Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Vallen, Taemar

"*KENMATH! PREPARE A FEAST! ZEHE HAS DIED AND WE NEED TO FEED HIS MURDERERS*!" King Gregor boomed upon re-entering his crooked castle. He threw Zehe's limp body at Kenmath. Kenmath screamed in agony before Zehe's corpse crashed into him and knocked him to the ground. His head cracked on the stone floor and he twitched in pain. "Get up, you lazy excuse for a servant! We have dozens of mouths to feed only a handful on hours!" 

"Y-yes, my liege. Anything for my king... I live to serve you and only you," Kenmath rasped from the ground. He gathered Zehe's form in his arms and sobbed for his lost son. "THEY SHALL PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID TO YOU!" Kenmath screamed to the heavens, his voice echoing through the dark, dusty corridors. "*Arrrghhh*!" He heaved Zehe over his frail shoulders and began to make his way to the kitchen to begin preparing the feast. Spitze galloped behind, chittering quietly for his fallen brother. 

"The loss that was inflicted upon the *Blood Breed* Will not be forgiven," King Gregor murmured darkly. He gave one last passing glance to the crowd outside before retiring to his bedchambers to get ready for the impromptu royal dinner. 


*The East Chambers*

Prince Auburn and Princess Wilhelmina began braiding flowers in each other's hair upon hearing that they would have *Royal guests* At dinner. Wilhelmina's dark locks were adorned with wild thistles and daisies while Auburn's red hair was plaited down to his waist with irises and bogweed. They looked like a pair of spring sprites that had just been spat out of the forest.

"I think those are enough flowers," Wilhelmina breathed, chewing hard on her lower lip and sucking the blood that bloomed. Auburn merely stared at her as he plucked an iris from behind his ear and crushed it between his thumb and second finger. He used the purple stain to paint his eyelids. 

*The West Chambers*

Princess Walburga stared blankly ahead, mouth slightly ajar. She could no longer feel the bedbugs biting at her legs, causing dark dots of her blood to stain the sheets beneath her. Her body remained paralyzed and her mind absent with occasional cuts of the harsh voice that told her to jump from the tower so many moons ago. Her left pigtail was growing back, though it remained significantly shorter than the right one.

 She heard Zehe die. 

"*Oooooouuuuaaa*," She creaked, monotone and sorrowful. Her mouth dropped upon further, revealing a shard of hog bone stuck between her bottom two teeth. 


*The Kitchen*

Kenmath stood atop his ladder, stirring the oversized cauldron in which he cooked all of the Grunewald meals. He stirred fast and relentlessly. "I shan't stop," He said, "Not for anything in the land. I shan't stop."

Spitze sat on his haunches in the far corner whimpering as his bulbous eyes blinked in Kenmath's direction. He scratched his overgrown nails on the ground. 

"*Stop that this instant, Spitze*!" Kenmath barked harshly, "Stop it or else I will rap you on your head with the ladle again!" Spitze immediately stopped. 

"I mustn't stop, for dinner shall be perfect," Kenmath said. The murky contents of the cauldron spun at a dizzying speed. Kenmath reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of stinging nettles into the stew. "Hog gravy with a kick..."

*The King's Royal Chambers*

King Gregor was engulfed in a brown fur coat and wore his brass crown upon his head. He positioned it so that the dent was facing the back. He combed his fingers through his beard to break loose any crumbs and other food items that had been hidden within. He wanted to look presentable in case Anyanka Durkhan or Elle Romanov were among the attendees of his dinner. "It has been too long since I fucked a queen," Gregor said to himself, grinning widely at his reflection in the mirror. He then busied himself with scrawling an illegible, grammatically horrific invitation for dinner. He wrote:

*The Lord Vuagh is commanded by the king to formalily invite the forein royals to a evening feast at his castel tonite. Thoze who want to be let in to the counsel will be in attendance.*

"Father?" Princess Wilhelmina knocked lightly on the doors to his chambers before entering. King Gregor looked up and placed his quill roughly back into the inkpot, spilling a bit of ink on the corner of his invitation. "How are we to feed—"

"Ah, Willy. Give this to Kenmath and have him invite all of those intruding royals to our dinner tonight," King Gregor said, tossing the parchment to his daughter. Wilhelmina attempted to grab it to no avail. It slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the ground. She bent to pick it up, having some trouble getting a grasp on it. "I spied some of the banners that invaded our lawns,"

King Gregor said, rubbing his palm against his chin as he spoke, "The Southern Isles, for one. A shitblood pirate for a king. He runs at the first sign of trouble. He fancies himself an intelligent man, but he is nothing more than a coward. There's another coward on the throne in Northern Feyshore. Black. The Romanovs have him pressed between their two fingers. He has yet to realize that the Romanovs are by far the worst thing to happen to Feyshore. Slaughter them all before they slit his throat in his sleep and he'd be freeing his kingdom from their hidden tyranny... Let's see, who else? I have yet to see Terresol. Queen Clara Lane? Irrelevant. I doubt her presence at the council would be noted. Ah, then there's the duchess of Astoria. Another weakling. She will fall to her knees in front of any man who asks," He chuckled. Wilhelmina furrowed her brows, finally unsticking the parchment from the ground. "I for one am most looking forward to potentially seeing the king of the north. A man who could not keep his own brother in check. Marshall Carter is inept with a whale for a daughter and Felix Carter is a greedy fool. Neither of them will last. A worthy king will rise while they are busy bickering. "

"Mhm," Wilhelmina said. 

"King Dennon Bigsby of Ibethiel, now that's a man who knows how to recognize a woman with power. The child murdering Queen Lucrezia Scheer. That's a woman who knows how to run a kingdom, **That's the old ways**," He said, turning to point to Wilhelmina, "The moment that woman pushes a boy out, you'll know the name of your husband!"

"...Mhm," Said Wilhelmina. King Gregor leaned back in his chair and regarded the hog banner that adorned the wall thoughtfully.

"The Grunewald name will never be taken from Taemar. We have the strength that they all wish they could possess. Our royal lineage stretches for thousands of years and will continue for thousands more. The old ways are lost upon all of the new royals. House Carter is the only other old house, besides us and the Scheers, and they are on the verge of collapse. Not us. We will always be here," Gregor said proudly. 

"Mhm...," Wilhelmina said lightly. She slipped out the door before he could ramble further.


*The Front Lawns* 

"HEAR YE, HEAR YE!" Kenmath cried in the direction of the royal tents. He waved the parchment frantically in the air. His stew was burning. A confused guard from the Isles approached and Kenmath thrust the invitation into his hands. "TELL EVERYONE!" He screamed over his shoulder as he darted back into the castle to rescue his food.
Michael
**Aria Griff**
*Vallen, Taemar*

With a wide grin, Aria gestured back to the roads. "Great! It is a bit of a walk, but not too far, thank the gods. Me cousin has me name booked in as a guest, or whatever it be." Shrugging, the hunter started off, walking along the grass. "Either way, we are getting fucking smashed tonight." 

She strode on, trekking over the grass until it eventually turned to cobblestone. Gwynt had eventually nestled back into her bag, wanting to not be eyed by the citizens of the kingdom. A bird like him would either make a pretty penny, or make a delicious dinner. No matter what, it was of the best interest to keep the avian close to his master's side. As they traversed through the crowd, the girl kept an eye on her surroundings, feeling the numbness from the whole drama slowly ebbing away. In its place, there was beginning to form a slight dread and panic as her mind was processing the events. 

*D-did I seriously do all that? Oh gods, were those...* The very though sickened her, and she could only swallow back the bile as they made their way to the place. Finally, after a few more moments, her eyes lighted up as she spied a familiar sign. "There! That be it!" Above them was a hanging sign, labeled **The Velvet Swine**. She turned back to her companions with a forced smile. "Let's head on in!"
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
The Islander Camp

 The first night had come and gone. The morning sun broke pale over the barren fields of Vallen, concealed by a slate of misty grey clouds. It hung lazily in the air, its dull blue light illuminating the camp below. What had once been a roaring bonfire and dancing circle was reduced to a pile of smoking ash and a ring of muddy stomping ground. Five men emerged from the King's tent and began to get the place back into a fine working order. Silently, they shifted boxes, dismantled tables, and began to heap every piece of wood, glass and hog into the pile of smoldering embers. They quickly caught light, and a thick column of grey smoke rose from the center of the camp, breathing life back into the tent city. The Pirate King had exited shortly behind them, and with half lidded eyes began to mill slowly around the camp. Ollie watched as the tip of Bradai's cane sunk repeatedly into the sallow earth, leaving a scattered line of dots beside his bootprints. His free hand was clasped behind his back in thought, and from the left side of his mouth hung a pipe. Then they came upon the body.

"Yee-ap." Bradai nodded slowly, a puff of thick white smoke escaped his lips. "I suppose what's why she was late to tha meeting, Ollie." 

The tip of his cane came up from the ground and found itself pressed gently between the ribs of the body below him. The body shifted from side to side, then lay steady. Bradai pursed his lips, and thrust the cane deep into his sister's side. She woke up then, with a harsh gasp of air followed by a series of closed mouth gags. Her hands slapped over her mouth and in a single motion, the King's sister flipped herself onto her hands and knees and began to vomit.

Her body wretched violently as her arms began to shake. When it appeared that she was done, a single Black Poppy moved from their position, stepping towards Gitten in an attempt to help her up. 

"Fuck off." Bradai said, shooing them away with his cane. The Poppy nodded and did as they were told, and retreated to the center of camp to play the violin. 

— 

"—and ferthermore I'm not fuckin' interested in what yew think is an acceptable _form a' decorum._ I don't care if I wake up this entire damn camp, yer pride be da—" Bradai watched as Ollie threw another bucket of freezing water onto his sister, the blood, vomit, and mud dripping off her naked body. His grip tightened around the pommel of his cane as he resisted the urge to strike her. Her eyes went wide as she gasped for air, running a cloth over her goose pimpled skin. She stood shivering in the wash basin in his tent. The Black Poppy standing by threw her a towel and another set a change of clothes down onto one of the two chairs in front of her brother's desk.

"One uff vhose tattooed witch shamans once said what you were fucking cruel trick by tha Tides Barer to test my patience. You are tha only fucking proof vhat 'e exists." Bradai muttered, rounding his desk. He fell down into the chair and fished the small pair of reading spectacles from his overcoat pocket. He perched them on the bridge of his nose and huffed busily. He removed a journal from the inside of his coat and began to flip through the pages. "Now, can we start tha _fucking_ meeting already?" He watched as his sister stepped out of the basin and began to put on the clothes he had picked out for her. The Poppy had come to assist her with her corset. In any other circumstance, Gitten would have protested, but the night of binge drinking seemed to make her more docile. 

The Pirate King waited until his sister was fully dressed and the Black Poppies were standing silently in the corner before he began his address. 

"Vhis Council will be dangerous, but 'opefully not for us. Most uff our enemies are not in attendance. 'ouse De Lancret won't come. Juliana will sit in 'er castle and wait for tha rest uff us to solve 'er problems. Vhey'll 'ave enough food to last forever, but their Shitbloods'll starve wiffin tha season. Vhey would never leave Anyse alone in vhose courts, let alone take 'er to Taem—" Bradai was cut off mid sentence by an Islander bursting through the flaps of his tent. 

The man was no older than twenty five, skin freckled and golden, with a head of nut brown hair and an unkempt goatee to match. "Message fer ye, yer Majest—" He yelped as the Black Poppies seized him, the scroll falling out of his hands. It rolled to the ground and against Gitten's boot. She wheezed as she leaned down to pick it up, and held it aloft.

"It says..." She held it closer to her face, "I cannot read." 

Ollie snatched it from her grasp and scanned over it quickly. "It says that we're allowed inside the castle. A Lady, perhaps from House Ulster but serving House Barrmount of the Iron Plains was the first to meet Gregor Grunewald." 

The Pirate King nodded, "And what fate did befall 'er?" 

Ollie pressed a finger to the parchment, "She was..." He clicked his tongue, "Nearly shot with an arrow, gouged with a tusk of a boar, and promptly excommunicated. She stood up for a Shitblood hunter who..." Ollie shook his head, "Apparently was trying to assassinate him, or poach children? That's what it says. It says that a hog child was murdered in the fray. Boy and beast." The secretary rolled up the parchment and handed it across the table, "Gregor has proposed a feast, and if we want to be a part of the Council, we should take our places in the castle today. Hopefully everyone will—" 

Bradai placed his hands on the table and sighed. He felt the glasses fall from his nose, caught by the thin gold chain that extended from his overcoat. He watched as they spin beneath him. 
The entire room was silent.

"Get tha fuck out uff my office." 

"Your Grace?" 

"All uff you. Get tha fuck out." Bradai heard as they all filed away, but slammed his balled fist on the table as he heard Gitten's chair shift. 

"Not you." He said. 

"You will go into tha castle to scope out a room. Once you find a room inside tha tower vhat doesn't contain some 'orrifying specter or demonic child, report back to me. I want a peaceful fucking Council and a day of rest before vhis dinner." 

"Aye, but it's just a din—" 

The look on the Pirate King's face was enough to stop her from speaking. "Make sure your men prepare us dinner beforehand. And bring a weapon before you go to the tower. 
Now go." 

Gitten rolled her eyes and sighed, tapping the daggers beneath her cloak and shoved off towards the castle.
Kathleen
Amicia De Blanc
Vallen, Taemar

Travel was new to Amicia, as was the sickness that came with it. Every bump and jostle of the cart made her stomach feel heavy and despite all the sun she had gotten she only seemed to grow paler by the day. As the trio had grown closer and closer to the city of Vallen - Amicia began to find ways to cope, spending most days trying to rub the blood stains from the bottom of the cart until her hands went red and cracked from the excessive water. Sore hands were a small price to pay though to avoid sickness.

When the cart eventually rolled into Vallen, Amicia watched the hustle and bustle of the city untouched by plague. It had been so long since she had seen so many people in such close proximity. Well, it had been a long time since she had seen so many living people, really.

When they soon stopped, Amicia assumed it was time to go. She threw the strap of her linen bag over her head and onto her shoulder, carefully climbing down from the cart and finding solace in the firm ground beneath her feet, though she would miss Campbell's occasional singing. She stood beside the front seats on Odette's side.

For a moment it seemed as though she could not speak, her tongue pressed behind her top front teeth until she managed a slow, careful,"Th... Ank you. Where can I find..." 

She searched for the word. Work, that was it. She had never thought of what she had done before as work it was simply how she lived. Preparing, cutting open, burying bodies. 

"Work- where can I find work?"