Medieval: the Kingdom of Kyth

[Liou]

Would Lord Ambrose even stay conscious for the whole trip? As they walked to the carriage, Laurie felt the urge to rush forward and support the older man, to call other servants for help and lead the lord back to his chambers. He had no energy left for that kind of job, though.
An unnerving tearing sensation in his back made him walk more cautiously.

Laurie was surprised by Lord Ambrose's comforting words to Arthur. He sounded so warm that for a moment, everything did sound like it would get better. That comforting voice made Laurie feel strangely tempted to spill all his problems to it and listen to more words of reassurance. He refused to believe it, though; bad happenings always seemed to strike when he let down his guard and believed everything would be fine.

He was so preoccupied that he barely paid any attention to the finery of the carriage. Once they were trapped in that big box on wheels, the Stallions could drive them anywhere, make them disappear like his sisters, maybe even finish what they had started against Arthur.
Laurie hesitated, one foot on the edge of the carriage. He could still feel the weight of the knife he had picked up. Fine, then. He would get to the bottom of that mystery, even if it took him below the end of the world.

The seat was far too comfortable and inviting; Laurie sank into it cautiously, hoping that he would be able to get up again at the end. His sudden relaxed posture brought his pain back to the surface; it increased mercilessly as if the gryphon was striking again, sharper and sharper, forcing a gasp out of Laurie; any longer and his back would be completely split apart.
The carriage moved abruptly, knocking the breath out of him. He concentrated on positioning his body to rock along with the carriage, so as to minimise the pain.

Lord Ambrose seemed so harmless, in his state, that it was too good to be true. For a moment, Laurie thought that he would collapse before bringing them to Briar, and wild ideas formed in his mind, drastic backup plans for which they might need to take him hostage to force the other residents of the Manor to free the girl; then the noble's head abruptly straightened, seemingly winning an epic battle against his lethargy.

Laurie was glad to have the old man's rambling to distract him from his pain.
After a few seconds of hearing about Briar's predicament, he suddenly felt less glad. His fingers knotted in the folds of his skirt.
The man was tired and senile, he had to be spinning tales in his imagination. Of course they hadn't captured Briar.

They were afraid?
Why would anyone be afraid of his own little sister?!
Something visceral stirred within Laurie, the feeling of having one's kin harmed; it bit right into him, as if it was a part of his own body that had been abused.

He smiled at the rest of Lord Ambrose's words with maid-like politeness, his jaw trembling with anger.
They would see about sorrow and suffering later.
Smile and accept, but sneak up on them and stab them in the back later on, as always.

Laurie finally stumbled out of the carriage, moving like an old woman. He didn't dare imagine how much further his back wounds had split. He must focus on Briar. He could already see her in one of the guest rooms of the manor, frightened and indignant, but safe.

Dread took hold of him when Lord Ambrose led them towards the basement.
He had to be wrong. It had to be a trap. The way he clutched the wall had to be an elaborate performance to make them drop their guard. Laurie glanced at Clarissa and Arthur, hoping that they would be able to defend themselves if necessary, even thinking of making a run for it now.

He could not tear his eyes from the door Lord Ambrose was opening, from what he didn't want to see.
Before he knew it, he had hurtled down the steps, almost falling head first, and closed the distance that separated him from the wreck that lay on the cold floor, because that wreck was his little sister and she was limp and blank when he lifted her face, like someone had died again, and she felt cold, so cold that she must have been waiting here forever and a day and he wanted to hold her and support her but could barely wrap his trembling hands around her and the shackles made chilling clangs every time he shifted, and the noble came back and Laurie wanted to shove him away from his sister, but the noble had keys, keys were good, Laurie slumped against the nearest patch of wall to let him through, keeping one hand on Briar's shoulder to make sure that she was still there, and one hand over his own mouth to hold the cries in.

Then the noble had the nerve to hold the defenceless girl and Laurie thought of ripping his arms right off of her, but he did not linger, good for him.
Laurie barely had enough time to hug Briar, himself, before Lord Ambrose finally stopped rambling. Laurie nearly twisted his neck turning to look back at the old man, convinced for a second that he was about to kill them all or call guards; but Lord Ambrose was stumbling and falling.

The cellar was silent in the moment after the sound of his fall.
It felt strange to have a lord at one's feet.
Laurie was oddly calm as he looked down at the fallen Stallion beneath him.

The sight of another person's confusion had a strange way of helping to clear his head.
Suddenly, he knew what to do. The corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. He could already picture it.

The Grand Duke's grand face draining of its grace as his eyes fell upon the crumpled heap of his brother, in the same cold shackles as Briar had been.
Laurie's breathing accelerated with every scenario he thought of.
Perhaps the next kiss on his hand would be begging for forgiveness.

This train of thought stopped as abruptly as it had started and Laurie's attention returned to Briar. She needed care, and fast. She had held on for all that time because she didn't want to betray the Shadows. It would be stupid to ruin their blossoming relationship with the nobles now. She wouldn't want that.

Now that Laurie's head was clearer, Lord Ambrose's words about sending for servants finally registered.
"Rissa, Arthur, we'll need help. The lord, too." His voice sounded hoarse. He was thankful for their presence, it wasn't just him and Ambrose.

He wrapped an arm around Briar and pulled her arm over his shoulders, giving her a kiss on the forehead as he hoisted her up - another stab of pain in his back.
"Up you go love," he whispered, "it's almost over."

He didn't dare look at all the steps they would have to climb, focusing only on his feet and on securing her weight. One at a time. Pause to breathe and shift her slightly without tearing his back too much. He was almost surprised when the last step finally appeared.

"Hello, anyone?" he croaked, too numb to think of more polite wording. "We need a healer, care, food, anything, we have a starved girl..." Laurie struggled to remember the right words. "Lord Ambrose said we were free to use House Stallion's resources to tend to her."

He waited just as quietly as Briar; someone led them to a seat at some point. He didn't know if the healer had arrived in two minutes or two hours, it made no difference. He wanted to keep holding Briar's hand as the healer inspected her, but he didn't have the strength to follow.

Once they were done and the healer had come to him with comments and advice - which he hoped he would remember, with help from Rissa and Arthur to fill the blanks - the only thing he really heard was that she would be all right.
He gritted his teeth and rose to his feet once more, only to be interrupted by the healer's gasp.

"Just how long have you been walking around with those gashes, Miss?" said the healer, hurrying over for a closer look. "They need to be cleaned, as soon as possible!"

Laurie hadn't been seen by a healer in... forever. He glanced frantically at Rissa, Arthur, Briar - only the latter knew about him, but she was in no state to look after him, that would be wrong.

"I... I can take care of them myself, thank you," he mumbled.

"On your back? I doubt it." The healer's tone became more authoritative now, though still sympathetic. "Please let me look at them before they get worse!"

Laurie's eyes darted around the room again. He swallowed, his throat had gone dry. Refusing would make him seem strange.
He followed the healer to a more secluded spot, leaving Briar with Rissa and Arthur. He had to relax, to act normal, so as to be seen as normal.
He gave her an awkward smile and turned away to fix his clothes. From the corner of his eye, he saw that she had turned away too.

Laurie took deep breaths, pulled off his sleeves, pushed the top part of his dress down, feeling the wounds with his fingers to make sure that he only exposed as much as was necessary; then he bunched up his shirt over his chest.
He immediately felt like throwing up, with his abnormality inches from being exposed.
The heart-shaped key was pressed against him. If only it could protect him.

He gave a start when the healer approached - "I haven't even touched you yet!" - and lowered his shoulders mechanically when she told him that he was too tense.
Every movement he sensed behind his back made him cross his arms tighter over his chest.
What if she saw something from -that- angle and what if there was a peephole into this room and what if someone could see through a window-

There was a lot more to clean than he had expected, a whole layer to scrape off. It was impossible to ignore the sting and the tugging.
Laurie lost count of the stitches.
The healer suggested a bandage around his torso.
His reaction to that question did not register in his memory, but the healer settled for using a protective salve instead, muttering indignantly under her breath.

Then she was done. He couldn't believe it. Without wasting a second, he turned away to fix his clothes again. His dress was ruined. At least he could move without tearing up more of his back, and the salve had reduced the pain. She cleaned the scrape on his forehead too, but that one was shallow and went much faster.

He caught himself staring into her eyes. She raised her eyebrows with a smile, as if she expected him to ask a question.
Had she guessed anything? Did the healer think that he was just a very modest girl? He didn't linger to find out, took a small swig of blood-replenishing potion and went back to Briar.

Laurie wanted nothing better than to leave, but someone had brought food, and he gulped down some soup and tried to make Briar swallow some too, with a pale attempt at his usual smiling, threatening discipline. He sneakily packed all the food that could be packed into a cloth, to feed her later.

Then they were out of the nobles' home, they had made it.
He watched Briar take her first breaths of fresh air, holding her close and shielding her eyes.

Laurie stammered thanks to Rissa and Arthur, so relieved to have someone's support for once; he couldn't even imagine going through all this by himself.
He considered taking the Stallion carriage back home - no, they couldn't know where Briar and he lived.
They probably already knew, thanks to their magical noble powers of omniscience, and informant networks too. Laurie simply didn't want to see any more of them, especially around his home.

He would walk slowly with Briar and catch the first cart that could drive them in the right direction. Then he would settle her at home and clean everything and look after her just like the princesses. He dreaded their empty home and the big bed where people died, but he wouldn't leave her in it, he would stay with her the whole time, even at night, and they would both come out of it alive.
It would get better, little by little. Maybe he would even see Rosie again.

Rosalie.
Laurie froze, racking his brains. He turned to the boy who had faithfully followed him all the way.

"Arthur. Can I ask a huge favor from you?" As if Laurie didn't owe him enough. It was his only option.

"Of course," Arthur said, looking at Laurie.

"You know the Lock&Key shop? The keymaker girl, there - you can't miss her, she's blonde, with eyes like lakes and pretty hands - it would be great if you could just tell her that..."
There was so much to say.
"That I'm alive and ok, and I have to look after my sister, but I really wish I could see her, and... I miss her, and I hope she's all right. J-just that."

Arthur knew the shop. He'd passed it on his way to Aldrich's before.
"Of course I'll tell her," Arthur promised. "In fact, I can leave right now, if you like."

Laurie gave him a tiny smile. "I'll owe you a huge one."

SPOILER: Click to show

Laurie resists the appeal of Ambrose's (hi Celestial) woob-dad-liness and spends the whole ride worrying about Briar. (hi Avery)
He doesn't want to believe that Stallion had kidnapped Briar from the start, until he actually sees her in the basement, freaks, is mad at Ambrose but doesn't have the time or energy to get violent, thankfully.
When Ambrose collapses, he ponders some interesting ideas, but decides to go with the simplest and just get out with Briar. Good thing Rissa (hi Sporty) and Arthur (hi Birdy) are around.
They call for servants and a healer, the nameless healer does healer healiness to Briar, then the healer offers healy healiness to Laurie and he finally gets his back wounds checked out AT GREAT PERIL, what if someone saw his chest?! But he doesn't think she saw anything. Hopefully.
Then they are FREEEEE!!! Briar gets to go home!
But first Laurie sends Arthur to deliver a quick message to his Key Princess (hi Rosalie Dylas (Maddy)), it's the least he can do. < 3

[Birdy]

<Reserved for an Arthur reaction post>

[Gelquie]

After some time had passed, Clare had had enough of waiting. The sight of her niece on the bed only made her less willing to stay away, to see each other... So finally, when Xavier got up to do something else for a moment, Clare approached. She reached over and put a gentle hand on Elin's shoulder.

Elin had her attention focused on the departing figure of Xavier, fingering the cover of the skillbook that she had found on her bed. (It must have fallen out... She just hoped no one got a good enough look inside the book.) So she was briefly startled to have someone else approach and touch her shoulder. Did Ilsa want to say something? But slowly, the owner of the hand came around... And she was suddenly in shock.

“...Auntie...” Elin whispered.

Clare stared for a moment before leaning down to give Elin a careful hug. Elin weakly tried to put her arms up, and ended up flopping her left arm over Clare. For a moment they didn't say anything.

Finally, when Clare pulled away, Elin spoke up, tears reaching her eyes. “Auntie, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't want to leave you like that. Th-there was no other way, I couldn't help it, I-It wasn't safe, maybe it's still not, I--”

“Elin, stop, it's okay right now,” Clare said. “We are going to have to talk about that. I missed you terribly and I heard so many rumors, and I got so worried... But I'll tell you what. Why don't we save that talk for after you come home? I can take you there, and you can rest.”

Elin stared up at Clare. Earlier, she seemed to have finally convinced herself that things would be okay. But seeing Clare in front of her, completely unharmed and safe after Elin ensured it... Could she risk her safety again so soon, when she hadn't yet been officially pardoned? At least with Xavier, they were meeting in secret, and he was protected by his House, at least, as well as his other friends. But with Clare...

“So soon after all of this?” Elin said, suddenly concerned. “B-but Auntie... What if it still isn't safe? Someone who's upset by all of this?”

“Then they'll have to get through me first,” Clare said firmly.

“That's exactly what I don't want. J-just wait for me to make sure it's safe, and for me to get better, and I can come visit, and--”

“Elin, dear, look around you. The attack hit us all hard. Even if there were someone holding a grudge against you, why would they strike now? Besides, no one stopped Xavier from bringing you in, and no one stopped that Healer from helping you. Why would they now?”

Elin followed Clare's orders and looked around the triage as the latter spoke, glancing wearily at the sight of each person. She saw Leif, together with a noble from House Stallion. She saw Xavier, speaking to the elf that helped them in the square that day. She saw the various other injured people. And...

She saw him.

He hobbled in, an obvious injury in his leg, and demanded to see a Healer immediately. A Healer was trying to patiently explain that there are others with more serious injuries and he should find a bed and wait. Elin didn't bother hearing any more. Elin abruptly turned her head away, frowning, then cringing from the throb in her head as a memory returned.

“...Cause trouble eventually happens... I don't want anyone else caught in it... Maybe some nobles won't go after me, but others might... And I don't want it to hurt you while I'm weak...”

Clare noticed Elin's sudden frown, and looked up to see the arguing Lord Miller. Then she frowned herself, her mind working. Then she shook her head. That wasn't important right now. What was important was talking to Elin, and making sure she was alright.

“Elin, I can handle some trouble. I'm not a frail woman. And I missed you, Elin. We'll sort it out. It looks like you're sorting it out with Xavier anyway. ...Don't think I didn't notice.” Clare gave a wink.

Elin smiled slightly in spite of herself before she went silent in thought. It was true; she did assure Xavier that they would find a way. And it looked like they did; even through all the thick and thin, even in the middle of a battlefield... If she could find time for Xavier, why couldn't she find time for Clare?

“And besides...” Clare said slowly. “It's worth it to see my niece again.”

Elin was silent for some time more. And then finally, Elin nodded slowly. “Okay...”

Clare smiled. And then she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Xavier was returning. Clare didn't move from her side of the bed. “We don't have to go right away; you still looked exhausted. But I'll help you get home later.”

Elin smiled slightly. “Thank you. ...And Auntie, I... I missed you too.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Clare and Elin reunite.

[Sporty]

It wasn't long before Ambrose led Clarissa, Laurie and Arthur to his carriage on their way to get Briar. Clarissa was so happy to hear Laurie greet her so casually, even calling her by her nickname. Perhaps they really would be able to properly reconcile.

This positive thought was quickly soured when she got a good look at Laurie. Her back was covered in gashes, and when Clarissa took a closer look she realized that both she and Arthur had some unpleasant-looking scrapes on their heads as well. She bit her lip and let her gaze drop a little -- she wanted to help them, but she had no experience with medicine. She suddenly wished that she had a stronger grip on magic so that she might heal them a little, but she could never really influence anything other than inanimate objects.

When Ambrose began talking to Arthur, Clarissa again studied the young man with a thoughtful frown. He really did look mentally worn. Arthur hadn't been the only one to come close to losing his life -- Clarissa remembered the Courdonain with the enchanted armor all too easily, and at least the two of them had been cut off at close -- but she couldn't imagine how it must have been to be picked as the specific target of an assassin. As everyone settled themselves and the carriage began to move, she turned to him and removed the enchanted sheath and its sword from where they rested against her hip.

"We aren't going to let anyone try something like that again, Arthur," she said resolutely. "If some fool wants to go after you, they'll have to deal with all of us. I don't care if it's an assassin or a foreign king; Shadows look out for each other." Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she laid the sheathed sword on his lap. "If you'd like, you can borrow this. I've found it can be handy for disarming enemies if you use it right."

Clarissa listened silently as Ambrose expanded on his brother's reasoning for imprisoning Briar. She frowned. All this because of how they assumed we'd go about our plans? And how is this justified, when it ends in the suffering of an innocent girl based on suspicion alone?

She had been determined that she would be open about the Stallions; that she would try not to judge them too harshly for the moves they had made in this wretched game of thrones. But that wasn't going to make it any easier to accept what had happened to Briar, and what had nearly happened to Arthur. It would take time for Alain and his companions to fully gain Clarissa's trust, but... At least Ambrose seemed sincere, and even regretful about what had happened to Briar. And if Lucinda's brave actions during the battle were any indication about other members of the House...

((It's almost time for post locking so I'll have to edit in the rest later 8'D))

[Lizzie]

Karma was still terrified, standing out in the middle of the courtyard and sobbing into Ambrose's shoulder. 

"Hush, Princess, hush. It's going to be okay, I promise. It's over now, don't cry. At least you're alive and unhurt," he tried to comfort her. "And I'm here for you."

Karma almost protested. Destiney! At the mere thought of her sister, the princess thought she was going to scream.

The girl stood there crying for a while, before Ambrose backed up, and began to speak to someone. She didn't notice who it was until Ambrose wiped her tears away.

"Princess...you wanted to see Alain? This is your chance. Maybe he can tell you some more about your mother, like he did before, when you came to see him after the feast?"

Alain! For a moment, Karma almost managed a wobbly smile, and she took a step toward him.

"Go then, Ambrose. I'll stay and talk with the Princess some more," Alain said, grabbing Karma's hand. The girl squeezed his hand as tight as she could, but turned to look at her sister's body. Oh.

Eventually, Alain led her over to people, and, staring, she listened. She waited for a long while to say something, but didn't find a place. She instead clung to Alain's arm.

Karma eventually frowned, and dropped Alain's hand. The princess ran off into the castle in search of Wuzzles. He could always calm her down.

SPOILER: Click to show

Karma spends some time with the Stallion Brothers (Celestial) and then runs off to find Wuzzles. I think she's scarred for life, guys.

[icon]

... and the kingdom prospered.

The cobblestones of the Raven’s Keep were no longer awash with blood, firm hands having scrubbed away the stains months ago. If any scattered marks had been left even then, they were gone down, the rains of summer and autumn, then the snows of a bitter winter, having soaked away any traces of the violent battle.

It was springtime now. The air smelled not of rank, coppery blood, but sweet and fresh-- much like the garlands of flowers that decorated the outside of the castle, carefully crafted and then threaded up in preparation for the wedding that was to take place at the Keep today.

In a dressing room, Princess Hope Crane, of House Ascension, took a deep breath and studied herself in the antique mirror on the wall. Her blonde hair had been carefully braided, her cheeks painted with bright rouge, and in her intricate cream-colored dress, Hope supposed she did look more like a woman than a child. But that didn’t stop the humming of her heart, the flip-flopping of her stomach. She’d only come of age two weeks ago. To think that she was getting married today...

A knock on the door. Hope and her handmaidens turned toward the noise, and the princess took another deep breath before calling out, “Come in.”

The doorknob twisted, and into the dressing room stepped a sharply clad man with an iron crown atop his head. Since his coronation eight months ago, Galateo Owl had come into his own as a monarch-- but still the expression he wore was always a bit nervous and befuddled, as if even now he couldn’t entirely believe the direction his life had taken. Shutting the door behind him, he smiled at his niece-- the girl who would have taken the throne had the Shadows not found him.

“You look very pretty, Hope,” he said to her. “Joffery is a lucky man.”

She bit her lip. “Do you think he’ll let me come and visit still?” she asked. An orphan and suddenly the eldest one of her living siblings after Destiney’s death, Hope had become quite close to her uncle in the past nine months. He was a lot like she was-- quiet, thoughtful, artistic. She was excited at the prospect of going to live with Joffery in Solis, but the thought of leaving behind what was left of her family…

“Of course he will,” Galateo assured her. “And I hear the libraries of Castle Jade are a sight to behold, Hope.”

At this, Hope quirked a smile. “I have read nearly everything in our collection already, anyway.”

“Well.” Galateo held his hand out toward his niece, and she clasped his fingers around his. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. “I wish Papa were here,” she sighed. “And Destiney.”

“I know. But hey, at least I convinced Babewyn she’s not allowed to walk down the aisle with us. She was very offended at that.”

“She’ll probably chase us, anyway.” Hope wrinkled her nose.

“Probably,” Galateo conceded, turning back toward the door. “Shall we?” he asked her. “Your groom awaits.”

“He said he wrote a song just for me. I wonder what it’ll be.”

“Only one way to find out,” Galateo said, and then the king and the princess started out the dressing room, toward the flowered courtyard that waited for them outside.

**

The song Joffery wrote for his bride-- crooned in the key of C, his favorite-- was just the first of many, and as he serenaded her, there was not a dry eye in the courtyard (except for Friar Francis, who was presiding over the ceremony and just had a tickle in his throat, thank you very much). And once the vows were exchanged, the rings slipped onto fingers, the guests in attendance rose to applaud the newlywed couple, each of whom were flushed and beaming. If Hope was still nervous, she didn’t show it; the young princess glowed, radiant and bright.

The reception which immediately followed was one which would be remembered for years to come. The feast was a sight to behold, with towers of food that rivalled those at Starmey’s funeral banquet the summer prior (historians would later claim that it had broken several records, though this would become a hotly-disputed topic of debate 700 years down the line.)

And at the center of it all was Galateo Owl, the sculptor-turned-king, who had taken to ruling the country--not like a fish to water, or a bird to the sky, though the analogy would have been appropriate; rather, he approached the work the way he had always approached his sculpting, from the very first day he had been taught to hold a chisel. He envisioned his end result, ideal in his mind’s eye, and slowly, subtly, began to chip away at the vast chunk of stone before him, allowing the solution to arrive over time.

The aid he had received these past few months had been invaluable in cementing his power; with the counsel of his mother, the queen regent Maia, the experience of the Royal Advisor Aines, and the (often literal) foresight of his newest advisor, Ambrose Stallion, he had begun to ease into the throne of leadership.

Right now, Galateo looked over the scene of the banquet; all seven Houses had been invited to bring entourages of guests, and all of them had willingly accepted the call. At the new king’s insistence, plenty of peasants had been called to attend, even more than had been called for the funeral banquet. He had drawn some strange looks from a few of the nobles when he greeted several of the citizens by name, even shaking their hands; but if the new king wished to hold onto his humble roots, well, there wasn’t a whole lot the rest of the kingdom could do about it, now was there?

“They’re a wonderful pair,” a voice said, disturbing him from his meal. Galateo turned toward his mother, the source of the voice, who was now pointing to Joffery and Hope, only a few seats away, still flushed from the ceremony and caught up in the festivities.

“Mmhm,” the king replied. “Just imagine, she very nearly ended up becoming the queen.”

“If it hadn’t been for you coming along, that is,” Maia said, reaching over and kissing his forehead. “And who knows,” she added with a nearly lecherous grin, “maybe the next wedding we’ll be at is yours.”

Galateo’s cheeks burned. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” he nearly squeaked. He turned then to survey the celebrating crowd, his eyes quickly settling on a pair of redheaded twins who were fighting over a single slice of cake that rested on the dessert table as a frantic raven hovered between them, demanding that they stop. “For now, I think I’ll go help Aines stop Karma from ripping out Aura’s hair.”

Maia laughed. “You are, indeed, a very wise king, Galateo.”

[Kristykimmy]

“I—I suppose I’m doing okay, all—all things considered, thank you, milady,” he answered her. Then, with a pause, he gestured at himself, at the birds, and at Babewyn, and he added, “But we’re all alright. We’re alright. But there is a lot to take in, and I’m just—I’m just not sure how much I can help with—with—” Aldrich swallowed, finally looking up and pointing to the courtyard, which was much less crowded by this point but still full of people trying to find each other. He heard the plaintive shouts again, and he began to move towards them to see what he could do. “And I’m just not—not sure how much I can really do to help—and I’m not really—even with everyone else’s help, I’m not really—off to a great start.”

Babewyn stood up and trotted alongside him.

“Hey, it’s not the seed, but what it blooms as—right?” she said.

“I'll come with you, then,” Lucinda said, falling in with them. “You're doing fine, my lord. You've kept tensions from boiling over and smoothed things over with my house and your shadows thus far. Perhaps you ought to go speak with House Jade? Perhaps start with Joffrey? He's the heir to the House, I believe. I feel like he has a good heart. Adding him to your friends might serve the kingdom well.”

She looked around, seeing the grieving families. “So much lost, and for what? Malik hoped to gain another kingdom, all he did was lose his life and so many others. You're already a better king than he was.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Lucinda walks with Lizica and suggests he makes speaks with Joffrey to work on making strong ties with the Houses to make his reign strong. She rejects his idea that he's not doing well, and tells him he's already a better king than Malik was.

[Draco]

The last nine months have been very slow for Davorin Silverkin. After the events that happened before, he slowed down in work. Both because of people leaving town such as the houses and guests who came to witness the events, but also because he found it hard to go out and work in general. So the only places Davorin was every spotted was either the church or a few bars around town. It had been months since he last visited The King's Arms, and Bao's place was being rebuilt for almost six months (Bao insisted on using more stone this time around). It wasn't until until the grand reopening of the bar that the assassin realized something.

---
-3 Months Ago-

Davorin sat at Bao's new bar. He sat there like nothing had changed, even though his surroundings were new. There were still only a few dozen people in the place, and most were the normal low-lifes with a few others mixed in. Davorin had done a couple jobs recently, but low paying ones. To put it simple, he was in a rut, and hoped drinking would help him.

"So what's wrong with you? This is a grand opening, cheer up some!"

Davorin looked around, everyone else looked pretty much like he did at the moment, "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Things. What am I doing with my life? I had so many chances for some big name bounties, and I let almost all of them slip away. Then I failed a job. Not to mention a number of the towns people saw me fail, and they're friends with the new King even!"

"Why not leave town, start fresh somewhere?"

"I thought about it... I started to leave some time back, but... I couldn't. All I do now is sit around at the church, until I feel the need to drink. Then I come someplace like here."

"Shame. Your name still scares a number of people around here. I've used you as a threat a few times to keep people away from my stash of stuff. They went running."

"Heh. Nice to know," he takes another drink, "Maybe I should just become a member of the church. Imagine that?"

"Pfft, you a man of Woo? I wouldn't believe it."

"You're right. No one would believe it..."

---
-Present-

Davorin wasn't at the wedding, but Kari was. She was sitting, watching, but not at the wedding itself, but staring at Aines. She still hadn't given up. For the past several months she would make the long journey up to the Keep, watching him. Some nights she would stare at him through a window as he slept even... She even stopped Davorin from leaving town, refusing to follow him out. She was a bird with a plan, a plan she hadn't really come up with yet, but until that time comes she would watch her future husband.

---

Davorin Silverkin, sat in the church he had been staying at for ages now. He sat up on the alter, playing cards with another member of the church who only recently joined, both of them drinking some hard alcohol...

"So, Father Silverkin, shouldn't you be up at that wedding going on?"

Davorin adjusts his collar a little, he couldn't get used to it, "Nah, I don't really know many of them. Not to mention most probably don't want to see me still. Why do you think I stay here all the time?"

"But Father, you do leave, usually at night and sometimes come back covered in blo-"

There's a knock on the church doors. The two of them look at it, but don't move. Davo takes another drink. The knock becomes pounding.

"Go away! Can't you see we're closed?!"

The knocking continues, "Come on and let me in! You're a church, you have to be open!"

Davorin groans as he gets up, slamming his glass down. He walks over, opening the door. When opened a arrow, no a bolt, hits the edge of the door. Davo twitches his eye.

"Now why did you go and do that?"

"It wasn't me! It was the guys after me!"

"Is that so?"

He looks up and sees a wagon with several thugs, bandits by the looks of it.

"Haven't you guys ever heard to treat a church with respect?"

The bandits look at each other and laugh, "Give us that guy now, and no one gets hurt. He owes us money and promised to do some work for us."

"And if I refuse?"

Another bolt flies past his face, hitting his bottle of booze on the alter, "How's that for an answer?"

Davorin's eye twitches again... He reaches behind him with both hands, pulling out two crossbows of his own.

"You better hope Woo is more merciful then I am."

He aims the crossbows, a smile on his face.

SPOILER: Click to show

Davorin reflects on his life while drinking at Bao's place. That's when he comes up with a idea.

Kari stalks Aines...

Father Davorin Silverkin is born, and he isn't someone to mess with.

[Celestial]

The Day After the Coronation...

Ambrose’s return to the waking world was slow and disorientating. When he opened his eyes, it took a few moments before he realised where he was: his room in Stallion Manor, in his own bed. How he got there was a complete mystery. The last thing he remembered was the auxiliary wine cellar, than the vision, but the contents of that vision escaped him...it had been something important...something he wanted to try and invent...but he could not recall what it was. As he tried to focus, waves of pain and nausea hit him as his mind tried to fight to stay in the comforting realm of sleep. It was impossible to tell if his rest had done him much good. He could not remember if his head hurt this much before he collapsed.

“Good morning, Ambrose,” came a familiar voice behind him. Slowly he turned to see Alain coming into the room and sitting down on the chair next to his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Ambrose murmured and tried to sit up. He was still wearing the same clothes he had worn for the coronation, though his cloak lay folded on the chest at the foot of his bed, the Stallion pin lying neatly on top of it. “What happened to me?”

“The servants say you collapsed in the wine cellar. By the time I came home, you had been put to bed,” Alain said calmly, “I’m just surprised it took you that long. You seemed ready to faint even at the courtyard.”

Ambrose nodded, unsure of how to reply to that. Looking back on it, he was surprised he had not fainted the moment he let go of Duval.

“But here’s what bothers me,” Alain continued. “Even your visions have never exhausted you like that, and you seemed unhurt from the battle. So what happened to you?”

Ambrose paused, unsure of how to explain it. Alain knew about his powers, that much were true, but did he know that it did not just extend out to visions? He promised he would explain but what if this completely invalidated his explanation? Would he even believe him? Time stopping was miles away from visions, but then again, stopping time could not just be explained by saying he was mad.

“A Courdonian mage hit me with a paralysis spell,” he finally said, deciding to be as honest as possible. “But then, somehow, I lost control of my powers. So I stopped time.”

For a moment, Alain let a small note of shock creep into his expression before it gave way to a knowing smile.

“I see. Well, with your powers, it hardly surprises me. If anything, the fact that your magic resistance has mostly been able to limit them to just visions is a minor miracle,” he replied. “But the paralysis spell must have overwhelmed you enough to let your powers run wild.”

“All this time, I had no idea I was capable of that,” Ambrose sighed and then looked up at Alain. “You told me before the coronation that you would explain what is wrong with me. I want to know now, especially if I’m going to be the royal advisor. Please, Alain, tell me what my powers are.”

Alain glanced away from him. He knew that he had made the promise but he had kept silent for so long that even now, it felt wrong to reveal the truth. After all, he was used to keeping secrets, what was one more? Nevertheless, Ambrose was right, if he was going to become the royal advisor, he needed to know that he was not mad. It was still so difficult, to say these things.

Perhaps he had not told Sieg the full truth when Alain had told him that he no longer felt guilt over what happened to his brother. He had never told Ambrose partly because there was no use in him knowing but also, he had to admit, because some small, irrational part of him was still afraid that he would be blamed for it. It was ridiculous. So it was time he exorcised that feeling. Whatever the consequences of his words were, he could handle it. He was not the Grand Duke for nothing.

“Your powers are not madness, they never were. You know they are time magic but as for the source of that magic,” Alain took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth, “The night before you got your first vision, I awoke to find a strange creature in our room. It looked like a mix between a human and a tree and it absolutely terrified me. I could not move until it was inches away from us and it fell onto us. I managed to just get out of the way before it dissolved into white mist. Most of that went to you.”

“I thought it was just a dream until your visions begun. I realised that that creature had something to do with them but for a long time, I had no idea what the connection could have been. That was, until I received a gift: a book collecting all the lore about the gods of Kyth, Courdon and Lange. Among them, I find the thing that cursed you: an ancient, forgotten Bernain deity named Cebeline.”

“A god?” Ambrose’s eyes widened. “What would a god want with me?”

“That’s what I wondered too. So I begun investigating,” Alain continued. “The worship of Cebeline died out when Woosim came along. Apparently, she was quite a vengeful deity. She controlled the seasons and she demanded regular sacrifices. Mostly crops and fruits but occasionally, if you angered her, animals and rarely, humans. Of course, that did not endear her to worshippers, who when they saw a chance of escape, did. So she was abandoned, forgotten and, greatly weakened, she remained dormant. Until House Stallion disturbed her, or more specifically, our father.”

“According to the lore, Cebeline lived inside a tree perched on a rock, a tree undergoing all four seasons at once. That was her main shrine and it was hidden deep inside a forest somewhere in Bern. But of course, in order to provide wood for industry and land for agriculture, Father ordered many forests cleared. Charge Towards Tomorrow, after all,” Alain smiled but it was a humourless smile. “So her forest was cut down and the tree destroyed, since I doubt anybody understood its significance. But a soul cannot live without a body to inhabit. She was dying and she sought somebody to blame. So I suspect she blamed the one who ordered her destruction: Father.”

“Why me though? I had nothing to do with it,” Ambrose shook his head.

“We had nothing to do with it but...if you were a deity of time, you would plan for the long term,” Alain gave a small laugh. “That’s how she ended up in our room on that night. With her dying breath, she tried to curse us both but I managed to escape it, simply because I was lucky enough to be awake at the time. But there’s more to it.”

“What more is there?” Ambrose asked, confused. This was a lot to take in even if he was feeling well. “How could there possibly be anything more.”

“As I said, her body was destroyed and she was dying but-” Alain smirked, a thought briefly crossing his mind. “We killed a god...I’m sure House Jade would we delighted to hear that.”

“As long as it wasn’t Lord Woo, I’m sure they won’t mind,” Ambrose shook his head and leaned over to his brother. “What are you trying to say? Please, continue.”

“Of course,” Alain continued. “For a while, the idea of the curse bothered me. You see, Ambrose...I did not avoid her completely. I touched some of that mist and ever since then, I have these...premonitions, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I know things I should not know. It has been beneficial to me, I admit. But for the longest time, it made no sense. A curse does not vary depending on how much of it you take in. I should have been crippled by visions, same as you.”

“I’m glad you weren’t,” Ambrose said, looking up at Alain. “Nobody deserves this fate. And imagine what would have happened to Bern...”

“I know,” Alain sighed. “But the thought was not much comfort while you suffered with your visions. Nevertheless, that’s not the point. I suspected for a long time that this curse was more than just that but I could not find any evidence of it. However, if you say you stopped time, however, that confirms it. That Cebeline was much cleverer than anybody could have guessed.”

“What are you saying, Alain?” Ambrose stared at him, wide-eyed. “What did she do to me to give me such abilities?”

“I think she did not curse you, she blessed you. She was about to die; she had no strength left for a curse. So she passed on her powers to you, knowing full well that no mortal could control the powers of a god,” Alain smirked. “As I said, it’s a miracle that you managed as well as you did.”

Ambrose sank back against his bed, taking in this revelation. The powers of a god, him...all his life, that’s what he had been fighting in his mind, what had ruined him. And this was the best case scenario, his visions. It was the same thing he had thought during the time stop. If he had the powers of a deity who could control time, who knew how much worse it could have been? He could have hurt himself, or others.Being destroyed slowly by the visions was the best thing that could have happened.

And realising that hurt more than he wanted to admit. Ambrose put a hand to his head, closing his eyes and thinking about all the visions. All the horrible things he had seen...all the good he had seen...all the inventions...everything.

“Do you think there’s any way for me to master them?” he asked quietly. “I’ve already reduced how many visions I have, maybe-”

“You are strong but not that strong. There’s no way you could ever handle a god’s powers,” Alain got up from the chair and put a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder. “I’m sorry...I know it probably doesn’t help, knowing this.”

“It’s alright, Alain...I’ll be fine. At least now I know,” Ambrose gave him a weak smile. “Thank you for telling me.”

Alain smiled back. Though Ambrose’s reaction worried him, he felt like his brother was going to be fine, as he said. It was no doubt a shock to him but at least he wasn’t trying to blame him or angry at him for withholding the information for so long.

“Maybe it is best that I leave you now, let you rest and think about all this?” he asked, getting up. “Me, Lucinda and Garrick are going home in a few days time, if you want to talk about it beforehand.”

“Perhaps. If I feel well enough,” Ambrose murmured, already wanting to sink back into bed. “If not...we’ll still have another time, right? Even though you’re in Bern and I’m here?”

“Of course, brother, I’m not abandoning you,” Alain smiled at him as he exited. “Rest for now.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Ambrose wakes up from his fainting feeling awful, just as Alain comes in and asks what happened, since even the visions were not normally this bad for Ambrose. He tells him that he stopped time, which surprises Alain slightly. Ambrose asks Alain to explain the time magic, finally, but the latter hesitates, because guilt. However, he tells Ambrose about what he saw the night before the visions came, about his investigations into Cebeline. He reveals that she was a old Bernian deity who was forgotten and then had their Father destroy her tree. So she cursed the two boys before she died. But there was more...Alain tells Ambrose about his clairvoyance and how it makes no sense for a curse to be so partial. The time stop confirms his theory that Ambrose in fact has Cebeline’s powers, because she was clever and that no mortal should have a god’s powers. Ambrose is obviously stunned by this so Alain leaves him to rest and recover.

[Tiger]

Twenty-five years ago, Leif had been destined for a very, very different life.

House Accipiter, the House into which Leif was born, was of minor nobility in Corvus. So long ago Leif couldn’t remember the exact figure off the top of his head, ten Corvids had found and hatched the first phoenixes, and with their aid, kept the border between Corvus and Courdon secure. The first Lord Jade had led that group of phoenix-flyers, and the first Lady Accipiter had been part of his phalanx.

But things never went as planned, and though Accipiter maintained more prestige than Houses in less tradition-loving provinces might have, mishandled finances and a general lack of impressive talents made the House the lowest of the ten, one rarely heard about outside of Corvus.

Upper Houses had few children, by and large, and often recruited what talent they needed from other places. Lower Houses generally imitated the nobility beneath them; they pinned their hopes on having at least one child for each of the honorable professions, in the hopes that by spreading their resources they might be able to claw their way higher in the noble pecking order.

Leif was born behind three brothers - the heir, mage, and knight - and two sisters - a physician and a scribe. Their roles had been chosen from birth, and thus far, none of the current Accipiter Lord and Lady’s children had failed to mold themselves into their assigned place. So it was with confidence that the Lord and Lady decided that Leif would be the priest of their family.

Little did they know that things were not going to go as planned.

Eighteen years ago, Leif had realized that something in his head didn’t work properly - that something was too slow to react and even slower to cope. Other people didn’t do well in their etiquette classes and then fail miserably in practice. Other people didn’t have trouble talking to their siblings or cousins or aunts and uncles or even parents despite having known them all their life. Other people didn’t want to run from a room full of perfectly harmless people simply because they sat there for too long. Other people didn’t bit their tongue at handshakes. Other people seemed to know what to say and what expressions to make and how to tell what people were thinking and feeling just by looking at them. He’d never warmed to his older siblings’ attempts to treat him as their baby brother, and younger brother and sister, twins, had plenty of company with each other.

Leif had told himself things would be better at the church, and while he waited for his sixteenth birthday to come, he poured himself into only two things.

The first were his lessons. They were quiet, one tutor to one pupil so he didn’t have to deal with an entire brood of people at once. Leif’s magic classes were by far his favorite, though the tutor, having already raised four children with magical potential, was by now a bit bored of Accipiters and never went as far with magic as Leif wished he would. He attended etiquette studies with rapt attention because the rules of titles and formalities were the only safeguard he had. Lessons on theology were vital so that when Leif left the manor, he could stay out of the manor, in a place of peaceful near-solitude where he would quietly serve the Lord Woo with his magic.

The second were the birds. Leif’s parents didn’t keep a mews, but they had a small aviary full of colorful songbirds and fascinatingly-beaked insect-eaters. They could be loud, certainly, but not in the demanding way that people were. And maybe there was something familiar in the tentative way they watched him; a kinship in the way neither dared to get too close to the other. When Leif holed up in his room, which was often, he tucked himself away in reading and rereading the books in his parents’ library that detailed the bird species of Corvus, and of nearby provinces, and of phoenixes and raptors and birds only suspected to exist.

Someday, Leif would be free of his House the way the poor aviary birds could not be. On his last night in House Accipiter, Leif considered releasing them into the night. The lock wouldn’t be complicated to enchant open. But there were too many dangers in the land of Corvus, even for the species who could survive the heat. Ultimately, they were safer in their cage.

Perhaps that should have been a warning.

Nine years ago, Leif had left for the church. Our Woo of Charity was a smaller church that, though renowned for its healing work, was not the church Leif’s parents would have chosen. But the choice had fallen to Leif, and he had been firm in picking a small place. Already his parents knew that arguing with him on this would lead to no good. Luck was with Leif that they had rescinded, because a large, prestigious church would only have made things worse when they went wrong.

And wrong they went.

Eight years ago, the block, the slowness, the little pressure in his head that influenced his solitude suddenly became a pressing, maddening and malevolent force, something impossible to wrest aside or ignore. Leif’s tolerance suddenly vanished - touch was painfully oppressive, noise was torturous, he could hardly breath in a room with too many people, and if they were all talking and moving and talking to him... Leif curled up in corners and dark places and tried to read the words of Woo and tell himself that things would be okay, that things would be okay, even as he drove himself to terror wondering if had somehow committed a massive sin, if he was not meant for church grounds and so they were burning him the way a holy talisman burned away evil. His prayers went unanswered, but the priests didn’t seem to think it was unholiness. Madness, however, they very much considered. Leif could not disagree with them - and it was so hard to think clearly under that pressure.

There was one place where things felt...better. In the highest steeple of the church there was a mews, and though it looked out on a city so big it terrified Leif to consider all of the people in its buildings, he could hide among the many caged messenger-doves and their cooing, and he could see hope practically personified in the church's beautiful, pure-white eagle. She was huge, a raptor from the deepest jungle whose diet consisted of monkeys; the priests said her species could take down deer and the huge snakes that roamed the swamps if given a chance. Her name was Lunari, and when Leif looked up at the huge eagle and her massive wings and the dark, glaring eyes scowling from over the dark, curved beak, something deep inside his soul told him to keep going, to keep trying.

Fool that he'd been, Leif wanted to carry that power on his arm. He had seen the priests carry Lunari on a glove, and Leif had already handled the doves despite the orders to leave the birds be. Leif didn't know what he'd been thinking. He hadn't been thinking - it was impossible to think under the constant pressure, that near-physical feeling that his skull would split. Maybe he'd just wanted Lunari's presence closer, the way a freezing child might reach for a fire without understanding how it could burn, only knowing it was warm.

A seventeen-pound raptor was too much for a first-time falconer to carry on his left arm. His arm buckled and the eagle lashed out in a flash of white and dark talons - her beak struck under Leif’s eye and her talons raked deeply into his arm, so much deeper than even the Courdonian gryphon would manage years later.

So much blood, blood streaming down his face and blood sopping his arm, and the eagle standing on her cage with blood dripping from her talons...head bowed as if she regretted what she’d done.

Then had come the light; a white glow from the wounds themselves, that wound into tendriled stitches of light as they reached from one end of torn flesh to the other.

Eight and a half years ago, Leif had woken on the mews floor, still covered in blood, but in place of the slashes themselves were simple dark, swirled markings And the block in his head, the constant, violent pressure...was gone.

That didn’t mean his troubles were over. He had learned to socialize with a broken brain, and that in turn had damaged him in ways that violent eagle attacks couldn’t solve. But that was the least of his worries, as Leif’s magic suddenly went haywire. The things he was reaching for sometimes leaped into his hands without summoning. Skim-reading through a book, the pages suddenly began turning on their own at a furious pace. During an argument with another seminarian, all the water in the church’s basins suddenly and violently turned to steam. One night, a horde of bats appeared in the seminarians’ room - waking Leif from a dream in which he’d been fighting through a swarm of biting insects.

Every incident was more terrifying to him than the last, and every time the priests told Leif he needed to control his magic and that he needed to stop fearing it. But every magical spasm just reinforced Leif’s fear of it - in turn encouraging another incident that further convinced Leif he would never be able to control it, and so on into a great cycle.

He had no idea what was happening. Magic didn’t do this - this wasn’t how magic worked, not for him and not for any of his siblings or cousins or - or anyone, as far as Leif knew. And no matter how many acts of random magic he produced, no matter how big they were, he never felt more than an edge of the pull.

Five years ago, Lord Everett Jade had come to the Our Woo of Charity.

He told the church that he had heard the rumors of their magical troubles, and he had wanted to see the seminarian who was causing them. The priests had brought Leif to him, and Lord Everett had given Leif answers.

He was an archmage, that was the first thing. Lord Everett asked if Leif had ever been tested for the potential; Leif had not. Accipiter had produced mages of only average quality for the past several generations why would they undergo the laborsome tests for an archmage?

And because they had not, Leif had never undergone the proper methods of unlocking his powers. Without that coaxing, Leif’s entire being resisted letting such power run freely through him. The way a nauseated man will resist emptying his stomach with every fiber of his body, no matter how beneficial it might be, Leif’s head fought to suppress his own magic.

It had been Lunari’s attack that had finally unleashed it - the combination of overwhelming pain and violent injury and the terror of what had just happened finally crushed Leif’s mental defences. For all the good that did him now...

Except, Lord Everett had an offer - Leif could join House Jade. There were people there who knew about magic, who could help Leif to control his powers, and when all was said and done, Leif could be the Archmage of House Jade. He would get to cast spells for a living, and he would supposedly be doing some very, very amazing kinds of magic, the sorts of spells young mages read about in books and envied.

And so Leif left the church, and took the green instead of the white.

Two weeks ago, Leif had come to Medieville. And...well, you know that part already.

For the past five minutes, two days after the coronation, Leif was well enough to be up and fidgeting in Jade manor. He wouldn’t be summoning dragons again anytime soon, but the pull was back to a mere tugging sensation in his fingers, and then only when he cast a spell. The sky was barely light, though for once it wasn’t a nightmare that had woken him this early. Curiously, the nightmare hadn’t appeared since the night before the coronation. Maybe it was just because Leif was barely conscious when he fell asleep while recovering from the pull...but maybe not. Time would tell.

“Firstly, you need someone here to manage things,” Leif said. “You’re leaving Lord Joffery behind so he can court Priness Hope. The Marsons have gone on some insane furniture and plate-breaking craze, so somebody with magecraft is ideal. And for Lord Joffery, you need someone stern, who’s been a member of your House for some time, and someone who can protect him if need be. You’re also planning to let Master Xavier stay, and he’ll need someone he trusts to watch out for him. I fit all those categories.

“Speaking of Houses, the Grand Duke’s brother is serving as King Galateo’s advisor; that’s a considerable token of esteem from House Stallion. I can’t counter it directly, of course, and I wouldn’t want to, but if ever the King needs help in magical fields - I’m the logical choice. He and I met before his heritage was revealed. Wouldn’t it be much more convenient if I were down the hill from the Keep, instead of miles away in Solis?

Leif turned, pacing to the other side of the room. “We also need to try and repair relations with the Shadows, now that they’re not a rebellion but the King’s allies. Miss Ryer came to me with some...interesting questions. I’d like to help her with a magical problem she has, and that’s going to be much easier in the city. It seems...it seems there are a lot of uses for a mage in this city. Especially one who can cast as much magic as I can without being pulled. I can help make this city a much better place, I think.”

He paused, facing the wall. “But I guess what it comes down to is losing your Archmage. I can still send spells and advice through the scrollcases. And Ruth would be an excellent replacement, if she decides to go with you to Corvus...the other mages in this House are quite powerful, too. You won’t need me summoning dragons that often.”

Leif turned and looked his audience dead in the eye. “And I will not be using the Killing Curse. Ever.”

One day ago, the first day he’d been able to walk after starting to recover from the pull, Leif did what he should have done the night he’d found the spell. The pages of beautifully simple and beautifully deadly runes had turned the fire a terribly ugly green and yellow before crumbling into so much char and ash; Leif had to cast a shield spell to keep the flames contained and spent the next ten minutes cursing at the pain that came with it.

He didn’t say this. He didn’t say his real reason for wanting to stay, either, the person for whom he’d rip off his Jade colors and walk out of the House if he had to. Maybe Everett already knew; that seemed to be the patterns. Alain might have told him, or Isolde, or any number of sources. But no matter how much Everett knew or approved, Leif doubted the Lord of House Jade would find it a compelling reason to leave his Archmage in Solis. “What do you think, then?”

Ayleth did not seem impressed. Leif sighed and handed her a bit of meat. “Well, thank you for listening anyway, love.” Maybe a human audience would have been better. They could at least give Leif some feedback. It was hard to believe he was actually thinking that - people better at something than a raptor.

There was a quiet knock on Leif’s door, but no move was made to open it. Leif heard the sound of retreating footsteps almost immediately. His stomach clenched. It was time, then. With a final tug at his clothes to make sure everything was straight, Leif left his room, and headed down the hall for Lord Everett’s office.

SPOILER: Click to show

Leif backstory tiem, including why he’s so socially awkward, how he discovered his archmagery, and what exactly those markings I strangely never call ‘tattoos’ are. Leif also prepares a speech for Everett, practicing with Ayleth because she’ll totally let him know where his argument could use some brushing up.

This is not my final epilogue post, obviously ^_^ Just trying to space things out.

[Avery]

If she thought about it now, it was like a fog: indistinct and hazy, more a dream than a concrete thing of her past. She remembered little of her rescue from the Stallion cellars and the days that followed; she scarcely recalled being reunited with her siblings, or learning about the Bloody Coronation, or well… much at all. Finding out Kelcey was dead was a little clearer, but even still, it seemed so faraway. As if all these things had happened to another girl—a girl who looked like her, and shared her name, and shared the chain-worn scars on her pale, thin wrists—but was nevertheless a distinct entity from her.

But meeting him…

Even now, nine months on, Briar remembered that well.

It had started as stew; he’d bring her a bowl every day. And once the little girls had returned from where—thank Woo—the late Destiney had sent them to safety alongside her own sisters ahead of the massacre at the Keep, he’d bring them stew, too. And then as summer ceded into a chilly autumn and then winter beyond that, it wasn’t just stew. He’d tote with him blankets, or fine furs Briar Kidde could never dream of affording but that he could now afford, on account of his friendship with Kyth’s new king. For the first time in Briar’s memory, she and the girls didn’t shiver at night beneath raggedy quilts. Their hearth was never without wood. They never went to bed at night with hunger pangs in their gut.

Sometimes even now she would marvel over him, and how the worst time in her life had served to bring her the best thing she’d ever known. And he would smile, his cheeks furiously blushing, and remind her that really, she’d known him before.

“Remember?” he’d say. “I was staying in your hay loft, Briar. And then… I was in the Shadows, too—not for long before you got um… taken… but, we met a couple times, I think.”

But she’d only shake her head. “I wish I remembered, Arthur. But all that time around the King’s death—the uprising—me getting taken—it’s just…”

And her voice, then, would inevitably hitch, and he’d draw her close to him, their fingers interknit. And neither of them would speak, because sometimes there are words that don’t need to be said. Sometimes an embrace alone is good enough.

He was the reason she was going to the wedding today—and also the reason why she’d received a personalized invitation rather than having to go through the lottery system (she still grimaced as she thought of the last peasant lottery, for that was the last time she’d ever seen her older brother alive). The little girls were wildly jealous, and made this fact known as Briar fidgeted with her gown, waiting for Arthur to arrive to escort her to the Keep.

“Why can’t we come, too?” Daria moaned.

“We have friends there, you’re not the only one with friends there,” Ciara reminded, yanking a comb none too gently through her Briar’s always-tangled hair. “We spent like, three whole weeks with Princesses Cloudey and Aura and Harmoney, you know, they’d be thrilled to see us there—”

A knock on the door mercifully cut Ciara’s whining off. Briar snatched the comb from her little sister’s hand and hurried to answer it. “You can’t come because you need to help Misses Ryer with last minute preparations, remember? She’s catering, and she’s depending on you. And don’t give me any lip about how that’s not fair, she’s been much too kind to us these past nine months for you to sulk about helping her.” With that, Briar swung open the door and smiled broadly at Arthur, who stood at the other side.

Arthur couldn't help but grin when he saw Briar standing there, albeit somewhat of a stupid grin.

"Uh... hi," he managed, unable to stop staring at her.

She grinned right back, set down the comb, and then reached out to straighten his crooked collar. His dress clothes looked at least three sizes too big—she surmised he had probably borrowed them from one of his brothers—but that was okay. That was Arthur—always gangly, always a little out of sorts, and always the boy she loved with every ounce of her heart.

“Hi,” she said back. “You look…” She considered “… sharp.”

“You too,” he breathed. “I mean um—not sharp—no—not sharp, but um… um…”

“Pretty?” Ciara supplied from across the room.

Arthur nodded vigorously. “Yes, pretty. Gorgeous, actually.” He reached out a hand and gently laced his fingers around hers. “Your carriage awaits.”

Briar laughed. “Carriage?”

“Um—no—not… I didn’t mean carriage, I don’t have a carriage, I just… it’s a turn of phrase—”

“I’m kidding, Arthur,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Oh.” He smiled bewilderedly. Then, as it hit him: “Oh! Well. After you, my lady.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Briar and Arthur. <3

[Shinko]

((If anyone wants me to make any edits about something mentioned for their character, just shoot me a PM~))

It hadn't been very long after the day which would come to be known as the Bloody Coronation before someone finally got around to telling Sieg the whole story. He'd been aghast when he learned of Queen Destiney's death and the rebels rise to power. It had been hurriedly explained to him that their claim to the throne was a legitimate one and that the noble houses were already treating with them, which at first only served to worry Sieg more. But as his injuries healed and he was able to walk around, he realized it was probably going to be alright. They weren't rounding up malcontents for execution, or completely toppling the old system of governance. Though he did not know the new king, Galateo, his mother knew the man as having been a sculptor in the Merchant's Market for as long as she'd lived in Medieville. She was skeptical, but willing to give Galateo a chance, so Sieg figured he should do the same.

He felt a little bad for a while about being so quick to accept an usurper. As a knight he really aught to refuse to obey him, considering how he'd come into power. But... well his claim to the throne was a legitimate one, and it wasn't as if the rebels had killed Destiney.

But what would they have done if she hadn't gone over that balcony? he often thought to himself in quiet moments while he was alone. It was an uncomfortable train of thought, to say the least. Everything had lined up rather conveniently for the rebels, and he couldn't help but wonder how peaceful their ascension would have been if Destiney hadn't been killed, if she'd refused to abdicate in favor of her long-lost uncle...

Fortunately, the times he was alone with his brooding thoughts were few and far between. Morgaine and Rosalie often sat with him while he was recovering, and as his strength returned they would walk with him around the keep and, eventually, the city. But they weren't the only ones. Orrin often stopped in for a cheerful conversation with his fellow knight, and Leif checked on him frequently as well. Their presence buoyed his spirits, and for the first time in years he found himself freely confiding his misgivings and frustrations with other people.

It was strange how he'd felt in those weeks. Simultaneously low as he'd ever been, and... bizarrely content. He wasn't happy, but it was a relief to feel able to be unhappy, to openly express his thoughts instead of pushing them away and forcing himself to quietly go along with something to keep other people happy.

By the time he had recovered enough to travel to Nid'aigle and return to his duties, he was reluctant to leave. He had friends back in the elven city, and he had his duties and oaths, but Morgaine, Rosalie, Leif, and Orrin would all be staying in Medieville for one reason or another. He promised to visit as often as his duties allowed, and with a heart that was heavy- but a good bit lighter then it had been on the trip north- he returned home.

Over the months to come, Sieg had done as he promised. He'd made at least four separate visits to the capital, each about a week long. On each progressive trip the observant person might have noted a gradual change in the half-elven man. He smiled less often, but when he did smile the expression was gentler and more sincere. He had accumulated fewer scars between each visit, though if asked he would have insisted he fought just as many bandits, monsters and thieves as ever. And, though the change was only really apparent to Morgaine, he finally stopped using the formal Kythian "Mother" and began using the elven term for "Mama" as he'd done in his childhood.

SPOILER: Click to show

So here's what the past nine months have done for Sieg. Next post for him will be a collab with Omni.

I'll do a catchup for Morgaine once some lingering meta questions are answered~

[Kristykimmy]

(A collab with Celestial)

Nine Months Ago:

Lucinda walked down the hall, her heart heavy with the news that they were returning to Drestrier the next day. She had missed Grandmother and Isabelle, but she knew she wasn't returning as the girl who had left. She was leaving parts of her heart behind in Medieville.

One of those parts was with Ambrose. Fifteen years had been spent in misunderstandings and fear, and she was sorry for that, especially now that they would be parted. She had been looking forward to knowing him better, but now that he was staying in Medieville as Galateo's advisor, she was sure she would not see much of him again.

She went to the door of his workshop and knocked on the door. In the past, she'd never given much thought to the marvels Ambrose had produced, but now she was sure it was because of his visions. If one could see the future, of course one would replicate what could be replicated.

“Great-Uncle, are you in here?” she called.

Ambrose looked up as he heard Lucinda beyond the door. He had been planning to come down to say goodbye when they left but he had not expected her to come find him. Not that it was not appreciated, of course. After the time they had spent together, especially given the way she finally understood what was happening to him, he was sorry to see her go. 

"Come in, Lucinda, I'm in here," he said, putting away his pen and putting aside the notebook he had been scribbling in. He had given up on trying to remember what he had seen before he fainted so instead he'd decided to try reverse-engineering the harvester machine, with mixed results. It was probably going to be too complex to build and especially run, given the technology they had available to them but there was no reason he could not at least try to work out some improvements from it that they could make to the ploughs they had. It was worth a try and it kept his mind off other things, like how truly nervous he was about starting his job advising Aldrich. But all that could wait. For now, he had to say goodbye to his great-niece.

"I was going to come down and see you when you all left," Ambrose said as Lucinda entered. "I didn't expect you to come up here and see me."

Lucinda smiled at that. “Yes, I didn't expect you not to, but I just wanted to... to just see you. Everything since the coronation has been chaotic. I was so worried something would happen to you, but in the end, I suppose it all... I can't say it ended well, but it wasn't a hopeless outcome. I'm glad you'll be staying here to help Aldrich, it is good to know he will be among friends, but I'll miss you. This is hardly the ending I thought was coming only days ago. I wish, I wish I had understood before now. Drestrier will feel emptier without you and Kirin there.”

"No, a few days ago we thought that Courdon was going to invade us, that we would all be in danger. That Queen Destiney was going to be a monarch. But a lot can change in a few days. I don't think it's changed for the worse. There could have been a far worse outcome, Lucinda. Given our circumstances, this is probably the best thing that could have happened. But either way, we should make the most of it," Ambrose turned his chair to face her, smiling back at her. "And I am sorry I have been so distant and timid before now, and that we had so little time together before we have to go our separate ways. But me and Kirin are not staying away forever. I'll come visit and surely you'll come back to Medieville sometime. This isn't a farewell, Lucinda. We can still see each other, and we can always write."

She walked over and knelt down next to his chair, looking up at him in the same way she was accustomed to with Alain. “I know, and we are fortunate it ended without full scale war. Will you have time to write? I shan't be a burden if I write you? I know with your inventions and being advisor you will be busy. I doubt I will have anything interesting to say, but I would like to hear how things progress here for you and Aldrich.”

"We are. Believe me, that would not have ended well for all of us," Ambrose shook his head, dismissing the thought before he smiled and placed his hand on Lucinda's shoulder. "I'll find time, don't worry. And I will be glad if you wrote to me about anything that's happening back home, I know I'm going to miss Destrier. In exchange, I'll tell you what happens with Aldrich and everyone here. You won't be left in the dark."

“I will do that,” Lucinda promised. “Thank you, Great-Uncle.”

She rose and hugged him. “In spite of everything that went wrong, there was so much good that came from this trip, I think. I'm so glad Grandfather brought me along. I was never entirely sure why he brought me, but I suppose he had his reasons.”

Ambrose hugged Lucinda back, his smile growing even wider and happier. "There is and despite all the chaos, it's a good thing we made it, alive and unscathed. As for why Alain brought you, well...I'm sure he had his reasons," he gave a small laugh. "I've known him for fifty three years and I still have trouble figuring out what he's thinking sometimes. But whatever his reasoning was, I'm glad he did. I hope you are too."

“I am, truly.”

SPOILER: Click to show

Lucinda and Ambrose say goodbye on the eve of her return to Bern. There are a lot of feels.

[Avery]

SPOILER: Click to show

Well, Medieval is wrapping up, and Icon and I want to be the first to thank you all for a great game! Posting this here so everybody sees it, and it doesn't get swallowed up in some sticky--

1. This round will be open until Monday, August 18th, at 11:59pm Eastern. Upon which this thread will be locked and all threads for the game merged, before this monster is moved to Memory Lane. Pertinent information (maps, etc.) will be edited into the first post.

If you have a reserved post not filled out by the deadline, it will be deleted.

This post will also be deleted.


2. We need people to save threads! If you played Mafia, you'll probably know how to do it-- if not, just ask, it's super easy. Basically, in case Proboards decides to be a derp in some horrible way during the forthcoming merging process, we don't want to risk losing any of our precious posts. Therefore, we need volunteers to save rounds so we have posts preserved even if Proboards goes mad with power gobbles up posts. How do you volunteer? Simple! PM me with the round(s) you'd like to claim, and I'll edit in a tag of you here. Then, whenever you have the round all saved, confirm with me and keep it someplace safe 'til the merge. Hooray!


Day One: icon
Day Two: icon
Day Three: Elcie
Day Four: Celestial
Day Four and a Half: Coaster
Day Five: Gelquie
Day Six: Lizica
Day Seven: Elcie
Day Eight: Avery
Day Nine: Tiger
Day Ten: Celestial
Day Eleven:  Gelquie
Day Twelve: Tiger
Day Twelve and a Half: Coaster
Round Without a Day Name: Shinko
Epilogue: Birdy

[Elcie]

Three years ago, Xavier Lynn had arrived in the city of Medieville as a fugitive, starving and scared and saved only by the kindness of an innkeeper who'd offered him a place to stay.

He'd never been treated like this before. It was not just the fact that she gave him a roof over his head, enough food to eat, a job he enjoyed. It was the way she looked him in the eye, talked to him frankly and openly like an equal, even encouraged him to talk to her in return. When he'd been mopping the floor of the dining room and spilled a bucket of water everywhere, accidentally splashing her in the process, she'd only laughed and helped him dry it up.

And he wanted to repay her for it, all of it. The work he did at the inn wasn't enough; she paid him for that (and the first time she had matter-of-factly handed him his wages he had stared at them, dumbfounded, until she was prompted to ask if he had ever seen money before). He wanted to do something more.

One night, he got his chance.

He’d always been a light sleeper, and though the noise outside did not wake Ilsa, it woke Xavier. Someone was outside. His thoughts immediately jumped to the feared slave-hunters of Courdon, how they’d travel into Kyth and hunt down escaped slaves and drag them back to claim the bounty. And Lord Duval must surely have offered a bounty for him…

He had to get out. Xavier grabbed his cloak, flung it over himself, and left the room, his heart pounding. He’d slip out before they saw him, and then Ilsa would not be guilty of harboring a fugitive and they’d leave her alone…

Except it didn’t work out quite like that. As it turned out, the intruder was also trying to use the back door. Xavier startled him when he came out, causing the man to drop the set of lockpicks he was using to try and pick Ilsa’s new lock. For a moment, the thief stared at Xavier, and Xavier stared back.

He wasn’t Courdonian at all. He must have been nothing more than a common robber, trying to take advantage of Ilsa and steal her hard-earned profits… Xavier’s eyes narrowed. After a moment, the man turned and fled. Xavier barely hesitated before giving chase.

Running down the alley, he caught up to him relatively quickly. He realized he wasn’t really sure what he was going to do when that happened, but the thief saved him that decision by attacking in a moment of desperation. Equally desperate, Xavier fought back, and the scuffle did not last long. Xavier, from a lifetime of hard work in Lord Duval’s manor, was stronger than he looked. After a sound punch to the head, the robber keeled over, and Xavier nearly panicked. He’d fought back. It never ended well for him when he fought back. He didn’t know what to do now.

In the end, he’d tied up the unconscious man with his own rope, dragged him to a side of the alley, and… left. On the way back to the inn, he was even more nervous than usual, jumping at every sound. That had probably been an incredibly unwise thing to do; the robber was sure to return for retribution when awoke and he freed himself. But Xavier couldn’t just stand by and let Ilsa get robbed, the inn damaged…

As it turned out, nobody found out what he had done. The cloak Xavier had worn in preparation for his departure had hidden his face in shadow, and the robber had no idea who had attacked him. Xavier quietly served dinner that evening and listened to the gossip in the inn. Ilsa, upon discovering the damage, had called the guards, who had found the bound and groggy thief a few alleys away, and now the story of the attempted break-in and the captured robber was the talk of the town. No one suspected Xavier’s involvement… but Ilsa was glad nothing had been stolen. In the kitchen, Xavier smiled quietly to himself.

All the same, he didn’t dare do anything else for several months. It was too dangerous, too risky. He needed to lie low in Kyth, not draw attention to himself, even if no one knew he was the one who had done it. But he’d helped someone who’d been kind to him… and even as terrified as he’d been, subduing the thief had given him such satisfaction.

And then he’d stumbled upon that old, abandoned building that had once been used as a jail, now long-forgotten… and the seeds of an idea started to form in his mind.

He didn’t take too many risks. And he tried not to hurt anyone, criminal or not. But over time, a number of people found themselves in that cell. People who’d tried to threaten Xavier’s friends, his neighbors. The thief who’d stolen from Clare Ryer’s butcher shop. The vandal who’d tried to break into Aldrich’s workshop. The man who’d attempted to make off with some of the Kiddes’ livestock. He stayed cloaked, always went out at night, because hiding his identity emboldened him. No one knew he was a slave; no one even knew he was Xavier Lynn from the inn. And he’d always let out his captives after a couple of nights. It was only a warning: a message that someone was looking out for the people of Medieville.

He’d been foolish to try and treat a noblewoman the same way. But he’d been tense and scared, made nervous by the presence of so many strangers in the city. So he’d arrested Jeniver same as anyone else, solely due to the fact that she’d been a nuisance to Ilsa and was acting suspiciously later that night… and everything changed.

Now Xavier was a noble, a member of House Jade. He was to be a liaison to King Galateo's court. He’d faced down Lord Duval, the man he most feared in the world, and walked away with his freedom and his life. The fight for the throne was over, and still he had decided to remain with the House that had taken him in and protected him. Far from the terror he’d felt when he was first recruited, he now wore the colors of House Jade with pride.

It was a lot to process.

After Lord Everett and the other Jades had left, Xavier returned to his room in Marson Manor. It was starting to look a little more like home. He’d finally brought his few belongings over from Ilsa’s inn; that, more than anything, helped it sink in that he was really not going back to the way things were before. And he’d chosen this. All he’d ever wanted was to help protect the people he cared about, the people who’d taken him in and protected him and who had insisted that he deserved more than he believed he did. And now… maybe… maybe he could do that. Even if only in small ways, little by little, helping King Galateo and his advisers with the changes they wanted to make, improving things for people like Ilsa and Elin and the Kiddes, working to bring them together with nobles like Leif and Ambrose who were so much kinder than he could ever have anticipated.

The enchanted handcuffs were still sitting on a table in his room. He hadn’t taken them with him anywhere since the coronation. He didn’t think he would. He didn’t need to hide behind his arrests anymore.

No more hiding, no more running, no more sneaking around under cover of darkness. From now on Xavier Lynn, the former possession of Rodin Duval, the former Vigilante of Medieville, would stand in the sun.

SPOILER: Click to show

Backstory time! How Xavier became the Vigilante is explained, and how nine months ago, after the coronation, he decided to hang up the handcuffs for good.