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As Vygoren arrived, entering one of the lesser used council rooms, he'd find Caspar standing by the glow of an open fireplace. His posture was stiff and his mouth tightly closed behind thin lips; the fire's bright glare played against his eyes. The message that Faedkyn had brought lay heavy on Caspar's spirit and he barely acknowledged his second visitor of the evening.

"Lord Vygoren," he said - the drone of his voice made it sound as if the mere act of speaking was tiresome. "Come in. I hear that we have some 'celebrating' to do."

At this, he gestured to a pair of glasses and an ornate decanter, filled with honey-tinged liquor. One of the glasses appeared to have been used, the other did not.

"Please, feel free. You have far surpassed our expectations in retrieving the Princess so swiftly. We were still deliberating upon your request for an army, but it seems that such a decision is... unnecessary now?"

He paused, struck by an errant thought.

"I suppose many things are unnecessary now." There was a wistful, distracted note in his words.

Muffled noise, of anger and argument broke him from his stupor: somewhere close by, behind layers of shelving and masonry, Carmen was chewing out a room full of elders. Caspar drew his head around to look at the wall, as if he could imagine the strange assembly, gathered round their table.

"I'm told that she is already holding her first session; we should join her soon, but please - speak. Tell me of the rescue and how things fare in the East."

Carmen sat quietly penning a few notes down n her stationary as she listened to the trivial matters being brought up by the council. Talk of taxes, an forefront of battle, contents of the Treasury. She carefully kept everything written down to try an discuss with her father once able. She may be above the other heads of the state but she knew to discuss such things with the old man himself, perhaps even get Caspers insight was the man himself that taught Carmen of the basics when it came to handling such things. Her ear twitched slightly as of them had risen to his feet.

"Pardon my disruption, but we still have yet to fufill our end of the bargain for the lands of which the lords have claimed on your fathers behalf"

he chimed rather shakily on the topic as he flipped through some of the papers in front of him clearing his throat. Carmen sat quietly her face calm an almost stone at the mention of the topic she clutched the quill with both hands a habit of nervousness she had built to keep signs f trouble to herself. She sighed softly and nodded her head as hopes of such thing would have been postponed a little longer.

"Yes, I do suppose putting such things off would look poorly on our house...very well, Who claimed more heads"

She looked down at her papers asking the question all her physical habits f hiding her distaste for it all. She hated the fighting, violence, as well as arrangements for her future. Thought part of her always ended up obeying perhaps it was simple desire to meet expectations, and to be seen as something more then a shameful blemish on crown.

"Lord Thraen Valour it seems, however he and your brother Prince Relbregh have yet to actually arrive at the palace"

Carmen looked up with a risen eyebrow placing her quill down standing from her chair. Her oldest of brothers was often the type to doddle and indulge in sins of the flesh, but even so he was still known to be punctual. She crossed her arms pacing for a moment still unaware of the actual events that had transpired she found her self suspicious of the absence.

"Rather odd for a Crown prince to be late, the first born at that normally such a situation would have Relbregh jumping to the throne...even worse yet to have a victorious lord not step forward to claim the rewards he was promised for his war efforts"

Vygoren Calygarn entered Caspar's private council chamber, looking rather exhausted and confused. The glow of the fireplace would lite up the whole room, allowing a perfect view of the hand-crafted oakwood furniture and polished decorations. Vygoren was still shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black leather trousers and knee-high boots. His entire upper body appeared to be tattooed with tribal designs and one particularly large serpentine dragon which seemed to wind and wrap around his neck, arms and shoulders.

His face was also partially tatted, and there was a peculiar row of scars on his left arm which appeared to be self-inflicted. Each scar was a mark, a line, a tally of how many warriors Vygoren had murdered in battle. His silver capped sharpened teeth glistened in the fire light as his wavy red hair draped wildly over his eyes and face. He was truly a barbarian, tall and slender but with muscles bulking over highly toned chiseled features. On his back he wore a black scabbard, into which was sheathed a long heavy bastard sword.

 "Come in," the old man gestured. Lord Caspar then motioned to a pair of glasses and an ornate decanter, filled with honey-tinged liquor. One of the glasses appeared to have been used, the other did not. "Please, feel free. You have far surpassed our expectations in retrieving the Princess so swiftly. We were still deliberating upon your request for an army, but it seems that such a decision is... unnecessary now?"

Caspar paused for a moment. Vygoren would walk over to the table, picking up the decanter and pouring some of the golden elixir into the unused glass before setting it back down on the table. He was quick to down the contents immediately, slamming the empty glass down before filling both glasses once again, one for himself and one for his host.

The aroma was sweet. The taste was bitter. Vygoren savoured the liquor, enjoying it as he swished the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it. Caspar started to talk again, but a commotion in the next room caused both lords to pause briefly for a second. Princess Carmen was already getting down to business. Vygoren smiled before taking another swig of his drink, offering the other glass to his noble friend.

"I'm told that she is already holding her first session," Caspar responded. "We should join her soon, but please - speak. Tell me of the rescue and how things fare in the East" Caspar inquired. Lord Vygoren would walk over to the fireplace. The heat was warm, and relieving from the cooler temperatures up north. He thought for a moment about what to say. "It was hardly a rescue," Vygoren said quietly while still thinking.

"I don't think Her Majesty was ever in any real danger. She came willingly, I think to protect someone- or something." Vygoren took another swig from the glass in his hand as he peered into the fire. "We followed her tracks to Montra; it's further north than I was expecting- I thought she'd go east, but it seems the Princess has been mingling with the Pruvians; I found lycan tracks, but no lycans." Vygoren swallowed.

"I can't prove it, but I fear she might be persuading our King's enemies to revolt. Unfortunately, before I could delve any further, I almost got a kiss from the queen's statue... After that, some of the men fled with the horses. Due to the chaos, I wasn't able to search the cemetery. I thought it would be best to bring her majesty home first; at least isolate her from whoever she was protecting. I don't trust it Cas."

Lord Vygoren turned to look back at his old friend. "Speaking of things I don't trust, what is that ugly halfling doing here? I know Hylorra, he never travels alone; And in any case, the Night Watchmen never travel this far west. If they knew I had brought the knights here, why would they leave the tower? It doesn't make any sense." Vygoren paused briefly. "And where is our friend Lord Thraen? I expected to see him here, not that half-drow savage." Vygoren walked back over to the table and set his empty glass down before looking back over to Lord Caspar.

Meanwhile, in the Swamp...

A hooded cloaked figure looked up at the sky from between the tree branches of the forest, only to see a raven flying overhead. The cloaked figure would pull the grey cloak tighter around themselves before walking through the forest, seemingly in search of a good campsite to stop at.

Just then, another hooded figure appeared in the forest wearing a bright green cloak. Parting the bushes with his dark black fingertips, the green cloaked figure watched stealthily with bright red eyes, stalking the first figure quietly as they wandered through the dark woods, far off the beaten path where most villagers usually travelled.

Unaware of being followed, the first figure in the grey cloak would push aside the wild branches and untrimmed brush, looking around the ground and stopping to pick up some wild mushrooms. The second figure watched silently as the first figure bent down to pluck the fungi, placing a few caps into the satchel by their hip.

The red eyed stranger snickered quietly as he reached into the quiver over his shoulder and pulled out his long yew bow. Notching an arrow to his bowstring, the shadowy archer watched silently, taking aim at the one who was picking mushrooms, completely oblivious to the bowman's rogue-like invisible presence...

The Swamp of Kulrydale...
860 C.E...
1 month, 3 days after the death of King Estvikt.

The red eyed stranger snickered quietly as he reached into the quiver over his shoulder and pulled out his long yew bow. Notching an arrow to his bowstring, the shadowy archer watched silently, taking aim at the one who was picking mushrooms, completely oblivious to the bowman's rogue-like invisible presence...

But the would-be assassin was unaware of yet another presence in the murky swamps, lurking just below his feet. Suddenly a Curtar emerged from out of the very mud that the green cloaked archer was standing in. It was a hideous looking creature, severely larger than the figure who had unknowingly disturbed it. The Curtars were a giant race of anthropomorphic snapping turtles with thick hard shells and powerful beaks. The cloaked archer would suddenly fall backwards into the mud, causing a splash which alerted the other hooded figure picking mushrooms.

As the archer's hood fell, it revealed the pitch black face of a red eyed, white haired drow. It was one of the Night Watchers, dark elves who had served Prince Relbregh at the prince's fortified palace. He had been stalking and hunting the other figure for days, but alas would meet an unexpected end as the Curtar hissed violently like a dinosaur before stretching out its scaley neck and biting the drow's head off with a quick and deadly snap of its massive beak.

The other hooded figure looked up at the angry Curtar as it stood upright, cocking its head back to swallow its meal. The grey cloaked warrior would close his satchel, gripping the hilt of his sword and standing up very slowly. Once standing, the Curtar would look down at him through the parted bushes. Even now, the humanoid turtle-like creature was much taller and larger than the man who stood almost face to face with it. Luckily, the Curtars were a simple species with the mental capacity of a 3-year-old human. Satisfied with its fresh kill, the Curtar seemed uninterested in pursuing the second cloaked figure, instead turning slowly to devour the rest of its drowish victim. The surviving cloaked figure would back away slowly before disappearing through the mossy trees in the other direction and leaving the scene.

Meanwhile at the Castle of Ashdown...
That same afternoon...

Lord Vygoren Calygarn was still consulting with Lord Caspar Blackwood in the private council chambers while Princess Carmen was giving orders to the other council leaders in the next room over. During the midst of their conversations, a few of the King's Servants would occassionally enter the council chambers from the private kitchen, only to refill the empty wine pitchers and collect the empty plates before leaving again. One of the maids was an older woman named Bethesda who had served in the royal family's kitchen for many decades.

Bethesda knew most of the happenings around the castle. Of course, she didn't hear everything, as the council leaders were sure to lower their voices or stall on talking whenever the doors knocked and the maids entered. But she knew enough as she listened to Princess Carmen's speech quietly while walking around the table and filling everyone's glasses with wine.

Another one of the maids was Ivory, a younger blonde girl roughly the same age as the princess herself. Ivory was a new waitress in the King's Kitchen, and was learning from Bethesda how to be a proper servant. There were also two other maids accompanying them. One was a shorter dark skinned maid with long black hair, while the other was a curly red headed maid in her late twenties. Together, the four of them would walk around the room, working quickly and quietly so as not to disturb the council. Bethesda smiled politely to Princess Carmen, bowing her head as she filled her majesty's glass with wine. Once they had collected all the plates and filled all the glasses, all four servants would then leave the chamber together and return to the kitchen with their dish racks and wine carts.

Once in the kitchen, the young black maid would replace the empty wine pitchers with newly filled wine pitchers while the red head grabbed a mop and bucket to clean up the spilled drinks with. Ivory and the dark skinned servant would then grab some cleaning supplies from the kitchen closet and leave the kitchen to go do chores elsewhere while Bethesda and the red head returned to the council chambers. As the one began mopping up the floors, Bethesda would go about setting up a new wine pitcher on a small table in the corner with extra glasses in case some were needed later.

Meanwhile, in the next room over...
Happening at the same time...

Lord Caspar and Lord Calygarn would share one more drink with one another while catching up to date and discussing their plans for the future. Ivory would knock on the door, entering with the dark skinned maid from earlier. They would go about doing the same work they did in the next room over, making everything tidy while ensuring that all the glasses were clean and the liquor was fresh. As the short black haired servant picked up Vygoren's and Caspar's glasses to fill them, she would look up to Caspar and smile with a wink. The two elaborate maids then left the room, leaving both gentlemen to their own private business. Vygoren would check out the young blonde's curvature as she left, his lustful consumption getting the better of him as he picked up his glass, looking at Caspar with concern while taking a swig.

Seconds later, just outside the Castle...
Inside the outer wall...

A band of dark elvish mercenaries were gathered in the open courtyard, each one dressed in drowish battle attire. They all had pitch black skin; some with red eyes, some with blue eyes; some with red hair, some with white hair. But all of them looked very similar overall, with pointed ears and four small canines that appeared visible every time they spoke. The drow were a slender lot, with gentle features and feminine shoulders. The tallest one among them was only five and a half feet tall, and their smooth hairless bodies made them all look like young teenage boys in elvish costumes.

But these were not young boys. Many of them were professional archers and sharpshooters; experts in the field of battle, with hunting skills and abilities that far surpassed any normal human. There were about 100 of them altogether, each one bearing a burn scar on the palm of their left hands in the shape of a star and shield. It was the mark of each and every Night Watchman, and although highly decorative, their costumes were actually not for show. They were wearing drowish battledresses, far superior to any mortal weapons and armour.

Suddenly, another drowish figure seemed to appear before them from out of nowhere; this one having black dreadlocks. As he lowered the hood on his magical cloak of invisibility, Faedkyn Hylorra's whole body became visible. He would walk through the ranks to the front of their drowish assembly, every dark elf standing square before him in perfect marching formation. Each one carried an elvish longbow in their right hands. Each one had a quiver full of elvish arrows. Faedkyn stood looking at his troops with stern authority, his golden cat-like eyes scanning them for any abnormalities or imperfections as he prepared them for their mission.

Carmen rested in her seat for a moment smiling politely as the maids had entered to do their jobs. The girl was one of the few in the palace to show servants any form of kindness. She looked down to the glass in front of her. A gentle laugh would escape her lips as soft as summer rain.
"I must apologize men I haven't the taste for the drink"

The oldest of the council lifted his glass with a smile Maester Dominick was his name. Man was older then most that she knew. He was a feeble body now with little hair long beard with pale green eyes and a few freckles across his cheek. A whispy chuckle with a wheezed cough out come from him as he would go on attempting to get the girl to drink.
"Come now Princess I had it just imported to celebrate your brothers victory it's rude to refuse an offer from your elders"
Carmen smiled sheepishly taking the glass in hand touching the rim to her bottom lip.
"It's twice as rude for a lady to drink herself into a stupor Maester Dominick"
Holding the glass for a moment as she picked up the scent of something odd about it. She slowly lowered the glass walking over to a potted plant on the shelf. Her eyes shifting around the room as she poured the contents of her wine into the soils watching the plant shrivel away and wilt to its death. Her hand dropped the goblet the metal clanging loudly against the floor. Carmen turned on her heel seeing the old council men had all fallen from the table their bodies on the floor no pulse leaving their hearts. Her breathing grew quiet as she stared death in its face she had seen and known it but not like this. Her parted lips letting out a scream before rushing to the doors of the private council chambers yelling into Casper.

"Don't drink! Casper the wine"

Her petite frame practically running to the steward. Smacking the glasses from his and the lords hands. Frantic look in her eyes her entire body shaking in fear.
"Tears of leese....all the councilmen" she pointed to the old bodies laying on the floor.
"They all drank it before I could stop them"

Earlier that day...

Avery had heard of the Princess's swift return; it had not been expected. No, not at all. And there was still much work to be done on Magnus, before he would be ready. The situation was problematic and in an act of desperation, she called one of her associates up to the King's bed chamber.

Bethesda, an aging maid with a taste for fine things and sugared tea, gave a knock and entered the room. She had spent her younger years on the battlefield, seen men turned inside out for sport and yet the sight which greeted her in Magnus's chambers was still able to frighten her. It was like the lair of some mechanical spider, with cables and tubes spun from ceiling to floor, pumping a dark-grey liquid into the sleeping King. Avery Fellwater, an older soul than anyone could imagine, sat at the center of this web, entirely at ease. She rose and motioned for the maid to approach.

"Come here, my girl - but mind your step."

"What is all this?"

"It's medicine, my dear. I am a doctor, after all. Now - I once told you of a task that I would need carried out; are you still willing to do this for me?"

"I... will."

Bethesda's eyes, shrunken and pale, glanced nervously at the array of mechanical apparatus that coated the walls. She licked her lips before warily looking at the 'doctor'.

"But you will make me young again, right? That's what you said you could do; you said you could-"

"I will do what I can," snapped Avery. "I can make you younger, that is certain. But only if you play your part in my designs."

Bethesda nodded eagerly.

"I will. I'll do anything for it. Just tell me."

"Take this," said Avery, as she drew out a tiny vial of purple liquid and placed it upon the maid's wrinkled palm. "Dose Carmen and anyone else you deem necessary. Killing Carmen is your primary objective and if you fail in that..."

Avery's face shimmered, like ripples on a pond. The blonde beauty was distorted and Bethesda could see - for just an instant - a flicker of something else beneath the smooth skin, something truly malevolent.

"I won't fail," she said, eyes wide in fear. "I won't. I promise."

"Be sure you don't."
__________________________________________________________

Bethesda was, despite appearances, a devastatingly effective killer. In fact, it was probably because of her appearance that she was able to commit such deeds freely, without suspicion ever falling on her. But this time, as she departed from her discussion with the doctor, she did so under the scrutiny of watchful and inhuman eyes.

Caspar listened to the report, frowning periodically as Vygoren described the situation. Lycan tracks? Pruvian involvement? All of this was troubling news but it paled in comparison with the suggestion that Carmen might be wilfully inciting the rebels to action. This last claim was a claim of treason.

Speaking of treason, Vygoren had also enquired of a completely damned individual. "And where is our friend Lord Thraen? I expected to see him here, not that half-drow savage."

Thraen. That contemptible cur. What had possessed him to do such a thing? Was he working for the rebels? Or another opportunist - like the 'good doctor', perhaps? Argh, it was maddening. What was happening? What treachery had overran the Kingdom like a virus?

Caspar closed his eyes, kneading the worn bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"We live in dark times, Vygoren. I- Ah, ladies. Yes, come in."

The the darkened door that stood stiff against the draughty corridors swung open, as two serving girls came inside bearing a tray of drinks. Caspar was slightly frustrated by this intrusion but he decided against reprimanding the girls - particularly when the prettier of the two bowed close by and winked at him. Caspar had long passed the days when young maids would wink at him on their own volition or whim - this was something else and judging by the look of the girl, it involved Watchmen. The hidden message had taken Caspar off guard, but he retained enough wherewithal to meet her eye, raise his bow and give a subtle tip of the head. I approve, it said.

Something was afoot, but there were still other pressing matters to pry from Vygoren's lips.
"Vygoren, what do you know about Lord Thraen? I mean really know: how much can you vouch for the man's character?"

Caspar rested back in his seat, elbows upon the armrests. When it seemed like things would continue ordinarily, the men would hear a blood-curdling scream before, seconds later, a wild and frantic Carmen burst into the space and knocked aside their drinks, crying of poison.

Caspar's mind reeled. He dragged himself to his feet and without a word, marched around to witness the scene that Carmen had spoken of. True enough, the adjoining chamber was filled with wine-stained corpses. His lips parted in resigned shock.

More treason? More death?

As the chaos grew and guardsmen began pouring in, Caspar turned to Carmen, his face grey and tired.

"Welcome home, Princess. I fear we all have much to discuss."

Bethesda had done her job well, and was not noticed as she snuck the purple poison into the council chamber. At least she did not think she had been noticed. She had managed to poison everyone's wine, including Princess Carmen's, before slipping away unseen. Bethesda would exit the kitchen quickly, removing her apron before going back down the hall to the king's chamber. Stopping in the hallway, she would take a deep breath to calm herself before placing her hand on the door knob.

That's when she noticed that the veins in her hand were starting to turn slowly to a dark black. Bethesda stopped and examined herself, pulling up her sleeve. Sure enough, her veins were beginning to change colors. She would step over to look at a small hanging mirror on the burgandy red wall. Pulling her collar aside, she noticed that the veins in her neck had also turned black, and her eyes were beginning to turn bloodshot. She suddenly started panicking. Bethesda rushed into the king's bed chamber, reaching her hands out to Avery with a distraught look of fear in her eyes. Beth would open her mouth to speak, but before she could, she started coughing. She would choke, grabbing her own neck as her lips ran with dark oozing blood. She knew she was dying, but she didn't understand why.

Bethesda had never touched her own poison, nor drank any of the wine she poured for the council. She had not been bitten by an insect, nor pricked with a device. It simply didn't make any sense. How? she wondered as her body fell over and she started going into convulsions. As she lay there dying, her muscles and tendons would stiffen. Her veins would stretch, causing blood vessels to pop and blood clots to form. She would bite off her own tongue, grinding her teeth together until they started cracking. That's when it dawned on her that the dark skinned maid had changed out the wine pitchers. If it wasn't the liquid that had poisoned Beth, perhaps it was the pitcher. With this in mind, Bethesda gurgled her last and went completely limp. She was dead.

Meanwhile...

The darkened door that stood stiff against the draughty corridors swung open, as two serving girls came inside bearing a tray of drinks. Caspar was slightly frustrated by this intrusion but he decided against reprimanding the girls - particularly when the prettier of the two bowed close by and winked at him. Caspar had long passed the days when young maids would wink at him on their own volition or whim - this was something else and judging by the look of the girl, it involved Watchmen. The hidden message had taken Caspar off guard, but he retained enough wherewithal to meet her eye, raise his bow and give a subtle tip of the head. I approve, it said.

Something was afoot, but there were still other pressing matters to pry from Vygoren's lips. "Vygoren, what do you know about Lord Thraen? I mean really know: how much can you vouch for the man's character?"

Vygoren Calygarn took another sip of liquor, swishing it around in his mouth again before swallowing. "Lord Valour is the greatest knight I've ever served with. He fought beside me at King Estvikt's last stand. As a soldier, he has amazing courage and his style with the sword is unmatched." Vygoren paused for a second to think about Thraen's personality. "As a character, he is loyal to the crown, I would say to a fault... Why? Has he done something wrong? If it's about him being late, I know he was sick for a few days. I'm sure-"

Suddenly, there was a blood curdling scream. Carmen burst into Caspar's private chamber and knocked aside their drinks, crying of poison. "Don't drink! Caspar the wine!" she screamed, her young petite frame appearing completely shocked with horror. Vygoren would turn to look at Carmen before turning back to look at Caspar with bewilderment. Caspar's mind reeled. He dragged himself to his feet and without a word, marched around to witness the scene that Carmen had spoken of. True enough, the adjoining chamber was filled with wine-stained corpses. His lips parted in resigned shock.

Vygoren looked down at his spilled drink, the honey-tinged liquid spilling over the table and dripping on to the floor. A scary thought suddenly entered his mind. If the wine had been poisoned, had the liquor been poisoned too? Had he himself just been poisoned? And if so, why hadn't he fallen over dead like the other council leaders? Vygoren furrowed his eyebrows in thought as he soon followed behind Carmen and Caspar into the other council chamber, looking at a room full of corpses.

As the chaos grew and guardsmen began pouring in, Vygoren took charge. He commanded everyone to stand back, ordering them not to touch anything. "Keep everyone out of the council chamber! Get back! Get back!" He would stretch his arms across the doorway to prevent anyone from entering. That's when Caspar turned to Carmen, his face grey and tired.

"Welcome home, Princess. I fear we all have much to discuss."

Carmen stood still her ocean blue eyes dim at the sight of it all her breathing was heavy but didn't waver. She eyed it carefully with a furrowed brow. She turned to look Casper in the eye.
"Just how big of a mess has my father made...what if they went after him too"
Her face grew an ungodly pale as the thought crossed her mind. The girl was a lot of things but disloyal and uncaring for those of her blood wasn't one of them. She knelt down picking up the goblet looking closely at it. Tipping her face slightly to it getting the scent.
"They tried to mask the poison in honey and lavender.. it would work on most but anyone familiar with it's aroma can spot it a mile away, i can't tell if this was a well thought massacre or a stupid attempt at my own life"
She placed the cup on the table looking over the men on the floor and sighed softly turning to Daniels.
"Have the bodies brought to the remaining Maesters to examine, that deliever the remains back to the families with our condolences"
She looked over to Casper with her arms crossed. Her young face almost matured from the emotions. She was no stranger to such dark things she was but a child watching her own mother fade into nothing. The thought of loosing brothers or possibly her father frightened her more then loosing that of her own life.
"Just how bad are things Casper, spare no details. Whatever child's filter you wished to have over my head...its long obliterated"

Southern Kulrydale, heading north...
Just before noonish...

As a grey cloaked figure emerged from his sleep, he would sit up and look around, lowering the hood on his cloak to reveal the bearded face of a man with blue eyes. As he looked before him, he realized that he was laying on the side of a hill. The landscape in front of him was covered in tall grassy fields and golden plains as far as he could see. As he looked behind him, he saw a tree-line in the distance leading into dense thickets and swampland. Such a place was crawling with monsters and predators, and he could recall his encounter with a Curtar just days before, when a Drow had tried to assassinate him but failed.

Thraen Valour was an outlaw in the Kingdom of Ashendale, and the Night Watchmen were quick to send out their own assassins to find him. Kulrydale was far east of Ashendale, but it didn't matter. Even now in a totally different land, Thraen would find no sanctuary. More would come eventually, and he wouldn't be able to stop them. Thraen needed a plan, and he knew exactly where to go for help.

As he put on his socks and laced his boots, Thraen would stretch before standing up. The tall grass was up to his waist, and the sun was beating down on him from a bright blue cloudless sky. Using some purified water from his canteen, Thraen would shave and wash his face. Afterwards, he sharpened his dagger and pulled out a handful of non-toxic mushrooms from his satchel, shoving them into his mouth.

His legs were tired and his back had been sore. The last big meal and good night's rest he had received was the day he had murdered Prince Relbregh, and yet even that was hardly enough rest to rejuvenate him from all the battles he had been into within the last nine months. Thraen needed at least a week to recuperate, but alas he still had a long journey ahead of him. The nearest village was thirty miles away at least, and Thraen's ultimate destination was even much farther away than that.

He was heading to the Land of Pruvia, to a kingdom far in the north. There, he would have a better chance of finding help. But to get there, he would have to pass through the Land of Kulrydale, and this was no place for an enemy of King Estvikt, as many rebels in the land were still loyal to their dead king. As fate would have it, Thraen had helped to capture Estvikt's Castle, giving that southwestern part of Kulrydale to the Kingdom of Ash; the very kingdom he was now an outlaw in. Ironic though it seems, Lord Thraen would swallow his doubts and carry on towards the north, lifting his hood over his head to conceal his identity. There should be a village just over those hills, he thought as he picked up his walking stick and started hiking.

Faran were basking her wings through the air, whirling the clouds around her glossy black feathers. With her old friends sachel in beak she bolted through over the sky. As she flew over the land, casting dark shadows over the land, birds flew by with her dwarfing them.

Meanwhile in the satchel

Baltimore walked around, awed by the great amount of space inside the satchel. It were only four neters in diameter so everything were cramed. The dwarf had to step on his tip toes trying to not push over a stack of books or smash some test tubes. He poked at the herbs and flasks hanging from the ceiling. Lucifer sat on a stool trying to get the chcken with its claws drilled into his scalp off. Blood flowed down over his forhead as he tried pulling it.

"Why don't we just kill that damn chicken and make us some lunch? I will get a knife" Said Baltimore and began opening drawers looking for a knife or something sharp, then found a cleaver hanging from the wall. "Hold still and I will do a clean chop, and off goes it's head." Said Baltimore ready to chop off the chickens head.

"Baltimore, I will give you some reasons for why we won't be doing that. First off, I'm afraid of knives near my head, that's why my hair is so long, plus I'm lucky that I can't grow a proper beard. One of my foster sisters died exactly like this, well it were a duck and we used a big hammer. Her face weren't recognisable at the funeral. Second off I just remembered, that I got something in one of my grandmama's cookbooks that can might do something against this stupid chicken." Said Lucifer and stood up, the chicken still drilled into his scalp.

"So the chicken lives..." Baltimore squinted at the chicken, and the chicken squinted back at him. He shook his head "I don't trust that chicken".

"Well you have to for atleast an hour while I cook us some..." He looked in his bookcase and found a book named "Pruvskiye firmennyye blyuda". It were a big old book bearing the Pruvian coat of arms, a Bear holding holding an axe on a white heater shield with red stars.He turned the pages for what seemed like half an hour, the shouted "AHA! Found it, 'Sup s nokautom' directly translated to 'Knockout soup'. Let me see, we need some flour, goat milk, horseraddish, beetroots and some really strong alcohol, look..." He pointed at the ingredient saying 'Really strong alcohol'. "...Grandmama made a fair amount of exclamation marks and a circle around that with the words if translated 'Purest alcohol that exist you dumb shit', lovely lady" He cracked a smile at the memories of his foster grandmama.

"So where the **** do we find pure alcohol in the middle of the godsdamn sky?" Asked Baltimore rather confused.

"I think medical alcohol can go for it, yeah I think that might work" Said Lucifer and tried to find his medical supplies.

Carmen sighed stepping int the private council chamber lowering herself into a chair eyeing the wall infront of her. She reached up pulling the golden circlet off f her head fiddling with it in her hands. She looked at such trinkets differently then most in the palace. Many eyes seen such gold, jewels and power as marvelous things to aspire to behold, however her eyes and body language seemed to reflect of someone held down by the weight of it all. She glanced over with a pang of sadness to her blew eyes as sense of subtle things she had seen flew through her her head.

"I take it by the Drows presence, Relbregh wont be joining us. no one has informed me just how bad fathers illness is beyond being bed ridden. atleast Calvin is safe"

Her entire being shook fighting back any urge to cry over the state of her family as much as she didn't like for their actions or behaviors they were still family. Part of her still loved her father and brothers even if she didn't think so highly of her in return the gentle heart of which Queen Celia had learned Carmen was a very forgiving one. She gridded her teeth for a moment they couldnt afford to have their men at war with all the uprising. The men would have to pull back and guard the palace, but then how would they keep the Pruvian at bay they would have every right to be angry and lay siege...unless.

Carmen started at the crackling fire in thought for a moment before rising to her feet, grabbing the stationary set. Her hand penning out a letter carefully. Her eyes focused on the paper and ink the quil sitting softly in her dainty sized hand.

"we can not afford this war, not with the King and princes lives at stake, and assassins making their way through the palace"

Caspar stood by one of the long-tables, a sullen expression worn as he gazed on the body of General Vendrick. Who knew what level of damage this would exact upon the war effort. Half-distracted, he heard Carmen speak up from elsewhere in the room.

"I take it by the Drows presence, Relbregh wont be joining us-"

Even as the Princess continued speaking, Caspar's mind tripped over her statement. The Drow's presence? Had Faedkyn been so careless as to be detected already? This thought then tumbled into another, where Caspar thought back to the darkened girl who'd winked at him - what was he to make of that 'sign' now? Had that been some kind of morbid joke? Teasing him, right before the entire council went down in a gulp. Had the Watchmen done this-? This last thought was too terrifying to give any credence.

He turned to face the others, taking the time to look at Vygoren and gauge the mood of the man, before looking to Carmen. The Princess, an eager stateswoman, was already preparing a letter of some-kind and Caspar's brow raised in a mixture of confusion and admiration.

"I don't wish to interrupt you, my lady but your assumption is correct: Relbregh will not be joining us. I regret to say that he is dead."

Undoubtedly this was news to Vygoren, but Caspar could not bare to meet his eye. He had more, equally devastating information to share first.

"Murdered - by Lord Thraen Valour."

Carmen looked up from her letter a darkness over her face to the news she sighed softly as it added up in her head. Her brow furrowed slightly. She glanced down finishing her letters reaching for the candle dropping the wax pressing her ring into the vibrant red. She held the letters out eyeing for her maid to step forward handing the documents to her carefully.
"Have this one sent to our outpost of remaining soldiers and the other to the Pruvian palace"

She gripped her hands tightly to the arms of the chair shaking slightly looking back to Casper, Her calm face breaking slightly as her eyes began to water. She remained still not bothering to wipe the strains away that rolled down her cheeks.
She tilted her head back with a deep breath as if to suck the emotions back in. Now wasnt the time for her to show such weakness she needed to bare a brave face the men of her family portrayed so well. Though part of her was just terrified in the mind of a child.

"I wish I could say I was surprised...but the absence of both had already shown suspicion, My brothers alone perhaps normal with his choices of debauchery..but one who was to be a celebrated war hero, not so much"

She rose to her feet crossing her arms nervously over her chest gripping her hands to hide the shaking, Her head turned gazing at the windows. She cleared her throat as she struggled t choke back most of her tears.

"Right now we need to ensure the safety of My father and his remaining son, We need allies more then we need enemies..I know my they wont be willing to part with their wealth or jewels to ensure a treaty"

taking a deep breath she looked over calmly her face masking the feeling of hopelessness, fear, regret and sadness of what she was about to do.

"I offered myself, in exchange for their assistance and truce, keep them from attacking us..defending us in the situation. It's the one thing I know he doesnt care to lose. Once Calvin has returned and they give word back to accept the offer...I will have Margret and Daniels prepare to ship me off. I dont know entirely If I will be in the safest situation but, that is irrelevant"

Faize... the Warlock.

... Fire is his soul. His blade delivers it as a weapon. His tall, dark, handsome frame stood out in the fog against a stone backdrop, the walls of a mountain offering some defensive advantages against anyone who may have wished to infiltrate Montra.

The warrior mage's eyes had scanned the catacombs like two blue sapphires as soon as Grevious turned his back. The wildness in his eyes matched the wildness of his dark brown hair as his bangs hung down over his face, adding a tone of mystery to his expression. Grevious had ordered Faize to stay put, but the young mage was determined to follow the princess, even if it meant putting himself in a risk of danger, since her majesty was highly guarded now and in the company of savage knights. Of course, Faize could've just conjured up a wave of fire that would likely have incinerated all of them including Vygoren himself, but then he would endanger Carmen's life as well. Faize would have to put his magic aside for a moment and think of a more mundane way of handling the situation.

That's when he decided to cast a simple spell of invisibility over himself, creating a mirage which enabled him not only to disappear from view, but to be silent and stealthy as well. Seeing that Grevious would order his army to turn Montra into a fortress, Faize decided it would be best to scout things out and see what kind of trouble was stirring up around the princess.

He would follow Carmen all the way through the Quarry's secret passage way back to Castle Ashdown, keeping a safe and suitable distance from Vygoren Calygarn and the small platoon of soldiers he had with him. At times, Vygoren would stop to look behind him as if something was watching him. He would lock eyes with Faize, and it almost seemed like Vygoren had noticed him. But he never did. The barbaric warlord would just turn his head towards the princess and keep on walking.

Once they returned to the castle, Faize would watch and upon seeing the assassins place a small rune of misfortune that would cause them to fail at every turn. Upon seeing the drow elves he carefully avoided their gaze

Meanwhile, outside the Castle...
Inside the outer wall...

A band of dark elvish mercenaries were gathered in the open courtyard, each one dressed in drowish battle attire. Many of them were professional archers and sharpshooters; experts in the field of battle, with hunting skills and abilities that far surpassed any normal human. There were about 100 of them altogether, each one bearing a burn scar on the palm of their left hands in the shape of a star and shield. It was the mark of each and every Night Watchman, and although highly decorative, their costumes were actually not for show. They were wearing drowish battledresses, far superior to any mortal weapons and armour.

Every dark elf was standing square before their General, Faedkyn Hylorra in perfect marching formation. Each one carried an elvish longbow in their right hands. Each one had a quiver full of elvish arrows. Faedkyn stood looking at his troops with stern authority, his golden cat-like eyes scanning them for any abnormalities or imperfections as he prepared them for their mission. The Night Watchers were about to march on foot all the way to Montra.

Faedkyn would pace back and forth with his arms crossed behind his back, oblivious to all the commotion and movements around him. "We will not be heading north. The quarry is too close to the borders of Varadycia, and they will not welcome us there." Faedkyn Hylorra pondered for a moment on what to do next. "We will march along King's Pass instead, and go north through the Forest of Ashendale and onward to Montra... It will take longer to get there, but we will rendezvous with more troops from Relbregh's Tower along the way." Their orders were clear. The drow were going back the way they came, veering off and taking the long route north to Montra, where they would do a thorough investigation and publicly assassinate anyone who posed a threat to King Magnus's crown.

As the drow began to march out of the Main Gate and over the draw-bridge, one of the Night Watchmen would notice a peculiar looking pebble on the ground. He looked both ways to see if anyone was looking, but by now Faize the Warlock had disspelled his invisible trickery, going visible and blending in with all the commotion at the castle in order to evade suspicions, knowing that the drow would've been able to see through his magic anyway. But as the curious archer stepped out of formation to pick up the strange runestone, he would immediately draw Faedkyn's attention.

"Back in line Drizzt!!!" Faedkyn roared. Nothing ever seemed to escape the dark lord's notice. Being spotted, the startled archer quickly stepped back into formation, slipping the tiny runestone into his pocket. Little did he know what magical power he had just coveted. Once in the assassin's pocket, the rune symbol on the pebble would flicker neon green as the curse was activated. The Night Watchmen didn't know it yet, but they were about to face trouble at every turn. It was only a matter of time before something hindered his advance, as Faedkyn Hylorra and the dreadful Night Watchmen marched out on to King's Pass and headed eastwards towards the forest.

Caspar stood by the fire's glow, watching and listening. Periodically he'd look over at Vygoren for some hint of the man's thoughts, but as Steward he was compelled to lay most of his focus on the Princess. In doing this, he did notice her tears but as it would be impolite to point them out, he drew a handkerchief and lay it down on a table, without so much as a word; it would simply be there if she needed it.

As Carmen's maid moved to leave the room, clutching the newly-penned letter, Caspar barked an additional order for her.

"And summon the Palace physician. I fear that it's too late for most of these gentlemen, but she might be able to provide some medical insight into this mess. Also, I think we'd all like to hear how the King is faring right now."

"Aye, m'lord," she nodded and was escorted out by a pair of footmen.

With this done, Caspar returned to the matter of Carmen's plan. It was entirely unexpected from the girl and Caspar retraced it aloud, so as to make sure he'd heard correctly.

"My Lady, do I understand your wishes correctly: you aim to buy a ceasefire with the Pruvians, using yourself as a bargaining chip? Such a manoeuvre shows wisdom far beyond your years, but as Steward I do not know if I-"

He trailed off as the concern caught in his throat.

"It might be too risky, Princess. We cannot afford to lose you when there is already so much turmoil. If Magnus awakes and discovers that his eldest son and his only daughter have both perished, then..."

He sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

"You must be careful, that is all I ask. However, if you truly do intend to go through with it, then what are your instructions for the Court? We've just lost half of the ruling houses and our military marshal."

Skipping past where Calvin is out of the tree, and have set foot back to the castle. . . (mainly due to how I forgot what I was originally going to put with the tree scenario aftermath)

Johanna and Calvin marched forth back to the castle, with the prince walking in an annoyed slouch of sorts. Johanna was keeping her appropriate stance, as her hand was tightly gripping upon the handle to her sword; ready for an attack. Though, while she was ready to whip out her weapon, her gaze was rather fixed more to just Calvin, who continued to slouch in an un-princely manner.

"Hey, Cal," Johanna began, jokingly, "Stand straight and powerful when you're walking. Don't want the peasants to reconsider how much of a brute you are, you know?"

Calvin gave a narrowed gaze toward his guards-woman. "Since when the hell were you my caretaker, again, Mieadov?" the prince had questioned. "Last I recalled, you were just my guard. Not a peasant mother." He rubbed his forehead, before retorting, "Also, I have informed you, several times, that you are not to refer to me as 'Cal.' It's honestly getting rather annoying."

The guards-woman chuckled. "But, I am this 'peasant mother,' Cal," Johanna noted, as she completely disregarded Calvin's previous statement. "I have a husband, a son, and a daughter."

The prince gave a glare at Johanna. "You understand what I mean, Johanna," Calvin told her. "You didn't need to rub in more details about being a peasant mother. You are basically admitting to the fact that you're an irrelevant woman, who happens to have an irrelevant man beside them, along with naive children."

Johanna gave a slight laugh at Calvin's words, as the castle soon came into their mere view, tall and strong, surrounding its people who stand on bones. "You know, Cal," Johanna began, as the pair soon reached the castle's entrance, "You're missing out on the better aspects in a life that may be worthwhile."

Calvin raised an eyebrow at Johanna, as they passed by guards who bowed respectively at the prince. "An aspect of being stuck in a tree, Mieadov?" he questioned, as they entered the castle, with guards who bowed at the prince from their stations.

Johanna gave a rather teasing nudge at the prince, like a friend with another friend. "It wasn't exactly that tall after I got you down," she told him, as they stopped inside the castle. Calvin rolled his eyes at the guards-woman. "Don't be ridiculous," the prince retorted. "It was, indeed, tall." Johanna only grinned at his words. "For you, that is," she added, as Calvin gave a frustrated growl. Johanna gave a hearty laugh, before clearing her throat.

"Well, I best return to my humble abode, now," Johanna informed. "It's a shame that you are unable to accompany me now, Calvin. My child was going to expect a royal visit, but I suppose another time may be appropriate."

The prince waved his hand in dismissal. "Go," Calvin said, before parting ways with Johanna. The guards-woman gave a sigh, as Johanna turned back to venture to her home, without her child's royal visit, nor the baskets of apples she had left behind.

"...Goodbye, Prince Calvin," Johanna murmured, despite his royal presence not being there.

Recently, at the Castle of Ash...
Inside the Royal Council Chambers...

"Keep everyone out of the council chamber! Get back! Get back!" Vygoren would stretch his arms across the doorway to prevent anyone from entering. That's when Caspar turned to Carmen, his face grey and tired. It would seem that the young princess was no fool to politics. "I take it by the Drow's presence, Relbregh wont be joining us." Carmen's words sank deep into Vygoren's mind. He hadn't admitted it, but he was also beginning to make the same assumptions. However, their opinions were far different, as Caspar would see.

"We can not afford this war, not with the King and prince's lives at stake, and assassins making their way through the pala-"-"Bah!!! Foolish child, what do you know of war?" Vygoren interrupted, a bit outraged by the young lady's lack of experience. The two would lock eyes ackwardly for a moment, as if having a silent staring contest. Neither the princess nor the duke particularly liked one another, and they had no qualms about showing it openly. But it was this open honesty between them that also made them trust each other more than others. Their mutual disgust for one another came with a sense of honor. Neither the princess nor the duke were truly capable of such a devious plot to assassinate someone. Vygoren immediately suspected Faedkyn of poisoning the council, having witnessed him leave Caspar's chamber with his own eyes. It never occurred to him that Faedkyn actually wasn't responsible for the massacre, but for something far more clever.

"I don't wish to interrupt you, my lady but your assumption is correct: Relbregh will not be joining us. I regret to say that he is dead." Lord Caspar would sadly confirm what Carmen and Vygoren had already presumed. But it was Caspar's next statement that really caught them all off guard. "Murdered - by Lord Thraen Valour." Vygoren's heart suddenly sank. Lord Thraen Valour? His second-in-command, and perhaps his best friend, was now officially being accused of treason. That's when it dawned on him. Thraen had stated to Vygoren that he didn't like the prince's thirst for blood. Thraen expressed to Vygoren that he didn't feel the prince was paying them enough for all of their services and loyalties. Had he finally lost his senses and assassinated Prince Relbregh? Vygoren couldn't bear to think it, but he now understood the reason for the drow's presence. Deep down, Vygoren wanted to accuse Faedkyn of lying, but in reality he knew that the Night Watchmen were not capable of committing treason. Unlike human knights and lords such as Thraen and himself, drows like Faedkyn had no free-will of their own but served whoever had the crown. As long as the Ashdowns were still kings, the Night Watchmen would remain loyal unto death. It had to have been Thraen, as hard as the truth was to swallow. That meant only one other thing for Vygoren; he would now have to kill Thraen Valour.

As the King's royal steward and the princess continued talking, Vygoren would investigate the council chamber. With nobody else in the room to disturb the crime scene, he locked the doors behind the maid as she left, issuing his own orders as she exited through the row of guards in the hallway. "Summon a priest, or someone who knows magic; and all the other maids when you're done." He then closed the door and locked it.

"My Lady, do I understand your wishes correctly: you aim to buy a ceasefire with the Pruvians, using yourself as a bargaining chip? Such a manoeuvre shows wisdom far beyond your years, but as Steward I do not know if I-"

"Absolutely not!!!" Again, the duke bellowed as Caspar took a breath. "Magnus is still the King of Ashendale, and I will not hand over his children to our enemies." Vygoren could not muster the thought of placing the Ashdowns in danger. But something else had also just dawned on him. With the king now bedridden, and the king's heir now dead along with all the king's council, it seemed that Princess Carmen was now presently the crown ruler of Ashendale, meaning that Vygoren's opinion no longer mattered, even if he was the Duke of Estvikt, for her deepest wishes had now just become the law of the land.

Caspar sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "You must be careful, that is all I ask. However, if you truly do intend to go through with it, then what are your instructions for the Court? We've just lost half of the ruling houses and our military marshal."

Vygoren nodded quietly in agreement with Caspar's statements as he walked back over to the small corner table, picking up the decanter full of freshly served liquor. He would pour some into a goblet and quickly gulp it down before immediately pouring another one. He then stepped over the dead bodies on the floor as he made his way around the room, looking for clues as to what had happened. He poured the liquor on to the long council table and then tipped over a candle, setting it ablaze with fire, as Vygoren was no stranger to elvish magic, and needed to sterilize the poison quickly before it started to spread. He would grab a towel and use it to pick up the wine pitchers, throwing them on to the table within the flames, along with the towel. After taking care of the situation, he would wait for Captain Daniels to return with all the kitchen maids. There was only one thing left for Vygoren to do, as he spilled his thoughts out loud. "Don't touch anything. If the drow had anything to do with this, it could be blood magic. Their blood is toxic to mortals... Where is Thraen...?" He asked quietly, keeping his other thoughts to himself as he finished off the remaining liquor in his cup.

Carmen sighed eyeing the window adjusting her gown slightly. She looked over hearing the dukes grumbling and offered him a cold glare of her blue eyes. Her mothers face of which she had grown into forming the cold expression often used by Magnus himself.

"I know well enough that a good portion of our best men died during the siege, the ones we have left are either injured, sick or completely exhausted. I also know we have no citizens left who are fit to fight and bare arms. My arrangement not only buys us a ceasefire but it will buy is a good number of soldiers in wars to come if needed"

Her voice was sharp as she had snapped her anwser. The girl was bothered by very little however did not appreciate being treated like a child or dunce.

"Unfortunate about Relbregh, but as my father would say it's the price of being a coward. Truth be told he spent more time beating the defensless then fighting real men ..thus being unprepared for such an attack"

She trailed a thumb over the golden belt that lay over her layers of fabric. She turned her gaze to Casper taking the handkerchief dabbing her cheeks and eyes. Her face offered a gentle smile of thanks.

"For now keep eye for any letters from Pruvia, if they have accepted then we will prepare for the visit of their first born son or king himself. Being one of very few highborn daughters with a dowrey for miles there's a good chance they will agree"

She shifted her weight eyeing the door way. Lifting her skirt slightly over her feet or not trip. She stepped over to exit and looked back over her shoulder.

"Speaking of physicians, I wish to see how my father has been taken care of"

She glanced at Casper an expression of almost loathing at the mention of the woman.

"I would prefer to see with my own eyes then trust her word, specially considering what became of her last patient"