Thomas
General Derringer Hecate
Vineyard District, Rikolto, Akno

Derringer flicked his eyes up and down rapidly.  The boy held his sword uniquely, not like his own steadied two-handed stance common in Akno.  Derringer adjusted his footing, finding purchase for his sandals in the soft grass of the field.  He breathed in slowly, and adjusted his grip minutely before exhaling.  To the side, the onlookers exchanged words about bets.
Whitney
Àvaldi, The Convert
Sensus District, Rikolto, Akno 

Àvaldi bowed his head slightly at the introduction, thanking Ivovius with a small nod as he stepped forward to speak more directly to the blacksmith. Standing up straight, his posture is mainly meant to indicate that he was here on business and meant to strictly talk business for the most part. 

"Greetings Leric. The work I need done is rather simple. I need a standard longsword, if you've already got one made then it may work perfectly fine for the needs I have." Àvaldi states, gesturing towards the blacksmith with a calloused hand. Unlocking the sheath of the longsword that he had carried as a beater, he placed it on a nearby table. Beneath the sheath the blade was chipped, scratched, and even rusted in a few areas. Whether it was restorable or not, Àvaldi was unsure of; but he knew he needed to replace it. 

He takes in another breath before continuing, "The second order would be nine shortbow arrows." He continues, grabbing the arrows from the quiver and placing them onto the table next to his sword. The tips dulled, some having had the bladed tips chipped off entirely. 

"I'd also like to scrap my old longsword and the nine arrows I've currently got in my possession. I've no need of them anymore." Gesturing towards the old and worn gear. He glanced towards the blacksmith, awaiting to see the answer and gear that he could provide. If he had to make anything, Àvaldi hoped it'd be no more than a day or two for the sword and arrows to be made; but he also recognized blacksmiths were always in high demand.
Patrick
Lord Aurum
Northern Coast, Terresol 

 The gilded halls of the grand manor lay silent, no life dwelled underneath the marble white ceiling aside from a single servant stalking the halls, his footsteps upon the floor were the only sounds that polluted the tranquility of the manor. The old man had served house Aurum for decades, he lived only at his Lord's behest, and served loyally as any man could be expected to. He ensured the human guards were paid, and acted as an intermediary for his Lord's plans, among a dozen other duties that he took care of on a day to day basis. He was the only living soul who knew some of the secrets of his master, bits and pieces of the plans of a living god, for that was what his lord was, a god. Immortal, undying, perfect in all the ways humans were flawed, to serve him was the highest honor. To be trusted with even the smallest bit of the thoughts of such a being was incredible, yet even after a lifetime of service, the full extent of Lord Aurum's will was not known to him. He knew vague fragments, bits and pieces, but whatever grand goal his Lord had in mind, it was beyond him. As the man gingerly opened the door to his Lord's study, he thought of how lucky he was to be at the side of such a being. 


 Aurum cared little for his human servants. He had had hundreds of them over his lengthy existence, at a certain point they all blurred together. Like dogs really, except you named your dogs, he didn't bother giving names to his mortal servants. They existed as tools of his will, you didn't name your hammer, even if you needed one to build a house. 
"M'Lord, the messengers have returned, your eyes and ears have found little regarding what you spoke of, I am sorry to say."

Aurum sighed, waving a hand and dismissing the old man. He was getting up in years, this servant, perhaps it was time to replace him. He'd gain little from exchanging him, perhaps an Arbiter? No, he was too old for that, he'd die in an hour. An offering then, one last service to Aurum. He put the thoughts of servants and echanges out of his mind, he had larger plans at work that required his attention. 
A map of Marin had been rolled out upon his table, labeled with roads and cities, rivers and valleys, all the little details that made this world so frightfully boring. Aurum rubbed a coin between his fingers, and began to pace around the map, circling like a shark who smelled blood. 
"So many little gnats, swarming over a pile of shit." He muttered to himself, looking down at the part of the map just north of Terresol, the nation of Northwind. He tossed a gold coin into the air haphazardly, and it landed face up in Northwind, right over the Iron Gate. The coin's face was an old man in a crown, a sword hanging above his head. "A united north... Interesting, yet problematic. Especially when the south is fractured." 
He turned his gaze to Terresol, flipping a coin in his fingers. On one side, a solemn man in prayer, a woman standing behind him, on the other, a fair maiden with a flower in her hand. He tossed the coin upon the map, landing it directly on Sol.

"The pantheon is embroiled in it's own works, yet soon may turn its attention outward. Expansion seems imminent" A coin for Araedia, a phoenix clutching swords in its talons. The southern pantheon was always looking for ways to grow its flock, yet plague and corruption had wounded them in the past. But like all wounded animals, they would lash out. Terresol looked to be the victim of their expansionary interests. Northwind, Araedia, and now The Isles, three powers seeking influence in Terresol. It would be quite a show indeed, though whether he would bother to interfere was yet to be seen. He had little care for the games of mortal kings and queens, his attention lay in grander things. Yet it paid to garner influence from the gnats from time to time, perhaps he could use one of these powers to his advantage. 
 His gaze turned farther south, the Isles. He had cared little for them in the past, but now they had been forged into a power worthy of his attention. Their new King was one who Aurum could almost respect, almost. It took great strength of will to unite such a savage peoples, a more strength still to take them from a backwater only good for slaves to a player in the grand game of nations. Of course, that was only if he could make it last. He tossed another coin into the air, and when it landed it carried a poppy with flames licking at its roots carved upon its face. 
Aurum opened his palm to look at his last two coins. The first he tossed landed in the south of Terresol, and was emblazoned with a laughing face, a mask he knew all too well. "What is your game now, jester?" A few beings held Aurum's respect, and even fewer he considered a threat, yet the being who lived but a few hundred leagues south was both. He doubted even he knew of Aurum's plans, but doubtless he would oppose them if he did know, a self-proclaimed god couldn't stand competition.

Aurum looked at the palm of his hand, there was but a single coin left, and on it was a symbol that he knew all too well. Three coins, the symbol of house, the symbol of his destiny. "Where is it?" He muttered angrily, looking at the coin in his hand. He tossed it upon the map and closed his eyes. 
When he opened them again, he looked down to see where fate had taken him. A grin stretched across Aurum's face as he looked at the map, littered with gold. "Of course it is." Aurum turned from the map, his attention now focused towards bigger things. Centuries of work were coming to fruition, and Aurum was at the precipice of his ultimate destiny. He shut the doors behind him, the last candle sizzling out between his fingers.


As the gilded doors slammed shut, all that was left was a map dotted with kings and queens, plans and strategies, destinies and duels, alone in the dark.