Ronald
Cyprien de Lysse - The Grey Hills

Tic-tac... Tic-tac... The sound of the ornate pendulum was distracting. Normally, the monotonous sound would allow Cyprien to focus on his work, add a sense of pacing to the turning of pages, to the waxing of seals. Not today. The new pendulum was just annoying. 

But Cyprien could not get rid of it. The luxurious machine had taken weeks to complete, and had been commisioned with the express purpose of serving as the centerpiece for Cyprien's study. Jeanne would've gotten rid of it. She never used a dress more than three times before tossing it away. But Cyprien wasn't like that. His father had taught him austerity, and now Cyprien struggled with living lavishly. He bought expensive food and clothes, but it pained him to let things go to waste. Money, wine, dresses... He felt like a knight wearing an aristocrat's mask.

Perhaps that's why focusing on work cleared his mind. When it came to Northwind and Terrasol, there was no such thing as surplus: Sol needed more Iron, the north needed more food, he needed more men. Every ressource had to be placed where it was needed the most. As the power of John the Burgh waxed ever stronger, the threat of Northwind rising above raiders and petty warlords grew ever dire. 

His fingers went to a letter on his left. An invitation for a tourament in the Southern Isles, by request of the Pirate King. An uncrowned monarch. _'He must've sent thousands of those'_, thought Cyprien. Clearly, he was trying to earn his rag-tag government some recognition by hosting events mimicking those of the mainland. Normally, a backwater such as the isles would be beneath him, but Cyprien was desperate. Sol wouldn't hear his requests for reinforcements, in spite of the severity of the northern threat. Although, maybe, something good could come out of all of this.

"Julien," Told Cyrien to his valet. "Summon my daughter."

"Sure lord, I'll bring Jeanne right away."

"No. Not Jeanne. Bring Fleur."
Eric
Fleur De Lysse
The Grey Hills

Much of Fleur's time was spent in her room, fixated upon a new book or something else to keep her mind occupied; the small actions bringing the girl joy. She did this mostly because her mother did not like the young girl outside of the keep much, though it was often she managed to sneak out and back in without her mother's knowledge, despite the punishment that would occur if the older woman found out. Today was not one of those days, however. The girl was set at a painting easel; a new pass-time she had expressed interest in, as she did every so often. Frequently, Fleur would find something she liked, just to grow bored of it quickly and pick it up another time. Her room was littered with unfinished writings, letters that would never be sent, as well as books laid upon the floor opened to the page she had left off. Eventually, she would finish these books, though it took quite a while.

The girl's mind was pulled away from the painting as a quiet knock sounded from the door, and a voice had announced it's presence. She recognized the voice as her father's valet, and placed her brush down to be picked up again later, her head turning to the door. 

"You may enter." Fleur called out politely, folding her hands upon her lap as her eyes shifted around the room, hoping her father was not with him to see the despair state of her room.
Ronald
The valet made his way into her room, seemingly unphased by all the disorder.

"Lord Cyprien wishes to see you, lady. He awaits you in his study," He said. "He wishes to see you alone."

As soon as he had entered, the valet dissapeared behind the door. His voice betrayed no emotion. There was no telling what Fleur could expect upon meeting her father. Then again, her father had never been too warm towards his children.
Eric
Fleur kept her eyes upon the man as he entered, nodding once at his request, before turning to place her paintbrush within a cup of water as to not dry. The girl stood, wiping the paint from her hands, glancing at herself in the mirror. Fleur looked good be in slight disarray, her dress wrinkled and hair a bit messy, but it did not differ from her usual look. Though she was a lady, she had grown quite used to her mother's scoldings.

Fleur was a bit nervous. Meeting with her father was always an interesting experience, and almost never good. Though, it was very rare, and Fleur did not know much of what was in store for her. She hadn't done anything extremely wrong as of late- to be honest, she's actually been quite good.

Smoothing the wrinkles from her dress, she tucked a few pieces of silver hair behind her ear, heading down the hallway to her father's study.

Her knuckles softly rapped on the door, announcing her presence before her hand rested on the handle, pushing the door open and stepping in quietly.

"You wanted to see me, father?"
Ronald
Cyprien de Lysse - The Keep Sempiternal of the Grey Hills

"Indeed." Cyprien welcomed his daughter without bothering to look away from the papers. "Sit down."

He gestured towards a chair arranged in front of his desk. It was one of the chairs from small dining hall near the waterfall. It was meant for Fleur to feel at ease. In the prenatural way she seemed to be aware of the virtues and flaws of even the most insignificant things, she had once mentionned they were her favorite. It was a typical display of affection for Cyprian: caring in his own way, but never showing any outward emotion. Some people, like his son Bastien, never quite noticed the subtleties.

"It has been brought to my attention, that you have come to feel unhappy here at the Keep. Is that so, Fleur?"

She was the only one of her siblings that Cyprien adressed by name. He still saw her as a child. As soon as she reached the age of her sister Jeanne, there was no doubt he would begin to refer her as 'daughter'.
Eric
Fleur glanced around the study. She hadn't been in it very often, and had always admired the sheer amount of books. She had her own collection that was quite expensive, but it would be that she most likely wouldn't read the majority of these books. Once in a while, her father allowed her to borrow one, but she always found her own more entertaining.

Doing as she was told, the girl took a seat in the chair, taking a moment to admire it once again. The girl let her hand brush over the arm, leaning back in it, admiring the softness of the cushioning. It was at that moment she knew she was not here for something that had gotten her in trouble- if she was, her father would not have gone through placing this specific chair in his study.

When the older man spoke, Fleur's eyes moved from the woodwork to her father, gracing him with a gentle smile. 

"Not to be ungrateful, father, but it is true. I love the keep. However, sometimes being cooped up takes its toll." She admitted, honestly. Though she did not know what she was summoned for, his question threw her a bit off guard.
Ronald
Cyprien de Lysse - the Keep Sempiternal of the Grey Hills.

"House affairs need me in the Southern Isles a few weeks from now," Said Cyprien. "The... Ruler, of that place is organizing a tournament. Like the one we have here for Greenfest, but much bigger. I figured you could you use some of that tropical air, and come with me."

He paused

"Your mother might object to that... Of course, but I believe it's necessary for you to be away from the Keep a while. Even if only so the Marin nobility know you're real. Might be good for when you need someday need to find a suitor. You don't want to end like your cousin, do you?"

Fleur's cousin, Lyra de Lysse, was infamous among the high society of the Grey Hills. Decades ago, she was suspected for the dissapearence of her twin sister Agnes, and roused up a scandal when she eloped with a young man from House Koern that her father had assigned as her bodyguard. Neither House de Lysse nor House Koern recognized their union, and since then, they have lived in exile somewhere north of the Ash Hills.

Fleur was familiar with the tale, but not because of gossip and hearsay, as Cyprien believed. She had learned the tale from her mother Selene, who used it as one of the many examples meant to show how the outside world was harsh and unforgiving.
Eric
Fleur De Lysse
The Grey Hills

"Really?" The girl's eyes brightened, barely able to contain her excitement. Leaning forward in the chair she set upon, she managed to compose herself as he continued to speak. 

Nodding softly at his question, a smile spread to her lips. It was going to be her first time away from the keep, let alone to the south? She heard it was beautiful there, from what she had read in her books. But her mother always would tell her how dangerous it is. 

"Of course I don't, father. I would absolutely love to accompany you. I think it would be a fantastic experience and will be able to show mother how much I have grown as a lady." Fleur nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As much as her mother liked to quip about it, Fleur quite kept up with her studies, and knew many of the mannerisms that were considered polite. Sometimes, she just did not do them out of spite. 

The girl could barely keep her excitement hidden, but she would not break her composure in front of her father. The warm feeling in her chest made her feel like she was about to burst.
Melanie
John De Burgh
Burgh

 Serene silence followed the sensational maneuver. Facing outwards from John, the soldiers stood in their hundreds, awaiting the calamity of war. Breaking the tranquility was the sound of a man in the woods, barking orders that John could not quite decipher. The Regency Army had long trained to apply the mixed formation and was now ready to risk everything to test its practicality. At the apex of each branch, the most reputed warriors in the Army bared arms. Even they could not hold down the look of restlessness that came upon their visage. Coupled with the bellowing commands, John heard the whinny of frightened horses about the woods caused by his arrow volley, no doubt. "The Wolfmen were never mounted warriors..." He whispered to himself in surprise. John waited to see how their Cavalry performed with great anticipation. 

 Atop Solmyr, John did not look a merry sight. His face did not deliver an expression of excitement, nor of thirst for blood. Instead, his eyes fluttered warily across the battlefield at every detail, every blade of grass, and every rustling bush. Solmyr, in a sudden panicked jolt, reared up not a moment before the Wolfmen poured out from the green in their thousands. As they had in the last battle, they were preceded by the screeching and hollering emblematic of a northern barbarian army. Packed tightly in leather shields, it looked as if Tharn stole a page out of John's playbook. Indeed, the barbarians learned from their previous encounter that they must fight fire with fire to defeat the Regent. Upon seeing this, the auxiliary commander of the Cavalry shot John what appeared to be a relieved smirk. The horsemen knew that today would be their day and finally saw the chance to face other riding warriors on the field.

Upon the first contact, the attackers bound the Northmen like a spring. Shields and swords collided, creating an ear-splitting reverberation. Holding back, John's forces dug heels into the dirt to maintain their position. "Ease!" John roared to his subordinate leaders, who reciprocated the command. The Army voluntarily gave ground, pushing the forces deeper into the center to their Lord. Sacrificing position for stability, John was ready to reveal the new tactic he and his generals had created. Once their position was solidified, cohort commanders began the attack. On the front lines, each soldier made an individual assault against the barbarian they were engaging before retreating to the back of the line. The next soldier assumed their place in line and continued the assault. As a result, each soldier had their moment to recover in their formation before repeating the process.

Despite creating a death machine on the field, the Wolfmen never ceased to pour out of the surrounding forest. Casualties were in John's favor, but his troops continued to give ground. It was becoming increasingly difficult to sustain the formation after each Barbarian wave made its attack. Off to his right flank, an unplanned commotion had nearly startled the Lord off of his horse. Commander Dagmar made the bold decision to break formation unexpectedly, allowing around fifty barbarians into a sea of Northern soldiers. Horsemen took this opportunity to slaughter those still fighting with their pikes and retain the remaining prisoners. John had an excess number of restless barbarian captives behind his lines that eyed him with a deathly stare. Cavalrymen began to scream in anguish, pikes aimed at the Wolfmen they had in their custody. Their commander rode to a stunned John, begging for orders.

"My Lord, the Cavalry is overwhelmed. The barbarians have mounted warriors that are picking at our lines. We need to respond." He screamed over his shoulder.

"Damned Dagmar." John cursed, having been put into a moral dilemma. His eyes beamed to his soldiers switching about the battlefield like nimble cats, inching closer and closer to the center. 

"*Kill them all.*" The Regent said, rearing his steed to face the prisoners. Shocked, the commander gazed at John with an unsure expression. "**DO IT NOW.**" 

And with that, cavalrymen speared dozens of unarmed prisoners of war before returning to the battle. As if it were nothing, John returned to command. His archers, who had been made less purposeful by the shield walls, still had a purpose yet. If the horsemen could be incapacitated, it would leave room for a cavalry charge on the front lines, ultimately providing an opportunity to advance. Before the command to draw could be given, John saw his real reprieve.

Levi, you magnificent bastard," John quietly muttered.

 Atop the hill, Levi's men stood at the ready exactly as John ordered. It was almost too good to be true. In a mad descent of soldiers, Burgh's area produced a blast of noise so loud that the whole Kingdom would hear. The Wolfmen were caught in the middle of an onslaught. John's soldiers, in a moment of newfound confidence, began to advance. He ordered the entire formation to expand and reclaim the battlefield.