Medieval: the Kingdom of Kyth

[Tiger]

Leif spent over an hour in the rookery, weighing diet and fussiness and age and size of the birds perched in the many nests. Every so often he flicked the thin wand he carried and arranged a few numbers of runes in the air, where they hovered like specters for a few moments after Leif passed them by. There was a very impatient falconer waiting on a bench on the opposite side of the room, but Leif, of course, was not paying him much attention. There were raptors to consider.

There was Asher, the Lanner falcon. Guinevere, the elderly red-tailed hawk. Copper, the huge rock eagle-owl. Stark the goshawk. Stormcloud, the peregrine falcon whose pedigree rivaled those of many nobles. So many beautiful, elegant, ferocious, refined birds, all sleek feathers and sharp talons and cold, gleaming beaks - any one of House Jade’s magnificent raptors would be an impressive travel companion. But Leif’s concern was really less about - well, no, it was entirely un-about impressing the folk of Medieville. Leif was taking a raptor along because he needed someone to talk to.

People, he found, were either very boring, or, in their own way, very frightening. He must preferred the simple, direct goals of the hawks and eagles and falcons and kites. They lived for flight and taking prey, and they were magnificently, biologically, perfectly tailored to it. Lord Woo, in Leif’s mind, must be a huge and beautiful raptor whose form mortals could scarcely imagine. People, on the other hand, were shift and crafty and you couldn’t tell their strengths and weaknesses from the shape of a wing or tail or the particular curve of beak. People were very annoying.

Which led Leif to where he was now. He’d been told he was accompanying the delegation to Medieville. Apparently someone in power had died, and Lord Everett’s son was going to be put in their place? Possibly a wedding was involved? Leif had missed some of the details. Most, to be honest - his ability to pay attention in formal castle rooms was not anything to brag about, and as soon as a journey was mentioned, Leif’s remaining focus had deserted him to pursue matters of which raptor he would bring and how to best provide for it, and on and on until suddenly the meeting was over and Leif was free to retreat to the grounds. It would be easy enough to pick up what was going on from overheard conversations on the way there.

He stopped in front of one last bird. The white, gray, and black raptor tilted its head at him, scrutinizing the noble with one deep-red eye. Ayleth was just a little bird, a black-shouldered kite and a mouse-eater. She was a fine raptor, of course - House Jade would have no less - with no blotches to her coloration and no behavioral tics. Extending a gloved hand to the raptor and trading his wand for jesses, Leif crooned, “What do you think, my sweet? Up for a bit of adventure?” Ayleth’s attention had already turned to the fields.

“That’ll be the raptor you’re taking, then?” the falconer said as he stood up, stretching.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. ...You can go,” he told the falconer, frowning slightly.

“I was told to prepare whatever raptor you chose for travel,” the falconer said. “So you can get packed and prepared for travel, sir.”

Leif did not think this was a good idea - but he was not keen on the idea of assigning anyone to pack his things. Servants were only rarely allowed in his quarters; it meant more cleaning for Leif, but it was a sacrifice he gladly made in order to keep his space safe. At least the falconer had been trained to deal with raptors. And Leif knew who the man was - in case he became careless.

-------

The Ashroad was at least interesting, if nothing else - but Lord Everett’s entourage made sure they were never in serious peril. The same could not be said of Medieville, however. The only upshot seemed to be that there would be plenty of mice for Ayleth, though Leif kept the raptor close. He had no idea what these people were like, but better safe than finding out that some idiot with a bow and arrow mistook birds of prey for ducks.

They were staying in the home of a cousin or nephew or some such relation of Lord Everett’s. There was a small culvert to which Leif had retreated - with Ayleth, of course - as soon as the sun rose. He let the kite free to hunt, though he kept careful eye on her height and cast glyphs accordingly; every raptor trained by the falconers of House Jade knew that sigils meant down. Ayleth chittered in annoyance at first, but eventually swooped onto one of the walls of the culvert and watched for rats.

“I know, sweetling,” Leif said. “You want to stretch your wings. Be patient a little longer - I’ll find a safe place for you to fly.” The kite, of course, did not respond. That was a nice thing about raptors - you didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, because they didn’t care what anyone had to say.

Leif spread his green and gold half-cape down on the grass to sit on it.. His fingers fiddled with the silver, feather-shaped pendant around his neck. Sitting out in a quiet morning, watching a raptor hunt for prey, was his own sort of religious service. Churches, after all, were full of people, and only some of the iconography actually looked even close to the Lord Woo of his imagination.

“Master Leif?”

Leif’s fingers tightened like claws. He turned, very slowly, making sure to keep one eye on Ayleth.

A man Leif thought was their host stood at the door. “Lord Everett requests your presence in council this afternoon.”

Leif nodded slightly and turned back to Ayleth. The raptor was watching the door with her head lowered. Her tail flicked twice in a territorial display - not that most folk recognized such a thing. But the red-eyed bird of prey must still have been intimidating enough, for the door closed before Ayleth could threaten a third time.

“It’s all right, love,” Leif told the kite. “We shouldn’t be here long. This can’t possibly take more than a few days, a week at most - then we’ll be back in Corvus where we belong.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Leif of House Jade doesn't do people well, but boy does he love raptors! Leif chooses to take a black-shouldered kite named Ayleth along to Medieville, where he and some members of House Jade, including Dan, are going because someone died or something. He wasn't paying attention. They get to Medieville, Leif and Ayleth hang out in a culvert and Leif is told there's going to be a meeting later, and Leif claims they won't be there long, ensuring that the event will stretch as great a timespan as possible.

[Lizica]

Once in the Kingdom of Kyth, there dwelt a man named Aldrich Finnegan. Aldrich was a simple peasant of greatly unremarkable appearance, adorned with scruffy, balding hair and a hint of a beard. And while not yet elderly, Aldrich had the misfortune of forever appearing older than he was, for he was always covered in white dust.

Now, Aldrich Finnegan was always draped in this dust because he was a sculptor by trade: a sculptor of fair talent, with many of his carved creations on display on church eaves and in estate gardens. His gargoyles were known for their startlingly realistic poise, and his statues and busts were held in high regard by many for their careful features, telling and striking.

In fact, so skilled was Aldrich Finnegan with his mallet and chisels that one day, he sculpted the image of a woman in fine marble: The statue stood with majestic grace, with flowing hair, her garments regal in their richness. So lifelike, so hauntingly beautiful, and so faultless was his own artistry that Aldrich himself could not help but fall in love with this statue.

"O!" cried he. "Were that she were real and we could be together."

Each day in his studio in Medieville, Aldrich would pass this silent figure on his way to carve more commissioned sculptures. He strove at first to leave his outlandish notion of the marble lady behind. But each new creation seemed to wend towards her; each bird carried flowers to bedeck her hair; each gargoyle bent its head in deference to her; and each of Aldrich's sculptures betrayed this deep, wistful wish that his marble woman was real.

Her tantalizing beauty soon grew to be too great for Aldrich. And thus enamored, he set out to find a spell to fulfill his wish and bring his statue to life.

At last he found the spell which his heart desired. And though a complex spell it was, far beyond Aldrich's talent as a simple peasant untrained in the art of magic--riddled with riddles, woven in webs, gilded with guile--he resolved nevertheless to use the spell to free his marble lady.

When the spell preparations had been completed, Aldrich held himself still by the marble woman, sudden disquietude cast on his brow. But lo, his fears unfounded, before his eyes, his lady's features softened and moved. Her posture slackened with natural elegance and her hair, formerly suspended in an unseen zephyr, now delicately draped on her shoulders.

Aldrich immediately grasped her hands, declared his love, and proclaimed that they would be married on the morrow.

Yet the woman pulled away in surprise and stared at him with much amazement.

"What manner of man art thou, to fall in love with naught but a statue?" said she. "How can I give my love when you gave it away so frivolously?"

Aldrich, never having been eloquent at speed, stumbled over his words and eventually said nothing.

"Didst thou think that affection can be so easily fabricated?" Then beseeched the marble lady, "Please, if thou lovest me, be true enough to let me see the world, to learn of it what I can, and perhaps one day return, if you yourself have ascertained what marbles you lack."

And thus Aldrich's statuesque lady departed.

So stunned was he with the loss of the object of his affections that Aldrich made a grievous error: He forgot to conclude his life-giving spell.

All about his home and studio, stone sculptures crackled to life--gargoyles blinked their eyes wide; busts unkinked their necks; birds spread their wings to fly for the first time; Lilliputian horses stomped their hooves; beasts of legend tested their stone beaks with unearthly shrills. In a great rush of sudden motion, marble beasts and granite creatures sprang from their pedestals and leapt into the air, through the studio, out into the city and beyond, half-trampling Aldrich Finnegan in the process.

"Wait! Stop!" he cried as he regained his composure enough to chase after them.

But it was too late, and the task proved too great. Aldrich returned to his studio, left with only immobile busts and unfinished sculptures too encumbered by their extra unpitched stone to fly away.

What sculptures were left failed to sell, and the number of his ordering customers slowly chipped away. A few holy men of 'Woo even sent him furious messages wanting refunds, telling him that gargoyles he had carved previously (which had been quietly conveying water from the sides of churches for years) had suddenly up and vanished, but not before terrorizing numerous members of the laity. His livelihood in jeopardy, Aldrich tried and tried to resolve the complex spell, but to little avail: By now the spell had grown too intricate, and new statues and new blocks of marble always burst into life at some point over the course of chiseling. At length he even turned to pottery, and while these creations thankfully appeared to remain inanimate for the most part (save for one green vase that twirled in circles and sang whenever it was filled with liquid), Aldrich's best-made works remained his stone statues.

It was quite a distressing predicament.

On this particular morning, as local peasants, noblemen, and noblewomen filtered into the streets of Medieville, Aldrich shuffled from his cot and across his studio, which was, as it always was now, bustling with small talking sculptures and half-formed creatures hopping around the floors. A cloud of white dust hung suspended in the air above the floor from all the commotion. Aldrich absently stepped over a tiny horse and a miniature bird who were having a heated dispute as he opened the doors to his establishment.

Hearing a small scraping, he turned to see the two miniatures now engaged in fisticuffs on the dirt floor. "I JUST polished you two!" Aldrich said in dismay.

From a table at the window, two of his marble busts turned towards each other. They had originally been carved on commission for a lesser lord in Albion, and although Aldrich had delivered them very promptly after the initial spell outburst, they had been returned just as swiftly (and with an accompanying notice to "henceforth discontinue all business with you, you impudent, cross-gartered little--").

Next, Aldrich had tried to surreptitiously leave the two busts in the middle of the countryside, but they'd been sent back to him yet again, this time by the Ascension guards, and Aldrich was put in the stocks for a few days for their being a "public nuisance" and a "terrible disruption to all innocent passersby, all of whom were mightily insulted and caught quite unprepared."

As the two busts began to speak now, Aldrich turned away and tried not to listen.

"So I take it you've heard about Princess Destiney Raven Ascension preparing to be crowned?" said one.

"Hm, I sure did. It's quite worrisome, really," replied the other.

"You're worried that she won't live up to her father's name?"

"Why would I worry about her father's name? Her own name is awful enough as it is!"

"DOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" both busts laughed aloud.

"Be quiet, you two, I'm opening up shop," Aldrich murmured.

"That's exactly the problem," said one bust, the stouter of the two, engraved with the name "Waller." "You're always opening up shop when you should be closing down instead!"

"But Waller, he can't close down!" said the other, the taller of the two, engraved as "Standorf."

"He can't?" said Waller.

"Because he's already been shut down by the marble lady!"

"DOHOHOHOHOHOHO!"

"Statues, gargoyles, and pottery for sale!" Aldrich called into the streets of Medieville over their laughter. Maybe a noble from some faraway region would take some of his creations off his hands before they realized their mistake. ...Behind him, he caught the tail end of another round of insults. "Will someone please buy these stupid busts from me?!"

SPOILER: Click to show

(With apologies to Pygmalion. xD) Aldrich Finnegan is a talented peasant sculptor who lives in Medieville. He once fell so in love with one of his own sculptures that he brought her to life with a complex spell. Unfortunately, he got rejected, and in the meantime, the spell went haywire and caused ALL his sculptures to come to life (including a certain duo of marble busts). So now Aldrich is saddled with all of these irreverent statues, trying to make a living in spite of it all.

[Shinko]

The morning sunlight glared over the roofs of Medieville's Market District, illuminating the brick streets and wood buildings. Despite the hour the streets were already bustling, which wasn't uncommon in this city, but with all the visitors in town for the funeral it was even more lively.

Amidst the hustle and bustle, a single tiny woman, no more then four foot six, emerged from the front door of a Lock and Key shop with a broom in her hands. She set about vigorously sweeping the dust from the shop's stoop, getting ready for the busy day ahead. Though none of the visitors paid her any mind, occasionally a local would stop to tip their hat to her or wave a polite greeting. Her name was Morgaine Braham, and she was a very familiar- if not rather infamous- face in the market.

Morgaine kept most of her hair bound up in a blue head viel, like most pious women of the era were wont to do. But her bangs were visible; hair black as raven feathers with streaks of silvery white framed her slightly wrinkled face. She wore a slightly worn shirt and skirt, with a leather tool belt fixed around her waist. From her neck hung the only article on her that gave a clue to the fact that she was better off financially then she first appeared; a beautiful ornately jeweled key.

She was a woman who's appearance spoke of the wisdom and dignity that comes with advancing age. But to hear the people in her neighborhood tell it, this was little more than a cruel joke of the great Woo to make her devilry that much more potent. Though she knew nothing of magic and would admit as much to anyone who asked, it was not uncommon to hear the city boys refer to her amongst themselves as a witch. Certainly the words "I'm bored" had the potency of a curse when uttered by her tongue.

In the market district of Medieville it was well known that a canny fellow would never let Morgaine Braham grow bored. If she got too bored, things had a habit of becoming rather more interesting very quickly- but seldom in ways that were in the best interest of the parties she got involved.

This had never been a problem when her husband was alive. Being married to an elven knight tended to bring a human woman's life rather more excitement then any single person needed; and that was just how Morgaine liked it. But alas, not even the long lived elves were immune to dragon flame. Now all she had to remember her beloved by were children that lived in the elflands and never visited, and a pair of elven bred cats that no one else seemed to have realized were remarkably spritely for being well over twenty years old. That left plenty of room in her life for boredom.

And subsequently, an unholy penchant for causing mischief.

A soft meow called her attention, and she looked down to see one of her cats, the calico female she called Rust, had come out the door and was twining around her legs. Morgaine chuckled, reaching down to stroke the creature.

"I suppose you want your breakfast, do you deary? Cats don't care about visitors in town, or kingship changing hands, or what promises to be the best windfall our store has had in a long time. It's all the same to you as any other day, and just like any other day you can't wait an hour for me to tidy up. Sometimes I think your kind is far wiser then ours."

She stood with a groan, resuming her sweeping. "Still, I have work to do. Go bother Rosalie if you're that hungry, I'm sure she'll indulge you if you can rouse her from her sheets."

The cat bumped it's head against Morgaine's leg, giving her one last doleful look, and then retreated into the building to follow her suggestion. The elf-bred cats were not human smart, but they were far more clever then common cats and generally understood most simple instructions. More then could be said for most humans, Morgaine thought with a head shake. She looked out over the crowds, her brow furrowed in thought. She really didn't care about the political turmoil in the kingdom any more then did her cats. But it was all anyone else was talking about these days.

It really was dreadfully boring.

SPOILER: Click to show

Morgaine the locksmith is out sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop, where anyone who likes can come and chat it up with her. She pets one of her cats, then tells the kitty to go bug Rosalie Dylas (Maddy) for it's breakfast. Morgaine's bored to death with all the talk of politics, and that's usually the foreshadowing for much chaos to come.

[Sporty]

"Here you are, sir. I trust the craftsmanship is to your satisfaction?"

The nobleman looked over his new sword with a critical eye. It was a fine make, with tiny jewels set into the handle and intricate designs running the length of the blade. It was purely decorative, of course -- something to make the buyer look regal and important during his time in Medieville and beyond.

Finally, the nobleman gave a satisfied nod and handed the smith her payment. Clarissa Falconer grinned as she pocketed the money, happy for both the nobleman's approval of her work and the pay that had come from such a detailed commission.

"For a little extra, I can give it an enchantment," Clarissa offered. "A good preservation spell will keep it from wearing out or tarnishing, or --"

Too late, she noticed the horse sigil on the nobleman's coat clasp. The man balked, his lip curling back in a small sneer at the mention of enchantments, before whirling around and leaving the smithy without another word.

Clarissa grit her teeth and resisted the urge to throw something after him. Stallions.

The young blacksmith took a deep breath and went to let her master know that she was finished with her sale before heading around back. Clarissa was still a journeyman in the local smithy, but the master was an excellent employer with a knack for pairing the right smith to the right job, and she was confident that she would complete her own masterpiece before much longer.

Perhaps more importantly, though, the master smith was supportive of Clarissa's little... side projects.

Pushing open the door to a small back room, the journeyman looked around in admiration of the contents scattered within. Bits of scrap metal, decently-sized chips from cut gemstones, and old broken tools littered a workbench by the wall, along with more workable extra tools that could be used to piece them together. And in the middle of the room, a small table had been placed to house the creations that had resulted. Most of these held a soft glow or hummed ever-so-slightly, but sadly, items that actually did anything were in somewhat shorter supply.

Looking over her creations for a moment, Clarissa finally picked out an object made from a bent-up handle meant for a dagger with a bit of quartz soldered into the tip, and carried it to the workbench. She had smoothed the end of the handle meant to hold the blade so that it sat upright, and there was a subtle white glow focused mainly in the quartz.

"If I could just figure out the right light spell..." Clarissa muttered to herself, sitting down at the bench and placing the object in front of her. It was meant to store images and display them in the air above the object in response to a simple incantation, but she had yet to figure out the right enchantments to give off a clear picture.

"Maybe something with a connection to memory... If it has to latch on to an idea, that could be the key..."

SPOILER: Click to show

Meet Clarissa Falconer, a journeyman blacksmith with a knack for enchanting objects. After presenting her latest creation with mixed reactions from the buyer, she heads to the back of the smithy to indulge in her side passion: invention and experimentation with magical technology.

[Killix]

Fishing for inspiration at the edge of the garden's largest pond, Kirin Mao peered down at the sparkling water. While observing colourful fish below, his eyes were drawn to his own reflection: tinted blue by the pool's base and distorted slightly in the ripples made by curious birds.

House Stallion kept many gardens like this one: atmosphere serene and air fragrant, rare plants and brilliant flowers arranged around carefully sculpted hedge art, gorgeous trees from faraway origins provided shade to the decorative ponds. It was no secret that Kirin greatly preferred the gardens to the stuffy and busy Stallion Manor. He would often sit under his favourite tree and craft, or paint, until all inspiration had drained away into his brush and onto the paper.

The hot weather was becoming uncomfortable, and Kirin's fancy clothing composed of expensive materials proved to be far too insulating for their own good. He removed his hat, which was crafted to resemble the face of a golden dragon, and tucked it under his arm. Freeing his long white hair from its pony tail, he moved back into the shade and sat down on the grass against a tall purple-barked fruit tree.
He placed the blank paper and brush down beside him in the cool grass, it wasn't going to happen today. There were too many things on his mind, clouding his sense of creativity.

Soon he would be off to Medieville, a whole new experience. Of course, a funeral was not what he had in mind for the beginning of an inspiring new adventure, but nevertheless it was a great opportunity to travel.

You never know who you're going to meet, afterall. Memories drifted back to him like the ripples on the pond. Yes, that was an interesting day for sure; An archery tournament, a suspicious competitor, a "misfired" arrow...

Kirin's quick thinking and skillful actions must've greatly impressed Grand Duke Alain, because it wasn't long after that his merit granted him the honour of officially joining House Stallion. Someone without nobility in their blood joining a noble House was rather unheard of, but Stallion was known to employ more progressive ways of thinking.

"Excuse me, sir?" A servant peeked around the trunk of the large tree. "I am ever so sorry to bother you, sir, but the carriage is waiting."

Kirin got to his feet and dusted his clothing off. The adventure was about to begin.

SPOILER: Click to show

Kirin Mao spends some quality time in his favourite garden before heading off to Medieville.

[Kristykimmy]

Lucinda sat in her private sitting room, plucking at the strings of her harp quite discordantly while thinking up a new ballad about King Starmey. Word was he had died. Lucinda knew no more than that, Lucinda rarely knew anything truly useful.

Baroness Lucinda of House Stallion was the granddaughter of Grand Duke Alain. Her mother, his daughter, had died in childbirth and her father had been thrown from his horse and perished when she was two. As a result, she was raised carelessly by the other members of her family, resulting in a spoiled airhead of a noblewoman who was far more intelligent with her mouth shut. Of course, that was something of a rare occasion.

She had the family flair for the dramatic. She fancied herself a minstrel. The fact that she could not sing, play, or learn any of the history of which she sang did not deter her, mostly because she was spoiled to know she was rather awful. Her Grandfather and Aunt Isabelle were the masters of not listening and then telling her it was lovely. Her Uncle Garrick made everything about himself, Great-Uncle Ambrosa frightened her a little with his odd ways, and everyone else had to appreciate her playing because she was a noblewoman of the house.

Her ladies maid entered the room and Lucinda smiled.

“Oh, Dolly!” Lucinda chirped, happy to have an audience. “Sit and listen to what I have so far!”

“I am terribly sorry, mistress, but I cannot. I must pack your things. Your grandfather is sending you with your uncle and great-uncle to King Starmey's funeral to represent the house. Word is your uncle also intends to pay suit to Princess Destiney. I believe Lord Mao may be accompanying you as well,” the maid explained.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Lucinda cried, her eyes lighting up. “I will play this ballad for Princess Destiney herself, as a tribute to her late father! When do we leave?”

“Very soon.”

Lucinda rushed out of the room to find her Grandfather and Aunt Isabelle to kiss them goodbye. She rushed back to her room after saying her goodbyes, harrying the maid about her packing, making sure her harp was not forgotten. For some reason, Dolly kept trying to convince her to leave it behind. She could sing the ballad without accompaniment, but it was not the same.

On the whole, Lucinda wasn't too pleased with her traveling companions. She liked Kirin Mao, he was dashing, athletic, and had joined their house for his valor not his bloodlines. He was the perfect character for an epic ballad.

Great-Uncle Ambrose was prone to strange behavior, Lucinda tried to avoid him where she could. Despite being his brother, he was not like her grandfather, who had a brilliant mind and had been a brilliant warrior. Spoiled as she was, Lucinda honestly admired and loved her grandfather.

Then there was Uncle Garrick. He was, well, Garrick. He was a performer, and he was not half bad she supposed, but he never listened to her ballads and always talked of how irresistible he was. Lucinda did not know if that was true. She had never seen anyone swoon over him, and she was not likely to swoon, he was her uncle after all. Also, one should never flaunt themselves, they should wait for others to sing of them, as Lucinda did.

The carriage was at last announced. She walked outside to it, excited about the trip to Medieville.

SPOILER: Click to show

Enter Lucinda, airheaded granddaughter of Grand Duke of House Stallion. She thinks she's a minstrel of talent. *cue laughter*

Lucinda works on composing a ballad of the late king's life, something she knows nothing about. She learns she's going to Medieville with Garrick, Ambrose, and Kirin.

She reflects on what she thinks about each of them as she waits to leave.

[Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)]

Rosalie Dylas was a happy person.

She'd start her day off jumping out of bed and giddily dancing around her room. Despite not being a princess (aside from in her own mind) she had classic princess qualities. Naivety, pep, and of course humming loudly.

Rosalie was excited. Well, not altogether excited because the king was dead, and that was sad. She remember softly crying to herself when she had found out. Death was always sad. But his death meant that nobles from all around would come to his funeral. That meant people! Tons and tons of people in fancy clothes. It was like a festival! Of course, a sad festival, but a festival all the same.

Rosalie heard her door creak open and the cat Rust come in.

"Good morning!!" Rosalie greeted, leaning down to pet the cat, smiling as she purred at being scratched behind the ears.

"I bet you're hungry aren't you?" Rosalie asked, "Me too. Morgie never feeds us. We'd starve if we weren't so independent." Rosalie skipped out of her room towards the kitchen.

She set Rust's bowl down and fed her. Then she made herself a quick breakfast. Had to be ready for today, it was a big day.

Rosalie loved people. Rosalie also loved keys. Making keys, selling keys, and giving her special crafted keys to special people. The keys to her heart, if you will.

She skipped back into her room and got dressed, putting on a very pretty dress. Always had to look your best. She also put her special key around her neck and stuffed her blonde hair into a messy bun atop her head. Perfect.

Rosie came from a family far away. She moved into the city to sell her keys and make her keys. Keys were very important to her. She often told Morgaine "My keys are the only thing that unlocks your boxes, but your boxes are the only thing my keys unlock", and she'd add a little giggle afterwards.

She missed her family sometimes, although she was never very close to any of them. She always thanked Lord 'Woo she didn't get her families bad eye sight. Her mother was blind, her grandfather was blind in his right eye and had been all his life, her brother could barely see and her sister was colorblind. She was blessed to have more or less perfect eye sight, perfect for key making. It wasn't like she would pass that bad eye sight down anyway, down and down through generations to one unlucky child. But that is another story you probably know, and it isn't a very happy story. Rosie hated unhappy stories, she loved happily ever afters, that were actually happy and not the false kind of happy, so she would not concern herself with that story one bit.

She skipped out, giving Rust one last stroke, and then skipped downstairs and out the door.

"Good morning Morgie, lovely day isn't it?" she asked her her business partner, "Perfect day, I think!"

SPOILER: Click to show

Rosalie Dylas is a key maiden, or perhaps a key princess. She starts her day off feeding one of the Elven cats and skipping about. She is very excited for the nobles to be in town, but also sad that the king died. She skips outside and greets Shinko ready for the day.

[Omni]

There was much noise at the farmers' table as Orrin slurped up the meal that had been presented to him. He lowered the bowl from his mouth and licked his lips. "This is great!" he complemented, gesturing to the farmer's wife. "Ya make a good pottage!"

"Better watch out for this one," the dwarven woman warned. She held one hand beside her mouth and whispered in a way that Orrin could obviously hear. "He'll eat yer whole storage if yer not careful."

"She kids! She kids!" Orrin insisted. "Though if ya have some ya need to get rid of, I'll take it. Seems like ya put some good crops into it," he said with a wink to the farmer.

The farmer's wife held a hand near her heart. "Aw, you say too much! But no, this is the last of it."

"Aw, that's alright. I do mean it when I say this is good, though!" Orrin slurped down the rest of his pottage, set down the bowl, and wiped his face with his upper arm. "Well, I'll head off now. Thank ya again for the meal."

"If you like, I can show you around," the farmer offered.

"Nah, I'll be fine. Ya just relax and rest up that back." Orrin got up, bumped his head on the roof, gave a brief apology, and went to grab a bag from his things.

The dwarven woman spoke up. "Ya be careful, ya hear?"

"I hear." Orrin bent down near the dwarf.

"Love ya Orrin. Be good."

"Love ya too, mama."

They exchanged pecks, Orrin giving her one on the forehead, and his mother giving him one on his hairy chin. He stood up, careful not to hit his head this time. "I'll be back by sundown," he promised.

And with that he headed out the door. He stood up taller stretched, and started off, smiling with excitement, before pausing and poking his head back in the door.

"Would one of ya mind tellin' me how to get to the market?"

SPOILER: Click to show

Orrin complements the cooking and farming of his hosts, slurping down his meal with vigor. He grabs a bag, exchanges goodbye kisses with his mother, the dwarf, and starts to head off before remembering to ask how to get to the market.

[Avery]

Dinner was goat. It was always goat—goat marrow in stew, goat liver, goat fat over tough bread. They always sold the best cuts to the butcher, Clare, but took the rest for themselves. Tonight it was boiled goat heart over potatoes. Kelcey sighed as he nibbled on a mushy potato, wondering what his beloved was eating tonight. Sweet custard, probably—or fine, tender veal—or…

No! Was he mad!? Desi probably wouldn’t be eating at all, so bereft was she over the death of her poor papa and his impending funeral! He gasped as he realized this. H-how… how could he eat like a greedy pig whilst his soul mate went hungry? Dramatically, he stood from the table. Daria and the youngest Kidde daughter, Ciara, shot him confused looks; the fifteen-year-old, Briar, rolled her eyes.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, in that wretched voice of hers. If Daria and Ciara were annoyed by Kelcey’s infatuation with Destiney, Briar was outright incensed.

“I—I can’t eat!” he moaned. “My sweet Destiney might not be eating, you see.” Before Briar could regale him for the silliness of this statement, Kelcey said, “Just… just keep my portion for Laurie, should she swing by.”

“She won’t swing by,” said Ciara with a sigh.

“She might. Anyway… I… I ought to head by the butcher’s, anyhow. See if Clare’s had a chance to butcher the goat we sold her yesterday.” Briar’s lips opened, as if to remind Kelcey that Clare always sent Elin to inform them when she’d butchered their sells, but Kelcey talked over her: “Anyhow, maybe I’ll see if we can’t keep a prime cut this time. To honor King Starmey.”

“Chops?” Briar asked, a bit too eagerly.

“Sure, why not,” Kelcey said, then hurried out before any of his sisters could say anything else.

The butcher’s wasn’t too far away, and indeed, upon his arrival, Clare informed him that no, the goat wasn’t done, but sure, she’d spare him a chop. “Will take a runestone out of your payment, though,” she reminded him.

“That’s fine,” he said. What did a runestone matter? He would have all the runestones in the world once he married his precious Destiney! “Have a nice night,” he said to her.

“You, too,” she replied. But then, before he could leave, she called after him: “Wait! You happen to be headed toward the inn, by any chance?”

“No m’am,” he said. “Why?”

“Just sent Elin out a bit ago to take some cuts over. But you know how she is—a bit… absent sometimes—and she forgot take the pork butt. Thought you might be able to catch up with her.”

Kelcey considered. On the one hand, the inn was out of the way; on the other hand, he didn’t particularly want to go home anytime soon. Not when all it would lead to was more taunting from his sisters about his beloved. Why couldn’t they understand? His true love was probably wallowing in sorrow up in that castle, and they acted like it was a huge joke! Elin was a much better listener than Briar, Ciara, and Daria. He was absolutely sure that she loved his stories about Destiney. She would be the perfect person to lament to over his sweet going hungry in that giant, food-filled castle!

So Kelcey said to Clare, “I’d be happy to catch up with her.”

Clare thanked him and helped load up a basket, then sent Kelcey chasing after Elin. He found her in the nick of time—just moments before she arrived to the inn. Her black ponytail was bobbing with each step she took, the wheels of her cart grumbling as they rolled.

“Elin!” he called to her. “I’ve got something for you!” Before she could even respond, he fell in step beside her and said, “And—and—oh, Elin! You won’t believe how heartsick I am. I just realized, my poor Destiney is probably ill to her stomach up in that castle from grief, and unable to hold anything down—no food! No fine, foreign wine! Nothing at all!—and yet there I was at my table, scarfing down goat heart like a savage. Do you… do you think Lord Woo will forgive me for my selfishness?” He sighed despondently. “I really ought to send her a message… I wonder if I could somehow attract the attention of her little bird-man-messenger, you know—the one who brought me the locket—and well, I wouldn’t need to send her anything big, I think, I wouldn’t want her to think I’m trying to heal her sorrow with material things, but I have been working on a scarf her for, with wool I bought off the sheep herd, Robert… perhaps she could even wear it to the funeral if I got it there in time! I found the loveliest word to embroider upon it, I think it’s one that represents both her beauty and our undying love. It’s—it’s got one of those symbols that looks a half-moon, then… well, you’ll see it, I’ll show it to you before I send it. Oh, I do think she’d appreciate it, don’t you?” He paused, realizing he’d never even told Elin what the ‘something’ he had for her well, was. He nodded his chin towards the basket. “Pork butt,” he said. “You forgot it.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Kelcey begins to eat supper but is aghast when he realizes Destiney might be going hungry from grief in the castle, so he abandons him portion, telling his sisters to keep it for Liou should she swing by. He goes to the butcher's, where Clare asks him to chase after Gelquie, who's forgotten some meat for her delivery to the inn. Kelcey runs into her and breathlessly tells her about all his woes, and ponders whether Destiney's "bird man messenger" icon could be attracted so that he can use him to send Destiney a scarf that may or may not be embroidered with "CHOLERA"

[Terra]

Friar Francis Jade had not been to Medieville in thirteen years. Back then he had been an inexperienced preacher, desperately seeking and often failing to find receptive audiences for his spreading of the word of Woo—the true word, not the corrupt variety that had spread throughout Kyth, with its hierarchies and tendencies toward indulgence. Until, a little over a decade ago, he came in contact with the members of House Jade. Though the friar was suspicious, initially—as he was of virtually all the rich and powerful—he found that among its nobility were those who were willing to listen to what he had to say. They were intrigued by his assertions about how the Church of Woo had increasingly grown toward materialism and corruption, twisting the word of Woo in order to support its own decadence, and that only by following the original scriptures and ridding itself of luxury and indulgence could the kingdom gain true glory under Lord Woo. In response, certain high-ranking members of House Jade decided to take him under their wing. And now, though not without difficulty and opposition, he had himself become one of the most respected religious authorities of the House.

It was difficult, sometimes. He tried hard to guard his own principles, maintaining purity and austerity as best he could. He owned no fine clothes, no valuable jewelry. He refused to eat the rich meals prepared for Jade nobility and instead opted to cook his own simple vegetarian food. But he was surrounded by people who often disagreed with him, and he had only made a limited amount of progress thus far in eliminating luxuries from House Jade. Still, Jade seemed to be the most open to change of all the houses he had encountered, and he could do nothing other than trust that Lord Woo would guide him in the right direction, if only he continued praying and listening as well as he could.

And the death of the king created a new opportunity for Jade to increase its power—which meant that, potentially, Friar Francis could spread the word of Woo even further within Kyth. So now he was in an uncomfortably fine room within the home of Lord Everett Jade’s cousin Marson, sitting at the desk by the window and working on his theological writings.

He was startled to hear a knock and turned to see Lord Everett’s cousin standing in the open doorway.

“Lord Everett has requested your presence in the council this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” said Friar Francis. “May the Woo’s blessing go with you.”

Marson gave a thin, strained smile and walked away.

Francis sighed, looked down at his papers, and pushed them aside. He clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and prayed that no terrible fate would befall House Jade while they were in Medieville—and that the House would not itself fall too far to immorality in its attempts to pursue its goal.

SPOILER: Click to show

Friar Francis Jade contemplates his desires to rid House Jade and the Church of Woo of corruption. While he hopes that House Jade can increase its influence, he also fears its potential for descent into immorality. He is summoned to Lord Everett’s council by Cousin Marson.

[Ginz ❤]

Corinne Bywater woke up with a headache. She would never get used to waking up so early in the mornings to work. She never seemed to get enough sleep. She grabbed a couple of empty large cloth sacks, folded them a few times and went out into the street. It was a chilly morning.

After a few minutes of walking, she found herself knocking on a wooden door. The lady who answered took the sack from her and went inside. She returned with it full of clothes. Hardly any words were spoken between the two. It was too early for any chatter, and they were both used to the routine. Corinne also knew the woman kept quiet not to wake up her master.

It had happened once, when a different maid, a clumsy young girl, worked there. Corinne had heard something being knocked over inside the house while she waited, and right after that, a man’s voice shouting insults very loudly. She had run away empty handed that time, and considered not coming back, but she couldn’t afford not to. She had to work if she wanted to eat. The next time she had visited, a week later, the maid had been replaced with an older woman. She never knew what happened to the girl.

She collected the laundry from a couple more houses, and then headed back. She had to do the wash early, so she could hang the lines of clothes out to dry in the sun. If she started too late in the day, the clothes wouldn’t get enough sun and might not dry properly. She couldn’t afford any of them being left damp and getting moldy. She wouldn’t be able to pay to replace them.

In fact, Corinne couldn’t afford much of anything, for she was only a peasant. But not a single day went past without her thinking how unfair that was. She hadn’t been born for the life she led. She knew it.

Corinne was convinced there was royal blood running through her veins. She felt it in her every time she thought about living a princess life. Something just clicked inside her. Her hands had roughened up from working, but her fair skin, blonde hair and blue eyes were undeniable traits of a princess.

That morning, while scrubbing the dirt off of the clothes from wealthier people she resented, her mind wandered until she found herself thinking of the princess.

Not Destiney, though. Who cared about her? She had been the talk of Medieville lately, and Corinne was getting tired of hearing about it. She couldn’t care less if the eldest Ascension princess became queen, or who she married. That wouldn’t change anything for Corinne. Not really.

There was a different princess on her mind.

Fate.

Fate Sparrow, who would be 17 years old if she were alive, just like Corinne. She had died a year ago, though, and Corinne couldn’t stop thinking of the funeral procession they had held in her honor.

It had been so fancy, and so beautiful. The streets had been covered in flower petals. Everyone had come to mourn her (or maybe they were just curious onlookers, like she had been) But whatever the case, everyone had been so solemn and respectful.

That was the day when Corinne realized she belonged with the noble family, in a life full of comfort and respect. She hadn’t thought of questioning her own luck before, but that day everything had changed. She remembered the funeral like she had been outside looking in, and sometimes, when she thought about it really hard, she felt as if she had seen it from above, floating like a ghost.

What if she was really Fate? What if she had defied death by taking some poor peasant girl’s body, and living through it? That could be done, right? There were some pretty powerful regions nearby. Couldn’t it have been magic, or a miracle from Lord Woo himself? Or maybe some kind of technology she couldn’t hope to understand? House Ascension was rich, and money could buy anything. Even things that seemed impossible.

Some nights, when Corinne allowed herself to relax after a long day of work, she thought about it really hard, she felt she could see Fate’s memories inside her mind, merged with her own.

She had told this in confidence to her closest friend one day, but she laughed in her face as reply. Needless to say, they weren’t friends anymore.

And now, there was going to be a new funeral, this time for the King. Word was it would be even more grandiose than Fate's. She stopped scrubbing for a moment and turned to look at the clothes she had already hung up to dry. Among them was a laced up dress with wide sleeves. It wasn’t the most fancy; it was a plain color with no embellishments. But it was decent enough. Better than anything she had.

Maybe if she wore it, she would be able to get into the event, with all the other nobles. Maybe if she had a chance to talk to any of the other princesses, they would realize she wasn’t Corinne Bywater, the nobody, but rather Fate Sparrow, the princess.

She had to try.

SPOILER: Click to show

Corinne Bywater is a peasant whose job is doing the laundry for people wealthier than she. Corinne is convinced she has royal blood running through her veins, and she believes that she is actually Fate Sparrow (17 year old deceased Ascension princess) living on in a peasant's body somehow. She looks at the clothes she has washed and spots a dress she might plan to borrow for the upcoming King's funeral.

[Zylaa]

Ruth Bjornflingr hummed a tune to herself as she strolled through the streets of Medieville. It was a wonderful, joyous day--the king was dead!

Well, of course, that wasn't why she was happy, Ruth corrected herself. No, no, the fact that the king was dead was kinda sad, and she summoned up a moment of dutiful civic sorrow before she started humming again. The point was, this meant Kyth was entering a time of opportunity, a time of change, a time just begging for young folks from backwards villages to step forward and claim their secret hidden birthrights. Ruth had arrived at Medieville only today, and she was sure the king's death was a sign that at last, her time had come.

Ruth had seen it happen so many times. The farmboy, the assistant pig-keeper, the shepherd's son... all of them had gone off on adventures. She had been pretty much the only person between the ages of ten and twenty-five left in the village when she had finally set out to seek her fortune.

Her parents had tried to stop her, of course. They wanted her to stay at home and continue the honorable family trade, a trade that had been passed down from Bjornflingr parents to children for hundreds of years: bear wrestling. But though Ruth could tackle full-grown bears, could split trees with one ax blow, and always won the village's annual pig-throwing contest, she wanted more from life. And nobody could stand in her way (she had tried to tell that to one of the wise old mentors who passed through the village on a regular basis. When he told her some mumbo-jumbo about how she didn't fit the prophecy, she had picked up a chicken coop and dropped it on his head).

After quite a bit of walking through the streets of Medieville, Ruth finally found an inn that seemed reputable enough: the King's Arms Inn. The first inn she'd stopped at, a bunch of scarred and dirty thugs had said some very insulting things about her mother. They had apologized, of course, at length, and even given her some money, but she'd gotten her clothes very dirty in the process of teaching them manners. And cleaning would be such a hassle while she was in the middle of pursuing her destiny.

She entered the inn, top of her head almost brushing the top of the door frame. "Hi! I'd like a room, please," she said.

SPOILER: Click to show

Ruth Bjornflinger, tired of seeing all the other young people in her village leave on adventures, has come to Medieville to seek her fortune. She can wrestle bears. She wants a room at the inn where Elcie works.

[Kristykimmy]

Lucinda opened her eyes in her room at the manor House Stallion kept in Medieville. She was an early riser, you wasted no time when there were things to sing of. She was glad that they kept a house in most notable cities in Kyth. Though it might be nice to meet new people to sing to, inns were dirty places. Dolly arrived promptly to help her mistress dress and do her hair.

“Is there much to see here, Dolly? I've never been here before. I don't believe I've ever actually left Bern before,” Lucinda chattered as her maid did her hair.

“I've never really had the time to see the city when I've been here before,” Dolly said.

“Then you must go out. I won't need you while I am out. Do go out, Dolly. Tell them I let you. I know you will be back before I need you,” Lucinda said. Spoiled as she was she could be generous when it didn't directly hamper her desires.

“I think I might, Miss,” Dolly said with a smile as she finished tying the ribbon on her hair.

Lucinda skipped from the room, feeling good about herself. She had been kind to Dolly, and she was wearing her favorite dress. Lucinda knew she was pretty, but she always felt like she must be stunning when she wore that dress. It was pale blue, accented with the colors of House Stallion. She wore their crest on her choker.

Lucinda entered the dinning room, she was the first there. It was odd to be in a new home with new servants serving her meals, but she would adjust. Before long, the rest of the House who had been sent began to assemble. Garrick danced in, making a big entrance as was his usual. Lucinda put down her spoon and applauded. Most days she simply nodded to him when he entered, but today she had an agenda.

“Uncle, Garrick, I was wondering, are you going out into the city today? Might I accompany you if are going,” Lucinda asked in her sweetest voice, getting ready to butter him up. She knew from experience that flattery and appeals to vanity were the quickest way to get what she desired. “I would be ever so grateful. You look so handsome today, and I'm wearing my loveliest dress. Think of what a pretty picture that makes. You, the wonderfully kind Uncle showing his niece about the town. The ladies of town will not be able to help but notice what a wonderful man you are, and surely word of that will make it's way to Princess Destiney. Do say yes, please?”

Lucinda held her breath, hoping for a positive answer.

SPOILER: Click to show

Lucinda wakes up in Medieville and is determined to see the city. She tries buttering up her uncle in hopes Jayeee will escort her.

[Coaster]

...or maybe a princess-turned-vampire who can survive on animals' blood and has unusual powers of attraction, but needs to keep distant from society lest her curse be revealed to her kingdom, whenceforth she runs away from her jealous stepmother and comes to terms with her affliction through an act of true love by her younger sister in order to use it for the good of mankind...

...No; doesn't fit with canon. And even the Bronze Dragonflight story is more believable than that. So it'll probably have to...

Er-hem.

SPOILER: Click to show

Aeons ago in the center of the continent of Kalimdor, long before human times, elven civilization flourished around a fount of arcane power known as the Well of Eternity. The waters of this Well, over ages of peace and learning, transformed the elves into a race of wisdom, power, and immortal beauty; however, as the elves lived in plenty, a rift gradually formed between the majority of the magocratic race--known as the Kal'dorei, or "Children of the Stars"--and their cultural elite, the Quel'dorei, Highborne, who had grown increasingly wicked and corrupt in their addiction to the arcane magic of the Well.

In their arrogance, they attracted the attention of the demonic Burning Legion, who whispered dark lies of power into the ear of the elven queen and ultimately convinced her to swear undying loyalty to them and open a portal from the Well of Eternity to the demons' homeland, allowing them to swarm throughout the world and lay siege to the elven empire. The elves retaliated, and war lasted many years between the elves and the Legion, but with the aid of the ancient dragons and Kal'dorei druids who had given up manipulating the arcane, they managed to drive back the onslaught to its source, the Well of Eternity, formerly the elves' source of power.

The resulting battle caused the Well to collapse on itself and shatter the continent--and their civilization--in two. The surviving Quel'dorei, high elves, were banished to the east (and adapted diurnalism and a paler skin tone), while the Kal'dorei, night elves (who stayed nocturnal with purple skin), retreated to the west and isolated themselves, renouncing magic and devoting themselves to the world's natural cycle and their deity, Elune.

However, as time unfolded and other sentient races with equally tragic histories emerged and built their own empires, most notably the humans from the north, many night elves came out from their retreats and interacted with the other races, forming a powerful alliance and supporting them in the fight against the fearsome Horde of enemy races. The exiled Quel'dorei--now Sin'dorei, blood elves--were among the enemy number, as their new kingdom had rebuilt the Well and turned to demonic and arcane magic in order to sate, and eventually succumb to, their addictions. Some high elves left the blood elves in favor of loyalty to the humans' alliance. Any night elf that practices arcane magic renounces their cultural heritage and...

Okay, history, yadda-yadda, that will do. Let's see...

Some surviving night elves, taking the opportunity afforded by this sundering of the continent, loss of immortality, and schism of their race, eventually left the known realms in search of lands beyond, where they presented themselves as foreigners in the kingdoms they came upon. One particular clan, practicing their culturally druidic lifestyle and having tentatively adopted a nomadic tendency from Tauren shamans, landed with a variety of other settlers on a distant continent and spent several human lifespans wandering northward through unnamed kingdoms, taking remnants of their elven culture with them.

Many broke off and formed townships or settled in cities that had already been established by the native humans, but as none managed to be particularly populous or prosperous, the last few who had not scattered continued north until they arrived in the comparatively well-off kingdom of Kyth via the region of Corvus.

Kaldora Verdana was part of this remnant: a lovely elf adolescent of a meagre 138 years, orchid-skinned and lavender-haired, with gleaming amber orbs eyes, common now but formerly held by night elves as a sign of great potential. She took her rite of passage remarkably early and received her facial tattoo--a stylized dragon head over each eye--a few years before arriving in Kyth.

...too much... just because you put so much time into the costume...

Taking on the skills of a priestess of Elune, she prefers using the appropriate holy and nature magic whenever possible, while maintaining a degree of influence over the natural world, such as her tamed nightsaber cub. However, due to the geographical isolation from most of the other elves, and more importantly, the prevalence of magic in the region of Corvus where she makes her home, she studies the arcane at least to a degree of understanding, despite knowing that she could never practice it, lest she renounce her race and become no better than those pale-skinned blood elves. According to her divine practice, she prefers a flowing, sleeveless mooncloth robe adorned with an emerald-set mithril necklace...

...okay, enough of the clothes.

Hearing news of King Starmey's untimely departure, she journeys from her dwelling in the Corvus mage-lands to the kingdom capital of Medieville, hoping to gain renown with the nobles and establish a firm alliance between elves and humans, and between the Sisterhood of Elune and the Church of 'Woo.

...so, what do you think, Duskglimmer? Believable? Should I tone it down a bit?"

Kaldora was, of course, addressing the Elven tabby in her inn-room that had taken to scratching at the closed door about halfway through her history lesson, mewling incessantly as the character exposition reached a climax.

"What's that look for? At least I didn't claim to be Illidan and Tyrande's love child or some rot like that. Besides, everyone else's characters are likely to be just as ridiculous. You never get anything sensible in LARPs like these. And I'd get run straight out of town if I went with the 'spying on temporal disturbance in another dimension' story. Particularly since that would be a secret. 'Duskglimmer, take a letter: Dear Princess Destiney, today I learned that you're the target of an interdimensional hit.' What kind of noble friendship is that?"

Duskglimmer trotted up to Kaldora's willowy leg, plopped down on the floor longwise, and proceeded to rub his head against her foot.

"Fine, I'll get you some food. You're lucky we don't have to stay the night, or we wouldn't even have this room, given all the other foreigners coming to visit for the king's funeral."

She paused, listening to the increase in vigour downstairs as supper time came on.

"...Accordingly, perhaps we should pack up and let Ila know that we intend to depart. I'm sure someone will appreciate the space."

From what Kaldora could hear, this was a fairly reputable inn, and inns were always good for gathering information, especially once the men had a few to drink...

But glowing eyes were difficult to mask, and she couldn't risk going out of character--whether or not she did, she'd still attract the wrong kind of attention. Just... a different wrong kind. Besides, on the subject of Starmey and the noble Houses, there really wasn't much to hear other than baseless speculation and the obvious facts, from what her ears could discern.

She offered the cat a strip of dried game from her pack, then took up her belongings (along with the cat, who customarily concealed himself atop her belongings and under the bag's opening flap), thanked the innkeeper for the room, and proceeded to quietly seek out her friend as the inn slowly flooded with patrons looking for a good time.

SPOILER: Click to show

Kaldora, deciding on a character as a night elf priestess exploring political ties with the kingdom, regales a brief history of the night elven race and her own character to her cat Duskglimmer, who doesn't appreciate it. She packs up and frees up her room at the King's Arms Inn (being nocturnal and having slept the day) and now wants to find Pixie in order to tell her that she's leaving before it gets too crowded. Other inn-bound folks such as PFA and co., Elcie, Zylaa, and Gelquie might also be around.

[PFA]

Marson sighed to himself. Aside from the family that had chosen to stay at the inn, because of the small size of his home—he would have to seek them out afterward—all of the council members had been summoned. Meaning there was only one person he had left to speak with.

Lord Everett's son.

Out of all the nobles of House Jade, there was one who was the most fair of them all. With perfectly groomed brown hair and dazzling green eyes, Lord Joffery Jade had been dressed in his finest robes for the occasion. After all, it was very uncommon for him to receive a duty so important as the one he had been given today.

"Destiney," he muttered to himself as he stared into the mirror. "Destiney. Oh, how shall I soothe thine poor aching heart! Never fear, fair princess, for I shall be thy prince. I shall dry the tears from thine eyes. After all, that's what Lord Joffery does best."

"Lord Joffery?" came Marson's voice, distracting him from his thoughts. "I was asked to make certain you were ready for the meeting with the princess tomorrow."

"Ready?" Lord Joffery laughed pleasantly. "I've been ready for this for years."

He gave his best dazzling smile, the same sort that had melted the hearts of fair maidens all throughout Corvus. And then he whirled around, and in a rich tenor voice, began to sing.

"Fairest maiden, purest light!
Won't you join with me tonight?
Let me take your cares away,
And turn the darkness into day!

"For I can wipe away your tears,
And I can calm your deepest fears!
Yes! By the name of Woo above,
I'll win you over with my love!"

Lord Joffery grinned, leaping onto his chair and posing dramatically. This was his big finale—he had to make it count.

"For I am Lord Joffery, the Ace of Hearts!
The ladies see me, and it instantly starts!
With my charming wit, and my dazzling grin,
Joffery Jade is certain to win!"

He turned and winked at no one in particular. "So then... let the games begin!"

SPOILER: Click to show

Lord Joffery, the fairest noble in all of House Jade, sings a song about winning over Destiney's heart. He, after all, is the Ace of Hearts.