Joann
**Siona O'Callaigh
Road from Vallen, Taemar**

Siona rode alongside Marsila, occasionally glancing over to see how "Levi" Was. At least he seemed to be breathing, but she questioned how dangerous he really was if wounds to the hands had taken him out like that. But, it was what it was. All that mattered now was they find this doctor friend of Marsila's and tend to "Levi's" Hands. 

It didnt take long, though the day did seem to be coming to a close, before they found they way to a large caravan along the end of the road and Marsila began to slow her horse down, the horse Siona was riding following suit. They came to a stop outside one wagon, and Marsila called out to its occupant, and received a quick response from the woman inside about not being "Decent." Siona found it frivolous, though with the way her hair always stuck out at all angles no matter what she did with it, Siona also figured part of it was jealousy. No matter what, she had always appeared like a wild haired hermit, and she figured she probably always would. 

However, Siona could give credit where credit was due. Just by glancing at "Levi," Whoever this woman was was able to discern that "Levi" Had been in a fight. Motioning for them to follow, and to bring "Levi" Inside her wagon, the woman ducked back inside just as quickly as she had come out. Watching a moment, Siona looked back towards Marsila, before swinging her leg over the horse and dropping to the ground, her old worn out boots kicking up a little puff of dust from the road. "Come on," She said, "I'll help you bring him in."
Kendall
Lord Eric Stafford
A Catch up Post in Vallen

Eric had been silently watching the trial next to his wife. He eyes following everyone he spoke, preferring not to speak since he was here to advise and his wife had taken most of that role. Though, if he'd been asked, putting the shifter to death was the most fitting and expedient sentence. Eric was surprised by Heath Romanov not wanting the shifter to be put to death, while also being surprised by some paladin wanting her. It was sort of perplexing that anyone wanted it alive, simply executing her and moving on would be much easier. 

It wasn't until Anya had stood up that Eric looked back towards his queen in time to see the glint of metal exchanged between his wife and queen. By the time Eric had fully realized that it was a small dagger being exchanged between the two Anya was well on her way toward the shifter, but no one rose to stop her and Angelica seemed completely calm. It felt surreal, maybe everyone else was just stunned?

Anya then stabbed the shifter and stormed out with Queen Lane in tow and the verdict was announced along with an intermission. Eric initially stayed near his wife, listening to her explain the reasoning to Mikhail.

At some point during the intermission, Eric pulled his wife to the side and said "Angelica, next time we plan on doing something crazy in a public forum, please let me know so I can be ready for it?" He requested in the normal calm voice he spoke in around her, before the two went back to their seats for the continuation of the council. Sitting quietly for the queens return he looked up at her, surprised at her return but welcoming it.
Katherine
Angelica Stafford
Council Room

Anyanka seemed content to return to the meeting, and while Angelica didn't necessarily disagree that she should be in the room, she didn't think _now_ was the best time. 

After all, she looked on the bring of exhaustion. She pressed her lips together and looked to Zane when he spoke, her hand moving to Eric's thigh. 

"I hate to agree with Harmattan, but you look worse for wear." She said softly, and Anya gave a small shrug, her eyes on the somehow runny and somehow thick soup being served. 

"Eric, darling, do you want to trade seats? If she needs someone to catch her on the way down I won't be able to hold her." She murmured, having turned to her husband.
Kendall
Eric Stafford
Council room

"Of course." Eric replied, shifting seats with his wife to sit next to Anya. "If you need any help, just let me know." Eric offered to Anya in a low voice before turnning his eyes to the soup. 

Eric took a breathe and the smell filled his nostrils. For a moment, it took him back to his childhood in the Taemarian countryside near Lord Storm's castle. Eric took a taste of the soup and paused, letting the taste sit on his tongue for a moment. He looked to Angelica after a moment. "Huh, just like my mother used to make." Eric said, his spoon stirring idly for a moment before taking another half spoonful.
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Council Room

She watched as the Staffords changed seats and sighed. "Does _anyone_ on my council wish me to be here?" She questioned, her voice harsh and low as she looked to Zane, then Eric, and lastly Angelica.

"If you weren't wounded, yes. But I worry about it." Angelica said plainly, unafraid to speak first. 

"I'm _fine._" Anya insisted, and produced two vials from her pockets. "Danico gave me tonics to help." She added, pocketing them both.

"What are they?" Angelica asked, and Anya gave a half shrug.

"I dunno."

"Oh _good_."
Kendall
Eric Stafford
Council Room

"If you say you're fine, you're fine, your grace. I trust your judgment on your health." Eric said, knowing he wouldn't be able to talk her out of being at the council. "I only ask that if you can't take being here, you let me help you back to your room." 

Eric took half a spoonful of the soup and then pushed it away, his stomach aching. _I cannot wait to go home._
Joan
Zane Harmattan
Council Room

"Personally, I don't think you should be here. Your arm was almost ripped off, you look horrible, and you're trusting an alchemist who left Astoria." Zane shrugged a bit before glancing at Anya. "But you're also incredibly stubborn, so it's not like we can force you back."

With that the man faced the rest of the council again, stretching his shoulders once more.
Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Council Room

"Alright, Grand Duchess Anyanka Durkhan? You're looking a bit green under the gills!" Gregor called, his ruddy face twisted into a gleeful grin. He turned back to Lord Wrencrest. "You can take your time, but by gods, at least begin reading before the duchess keels over. I think we're working with a short timespan, judging by the looks of her." 

He laughed, jovially, tauntingly, menacingly.
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Council Room

She hadn't expected to hear Gregor way her name, and she looked with a smile. "I've been worse, but thank you for your concern, King Grunewald." As she said this, her hand clenched on the fabric of her dress beneath the table, wanting the damn Wrencrest to get on with it.
Kevin
Danico Felrantres
Castle Grunewald

Danico chuckled and shook his head at the conversation being had by the duchess and company.
Lawrence
**Lord Bennard Wrencrest
The Council Room**

"Ivagneth, are you *Staring* At him?" Bennard hissed. His daughter turned her face and glared.

"I wasn't staring at anyone!"

"This is a council meeting, young lady. It's unbecoming."

"Unbecoming? You can't say *Anything* To me about being 'unbecoming.' Why don't *You* Become a proper guest and get off your arse to make that speech you said you'd be giving?"

He started towards her, and, with a horrible, *Horrible* Flash in her eyes, she jerked away fearfully. Bennard shrank and gawked at her for a moment. Something built up inside his chest, and with an irritated sigh, he put his hands on the table and shot up. He made his way over to Gregor's throne, unfurling the scroll as he walked, and, once in place, he held the scroll before his eyes and began in a calm, measured voice:

"'The origin of this plague is unknown, but popular theories abound. Some point to the current heavenly alignment—the Seekers have yet to respond—while others perceive a divine punishment for some wrongdoing by mankind. The latter belief has inspired many unfortunate reactions to the epidemic, but more on this later.'"

*Bollocks.* He'd forgotten the formalities. Oh well, it was too late now.

"'The plague began from Terresol.'" *Born of the hubris and degeneracy of the Rumblood Queen's reign* As some claimed; this, they'd excluded from the text. "'It has already exterminated the dwarves. Its primary vehicle is apparently the rat—oft are the vermin spotted in areas shortly before outbreaks therein.

"'Medicine seems useless. Bloodletting, herbal incense, immersions in vinegar and in rosewater—all have been tried, without success. The use of pleasant-smelling flowers to ward off morbid stenches seems more and more questionable. Overborne by futility, many physicians refuse to treat any more patients.

"'There has been much religious violence, especially in the Witherlands. To many Northmen, the gods are punishing them for their tolerance of outlanders. These fanatics are emboldened by the rise of the Lord of Wingsway and his ludicrous claims about the gods. Pogroms have been carried out against Midlandmen and, particularly, Southmen. It should be noted, however, that it was indeed Southern merchants who introduced the disease into the Witherlands.'"

Bennard looked askance at that line, which he hadn't noticed till now. Giving Charity a cautious regard, he added, "Or so these few men posit, Your Majesty." He then proceeded:

"'One in three who get the disease will die, according to the conclusions of gathered Physics and mathematicians in Terresol and Araedia. It is common for an entire household to be strictly isolated if any occupant is found to be sick. This protects the wider community, but has, tragically, often put an end to entire families within their homes.'" He winced. "'Given the danger of the miasma that lingers about corpses for a time, the houses of entirely deceased families are usually fired.

"'In many places, especially those rural, this measure cannot be enforced, leaving people with a grim dilemma: whether to remain with afflicted family members and face the strong possibility of death, or to save themselves. Circumstance forces this decision upon children, siblings, spouses, and, worst of all, parents—abandoning the loved one to their fate, or accepting the risk and staying by their side, so they do not have to die alone.'"

An unnerving chill. Bennard was silent for a moment, and exchanged a sorrowful look with his wife.

"'Many Marinese are in despair. Clerics of all faiths have noted an increase in piety as people pray for deliverance. Families have been rent by death or abandonment. Noble lines have been deprived of heirs or have even died off entirely." Gods in the frost—*Hull.* He could still see his son laughing at him from down in his cot, still felt the grip of a tiny hand around his finger. He'd laughed less as he'd gotten older, as children starting jeering at his birthmark—the mark that had loured, then pink, from his face even as a bright-faced baby boy. Hulward had the body of a warrior now, but was still profoundly, perhaps indelibly, vulnerable. Bennard wasn't sure if he'd heard him laugh at all since the war. Gods save him, Bennard prayed. Gods save his boy.

Bennard realised he'd been silent for several seconds. He panicked, eyes flying in search of where he'd left off. He skimmed over the rest of the text, and sighed, collapsing the scroll and looking glumly upon the room. "The, um .. The rest is a personal example. My men—my knights—and I had been out hunting, and we ... Found bodies." He swallowed, looking upwards. "Aye, bodies ... Of many people trying to flee onto our land to seek refuge, but ... Of course, venturing into the wilderness like that in the wintertime would normally be unthinkable. The Witherlands is very cold, you see." 

He had a weak puff of laughter at that remark. The brief crack was soon filled in by the weight that pressed on his mind, and he swallowed hard. "But they'd been very desperate. Desperate for their children's lives." His hands tightened around the scroll. He looked at Ivagneth. She was frowning at him. "And their children were with them, and ... I ..." He was unwinding. His voice had climbed in pitch to a trembling peak. He looked away.

Another breath. "My apologies. I find it difficult to maintain composure in these, um ... Difficult times." Bennard squinted at them. Everything was warm blurriness. A few dabs from his handkerchief cleared his vision, and he could see Ivagneth's beautiful, flaxen hair obscuring her face as she stared at the table. His guts squirmed, and he couldn't contain a sigh. 

"Wrencrest in part—no, enough rambling. You all have your own peoples about whom to worry. I'm sure you all feel the same burden. I'm glad to see other parents bringing their children to this meeting." He gestured to Mikhail, Wilhelmina, Walburga, and Auburn. "Fine inheritors, all of them. It's important for them to see what we do. To learn, even if they're learning from our mistakes." 

He gave them all a compassionate frown. "I pray for your families. And I hope that we can put an end to this plague soon—" He nodded towards Vex "—and that our lives can be the same they ... The same *Way* That they were before. Thank you." He lowered his head and started walking back to his seat.