Lawrence
Kallophon Dikegora
Castle Grunewald

Kallophon watched the Wisdom drift away into the bustle of the room. For a moment, he felt apprehensive about what she had in store for him. History told that those used as the instruments of revolutions often ended up dead or destitute by the time the endeavour for which they risked it all was done. He imagined a dagger opening his jugular as he watched the cheering crowds, or the convulsions of his body as his cup of morning ale fell with a clatter, the poisoned liquid inside splashing across the tiles. Jazzy's words of warning echoed from the back of his mind.

He shook his head. Euphemos would be tut-tutting at him for his needless worrying and rumination. Besides, Kallophon wouldn't be plucking a single note for the Wisdom's devices if she didn't follow through and meet him later on. The murdered dead deserved their story told, yes, but doing so would have a powerful, even dangerous effect in the current climate. He needed to be sure if that was a way that he wanted to wield his power. For now, he knew exactly how he was about to use it.

He strode into the room. Briefly, he considered affecting a smile, but he chose to run along with his theme; an honest expression of his mournful feelings, not only for last night but for the times as a whole. He looked to one side, and then to the other, and froze in place when he saw Spitza standing guard. The sight of the creature's spindly form made him visibly shudder, and he felt his breakfast reconsidering its journey into his stomach. However, something about the Wisdom's soothing words and touch, and the sense that the gods were with him, filled Kallophon with strange confidence. Rather than continuing to quail before the creature, his face broke into a wicked grin.

His hand rose and gestured towards the gaunt figure. "Look, everyone!" He called. "The scraps from last night's meal have coalesced! Methinks the king should adopt it into his house as a third daughter. That is on the assumption that it is a maiden, of course." He stooped down to peer low at it, then pouted, batting his arm. "No matter, none would be able to tell so long as she wore the right wedding gown. Gregor would surely get a fine dowry from any other royal house were this elegant young woman the offer—arguably a beauty to rival Prince Auburn and Princess Wilhelmina *Combined!"*

He pointed towards the two royal children, and, hoping that anyone who could hear him would be directing their attention that way, gave a sharp glare at Spitza. He first presented the creature with the full, glaring length of his middle finger, then bunched his hand into a fist with his thumb wedged between his middle finger and forefinger, before biting the thumb angrily. Anyone who was from Terresol, or who knew of its culture, would recognise that as a gesture of extreme obscenity. "I'll kill you *And* Your bastard master, you bloody murderer!" He hissed quietly.

With that, he checked to make sure his tunic was tidy and walked over the nearest window, where he sat upon the edge of the sill and began idly tuning his instrument, throwing occasional glances at the attendees so he could maintain a vague feel for the room.
Edith
**Admiral Retto Elbaroda**
**The throne room, Vallen, Taemar**

The throne room had taken a slight air of buzzing anticipation and small talk as more and more people entered. Silence cut through the second any new party entered, but quickly the noise returned. He raised an eyebrow as a noble family sporting a Witherlands crest entered and called out to the woman in white he had noticed before. Sibyl, they said. No. Anna. Elbaroda leaned back into his chair as he looked to their daughter, then to the nooses. *'This isn' th' best place for children t' be righ' now'* He thought to himself before shrugging and turning back to his compatriots. Whether their daughter watched an execution or not wasn't his problem. 

He took a much more vested interest in Queen Charity Lane. Alone, and without that Wisdom Bradai had spoken to the night prior, or anyone else for that matter. If he were being honest, he didn't much care either way for the queen. She was a hell of a lot better than Kelwynd was. His king had mentioned the Serafina woman to the queen. Elbaroda had caught snippets of their conversation, and trade was certainly not the focal point of that conspiratory discussion. He smiled into his chalice of bloodwine as he took a sip. It was hard to tell whether he would sell the traitor out, or cover for her. At any rate, one could say anything about that council, but boring it was not. 

That dialogue was over and a new one with Bradai's ward, Mikhail began. It seemed to be serious because his king spirited Mikhail away in a hurry to discuss something. That was that, he supposed and turned back in his seat. Either he, or Admiral Gitten could easily cover for him until he returned, so that wasn't an issue in his mind. 

Alas, there entered the treacherous Wisdom, who stepped by Queen Charity. He had to admire her backbone for not only planning a political upheaval, but also reaching out to his King with the proposition he help her. If she succeeded, good. If not?

Oh well. She would certainly be executed for treason. Elbaroda didn't much care for traitors, but he supposed he had to admire her dedication to her gods. He caught Serafina's eye as she scanned the room, and made no other gesture than sipping on his wine. By all means, let her try. After all, scheming was in the job description for nobility, anyways. 

Then in came Kenmath with a wheelbarrow, and his blood curdled. Which bog did that vile bastard in it crawl out of? Not to mention his absolutely underhanded comment towards the injured queen. He had the attitude to match his appearance, it seemed. Something about that 'boy' set him with unease. Be it the wheelbarrow, bloody stump for a leg, or the pompous, self righteous attitude. 

Elbaroda's gaze was averted from him when someone called out from the entrance. A fellow bard by the looks of it. Though his getup appeared rather dreary. The kohl around his eyes, dark attire, and the silver pendant gave the appearance of a man in mourning, which Elbaroda thought was all too fitting for that council. What the bard did next surprised him however, as he insulted the revile figure by the door, king Gregor, and his children all in one fell swoop. "Ah." He tutted aloud. "He 'as a death wish, i' seems." The jokes, while admittedly were extremely funny, insulting the King, much more so his *Children*, residing over the country one is in, is by no means a wise choice, especially for a bard. If the king didn't take it well, there would be no diplomatic immunity for him.
Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

He was unsure if all of the attendees had arrived, but frankly, he did not give a good god damn. He grunted and stood from his chair, sending it flying back onto the ground with a clatter. His hefty palms were planted firmly on the table and his shoulders heaved as he breathed due to his minimal exertion. "Alright, alright. Pipe down, now," He said, without an ounce of decorum. The murmuring guests quieted, some looking at him with offense plain on their faces. His piggy eyes looked away. 

Spitza chittered angrily in the corner, staring at the strumming bard. "Calm, calm," Kenmath soothed it, passing his gnarled fingers over its nose. 

"I'm sure it has not escaped even you," King Gregor began, looking at the royals, "That we have a duchess with a bite taken out of her and a boy without one of his limbs. Now, I opened my castle doors to you all with the expectation that you would treat us as honored guests do. Instead, I received no notice of your impending arrival, I lost Zehe to a maniac in one of your camps, my hog dangle was blasphemed, many of you failed to conceal your disgust at the food I served, the Araedian noble disrespected my halls by butchering my guests in the night. Throughout the night, a grand lot of you openly announced your disgust for my kingdom and my castle. Oh, you never want to come back to Taemar? I bloody well didn't invite you in the first place. And *Now*, a few of you have demonstrated *Tardiness*. Where are the Whylder's? We announced quite clearly when the council would start," King Gregor fumed. "You all pride yourselves on your blood status and fine clothing, you think you're the picture of propriety. I've had peasants behave themselves more properly than you lot. I do not think that I was an ungracious host, I do not think that I offended any of you. No, you simply decided not to respect me the moment you stepped into my halls."

He paused, catching his breath. Prince Auburn and Princess Wilhelmina gazed calmly at him. 

"They're full of jealousy and spite, my lord!" Kenmath cried shrilly from the corner and he continued to try and tame Spitza. 

"*QUIET*!" King Gregor boomed at his servant. He recollected himself and motioned toward the door. "We're having the assassin brought in. There will be a trial. As it occurred in my halls, I will have the final say on her fate, though I will take your opinions into heavy consideration. Happy fucking council day." He picked his chair back up and sat down heavily with his arms crossed over his substantial stomach. With eyes focused on the door, he waited.
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
The Castle Grunewald

"A war will upon us. We may discuss it 'ere today." Bradai looked up as the throne room boomed with the voice of the Hog King. He was berating them, he was sure of it. He grit his teeth and took a knee, so that they were looking directly at each other. 

"I'm not sure 'ow much of you is really in vhere. I rescued you when I 'eard vhat you were still alive." The Pirate King stood slowly, one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on the wall. "When I saw you after your arrival from tha Norff I fhought vhat maybe you 'ad changed for tha worse, and vhat maybe tha same fing vhat 'appened to your favher is happening to you." The Pirate King stepped up the stairs slowly, and waved from his hip. Through the arrow slits of the spiraling tower, the sun began to crack the film of bloated grey clouds. As Bradai passed them, he threw the curtain across. "But I doubt it." He looked back at him briefly, "I fink you're a good boy. I fink you're a smart boy, and one day, fink you'll be a King. But good boys don't make good Kings." He paused. The boy was right here, but Bradai could feel his ghost still around him. 

"It will be painful and unfair, but I can't stand to see you sitting next to your muvher while she chases after tha man vhat left you. Walking out uff meetings because a Ramsalot and a Romanov attacked 'er. She isn't doing you any great service and I—" He looked at the boy staring back at him and sighed, placing a hand on his forehead to shield his eyes. When he placed his hands back at his waist, his grey eyes were steeled with resolve. 

"You 'ave my name." He felt a weight come off his chest. He brought his voice down to a hush.

"You carry around my Shitblooded name because I warded you. You are the only Maiff vhat isn't an Islander. I fhought I should strip it when your muvher came to retrieve you, but I did not. I am calling my banners to war, and you are my bannerman. My Islanders will come to my aid, and I will want you vhere. We will win, it will be a quick and simple war, for a just cause that my people support. Do not tell anyone." He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. _"Kill the boy, Mikhail. Become tha man."_ 

Bradai and Mikhail quickly headed up the last few steps and quietly took their spots at the tables, ready for the first event on the itinerary.
John
**King Dennon Bigsby, Queen Lucrezia Scheer, and Kirk Pinewood
Grunewald Tower, Grunewald Castle**

"Assassin?" Kirk asked as they sat down after Gregor's outburst.

"I'm starting to think it wasn't a pig that bled all over the hallway last night," Dennon responded.

"It seems a bit odd, springing a trial on us like this," Lucrezia whispered. "How can an informed decision be made if it only happened last night?"

"Why do you care? You're going to say guilty anyway," Dennon retorted.

Lucrezia beamed. "You know me so well," She said, pinching her husband's cheek.

"You'd be that careless with someone's life?" Kirk commented. "All because you want them to put on a show for an execution?"

"It's not *My* Kingdom." The queen answered dismissively.
Heather
Cecilia Lyannah
Grunewald Dungeons

The wolf laid against her stomach on the cool dungeon floors for what felt like days. There was no visible view of the skies and not a flicker of light hit the cells to indicate the night had passed. During her time in the enclosed space, the shifter managed to feast herself on the rodents that scurried along the floor. It was difficult at first but Cecilia eventually learned patience as she waited until the wounds on her back and shoulder had fully healed. The pain in her lung however, only diminished slightly. Lifting herself up until she stood, Cecilia looked towards the bars that encaged her and gave her head a slight tilt as she studied them. There was very little space between each bar so there wouldn't be any chance for her bird form to squeeze through like she had hoped and the thickness of the metal made it impossible to tear down in her weakened state. 

Her ears perked when she heard the voices and footsteps coming from outside the dungeon before the doors began to open. She could only assume they were coming for her as she was the only being currently locked away in the cells so without giving it a second thought, Cecilia began to shift. When the door opened and revealed a group of armed men, she noted that a few of them were in fact the Pirate King's islanders through their scent along with King Gregor's guards. The shifter didn't miss the silver weapons the islanders carried with them and knew it was futile to attempt an escape while surrounded with weapons that could harm her while she still struggled to breath without causing herself pain. Stupid Heath just *Had* To stab her in the lung and keep the sword there.

She stood nude as they entered her cell and brought forward chains. Luckily for Cecilia, they were made of iron as the shackles tightened against her wrists without burning her skin. Dropping her shoulders, Cecilia let out a breath of relief. She didn't bother complaining as they began dragging her through the castle with no clothes on her body seeing as the only reason she wore clothes in the first place was for the sake of others around her. Reaching the throne room, the shifter noticed many had already arrived before her and instantly spotted Nickles stuck in a wheelbarrow with his stump of a leg hanging out. She couldn't help the small grin as it made its way onto her lips before instantly disappearing. *How's the leg, Rat?*
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
The Council Room

There were murmurs as the naked women was paraded through the room. There was a gruesome scar on her right breast. It appeared that she had been stabbed through her lung. As she passed by, Bradai noticed that there was also an exit wound on her back. He reshuffled his papers in front of him.
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald, Vallen 

The Wisdoms eyes widened as the naked woman entered the throne room and she turned to look to the side, blushing. "By the Gods, is there no decency here?" She muttered.
Kathleen
Valentine Godwin
The council room.

Hearing the rustling of chains and thudding of heavy feet, Viola looked to the doorway - only to look away once more (red as a rhubarb) when a nude woman was brought in. How *Humilating*.

So, without quite thinking, Viola tugged her fine doublet off and stood up, striding over once the parade seemed to be over,"Have you lot no shame?" She asked, deepening her voice and faking whatever confidence she could as she fixed the doublet over the girl's shoulders,"Allowing a lady of any standing to be paraded around without so much of a shift to keep her dignity?"

With one last frown she returned to her seat.
Edith
**Admiral Retto Elbaroda**
**The council room, Vallen, Taemar**

Elbaroda rubbed his neck as Cecelia was brought into the room. He silently reminded himself to not become a prisoner for the Grunewalds. She didn't look to care that she was naked, but that wasn't what his mind was on. She looked steeled, and he wondered what sort of assassin she was. The Queen's wounds looked as if an animal had taken a bite out of her shoulder. He found it strange that any assassin would try something like that.
Lawrence
Kallophon Dikegora
Castle Grunewald Throne Room, Vallen

Kallophon was a little bit disappointed when that splendidly-dressed fellow not only sacrificed a key part of his outfit but put an end to the woman's indecent exposure. He'd hoped to see more of the uptight patriarchy's scandalised quaking and sputtering. Still, he respected the man for his kind heart. With a fiendish smile, he looked over to see King Gregor's reaction.
Rosa
Warden Persephoen Timtams
The Council Room

The Warden watched as a blushing Azaryan wrapped their cloak around the naked prisoner. "Thugsby, babe." She whispered, watching as the man took his seat right next to her boyfriend. "Tell the Azaryan that she did the right thing."

"Haha, okay babe." Thugsby gave a slow wink and he turned to face the Azaryan. Thugsby leaned over and coughed into his fist in an attempt to win Viola's attention. "My babe thinks that you're something special. Think about that." The couple returned their attention to the prisoner.
Kathleen
Valentine Godwin
The Council Room.

At the cough, Viola sat as fair away from the man beside her as her chair would allow her,"I, well, I, uh, hope she thinks the same for you." 

*And I do hope that's not catching*, she wanted to add.
Katherine
**Anyanka Durkhan
Vallen, Taemar**

Mikhail had stepped out with Bradai, and she was all too aware of her son's movement into the hallway. "What do you know of that?" She asked Angelica, who eyed the doorway but didn't respond immediately. 

"Nothing, yet." 

It was a good answer, and Anya watched when the pair reentered. She didn't have time to look much on it however, as the shifter entered soon after. She froze, surprised at the chill that ran through her veins at the sight of the shifter again. Almost immediately after rage flickered through her, and the sigils on her arms took to the now-familiar burn of magic in the air.
Heather
Cecilia Lyannah
Castle Grunewald

When a piece of clothing was laid over her shoulders, Cecilia looked towards the man and gave a small smile as she faked relief. 

"Thankyou." She whispered before glancing towards the Duchess she had attacked the night before. She was surprised to see her yet kept any hint of her shock hidden from her features, having believed she would have remained in a bed with others tending to her wound. This would be an interesting trial to say the least as she could see the rage burning through her eyes towards the shifter.
Katherine
**Mikhail Durkhan-Maith
Vallen Taemar**

The mention of war made his breath hitch, and he wondered if _that_ was the reason for the nasty wound his mother was sporting. Maith took to his knee, and continued. Talking of him in that way, he was all too aware of how uneasy Bradai Maith was around him. He was worried he'd changed - and he had. He was worried he was like his father - and he was. He was trying to say there was good in him still, but Mikhail himself couldn't see past the grave dirt under his nails to see himself properly on a throne. 

In his eyes, his mother would never die. He'd never be king because he didn't _need_ to be. But watching the sun his Bradai's face, he was also suddenly very aware of the years that service had done to the man, and that age wasn't his friend. 

He mentioned having thought of taking his name, and Mikhail swallowed, bracing himself for the confirmation that he would. When it didn't come, his brows furrowed. _You're calling me to war?_ He thought, and before he could even question it the conversation was over and Bradai was ushering him back into the room. He paused in the doorway, feeling shell-shocked at the announcement and the secrecy of it that he was supposed to hold. Bradai returned to the Islanders, and Mikhail moved to rejoin his mother, his silver gaze glassy as he replayed the conversation in his mind, oblivious to the shifter as she entered or the start of the trial.