Vanessa
**King Dennon Bigsby and Queen Lucrezia Scheer
Meeting Room, Ibethiel Castle**

Dennon arrived a few minutes late to the meeting. He would have preferred to not show up at all, but he wanted to give the impression of trying. The door of the council's meeting room was closed with a guard posted outside. "Oh, has it started already? I'll just ask for notes later."

"No. Just waiting on you." The guard opened the door with a speed that made Dennon think the guard knew he'd try to get out of it.

"Dennon, you made it." Lucrezia sat at the far end of the table facing him.

"Good afternoon." Dennon said, sitting down at the closest end opposite the queen. The table had five seats on each of the long sides. Nine were filled. One next to Lucrezia was empty. Next to the queen sat what appeared to be a small nightstand holding something with a pointy top which was covered by a cloth. 

"I think we can now begin." Lucrezia said just as the door opened again. Dennon turned around and saw the man Lucrezia had attacked earlier, now with a bandage over the injured area. "Nigel, how is your eye?"

"Never been better, my queen." The council minister said with his gaze focused on the floor.

"That's nice to hear." She said sweetly. 

"I didn't know the meeting would start this early." He said.

"I moved up the time." She told him coldly. The council lord walked around the table toward the last open seat next to the queen. She watched him and said nothing until he put his hands on the back of the chair to pull it out. "What are you doing?" She asked in an irritated tone.

"Taking my seat." The lord of the council said.

"That seat is where the Minister of War sits." Lucrezia informed him.

"But I am the Minister of—"

"No, you're not! Not anymore." She said loudly to drown him out.

"My house has served with honor." The lord said indignantly.

"One hundred fifty-seven swords missing from the armory." Lucrezia stood up from her chair. "Two hundred thirty-six soldiers injured and four dead in a training exercise that was by your design. Their blood is on your hands. I could go on with the list of ways that you have supposedly 'honored' me, but the one I find most insulting personally was the thirteen bastards for which you've funneled so much of my money into the pockets of their mothers. Though the worst part wasn't just that you were stealing from me. The worst part was that if you weren't such an incompetent buffoon, you could have easily known that most of them weren't even yours. A year long pregnancy, really?!" 

The former Minister of War glared in Dennon's direction. "You son of a bitch." 

"Do not blame Lord Serris." Lucrezia commanded. Dennon realized Lord Nigel was talking to the man on his immediate left at the table. "I have my own resources outside the perview of the Minister of Spies."

"Firing me will be the biggest mistake of your very short reign." The lord declared defiantly.

"Nigel. Dear, sweet Nigel. I'm not firing you." Lucrezia responded.

"You're not?" The lord asked, puzzeled.

"No. You're being reassigned." Lucrezia put her hand to the stand next to her chair and removed the cloth. While Nigel looked to what was being uncovered, Lucrezia reached with her other hand and tore off the lord's hair piece. "I always hated that thing on your fat, balding head." She said, tossing it aside. "Your re-assignment is this. Instead of Minister of War, Lord Nigel Redlin you shall now be known as the Minister of Dunces." She picked up the object that was covered on the stand and planted it firmly on the lord's head. It appeared to be a white pointy hat.

"What is this?" The lord asked, shaken by what had just transpired. He began to pull at the hat, but it wouldn't come off.

"Minister of Dunces is a full-time job. I took the liberty of giving the uniform an adhesive so that it didn't accidentally fall off." Lucrezia's anger at what Nigel had done had been replaced by a gleeful smile brought on by inflicting the punishment for it.

"Ah!" The lord attempted to rip off the hat in one hard tug but caused only pain and no progress. Lucrezia giggled and wheezed. Everyone else was trying to avoid watching.

"Now sit down and shut up before I take your other eye." The fool reached for the Minister of War chair again. "NOT THERE!" She screeched.

"There's no where else!" The lord said, now sobbing.

"Sit on the floor, away from me by the wall." She brushed him aside. "If you're good, maybe next time I'll get you a footstool to sit on." She added as the lord slowly went to the cold stone floor. Master of Spies, I'm sorry that your honor was questioned, but since I'm talking to you why don't you get the meeting started with anything you've learned since the last council meeting." Lucrezia segued from that horrific display back to the meeting like it was nothing.

"Yes, my queen." Master of Spies Lord Serris Volan stood and cleared his throat. He was older with a white beard that did a lot to help mask the discomfort felt by everyone present. Dennon didn't hear a lot of what came after that. For some time, he stared at the newly appointed Minister of Dunces, now humiliated and left without a shred of dignity. "Finally, it does indeed appear that our operation in North Feyshore has been compromised." This caught the king's attention. "The prime target was killed in his home along with his bodyguard. Other inside sources claim that it was our operative who did it, and she escaped with two accomplices. She was in deep cover there for two years. I don't know why she would do this. Unfortunately, we cannot conduct a more in-depth search without risking exposure. We may never know what happened unless she finds her way back on her own." A lump formed in Dennon's throat. He wasn't sure, but when Dennon had sent royal antiquities dealer, Kirk Pinewood, on an artifact recovery quest a month earlier, he had told him to find an old spy friend of his in North Feyshore if he needed anything. If this was Kirk's doing, he worried about the possibility for either of them making it back alive.

"If that is all, Dennon, tell us about the results of your little trip." Lucrezia said, quickly moving along.

"Uh..." Dennon stood up. His knees felt like rubber. "The funny thing is..." He briefly glanced at Nigel but held the look when he saw the disgraced lord's face. The expression of despair had morphed into one of terrifying wrath. Lucrezia noticed that Dennon was distracted and followed his gaze, cracking a grin before standing up. The lord began to climb to his feet as he glared at the queen.

"Look, everyone. The Minister of Dunces would like to bless us with a silly dance." The queen moved around the seated men so that the table was between her and no-longer-sweet Nigel. He growled like an animal before running at the table and clumsily jumping onto it, landing on his stomach. Some of the lords reached out to grab him as members of the Queensguard poured into the room.

"You shouldn't be queen! You'll be the death of us all!" The lord screamed at the giggling queen who made her way to Dennon's end of the table, where he remained unseated from starting his report. She stood behind him, looking intently over his shoulder and gripping him tightly. "You're letting her get away with it! Nothing will be left standing. She'll destroy everything!" The lord continued to scream at them in anguish as he was dragged toward the door. For a moment, he partially broke away and grabbed onto the nearest table leg in a last-ditch effort to stay. "Dennon, please. You're a good man. Don't let them take me." The table started to slide, and one of the guards stomped his foot down on Nigel's arm, which went limp with the sound of a sickening crack. "Please, Dennon! Please!" He pitifully begged in desperation as his beaten body was dragged to the door. "DON'T LET ME DIE LIKE THE CARBONELLS!" The door slammed shut.

"Thank you for protecting me, Dennon." Lucrezia whispered into his ear as he began to shake uncontrollably. "I knew I picked the right king." She let go of him and moved to address the table, which allowed Dennon to all but collapse into his seat. "I'll be back in a moment. Just want to make sure things have been handled." She opened the door and slipped out. Dennon spent a few minutes trying to control his breathing. If it hadn't been so long since he'd eaten, he would have thrown up. One of the remaining ministers at the far end of the table was in a similar situation but did not have the luxury of an empty stomach. The king eventually remembered the possible news about Kirk's quest.

"Lord Serris." The Minister of Spies looked back at him but said nothing aloud. "The spy in North Feyshore. Is it...?"

"Yes. It's Verina." Serris responded.

"Is there anything you know that you didn't mention earlier?" Dennon asked.

"She left with two men on a carriage. They were pursued into Audeamus Forest." Serris's words made Dennon's heart sink.

"Oh..."

"As I said before, it's up to her if she's going to make it back here alive. But Dennon, about the queen..." 

"What do I do?" Dennon asked.

"You could put an heir in her belly already. That seems like the most enjoyable solution at least for you at this point." 

"It's not that simple." Dennon said, frustrated.

"Not that simple?! Just stick your willy in—" 

"That's not what I meant." Dennon held up his hand.

"Look, I know you're a shitblood, and that isn't ideal, but at least you're not a Scheer." Serris shook his tired, old head. "I don't think I can take much more of these crazy fucking inbreds on the throne."

. . .

Lucrezia eventually returned, and the opening door made everyone jump. She stood next to Dennon's chair and rubbed his shoulder with one hand. "Thank you all for your patience." Dennon glanced at the queen's dress and saw what looked like a small spatter of blood on it. He tensed up, trying to subtely and slowly lean away. She walked to the empty chair for the Minister of War. "We can end the council early today. Keep in mind though that a new Minister of War needs to be found." She flashed a bright grin. "Send any interested applicants my way."
Cassie
**Damien Alsastar, far out in ibethian territory, in his forge.**

Ash and sparks flew as he burned the handle of the shortsword, giving the wood a blackened torched look. Damien covered the finished handle in beeswax, making it shiny. He looked over the blade, it was flexable, but still sharp enough to slice paper, a great finish. He worried for his mother, who was quaking at her knees, and who's dementia was gripping her mind. His days had recently been a haze of working in the forge and caring for her, and the fear he felt for losing her had faded into daily work.

Damien set the sword on the anvil and left the forge, breathing in the cool morning air of trees and the fiery smell that clung to his clothes. He brushed a hand through his red hair and shook out the remaining metal dust. He made his way inside, the house leaving his belt of tools on the rack outside the door. 

He cooked up some basic soup, carrots and potatoes, seasoned only by garlic and hot water. It had been years since his mother made him a good stew, especially since she was left to break away in her chair. He lifted her from under her arms and carefully walked her to the table, carefully sweeping himself under the deadly, low hanging doorway. He sat her down at the table and began to eat, looking out the window at the finished lance out in the forge, smiling a solemn grin as he ate.
Ramiro
**Gilles de Rais and Joan of Arc, road towards ibethiel near a trading post**

The caravan continued to advance towards the city, the young girl had fallen asleep on the Knights lap as she wasn't accustomed to boats so she couldn't rest properly while there. The Knight focused on directing the city, not daring to touch the girl since he will have to focus his attention on the girl rather than the road. Some few drops of water struck the Black Knight, making him stop the carriage in order to put the girl inside the caravan so that she would remain both warm and dry. He scooped her on his arms before walking towards the caravan and opening the door, he gently laid her on her bed before tucking her in. The Black Knight smiled before laying a hand on her cheek and caressing her cheek with his thumb before turning around and locking the door after he left the room.

He walked back to the horses, not caring about the rain pouring down unto him and the horses as they continued to drive towards the city. The Black Knight had a task to accomplish, and this rain isn't going to stop him from getting there before the day ends

Gilles continued to move towards the city before he heard a faint screech come from his armour. It seemed that the sea has managed to do some light damage to his armour, making it rust a little thanks to the salt and the high humidity. The Black Knight grunted before he started to slowly move his gaze, trying to find either a general store where he would buy the supplies in order for him to clean his armour or a smithy where the smith would do it for him in exchange of some gold.

As luck would have it, it seemed that there is a smithy not that far away from where he and Joan are. The Black Knight grunted again before changing their course a little so that his armour wouldn't fall victim to rust.

Less than five minutes passed before he reached the smithy, only for the door of the caravan to open as Joan unlocked it from the inside. The young girl rubbed her eye as she stared tiredly at her Black Knight

"Are we stopping for supplies, Gilles?" She asked as she tried to regain her senses from her slumber

"We are, your majesty" The Black Knight replied before offering his hand so that she could walk down the small set of stairs of the caravan

"Then I suppose I should see if this smithy can help us maintain our equipment in tip top condition" Joan answered as she yawned a little

"Very well, your majesty" The Black Knight responded as he guided her towards the door of the smithy before knocking on it using his knuckles
Cassie
**Damien Alaster, at his home**

The door was nearly 8 feet tall, leading Gilles to wonder if that was a design decision, or if a giant lived in the small home. The first thing thing heard was the croak of some elderly woman, yelling for someone named Dean. A gruff voice inside informed the other that his name was Damien and loud footsteps made thier way to the door. The door swung open quickly and the man inside seemed annoyed as he opened the door. The man stood over 7 feet tall, explaining the door, and his chest was covered in burns and cuts from years of forging. His hair was a deep red, and his voice was a deep gruff bark,* 

"I told you Adam I'm not giving you any more ale, now go away you tavern dru- Oh..." 

He stopped realizing that these were customers, not a stupid neighbor, and judging by dress and weapons, these were no small farmers. He grabbed his belt of tools from the rack by the door, putting it on, 

"Sorry, we have had some rascals waking my mother recently, I am Damien, the master of this forge." 

He went to shake Joan's hand, before realizing his hand was far too large and turned his hand shake towards Gilles.
Ramiro
Joan, barely reaching Damiens' hip, looked odd being near a huge man like the Black Knight standing right behind her. The Black Knight stared at him with a glare, but thanks to his helmet, it would be almost impossible for Damien to see him glaring to begin with.

"Now now Gilles, he's being friendly, no need to be rude towards the man" The young girl said as she stared at her Black Knight who simply grunted in response before gripping Damiens hand in order to squeeze it tightly, as if he wanted to break the bones in his hand

" My good sir, my Black Knight and I would like to pay for your services so that our equipment is in good condition so that we can reach Ibethiel in time"

Even when Joan is talking, the pressure on Gilles handshake increased, taking advantage of the metal armour he's wearing to increase the force behind his grip
Cassie
Damien simply shook back, as his hands were so large that the metal tension simply felt like a normal handshake. He pulled out of the the shake and stood back looking over the two,
"Sounds great..." 
He circled around Gilles, noticing the warps in the plates and the skid marks underneath his arms, that would rust if not treated. As Gilles angrily turned his head to look at Joan, he also caught the bending in his neck armor. Damien guessed either cold or water damage, and he may need to grind off some metal.
"I'd love to assist you two, come join me in my forge." 
He said, leading them across his yard to the medium sized stone structure. He made sure to keep Gilles at his side, trying to make sure Gilles was always in sight, as he seemed to be a threatening figure.
Ramiro
"Be a dear and remove your armour for me Gilles" Joan stared at her Black Knight before smiling at him. The Knight bowed his head towards the girl before starting to undo the leather straps that kept his armour attached and in one piece.

A very pale face with green eyes and black hair appears after Gilles removes his helmet. His face has many sharp features as he stared at the smithy with glaring eyes

"You should learn to be more polite Gilles" Joan said before her Black Knight stared at her before smiling "I owe my loyalty and fealty to you and your family, your Majesty" Gilles said before he started to remove the straps on his arms and legs

"Then I command you to be more friendly towards those who are not our enemies" Joan replied, making Gilles laugh in good humor "Very well said your Majesty" Gilles smiled in earnest towards Damien

"I apologise for my behaviour, but I am not as trusting as Lady Joan"
Cassie
Damien quietly listened to thier conversation with a smile as he heated his forge and prepared the anvil. He polished the horn of the anvil making sure he could bend the plates around it later on. He set his file down, and looked to the two,

"Ready?"
Ramiro
"Before anything happens, how much do you assume this will cost us, my good sir?" Joan asked as she grabbed a chair before sitting on it "I would like to know how much this is going to cost us as well as how much you value your craft"

Gilles removed the rest of his armour, revealing a leather armour underneath it. He started to hand the armour towards the smith, paying very close attention towards all parts of his armour as the smith helps them fix it
Cassie
"Well considering you arent making me use materials, a simple cost of repair should do unless something particularly bad has happened to your armor. So... 50 currency?"

He takes the shoulder plate first, looking it over. He will need to file off the rusting metal and then re bend the plate back to its former shape. He cant file off too much without making the plate weak, so he will have to be careful.
Ramiro
"Depending on how well this repair is done, I might pay you even more if your craft is of a good quality my good sir" Joan seemed to use those three words over and over like a broken record.

Gilles on the other hand seemed happy to see his beloved Joan interact with others outside of her mothers ever watching eye

"We've met many a smith that charge preposterous amounts of gold only for their quality services leave a lot to desire as well as many a smith that charge very little while the quality of their services be of a very high quality"
Cassie
"Well young madam, I would respect the latter, as those charging little for good craft respect thier work more then respect the money they earn."
He answers as he begins to finely grate on to the file, and small wraps began to form in the plate as he shaved off the rusting material. The huge man suddenly quickly moved, putting the plate into the hot forge. He out hot coals atop the plate, before checking it's color, waiting for that freckled rosy orange. He heated the warped part and quickly spun again, setting it on the horn of the anvil. He drew a hammer and began to bend the plate back into shape around the horn, black flecks of burnt coal falling of the metal and charring the metal back to it's fine shade of black. He finished the plate and continued the process onto the neck pieces, making them all pure black and curved correctly, without rust. He watched Gilles as he worked, making sure the knight wasnt upset with the work as he went.
Ramiro
The Black Knight remained still, his face not changing as Damien worked on his armour.

Joan started to tug on Gilles leather armour gaining his attention before he kneeled down. She started to whisper something to Gilles before the Black Knight just nodded his head.

The Black Knight started to wonder around, looking at the one handed weapons as the girl remained sitting on the chair

"May I ask you a question, my good sir?"
Cassie
He finished rounding of the corner of a piece of neck armor and turned to Gilles,
"Yes sir?" 
He said, setting his hammer down and grabbing Gilles' other shoulder plate, beginning to file the rust off.
Ramiro
"Would you mind checking for any rust on my blade as well?" Gilles asked as he grabbed his serrated blade from its holster before putting it near his armor that hasn't been polished

"As well as give me your personal opinion on my blade as a smithy, if you don't mind that is"
Cassie
"I shall in a moment." 
He answers calmly. After a few more pieces of armor are finished getting repaired, and he set the pieces together, checking if they are mended, he turns to the blade. He begins to inspect the bevel and serrated pieces, making sure the edgeisnt rounded or dented, checking for cracks and blemishes as well.

Damien reviews the final shape of the blade assessing it.
"Well, there doesnt appear to be much damage, as its sheath apparently spared it of rust damage, but it does seem to be a bit dulled from long years of valiant combat!" 

He says dramatically, bumping Gilles jokingly with his elbow,
"But, as for my personal opinion, it is a bit wide and breakable at certain parts... But those wide bits of blade could supply a good chop. The tip is a perfect point, the smith that made this clearly understood how to make a stabbing sword, and the wide curved blade parts are probably just an aesthetic design... A good blade. However, in case of a break, it is always nice to have a secondary sword, and I have a many blades for sale, even some lighter weapons for the miss if she would like one."

He smiled a flashy smile, but the smile showed more of a good pride for his work more then someone blatantly trying to sell you something. He went to go grab a soapstone to resharpen the blade.
Ramiro
"What do you say, your Majesty?" Gilles asked as the young girl had fallen asleep on the chair, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Gilles, noticing this, smiled at the young girl before scooping her up again in his arms before staring at Damien

"Would you mind if I go and tuck her Majesty in her bed?" The Black Knight asked, wanting to make sure that Joan rested well enough since she is still a growing child
Cassie
"Go on ahead." 
The large man nods, and looks a little silly as he politely leans over the anvil, working quickly yet lightly on the blade. He bolts the handle pieces together quietly, still sharpening a beautiful silvery edge onto his blade.
Ramiro
"Thank you" Gilles replied before walking towards the door of the smith shop, opening it with care so that he wouldn't wake Joan up, who began to suck on her thumb as she curled up on his arms. He walked towards the caravan in order to silently open the door so that he can tuck her again in her bed.

After doing so, he blew off the candle in the room and proceeded to close the door before locking it again. He walked towards the smith before grabbing a rather hefty sack of gold coins

"Her Majesty needs a small blade capable of piercing even the strongest of leather armours, while I will need the heaviest sword you have for sale"
Cassie
Damien leads his to the tracks of daggers, pulling a few stilettos and a short rapier from the wall. As Gilles surveys and pick the second one Damien has set out two swords on the table. One was gold and fine finished, the other longer and darker, but much lighter and less sharp then the pristine gold blade.

"I see you have chosen a stiletto which of these greatsword interests you?"
Ramiro
"I believe have an idea of what great-sword I would like" Gilles said as he grabbed a rather heavy two handed sword with relative ease

"This is almost as heavy as my blade, so it will be a perfect fit for me"
Cassie
"Lucky for you that one is for sale, although it is pretty old. I can resharpen it for you if you like while you present the shortsword to the miss?" 
Damien says, also handing Gilles his original armor and sword, both of which now looked pricelessly cleaned off and remade, a beautiful sheen coming off of both.
Ramiro
"I would appreciate if you could resharpen it as well" Gilles laid the hefty sack on the table, spilling several golden coins on it without them falling to the floor

"I believe that this will be sufficient pay for any and all services rendered"
Cassie
The smith nodded to him, grinning, before pulling a large, long burlap sack off the wall, putting the new stiletto knife inside and preparing to sharpen the blade. He turned and took up his soapstone.
Ramiro
"Tell me something, how many years have you been a smith?" Gilles asked as he started to strap his armour back on, making sure that it was secured and tightened where he needed it to be

"For someone to forge such weapons, you must have many years under your belt"
Cassie
"26 years, since I was the young age of 8. And... I guess it's a family thing, many generations of my family has been Smith's, and so I guess the interest has passed down through blood and steel." 
He laughs softly as he draws the long blade over the soap stone, and Gilles watches as the blades edge shines and thins to a precise ridge, so thin the eye cant even truly see the edge.
Ramiro
"May I ask you something personal?" Gilles said as he admired how this man worked with the blade he had chosen as a secondary weapon
Cassie
Damien checked the edge of the blade as he finished it, looking up and down the edge,
"Sure." 
He says quietly, slowly running the blades spine into a vice so he could use a slant grinder, running it over the entire blade.
Ramiro
"My Master has always been looking for smiths of your calibre in order to supply the soldiers that he is always training, if you're interested in serving someone and gaining both never ending work as well as a constant supply of coin, I would like to offer you the opportunity of serving the Arc House as one of their private smithy"
Cassie
Damien stops sharpening the blade, going silent for a moment as he thinks. His dream is to forge for great lords and kings, but he has duties here. And he knows this.
"I am unsure. I would love to, but I must stay for my mother, as she is old and loves this home, as it is one of the only thing she remembers. I have to care for her, but if... *When* The day comes that I no longer have that responsibility, I make think of your offer knight. As for now..." 

He swings up the now sharp blade looking vertically down the blade. Seeing it is sharp he cuts at the air loosely a bit, and after deciding that the blade is well made, he puts it in a fine leather and gold sheath, puts it in the burlap sack and hands the bag to Gilles.
Ramiro
"Wiser words couldn't have been said" Gilles admitted as he patted the smithy on his shoulder. He whistled in surprise as he saw the quality of the blade he has bought from him

"This is indeed a blade worthy of a Black Knight" He admitted as he straps on his new blade before smiling at the smith

"In case you're wondering where my Mistress and I will be heading, go to Ibethiel and search for us, we aren't that difficult to track down"
Cassie
"I shall do that if I need, knight. It has been great servicing you and the miss. Good travels."

He smiles, dipping his hand in water. Be washes the metal dust of his hands and holds his hand out for a final handshake of goodbye.
Ramiro
Gilles smiles at the smithy shaking his hand before walking out of the smith shop and entering the caravan in order to make sure that Joan is still asleep.