that made his grin falter. The Prince's eyes flashed gold for just a moment, before they returned to their solid color. Torrin looked at the young prince with a moment of confusion before he forced to bow with a heavy hand on his neck. "Show some respect!" The guard hissed.

"That's enough!" Quint ordered as he hurried forward. He eased Torrin back up to a standing position with a firm hand. There was curiosity in the Quint's eyes as he stared into Torrin's piercing ice blue ones.

Turning to the guard he spoke in that authoritative voice he had learned from his father. "Arrest those men for disturbing the peace, and take this man to my carriage. I wish to speak with him."

"All due respect, your highness, he's a mage. We can't trust his ki..."

"It was not a request nor will I repeat myself," Quint said with a steady glare. The Guard gave a bow before shoving Torrin toward the royal carriage.

Interesting, Let's see where this goes. Torrin thought as he roughly pushed into the seat.

"I'm sorry representatives, but I believe that we should conduct this meeting in a less public place. I will send a courier with notes for another time."

Hurrying to the carriage, Quintus took a seat across from Torrin. The mage's ice blue eyes watching him from above that grin.

The flash that Torrin had seen was gone, but there was something about this prince that was different, though he couldn't put his finger on it. He gently clasped his hands together as he waited for the prince to speak.

"Who are you?" Quint asked as the carriage began rolling.

"Just a simple mage," Torrin replied. "Is it a habit of yours to put potentially dangerous men in your carriage with you for questioning?"

"You will address his highness in the proper fashion mage. And we would be happy to run you through before you had a chance to harm our prince." One guard growled beside the carriage.

"If I truly wished to harm your future king, I would have done so already," Torrin said as he slowly closed his hands to fists. The irons around his wrists slowly began to freeze over, a frost that pierced through the very steel of the cuffs. He suddenly pulled his hands away from each other shattering the links of iron between his wrists before striking his wrists together and the cuffs broke open to clatter on the floor of the carriage.

Quint quickly held up his hand to the guards that were ready to drive their spears through Torrin as he looked to the cuffs for a moment then Torrin. "How did you do that?"

"When metal gets cold enough, it becomes brittle, making it as easy as a twig to break. I'm an ice mage, specializing in the spells of ice and snow." He summoned a small flurry in his hand to demonstrate his abilities.

"So you used your magic to fight those men?"

"More of used it to assist me in fighting those men." Torrin chuckled. "They wanted a mage to defeat, so I gave them one. Just a few tricks, the basics really, of my ability."

"Why did you step in like that?" Quintus asked as he leaned forward more, intrigued.

"Doesn't take a mind reader to see that they meant that flower woman harm. Couldn't just stand by and watch that happen. So I intervened."

"And had they killed you?"

"I've been around for a little while now, good prince. Takes a lot to put my life in danger."

"Well, I am very sorry for the incident. And I assure you that those men will be punished for their attempt on your life. I wonder if you would come to the castle tomorrow. I am having an advisory Council Dinner to discuss some reforms within the kingdom that will prevent prejudice against mages, such as yourself."

"That's a very ambitious reform, prince. And I can't say that I am one for politics, but you intrigue me. Not every day I get pushed into a royal carriage to have a conversation with royalty. I'd be honored to join you. But would your advisers be as welcoming?" A grin spread across his features as he felt the carriage come to a stop. the playful glint in his eyes still shining as he stared at the young man.





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crossroads says...



Séverin | Servants' quarters

The crown pressed comfortably around his head. It wasn't how he had imagined; he had thought it'd be heavy and awkwardly lean to one side no matter what he did, its edges would leave a mark on his forehead and its weight would pull at his hair and render him bald years too early. But none of that happened. It fit there as if custom-made, heavy only in a comforting way that reminded him he was in control, old, dark gold on light hair. It whispered to him that he was safe and sound and there was nothing to worry about.
His fingers gripped into the fabric of his shirt. He took a breath before pulling it on, and shook his head. The same old fabric, the same shirt he wore day after day, identical to all the other servants' and hanging on him like old clothes off a badly made scarecrow.
Stop imagining things.
He brought his hand up and pressed his fingers against his temple. Strands of hair tickled his knuckles. Still black, still a mask. You're not wearing that crown yet.

"Minstrel?" A short, young servant girl peeked through and blushed a deep red when he turned to look at her.
"Lotte, is it?" An enthusiastic nod. A king should always know more about the ones surrounding him than they would ever know about him. He looked back down on his shirt, and tied the strings keeping it closed. "Am I needed somewhere?"
"Oh, um." The girl's eyes snapped up to his face a second after he'd glanced at her. "I was just wondering-- that is, my brother sent me to ask you if you'd mind covering for him today." She looked down. "He said he'll owe you whatever you ask for."
There was a hint of uncertainty as she said that last bit, one that he didn't miss in her voice. He's known Lotte and her brother for almost a year now -- they arrived to the castle together, and quickly became known as the shy chamber maid and her overly-flirtatious kitchen boy of an older brother. Séverin quickly thought through the list of names he'd heard Lotte's bother mention.
"Is he running off with the flower girl today?" He asked, running his hand through his hair in attempt to make it look slightly more presentable. The black dye, although it looked natural, made it more bristle and straighter than he liked. He tied it in the back so it doesn't fall into his eyes, and turned to Lotte again.
She made a face. "Does he talk about those things with everyone?"
Séverin smirked, and she seemed to relax a bit.
"Probably just those of us who aren't above some flirting ourselves," he said, and the statement sent a flush of colour into her cheeks again. He guessed her age at around sixteen, and wondered idly how experienced she was in those matters. He almost laughed at the irony of himself out of all people thinking about sleeping with servant girls.

They made way out of the servants' quarters together, and she informed him about what her brother needed him to cover for: catering to the prince's refreshment, assisting with food in the kitchens. It would mean running back and forth between the kitchens and the rest of the castle, as he was also meant to tend to whatever needs of guests who stayed in the castle after the funeral, but it also meant access to all the newest gossip surrounding the affair of the king and queen's death, and a chance to get a closer look of the prince for the first time in a week. So he agreed to take up the extra duties and told Lotte he'd think of a counter favour later, and headed upstairs into the guest wing of the palace.
^

When Séverin was a child, his mother used to draw ink from the pots and turn it into shapes and beings with the same ease he could manipulate the blood of dead bugs and rodents he'd catch in the garden. Her magic was strong, and when she'd come across enough ink, or draw it from books or drawings, she'd be able to create human figures as if cut out from the night sky, who'd silently move wherever her will would command.
The castle, in its period of mourning, reminded Séverin of those figures. Dark, sombre clothes and dark sombre faces, wherever he'd turn, voices so quiet they were silenced by the walls themselves and made eavesdropping next to impossible, tears still in the eyes of less self-controlled of guests. He hadn't attended the funeral itself, but he had helped several of those guests to prepare for it, and he knew that at least some of those tears were genuine displays of sadness. If he were to venture outside of the castle, and away from its grounds, he wondered, would he find people dancing with joy instead, celebrating the deaths of an era, hoping for things to change? Or more, people waiting and preparing to make a move and dispose of the rest of the royal family in order to turn a whole new page and make that change themselves?

A sudden movement to his left startled him out of his thoughts. He gripped tighter the tray he was carrying, but the movement proved to be a familiar figure. General Zafar's face was never especially readable, but Séverin had trained his eyes to catch on the thin lines of tiredness that weren't there a week ago, and the certain posture that came with people experiencing a personal loss. It was no secret that the prince's uncle was a close friend of the late king. A part of Séverin has wondered for a while how this man would react to the truth of his existence.
The General stopped as he spotted him, and gave a small frown to the tray in Séverin's hands.
"Is that watermelon juice?"
Séverin nodded. "Indeed, sir. I'm on my way to his Majesty's chambers."
"Ah." The General's face seemed to light up slightly at the mention of his nephew. "If you'd remind him of the Senate meeting, it'd take one small worry off my plate. We're about to begin soon."
Séverin bowed his head slightly. "Certainly, sir, consider it done."

He stood still for a few moments, watching the General walk away and turn the corner, and then he made his way to the prince's rooms and took a second to compose himself before knocking gently.
"Your drink, my lord," he called, and a moment later the prince invited him in.
Little brother, he thought as he put the tray down by the prince's side and filled the goblet, poisoning you would be the easiest thing in the world. He eyed the prince as he added: "My Lord, your esteemed General requested me to call you for the Senate meeting, which is soon to begin."
There was a certain air of worry around the prince as well. He was mourning too, but there was more to it, and it wasn't hard to understand. The crown would be his very soon, and even with all his involvement he'd find the job of a king to be doubtlessly more tasking than that of a prince.
"Very well, thank you Séverin," the prince said, and Séverin silently applauded the fact that he knew his servant's name. "I will go soon."

Séverin couldn't help but wonder what the Senate meetings looked like. He could guess at bits and pieces, partly based on pure logic and partly on what his mother had told him about how the meetings looked back when she was in the position to send her ink creatures to spy on them, but apart from that... Knowing what went on in the Great Hall during those meetings would be an unmatched advantage. He more or less had the idea of who supported which reforms -- of the ones that were made public, at least -- and whose power would hang in the balance if some of those went through, but to be able to hear and observe the men as they discussed and argued, Séverin would've jumped at the opportunity.
He caught the eye of his own reflection in the mirror as he took a step to leave. He couldn't have exactly asked the prince to participate, but maybe he could've asked something. Carefully, without raising any suspicion, in a quiet and shy demeanor of a servant that Lotte could've taught classes in but that he had to consciously choose to act in.
"Uh...my Lord, may I ask you a question?"
The prince looked up at him. "Alright. What is it?"
"If you had learned how to contol living things," Séverin's reflection whispered, "you could've already made him write down every word said in those meetings for you."
"Your list of reforms which have been announced publicly included some giving the mages freedom and protecting them from persecution," Séverin said calmly, keeping his expression that of a neutral curiosity, though his stomach twisted at his reflection's voice in his head. "Why did you choose to do this?"
"Ah, well." The prince put the goblet back down. "You see, I have been around their districts a lot. In disguise, of course. I've traveled between their districts and those of the normal folk quite lot. And what I've realized is that there's no difference, you know? The mages suffer mostly from the same things that the rest of he people do, they play the same games, they even celebrate the same festivals. Apart from the magic, the mages are just like us in every way. So why should we consider them separate from the rest of us? Condemning mages does nothing but damage ourselves, keeping us divided and having conflicts within our on kingdom. That's why I added those reforms."

There was truth in what he was saying. A somewhat naive truth, perhaps, one that many would disagree with, but truth nonetheless. But he was wrong: the mages didn't play the same games. They didn't lead the same lives. While his half-siblings were learning how to ride and dance, he was learning how to hide; while the prince and princess chattered with influential diplomats and highborn suitors, he suppressed tears in silence, surrounded by bodies of various animals, as the voices in his head grew unbearable. They weren't the same, just like cats and lions weren't the same. Assuming that they were, although noble, might prove to be a dangerous mistake.
But instead of speaking his mind, he just nodded, and the prince stood up.
"Well, I had better get going, it would be rude to keep the nobles waiting. Please tell my carriage driver to be ready, will you, I will probably have to go out later."
^

Séverin did tell the carriage driver what the prince had asked him to, and then he took off to the kitchens, only to find the cooks in a heated argument. It wasn't a strange occurance: the two were a married couple, and everyone in the castle knew they loved each other more than life itself, but their fights over which pot to use or how many spoonfuls of sugar to mix into pastry had a reputation of their own. Every servant with a speck of brain knew to stay away until they'd calmed down, so Séverin headed outside again.

He moved quickly now, through the empty hallways and avoiding people. From a window above one of the less used staircases, he found his footing on the edge of a roof, and a couple of steps later slid down its side to a small platform hidden by the roofs on three sides and the wall of the west wing on the fourth. There was a small window here too, one he'd have some trouble pulling himself through. It was a window of a storage room that was now mostly just used as a broom closet, and he highly doubted anyone who even knew of its existence could notice the window through layers of dust that accumulated on it over the years. The platform outside, where the roofs met, was the perfect hiding spot, and Séverin's favourite whenever he needed to be undisturbed. He lowered himself down with his back against one of the roofs, and sighed as he looked up at the sky.
The prince seemed to be dealing with his parents' passing in a similar way Séverin could've imagined himself dealing with it if their positions were switched. But Quint was impatient, eager to go through with his reforms and make a difference, jumping at the opportunity to establish himself as the king he wanted to be. It was a step forward from his father, and as a mage Séverin could welcome the idea of a kingdom in which he had to hide less and people like his mother could put their abilities to good use rather than keeping them secret. But the kingdom was already kicked off its footing with the deaths of its rulers, and turning it upside down before pulling it back on its feet might trigger rebelions and uprisings as much as it might've lead to peace.

He closed his eyes, thinking back to what his mother used to say about making choices that had consequences.

He was five years old. He sat on the same chair in the basement as always, legs spread, propped on his arms with his fingers curled around the chair's edge, and watched as his mother put a sheet on paper on the ground before him. From it, the next moment, two ink-created figures rose to life; one that resembled a lady with horns and folded dragon wings, and another in the shape of a strong man with an axe in his hands. His mother stood behind them, and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.
"Which one would you sentence to die?" She asked.
Wiggling in his chair, he looked between them and pointed at the man.
HIs mother's tone remained unchanged. "Why?"
"I don't know." He grinned. "I like her better."
"That isn't a reason." Her tone was different now -- enough so to delete the smile from his face and prompt him to look away -- but softened as she spoke again. "Sévvy."
"He looks like he could kill me," he muttered. "She has wings and maybe would take me flying."
"Sévvy, sit up properly and look at me." She waited for him to do as told. "You're a prince, love. You don't look away, not even when apologising--
especially not when apologising."
He wanted to bite his lip and fidged with his hands, but he could read in her eyes that would bring the angry tone back, so he made himself sit still. "I'm sorry."
She smiled thinly and glanced between the two ink figures before making them disappear with a move of her hand. "He's a woodsman; that's why he has the axe," she said. "And she eats children."
He couldn't exactly think of an answer. "...oh." He did bite his lip this time. "I should've chosen her, then."
"No." His mother came closer this time, crouched and looked up at him. "When you first chose, you knew none of that. You based your choice on nothing but the feeling that you had to choose, and you should never do that." She reached and stroke his cheek. "Never take it as a simple choice when someone's life is at stake. Even if they mean nothing to you, a prince may never make decisions on a whim." her fingers brushed against his hair, and her eyes travelled up the light bush falling on his forehead. Then she seemed to remember something, and smiled again. "Hey, do you remember Lady Delfan?"
"Yes," he said, even though he wasn't quite sure. It must've been at least a year since he saw her; he remembered she taught him magic and some difficult rules and more difficult words, but he couldn't place her face.
"Well," his mother said, "I found out she just had a baby."
"Really?"
"Yeah... a little girl." There was something almost sad in her eyes for a moment, he thought, but she was still smiling. "I'm going to write a letter to congratulate... perhaps you could meet her."
He didn't want to ask the first question that came to mind -- why would I go meet a baby of some lady I only half remember? -- but she seemed to expect him to say something, so he squeezed through another one: "Can she do magic too?"
Mother smiled. "Not yet. But I think she will, when she grows a little bit."


Séverin opened his eyes and found himself grinning. Charna would've loved his little hiding spot. Here, he thought, he could let down his guard and stop being a servant. He could hold himself with the posture he was used to, and come across as inherently royal as he wanted to the empty rooftops and ocassional bird that curiously flew close to look at him. And most importantly, here he could use magic. With no other windows facing his way, and no way anyone could be spying on him, he could raise the tiny bodies of bugs that dropped dead on the rooftops, and calm himself as his magic slowly stopped nagging at him to be set free. He watched as his small puppets rose from their resting places and moved over, in a way so similar to how they'd moved while they were still alive, across the roof to where he knew one of his bird visitors had set its nest. He wasn't sure how interesting dead bugs were to birds, but he had nothing better to do with them either way. Once upon a time, maybe, he would've came up with something more creative, but now all he could do was keep friendly relations with his aviary neighbours.

He pushed himself up and climbed back across the roofs and into the castle. There was more he had to do today, and only a part of it included helping in the kitchens. Approaching them again and listening to the cooks' now quieter bickering, still with the taste of his magic clouding his mind and the voices whispering into his ear, Séverin hoped Lotte's brother was enjoying his time with his flower girl.
We are not the same as them.
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literary fantasy with a fairytale flavour





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sheysse says...



Central Marketplace


Katsumi was at the marketplace.

And she was hungry.

There was an apple seller on the other side of the road, but there were too many soldiers in the area. She would have to divert their attention.

A horse-drawn carriage rose down the streets, and she recognized her chance. Nonchalantly, she followed it down it's path about ten paces from the market. Then she found a branch next to her, lying pointlessly on the street. Grabbing it, she jabbed at one of the cart's wheels, and it unblanced, crashing into the wall of the alleyway. The horse panicked, snapping the reigns and galloping down the streets.

Fear filled the air of the marketplace, and in the moment, Katsumi calmly walked over to the apple seller. He looked startled at the commotion, and in that moment, she grabbed an apple.

No, that's too nice.

She grabbed three more, then skipped down the street, humming as panic surrounded her.





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SirenCymbaline says...



Adrid Lith

Adrid rode alongside the Prince's carriage with the rest of the Dragon Guards.
It was now more important than ever that he be protected, now that it was clear that the Order meant business. Now that the king and queen were out of the way, Adrid was sure they were waiting in the wings for the chance to strike down the prince.

The Trader's Union tent was surrounded by protesters, armed with signs, and obscenities. The Guard pushed their way into the crowd, holding up their shields to make a safe path for the prince. Adrid frowned down at the people that dared question his authority. Even if he was passing reforms that sheltered the very people that were responsible for his parents deaths...he was still the prince, and he was still to be respected.

Adrid and her comrades held the line, ignoring the shouts of 'traitor', and the more colourful names some of them were using. And the throwing.
A patch of mud smacked Adrid in the cheek, and her eye twitched in anger.
She stiffly held her position.

Whatever the Prince said, the crowd kept on. Seeing the futility, he moved on to his business. Once the Prince had gone into the tent, some of the crowd lost interest and left, but the more stalwart protesters remained. It was going to be a long day.

----


"I guess what I did was a little much?" said the white-haired mage. Trying to distract her with talk. This mage was dangerous, and Adrid could not let her guard down. You couldn't take chances in these times.
She passed her spear to the guard next to her so she could cuff the ruffian.
He gave a shrug. "Seems a little bit of a fix system when I'm the one getting cuffed when they're the ones that started it."

"Shut it," she growled, dragging him forcefully. She could tell that he was a cunning one, no mistake about it, and he was already planning his escape.

"Guards! Hold a moment," called Prince Quint. Adrid immediately stopped, as did her fellow guards. The Prince was coming nearer, to talk with this dangerous ruffian. If they got too close together, the mage could try something. Adrid could not allow that. She pushed him down, forcing him to bow. ''Show some respect!'' she hissed.


"That's enough!" Quint ordered as he hurried forward, and helped the mage up. He looked so noble in his concern. Adrid didn't like that. It made her feel slightly guilty.
She instinctively suppressed that feeling, focusing instead on the mage.
He wouldn't make a move here, not surrounded by guards. But that wasn't enough to make Adrid complacent. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Prince's voice.


"Arrest those men for disturbing the peace, and take this man to my carriage. I wish to speak with him."

"All due respect, your highness, he's a mage. We can't trust his ki..."

"It was not a request nor will I repeat myself," Quint said with a steady glare.
Adrid bowed obediently, before pushing the mage into the carriage. Not as roughly as before, but roughly enough to remind him that she hadn't let her guard down.

She knew the Prince would likely tell her off later for the way she treated the mage.
He was a noble, kind man. But she knew that kindness would be the death of him if his people didn't stay vigilant. In time, someone would make an attempt on his life.
And the Guard would be ready.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent





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ScarlettFire says...



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Lady Charnette Arys Delfan | Lady Delfan's Apartments - Palace


Charna stared at the wall, listening to the quiet of her sitting room. She still wore the dress she'd worn to the funeral; it was so deep a blue that it looked black. Charna sighed and tilted her head back against the high back of her chair. Even the voices were quiet for once. She was glad for that. They weren't making inappropriate suggestions in the middle of a funeral. That was all she cared about at the moment.

"Mistress?"

At the sound of her only servant's voice, Charna turned her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the spider in her bracelet moving. It could mean only one thing, but she had to humour the maid first. "Yes, Brigid?"

"There's another...servant here," Brigid said, lowering her voice. "He says he was told to tend to all of the Prince and Princess's guests."

Charna raised an eyebrow. "I'm hardly a guest," she said, pushing up straighter in her chair. Her gaze drifted back to the bracelet and her little dancing spider. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, but she forced it away. "What does he want with me?"

Brigid began to wring her hands and shook her head before darting off towards the door. Charna sighed and sent the girl to let the man in. Obviously, the maid was too timid to speak at the moment. Brigid had been assigned to her when Charna had arrived mere hours before the funeral. They hadn't even had the time to get comfortable around each other. Well, Brigid hadn't. Charna didn't particularly care, as long as the girl stayed out of her things.

Footsteps alerted her to yet another presence, and this time she couldn't restraint the smile when she spotted Sevvy approaching. She stood and turned to face him, dismissing Brigid with a sharp gesture. The girl scurried from the room, leaving Charna alone with her brother for the first time in several years.

"Sevvy."

He'd kept his face expressionless until Brigid left, but grinned at her now. "Now, this is a surprise. What are you doing in the castle?"

"Mother thought it would be wise to send me to the palace as the Princess's handmaiden," Charna said, watching him carefully. He was...different, sharper around the edges. She was tempted to test those edges, but firmly refrained from doing so. Instead, her hand went to her bracelet. "With the funeral and everything, I haven't been introduced yet." Charna frowned, eyes darting up to his hair. "Your hair is black again."

"Yes."

Charna bit her lip, suddenly feeling nervous. She stashed that tidbit of information away for later. They'd had the hair conversation more than once, so it wasn't that odd for his hair to be black. What was odd was why he was here, in her rooms. She tilted her face away, staring down at the floor. He was being a little short with her.

"So," she hedged, watching him from the corner of her eyes. "What are you doing in the palace?"
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Tue Feb 07, 2017 11:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Amnesia says...



Asha Lovita Tavern Near the West Gate

Asha tugged on her hood, the bells ringing outside. She hated it. The queen and king had been murdered and now there was a literal war on the streets. She shut the door quickly, muffling the bells. She tugged on her hood again before making her way over to the bar where she caught the attention of the barmaid and called her over.

"And what can I get you today Ash?" she asked sweetly.

Asha didn't fancy the idea of getting shitfaced. She shrugged.

"Can I get something sweet, no alcohol, the last thing I need is a...." She leaned in and whispered, "Magic outburst." The barmaid nodded and walked off. Asha took a moment to sit at the stool in front of her and take in her surroundings.

Once she noted that none of the faces around her were familiar she pulled her hood down and shook her hair out, the red draping over both sides of her face, hiding her features. The barmaid returned with a honey colored liquid in a glass and set it in front of her.

Asha took a sip, tasting the honey and lemon. She stared into the gold colored liquid, she couldn't help but think of her best friend, Princess Emberly and how much it must hurt to have lost her parents. A hand on her shoulder suddenly brought her out of her thoughts.
I want a Harry Potter reboot with Benedict Cumberbatch as all the characters~~Mem
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Arryn | Tavern near the West Gate


The bells were still tolling, even hours after the funeral. They'd probably toll all afternoon and through the night. Arryn felt like they would dive him up the wall before long. He glanced up, sipping his drink absently as he took in the room again. The woman in the hood had clung it back, and now there was a cascade of red down her back. He stared at it for a moment, liking the way the candlelight flickered across it before forcing himself to drag his gaze away.

That hair would look so pretty spread out across the cobblestones, whispered a voice in his head. Think of how it would look mixed with the darker shade of blood...

"Shut up," Arryn muttered to himself, giving his head a sharp jerk. He did not want to kill some random woman in a tavern, no matter how pretty he found her hair. Arryn took another sip of his drink, glowering absently at the table again. He made to get up, and then froze as the door opened and a small group of palace servants stepped inside. Unlike with the woman, the tavern did not stop to look at the newcomers. Arryn pegged them for regulars and slowly sat back down.

He watched them cross the room to sit at a table together, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Except one. He looked distracted, like he wasn't giving them his full attention. Arryn frowned, glanced down at his drink then back up at the dark haired man who'd caught his attention. He was sure he'd seen him before, but couldn't quite figure out where.

Absently, he swirled his drink 'round in the cup and sipped it again. Suddenly, the man looked up. Arryn immediately dropped his gaze back to his drink, keeping an eye on him from beneath his eyelashes. There was such a strange look on his face. The stranger's gaze drifted over the tavern slowly before one of the palace servants he was with leaned in and snagged his attention. Arryn let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The pair talked for a moment before the familiar man stood up abruptly, swayed slightly and then walked swiftly towards the door.

Arryn leaned back in his seat as he heard the door open and close, pushing his mug away. Well, that was interesting. He let his gaze drift about the tavern again, feeling less jumpy than he'd been in a several days. Someone else left the tavern, and then...red, candlelight. Again, the woman's red hair caught his attention--and this time, held it. Before he knew it, Arryn was on his feet and heading for the bar. And straight for the red-haired woman.

He reached her and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her away from the bar. "Hey," he heard himself say, "why are you following me?"

The woman jumped and turned around obviously startled. "Following you? How could I do that when I don't even know you, sir?" she asked, a frown dragging down her eyebrows.

Arryn swallowed, not quite sure what he was doing anymore. He caught the barmaid staring at him over the woman's shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered, glancing away. "I mistook you for someone else." He turned to leave, but paused when he felt he grip his wrist. "Yes?"

"Who exactly would you mistake me for, sir? There's not a lot of women with red hair as you can tell." She looked at him with defiance, daring him to say something else. Arryn just shook his head and tried to jerk away from her, but she held his wrist firmly. "Who, huh?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm just supposed to meet someone here." He glanced around the tavern again, eyes following the cards as they were dealt. "They're late."

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that. It's still no reason to scare the life out of someone, there's a killer out there and anyone could be that killer." she let go of his wrist and finished her drink before standing up.

Arryn stiffened, gaze dragged back to her as she spoke. How would she react if she knew that he was the killer? Probably not well. "Right," he said, "you're right. I'm sorry."

The woman nodded and turned around to leave some change before turning back. "Don't go scaring anyone else, you don't know what they might do." She nodded again and made her way to the door. Arryn watched her, confusion growing. What in all the hells had he been doing?

He held himself back, watching as she slipped out the door. Right as it closed, someone grabbed him by the back of his shirt and jerked him backwoods. "What the hell were you thinking?" hissed a voice in his ear. Male, older, angry. Arryn tensed. "Stupid boy."

"What took you so long?" he muttered out the side of his mouth. "You're late."

"I'm right on time," the other man grunted and shoved him forwards, releasing him. "Out back. Five minutes."

Arryn nodded without looking at the older man, and turned towards the bar. The barmaid raised an eyebrow at him and then, without saying a word, poured him another drink. He watched from the corner of his eyes as the old man disappeared through another door at the rear of the building. "Thanks," Arryn told the barmaid, lifting up the new mug of mead. Then he pushed off the bar, paused to drop a couple of coins onto it and followed the old man out.

The back of the tavern emptied out into a dark, dank alley screw with dirt and rotten food. Arryn found it empty, so he moved into a dark corner and leaned against the wall, nursing his drink. A few minutes later, the old man came round a corner--and he'd brought a few friends. Arryn inclined his head to them, acknowledging their presence.

The old man didn't waste any time. "I see that it's done," he said, then tossed a small bag to Arryn. Arryn caught it one-handed and waited. "Good work. We may see each other again, or we may not." With that, the old man turned and disappeared back around the corner, leaving the four men behind.

One took a step forward, a wicked grin curving up his lips despite the scare the split the left side of his face. "Now comes the fun part."

Arryn went still, fingers tightening on his mug. "You don't want to do this," he warned, and then forced himself to relax, and take a sip of his mead. "It won't be fun for you."

"You knew what you'd agreed to the moment you went to the Guild for help."

He snorted and pushed off the wall, tossing the mug to the ground. "Yes, I know," Arryn told him, adjusting his cloak. He kept his eyes on the four men as he slipped his hand onto the hilt of a dagger and waited. "You'll regret this."

"Pfft, as if a scrawny boy like you could best us," the scarred man grunted, shifting his stance. Arryn watched that shifting in his peripheral vision, meeting the man's gaze calmly. Inside, though, he was anything but calm. His magic scared him, but if these men sought a fight... Well, he would give them one. So he still his panic, his fear, and firmed his stance.

He knew the moment they moved; it was over before it even began.

Arryn moved as soon as they rushed him, wrapping his weak illusion around him as he dodged out of the way. They pulled up short in confusion, and then all four throats were slit ear to ear, one after the other...until Arryn was left standing over four bodies on the ground. He stared down at the blood coating his blade and his hands, transfixed--until the barmaid pushed out the door, a large tray in her hands, and screamed.

He jerked away, turning to face her. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at the dead men. He pulled his hood up over his face, just managing to conceal his idenity as she turned towards him. His illusion was gone. He knew what she saw; a hooded man, covered in blood. She screamed again. Arryn turned and fled down the alley in the opposite direction the Guild Member had gone, heading for home.
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Tue Feb 07, 2017 11:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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crossroads says...



Séverin | Charna's rooms (and other places)

If there was one thing to be named that could throw Séverin out of balance, it had to have been seeing Charna again. The last time he saw the oldest of his half-siblings, she just turned sixteen, and he already knew he'd leave for the castle within days. And now, there she was, in the castle too, with her own rooms and a personal servant, without a doubt working on some sort of plan of her own. And she was looking at him with that careful expression he knew he wore, both of them unsure of the other's intentions. What sort of answer was she expecting?

"I'm a servant here now," he said, and glanced around the room. The Princess' handmaiden... are you planning to get close to our little siblings as well? He let his eyes slide over her. She'd grown up in the past five years, that much was evident, but it was easy for him to still see the little girl she was back when the two of them played and learned side by side, when he sent her gifts and notes on the wings of reanimated birds. He gestured at her bracelet, not bothering to hide slight surprise from his voice. "You still have it."

"Of course I still have it," she muttered, shifting her weight. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugged, searching her face. She seemed cautious, still, but not like a person hiding something -- but then again, he knew she was as good of an actor as himself when she chose to be. "It's been years." He let a small smile slip. "You could've forgotten about me by now."

Charna offered him the tiniest of smiles. "How could I? You were always my favourite sibling."

Comforting -- especially if I'm right and she wants to remove the other two. He met her eyes. "Charna, what are you really doing here?"

She flinched, tried to hide it and muttered, "Mother sent me here to be the Princess's handmaiden." Then she turned her face away and set her lips into a tight line.

"Yes, and I enjoy serving our brother his watermelon juice and making beds for the esteemed guests who came to cry at our father's funeral." He crossed his arms. She didn't trust him, of course, not anymore. "Did you have anything to do with the assassination?"

Charna's face whipped back towards him. "Why in all the hells would you think that I had anything to do with that?" she demanded, eyes narrowed. "I'm just here to convince that stupid perfect Prince to marry me." For a second, she was all offended anger, and then what she'd said registered and horror crawled over her face. Charna covered her face and turned away, whispering, "I shouldn't have said that!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're a blood mage who showed up as the Princess' handmaiden a week after the king and queen got murdered -- one with arguable claim to the throne, even. Each of those things would be enough to suspect you."
"Look who's talking," the voice whispered. He did his best to ignore it, keeping his attention on his sister.
"What happens after you marry him?" He smirked. "Another assassination?"

She stiffened, but did not uncover her face. "What if it does?"

"You tell me... You're the one who'd have the crown." Little sister.

One hand shifted, just enough for him to see an eye. "I don't know," she said, curling in on herself a little. "It's not my plan." She cleared her throat and let her hands drop away. "I'm just following orders."

He frowned. He'd come to the castle as a part of his mother's plan, as well, but there was nothing about it even resembling an order. "Whose orders-- and why?"

Charna straightened up and brushed down her skirt, fluffing it up a little before turning to face him. "I can't tell you," she said, and pressed her lips together with a little shake of her head. "I'd like to be alone now, please."

"You can't trust her anymore." The voice was getting harder to ignore.

"As you wish, my lady." He kept his voice cold; the servant's voice, not her brother's. "If you have no other orders."

With that, he turned, and strode out of the room without looking at her again.
~

The voice in his head got louder halfway through the corridor. It wasn't talking anymore-- it didn't even sound completely human anymore. He hid in a random storage room he passed on his way to the servants' quarters, and leaned back against the wall, willing the screaming to stop.

"What do you want from me?" He muttered it through clenched teeth, quietly enough not to be heard, even though he already knew the answer. The noise wanted him to turn around and go back, and demand answers from Charna. To take the stairs to Quint's and Emberly's rooms, and set them on fire.

~

By the time he got back to the servants' quarters, his head was splitting. He was acutely aware of everything around him he could use his magic on, alive and dead. There was a rodent somewhere in the wall; a group of people in the corridor leading towards the kitchen; flies and moths caught in spiderwebs too high up for the servants to have removed yet. He closed his eyes with the hope that it'd help, but the lack of sight just made the sensations stronger. All he had to do was focus on one of those sources, and the familiar feeling of being in control would shut out all the other distractions. And no one would know, would they? Even if someone saw a mouse or a bug, they wouldn't pay enough attention to notice the lack of life in its eyes. Even if he focused on one of the living ones, and--

He stopped himself. What am I doing?

Controlling living beings wasn't something he knew how to do -- worse, it wasn't something he wanted to learn how to do. He'd had countless conversations with his mother about that, and made it clear each time that he wasn't ever going to try. His magic was distracting enough as it was, calling for him to do the little tricks he learned as a child. If he agreed to take it to a whole new level, he knew it'd get impossible to control.

"Minstrel!" Lotte, again. She hurried towards him with excitement written all over her face. If it's about her brother chasing a girl and wanting me to take on his duties again... He composed himself enough for her to suspect nothing.

"What is it?"

"A few of us realised we have a free evening tonight," she chirped. "We're going to the city-- it's been ages since most of us stepped out of the castle, and with everything that's happened we thought we could use some drinks and music-- come with us."

If I killed her and took control over her body, I wonder how long it'd take people to notice.

He took a small step back and was about to shake his head, when the rest of the servants joined them. He knew all of them by name -- a good ruler should know his subjects, and a good spy should know his sources -- and even though he never had much trouble getting the information he wanted, having them all in one place (and eventually at least a little bit drunk) was a rare opportunity.

He grinned. "I wouldn't miss it."

~

| The Golden Pony

The tavern was crowded. Not too-loud-to-hear-your-own-thoughts crowded, but he could easily count the few empty chairs, and his magic constantly gnawing at him to be let out wasn't making things any better. He did his best to focus on the other servants' conversation, laughing and commenting when he knew they'd expect him to, but his thoughts weren't with them. They ran back to the castle and Charna, and the prince and princess, and wandered between the few mages in the tavern. He could always sense other mages in his presence. Growing up, he learned how to pretend he wasn't noticing anything different about them, and how to use the knowledge to his advantage, but this time those few people just felt like beacons in the crowd of living things. He wanted to get up and yell at each of them to stop being so obvious. How was he supposed to focus, when his eyes constantly wanted to jump between two mages playing cards just a few tables over, a woman with fiery hair by the bar, the girl in the corner who seemed to be keeping a close eye on everyone at once, and the kid tucked into another corner who stared at his drink and obviously tried to be as unnoticeable as possible?

Lotte's brother -- at that moment, he couldn't remember his name -- put a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't touched your drink."

Séverin automatically took a sip and glanced between the mages again. "I'm a bit distracted."

Llan -- that was his name -- followed his eyes and grinned at the girl in the corner. "I can tell that much." He squeezed Séverin's shoulder. "I have a friend here who has a friend," he added with a wink, "and I owe you one for the flower girl. What do you say?"

He willed a lazy smile onto his face, wishing Llan would pull his hand away. The closeness was almost begging for him to direct his magic at it and test his mother's theory about manipulating living beings. It couldn't have been that different, could it? Alive or dead, blood was still in there, the only difference being it moved around a little in living things. Perhaps--

"Not tonight," he heard himself say as he got up. The room spun around him. If he didn't get away soon, someone would notice -- and someone noticing would be the best case scenario. He needed a place far from people, somewhere where he could practice his magic and allow all these feelings to take over for a while. He needed his spot between the rooftops. How could he have been reckless enough to accept the invitation, as if he didn't know how it always went down?

He walked fast, not really paying attention to where he was going. He had to get away from the people, and the castle wasn't a good option -- when he stopped to think about it, he found himself at the gate of the Silent House. It was the building on the Temple grounds known to every person in the city: the house of the dead, where they waited for three days and three nights before their burial. People were allowed to come in freely at all times; loved ones would come to say their goodbyes, and the dead would come to peace with whatever happened to them, allowing their spirits to move on before their bodies were taken to be buried.

Séverin walked in with a mix of relief and hesitation. There was no one there -- no one alive, at least -- and he allowed himself to drop the act and lean against the wall, pressing his fingers against his eyes.


"Really? You go to the Silent House after staring at strangers in a tavern all evening? I'm pretty certain that isn't generally counted as a good sign." The voice rang clear from the gates, coming somewhat surprisingly from the mage girl from the tavern.
There was a faint sound behind him, and he wasn't sure if it was a rodent shuffling about or one of the corpses flexing its fingers. He pushed himself off the wall and assumed the closest he could manage to his usual in-control posture.

"These doors are open at all times for a reason," he replied calmly. "It doesn't matter what one does before coming in." Can you tell I'm a mage too? Most others couldn't, or at least they had difficulties to. But most others he hadn't encountered while feeling like this.

She took a slow step closer, her arms crossed over her chest, the suspicion still glaring in her stare. "Normally, I'd agree, but I felt the need to check you weren't about to murder anyone after leaving. Especially seeing as you were staring at a young woman. We don't take kindly to that type around here."

He stared at her for a moment. After five years spying in the palace, he'd managed to get someone suspicious by looking around at a bar.

"Murdering someone, now, there's an idea," the voice whispered. "Interesting ending to an interesting day, don't you think?"

The words, less carefully put than he planned, slipped his tongue: "I assume 'we' stands for magic tavern doormen, speaking of types people don't take kindly to."

He was back against the wall before he could really even register it, this time with her elbow at his throat and the wind forced from his stomach by the fist that had just been rammed into it. Her eyes met his, narrowed with venom and a tinge of fear, but otherwise overwhelmingly calm. As he took a shallow breath, her elbow dug into his windpipe a little further, making it hard to swallow.

"How do you know?" Her voice had barely changed from the challenging tone of before - though a little lower and a little more threatening this time.

This time, there was no doubt that the hand of that body behind him curled into a fist simoultaneously with Séverin's. He struggled to breathe and stop the corpses from sitting up at the same time.

"Maybe you're bad at hiding it," he hissed. Don't tell her. At best she'll tell the Guild, at worst -- the prince's guard.

She tilted her head at him very slightly, then reached for his leg with her free hand, pressing a point on it that he couldn't see, but that made pain shoot though his nerves like fire. He was no stranger to pain -- his own magic on occasions proved to be a better torturer than the prison's dungeon masters -- but it made his control slip within seconds. After a few moments of holding pressure on it, she let go, still meeting his eyes. "There's nothing to hide if I never use it outside. Try again."

The body behind him was definitely moving now. He knew it sat up without even seeing it, and judging by the sounds around them it wasn't the only one.
"Take a guess."

Her gaze travelled past him to the body behind him, then to the others, her eyes slowly widening as she watched the corpses move. She let go of him slowly, then with a slight hesitation, and a quick glance back at him, she held her hand palm up then flipped it, watching the bodies disappear into the stone plinths they were sat on. Her eyes cut back to him, hostile and wary.

"So you can control the dead." It wasn't phrased as a question yet still it demanded an answer.

He straightened up and regained his posture as she let go, but stayed with his back against the wall. It was easier to focus now -- not by much, but enough so to more or less silence the voices and be his normal self again.
"I'm a mage too," he said. No point denying the obvious-- but now what? "That's how I knew you were one. I can always tell."

She raised an eyebrow at him, her arms back to being crossed over her chest, but he didn't miss her eyes darting to every corpse that wasn't entombed in stone. "That isn't a part of being a mage. You can't just tell that someone's a mage."

He shrugged, this time not having to act. "It's a part of being me. How else do you think I could've known?"

She huffed through her nose, still looking disbelieving, but not arguing it further. "You didn't tell anyone? That man who talked to you at the tavern, for instance?"

"Tell him what, that a random girl at a tavern is a mage?" Does she think the people I talk to know about me being one? "No. If you didn't follow me here, I wouldn't even tell you that I knew."

Her stance settled a little, tension seeping from her shoulders. "Oh, good. Castle people are a pain to kill - people actually go looking for them, then I have to put them in walls and the rocks complain about it, it's honestly a waste of my time."

He caught himself before his lips curled into a smile. "You don't think the Prince's reforms are making much of a difference for the mages out here?"

He watched as she shrugged, then waved a hand dismissively. "Maybe outside of the slums, but we're dealing with centuries of prejudice, and the harder he tries to enforce his reforms, the more regular people are going to hate us."

So much for your optimistic plans, little brother... Séverin almost allowed himself a tiny smirk this time -- but it wasn't safe enough yet.
"Are you working with the Guild, then?" He asked.

She watched him for a moment, carefully analysing him before speaking. "I work for myself, no one else. So if you're one of them and you want me to join you on whatever mission for good the Guild thinks is worthy of their attention, then you can crawl right back in with your corpses."

"I have nothing to do with the Guild." He let some amusement slip into his voice now. She was proving interesting -- perhaps even useful, if he played his cards right. He thought for a moment. He could've threatened her, he was in a good enough position to do so. He could've probably tried to kill her, too, but without attempting to control her directly -- and he was not about to do that -- he wasn't sure he'd win. No, a friendly approach was what always worked the best, and he never found it hard to charm people... though he had a feeling this girl would expect him to share some more truth about himself as well before she'd even consider trusting him.

"If keeping a low profile is so important to you, why do you work at such a crowded place?" He asked finally.

She smirked a little at him, eyeing the threads of his uniform, evident as such, and though worn, still in better shape than the clothes she wore. "I could ask you the same question, especially after recent events, and despite the Prince's... reforms." She sighed, moving so she could lean against a nearby pillar. "I'm a female who lives alone in the slums. There's only a certain amount of jobs available to me, and I didn't fancy being a whore. It's not the only job I work."

He nodded slowly. "And I'm a fatherless bastard who got a decently-paying job at the palace." He bowed as if they'd just introduced themselves at a formal ball. "Needless to say, my abilities are just as much of a secret as yours."

She bowed her head at him slowly in return, seemingly unimpressed by his theatrics. "Of course. Just as I'd expect others to keep the secret - as silent as the grave." She gave him a quick smirk, glancing back at the empty plinths where bodies had rested before being swallowed.

He stayed silent for a few moments, just observing her. She was careful, not the type to trust easily, probably about as willing to share details about herself as he was. I wonder...
"If you're not bored of my company yet, perhaps we could move this conversation to someplace less..." He searched for a word that wasn't dead for a moment. "...threatening."

She raised an eyebrow at him, an incredulous smile curling one corner of her mouth. "I've tried to kill you and you're asking me out for a drink? That certainly is a first." Despite her levity, he noticed the suspicion cloud her eyes again, intruding from whatever corner it had receeded to during their exchange, though he wasn't sure that it had ever left.

Séverin gestured at the bodies around them. "That's twice I've surprised you today, then." He gave her a small smile, and made sure to say the words as honestly as he meant them. "I just want to talk. I don't often get to meet other mages."

The girl watched him for a few moments, seeming to judge his intentions and sincerity, though Séverin couldn't be sure - her face kept the same suspicion it had been displaying since his offer. After a while she pushed away from the pillar, flicking her hand to raise the bodies to the tops of the plinths again. "Fine. But not the Pony."

"Fair enough..." He paused. He'd been out of the palace quite a few times, but he never paid much attention to taverns, and whenever he visited them with the other servants it was always the Pony. "Lead the way."
*
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ScarlettFire says...



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Lady Charnette Arys Delfan | Lady Delfan's Apartments - Palace


She watched him leave in silence, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Charna turned away, covering her mouth. Why did she push him away like that? Was it because of her duty to the Guild? The fact that she wouldn't tell him whose orders? Did he know anyway? Or was it just suspicions? Charna didn't know, but she could feel the urge to cry rising.

The door creaked open and soft footsteps entered the room. "Mistress?" Brigid. She had to compose herself, but it was so hard. She hated it when Sevvy was mad at her. "Mistress, is everything alright?"

Charna cleared her throat and swiped at her face. "I'm fine, Brigid," she said with a sharp shake of her head, hoping it would be enough to deter the girl from asking questions. She glanced towards her. "Am I to meet with Her Highness this evening?"

"Yes, Mistress," Brigid said with a little bob. The girl's wide eyes roamed over her face, seeing too little and far too much at the same time. "Should I go run a bath, Ma'am?"

"Yes, please," Charna replied, turning to face her dressing table. "And lay out the blue dress for me."

"Yes, Mistress!" the girl called as she scurried out of the room again, leaving Charna alone with her thoughts and her growing anger. That anger was directed at herself. Why did she have to drive him off? For the Guild and their stupid, infuriating orders? She had to remain firm, though, or their entire plan would flail. She was the linchpin; the thing holding it all together. If she couldn't handle this, then it was exile...or death.

Charna swallowed and readjusted her skirts, smoothing her hands over the fabric as she composed herself. Then she strode after Brigid to see about that bath. She could worry about her half-brother and his moods later. For now, she had a job to do.
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Tue Feb 07, 2017 11:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Arryn | The Spotted Kestral (Brothel in the Slums)


Arryn had never been so glad to see the illuminated windows of the Spotted Kestral. He was home. At least, he was at the place he usually considered home. His room at the Pony was held for him by the Guild--at least, until a few hous ago. Arryn signed and pushed through the door, making sure his hood was still up and the blood coating his hand, and soaking his shirt was covered in an illusion.

The little reception room of the Kestral was practically empty. Only Sal, the Madam's daughter, and one other girl were downstairs. They were both watching him warily. Arryn cast a glance over both of them and pushed his hood back, throwing them his best grin. As soon as Sal realised who had just entered, her entire presence brightened up.

"Arryn!" she exclaimed, ducking around she counter she'd been hovering behind and practically tackling him into the door behind him. "Where have you been? It's been weeks!"

He pressed a kiss to her check and held her tightly. Sal was like a sister to him. An older, naggier sister. "I had some to do," he muttered, eyeing the other girl over Sal's shoulder. "It's done now so I figured I was safe to come home for a bit."

Sal pushed him back and frowned at him. "Does that mean you're not staying?"

"Sorry Sal," he said with a shrug, gently moving her away so he could push off the door. "I just came by to catch up on some sleep, grab a few things and then probably head out again." At the pout she gave him, Arryn sighed. "I'll visit, Sal. Promise."

"You better," she told him sternly, turned on her heel and stalked across the room, leaving him free to approached the counter. "By the way, someone was asking for you here. I told him you weren't in. He got....persuasive, so I said I had no idea where you were." She sniffed, scratching at her neck. "I don't think he liked my answers, but he left anyway."

Arryn frowned, leaning on the tiny counter a little heavier than he'd intended. It creaked beneath him. "What'd he look like?"

Sal's face scrunched up. "Tall? Dark hair going grey. Kinda intimidating, to be honest." She shrugged, and gave him a shove off the counter so she could get to the little book kept on it. Arryn watched as she began flipping through it, tutting at some names and actually crossing others out. She paused a most unmarked page and scowled. "I swear I wrote his name down. He was here yesterday." Sal lifted the book and turned it so Arryn could see that one of the pages had been torn out. "The page is missing."

"Huh," Arryn hummed, giving the book a suspicious look. He shook his head a moment later. "Doesn't matter. If he's really looking for me, he'll come back." Arryn's gaze narrowed at Sal over the book. "Don't tell him anything, though."

"Sure thing, Arryn," Sal said, putting the book away. Arryn's gaze kept drifting back to it, but he mentally shook himself. That was a mystery he could solve another time. For now, he just wanted a place to relax, even it was just for a few hours. "Head on up."

"See you later, Sal," he said, sparing her a less-grin-like grin. "Promise you'll see me before I leave this time."

Sal just shook her head, both of them turning as the behind them opened. Arryn ducked towards the stairs, pulling his hood up. The man entering was a stranger to him, but Arryn didn't want to take any risks. He took the stairs two at a time, reaching the second floor faster than he normally would. His room was at the far end of the second floor, looking out onto the wall.

Once safely in his room, Arryn sat down at the table and exhaled all the tension he'd felt sitting in the Pony. Then it all came crowding back in. I killed four men tonight, he thought, staring down at his hands as they began to shake. His illusion, the one he's put on himself before entering the Kestrel, had worn off, leaving him free to stare down at his hands, at how red they were. Not as red as when I killed the king and queen, but still unnerving. He took a shaky deep breath and held it for a moment before pushing it back out. I killed four men tonight. Gods.

They deserved it, his voice whispered to him, sounding seductive. Arryn flinched and tried to push it away, to push it down where it wouldn't bother him, but it pushed back. He swallowed as he felt it rising up in him, the thing that was and was not Arryn. Those men had been mages, every single one, and now Arryn needed to adjust to the influx of power their deaths gave him. He swallowed again, shallowly this time as the blood gleamed dark and wet in the near-darkness of his room. He wondered if he was going to be in any state for company in the morning or not. Probably not. They always deserve it, Arryn.

"Shut up," he hissed as the voice got louder and more incoherent, and the power swelled within him, almost to the point where he felt like bursting. "Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup!" He panted, clutching at his hair beneath his hood and tugging harshly. Arryn tugged his hands out of his hair and began to wipe them together, on his shirt, the table--anything to get the blood off him.

The voice's laughter echoed in his head, driving him to his feet with a tortured moan. He knocked the chair over in the process. Arryn flipped the table, scattering papers, candle stubs and other items across the floor in a mighty crash. Sal or someone probably heard it, but Arryn didn't care. Doesn't it look nice on your hands? the voice taunted in a mocking manner. Don't you like it when you feel their necks slice open beneath your hands? It paused, and Arryn thought for a second that it would leave him alone to the feeling of magic boiling in veins, but then it continued; Think what you could do with all this power if you just. Let. It. Out.

"Stop," he moaned, stumbling backwards until he felt his legs hit the bed. He sat down abruptly, hood falling off his head. Arryn could feel the blood on his face, it was starting to dry and had become sticky. He grimaced, glancing down at his hands again, at his shirt. Arryn began to tug his cloak off, then struggled with his shirt. "Please," he begged, watching his hands shake as if he were going through withdrawal from Nagendra's Smoke. "Please make it stop."

It will all stop if you just give in, Arryn. You know you want this, this feeling, the power. It courses through you now. Don't you like it? The voice snickered, its tone taking on a rather dark note. You could be so powerful, Arryn. Imagine the cities you could conquer...entire kingdoms. You could be a God, Arryn.

"No," Arryn whispered, clenching his hands into tight fists. Tight enough that his fingernails dug into his palms. "No, I don't want that. I never want that."

Laughter echoed through his head again, mocking him, as darkness rushed up to meet him. As he felt the world tilt sideways, Arryn had never been more grateful that he'd locked his door. The last thing he needed was Sal or one of the other girls seeming him in this kind of state. The lock would also, hopefully, keep him in one place. Arryn let the darkness drag him under. Anything was better than the torment of insanity that came with absorbing the power of the four men he's killed less than hour ago.
Last edited by ScarlettFire on Thu Feb 09, 2017 3:33 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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XxXTheSwordsmanXxX says...



Torrin | Palace


Torrin kept his eyes up and looking to the massive towers that jutted up from the castle like sentinels. The flags bearing the seal of the kingdom whipping proudly in the morning sun. It truly was a work of elegance. Moving to the main gate, Torrin was immediately barred from entry by spear point. His ice blue eyes looking between the two guards that looked ready to impale him on those spears.

"The young prince is expecting me," Torrin stated warmly.

"Silence your tongue mage or I will remove it!" the guard to his right growled. Torrin didn't want to cause yet another incident like yesterday, but did have a right to be there with his invite from the prince.

"Guards! Lower your weapons!" a rather familiar voice barked. Looking to the gateway, he recognized the Dragon Guard who had put him in irons the previous day.

"Dragon Guard Adrid! This is a mage! We can't let him into the castle!" the other guard protested.

"I am well aware of what he is," Adrid seethed. "But he is also an invited guest of Prince Quintus. As much as I would love to throw him out into the street or lock him in the dungeon, I am obligated to ensure that he meets with the Prince and is kept sage until the Council Dinner this evening."

Begrudgingly, the guards lowered their weapons returning to attention. Torrin gave a nod of thanks before he paused. He slowly reached into his pouch and grasped a few of the gems that lie there before offering his hand out to the guards. "You men do a good job. If I were not an invited guest you would most definitely would have stopped me. Take your pick."

As much as the guards did not trust Torrin, the appeal of the jewels was irresistible. Each of them took their pick, inspecting it in the light as Torrin began to follow Adrid.

"So what's the trick?" Adrid growled at Torrin. "They put them in their pocket and the gems suddenly vanish making them think they lost them?"

"There are no enchantments on those gems. I don't have the casting ability to do so. Those gems are as real as you or me. Guards who do their jobs well should be rewarded for their vigilant service, don't you think?" Torrin's smirk rested on his features as he could tell that while the Dragon Guard might agree with him, she didn't like that he was saying so. Torrin found himself chuckling a little as he looked down.

"You find something amusing?" Adrid snapped with a glare.

"Just a series of circumstances that I find irony in...nothing to fret over."

Torrin admired the stonework that went into crafting the main entrance of the castle as he was ordered to wait for the Prince to arrive. He wandered only slight to get a better look at the different decorations and flourishes of the hall.

As Torrin inspected a tapestry, he suddenly felt a presence. Almost like something was watching him. He turned, his ice blue eyes falling on a servant. The young man had dark black hair and amber brown eyes that were currently staring at him in confusion. Torrin could sense magic in him. The servant was a mage, like him....well....not exactly like him.

Torrin gave the servant a nod as a silent motion of understanding who he was and that the servant's secret would remain so.

Spoiler! :
@ChildOfNowhere I hope this is alright. I wanted to give Severin the chance to "bump" into Torrin before things got too hectic. @SirenCymbaline I hope that I portrayed Adrid correctly. I thought that it be appropriate that a Dragon Guard escort Torrin. XD Him secretly being a dragon and all.








Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream.
— Mark Twain