Robert
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

She squeezed his hand harder and he opened his eyes, not missing the slight crinkle of her brow as she tried in vain to hide the extent of her pain. Perhaps her refusal to show her vulnerability came with the territory of being a queen, or perhaps it was due to her history with him. It never seemed to end well for her when she was unguarded with the knight. He could acknowledge that much; when their relationship would become authentic and they were no longer in the throes of passion, when they awoke from drifting in a dreamlike state, that was when they sank. That was not to say that Heath's love for her was not real. It was complicated, it always had been. Misfortune seemed to plague every step of the way and one of them always ended up bleeding out in some way. 

"I know. She was foolish for attacking you. I would never expect you, or anyone else, to turn a blind eye to that," He said, "She threatened my family and she is clearly capable of hurting anyone. She fucking said she'd kill you. I'm sure she's reeling from the fact that you're still alive. Maybe it is for the best that she not survive tomorrow," He said, an edge to his voice. 

Her kiss had hardly caught him off guard. He knew from the moment that she asked him to speak with her that it would happen. He kissed her back, instantly brought back to when they were young and carefree in Feyshore. The glaring difference was that her lips did not taste wine-drunk or like the berries that would stain them a deep red. She tasted like salt mingled with his own blood from his lip. *Your wife is dying*.

"I don't intend on leaving you tonight," He said.
Lawrence
In unison with Imogen's ribs, his legs gave way. A feeble cry of protest slipped out of his dry throat as he collapsed to his knees, his trembling hands digging their fingers deep into his cheeks. He groaned feebly in the agonising miasma of his powerlessness, his eyes blurring with fretful tears.

He lifted his blanching face to regard Kenmath as the old man spoke to him. The words barely manifested in his mind; everything about this was so bizarre. Why was he being spared? Perhaps they hadn't seen him going for his dagger. Soon, the monster and his pet were gone.

Kallophon slowly crawled over to Imogen, looking down at her face. Her eyes stared up into the dark sky. He shook his head dolefully, and he turned his gaze upon the throatless Bertolt. The shock that had struck Kallophon's bones when Imogen wailed for him still reverberated throughout his body. His eyes drifted to Arnaud, still slumped against the tree as his lifeblood ran from his wounds thinner and thinner. The once headstrong eyes were glazed over. All three were in the Neither now; the only person left in this city who could understand him was that drug-addled Northerner in the tavern. The gaping void of loneliness murked the fluid in his heart. He heaved, and he heaved, and the stale bread shuddered up his gullet and out onto the earth, his hand clutching the breast of his tunic.

—

He gave a shaking sigh as he gently eased his hold on Arnaud's shoulders, leaving him to rest by the side of the road. The bodies of the musician's two fellows were laid out straight beside him. He stood up, sombrely regarding the three corpses. He swallowed as another tear escaped his tired, blushing eyes.

A chill ran down his spine when he noticed the white still shining from Imogen's eyes in the dimness. He crouched down, and delicately closed her eyelids with his slender fingers. He contemplated her pale face and the sheer surreality of this entire day. Sensing the imminent sun, he hoped he could get at least a handful of hours' sleep.

He shook his head. "This isn't right," He said underneath his breath. This was going to tug at his soul until some measure of justice was served. He felt a pang of bloodlust, imagining the slight resistance Kenmath's head would offer as he pressed Wilhelmina's hairpin through his eye socket. He took a moment to clear his head of such terrible thoughts, and then looked up into the firmament. "I wear by Saris," He said in soft, flowing Old Soltongue, "These three shan't go unremembered, nor unavenged." He threw the leather sack over his shoulder; he'd taken every piece of writing from them-sheet music, notes, anything he could find-and had packed their instruments as well. Imogen's one had been broken when she was attacked, and he'd grizzled over it for a long moment.

Hoping some decent soul would find them and give them some sort of respectful burial. His arm tightened around his lyre. He knew what he was going to play. *To hell with them all if they don't like it. After this atrocity, beauty will have its voice heard.* Not all heroes took a stand on time, nor with weapons. That's what he told himself. Sometimes it was the ambiguous mess of evil's aftermath that let true heroism shine.
Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Castle Taemar, Vallen 

A pair of scrawny hands shook the hog king from his slumber. "My Lord!" Kenmath cried, peering down at him with his large, watery eyes. Gregor sputtered and coughed, shoving the servant away from him. Kenmath fell back onto the stone floor without a sound. 

"What did I tell you about coming into my chambers, Kenmath?!" King Gregor barked. He heaved his large body up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

"Horrible happenings last night!" Kenmath squeaked, "The black haired one attacked the red haired woman and ripped off a limb from the balding one. They say the balding one is an escaped prisoner, the black haired one is a sub-human, and the red haired one is a queen, my lord! *A queen*!" 

"Fucking— I FEED THESE PEOPLE AND INVITE THEM INTO MY HOME AND YET THE ONLY THING THEY CAN THINK TO DO IS TEAR EACH OTHER APART!" Gregor roared, tearing off his covers and coming to a stand. Kenmath cowered. 

"Shall I announce the beginning—,"

"YES, GATHER THEM ALL!"

Kenmath did as he was told and went door to door, knocking on each door wildly and depositing a scroll with instructions. It announced the beginning of the council and to head up to the throne room, located at the top of Grunewald tower. 

The throne room was the largest, grandest portion of Grunewald's castle. Surrounded by windows and perpetually drafty, the throne room overlooked all of Taemar. It almost looked beautiful when looked upon from above. A long, rectangular table had been set up to accommodate everyone who was to attend. Ink pots, quills, and parchment was set out in front of every seat. Kenmath set up two nooses in preparation for the trial. 

King Gregor arrived first, followed by Prince Auburn, Princess Wilhelmina (who wore her hair pinned up with her dragonfly pin), and Princess Walburga, who was wheeled in by Kenmath. They sat in silence, awaiting the other royals. King Gregor sat at the head of the table, breathing heavily through his nose and glaring at the door. The wind howled through the hall and King Gregor's blood boiled. Spitza manned the door, prepared to assassinate anyone who was not welcome.
Rosa
"ELBARODA!" The first cry shattered the silence, and almost immediately she could hear stirring from inside the rooms. "ELBARODA WAKE 'EM UP!" And before anyone could come out and check who had been screaming bloody murder, Gitten darted back into her brother's room, hoping that The Bard Captain would get the message.
Kathleen
Viola Godwin
On the way to Grunewald Castle, absolutely shitting herself, Vallen

Had Viola known that the knock on her rented room's door so early in the morning would be a messenger, perhaps she would have known to hide herself a little better. Instead, she rose from bed, threw on a robe and answered the door.

"Lord Valentine?" The messenger asked, holding a note up.

Closing the door over a little so the bed wasn't in view and fixing her robe as if it had been disheveled, she frowned."He isn't awake yet, I'll give that to him." She said, taking the note and closing the door behind her. Ugh, she was going to have to put on a very big hat today.

She dressed quickly in a deep green to bring out her murky eyes and lightly powdered her face in a way to make it appear boxier and less feminine. She was to share something rather big today and was to anticipate more stares than her classes had ever prepared her for. Yes. She would need a *Very* Big hat. Eventually she opted for one with peacock feathers.

After gathering her documents in a few cylinder holders and grabbing her journals in a linen bag, she headed through the tavern, stepping over a passed out young man (who looked an awful like an older pupil) and his lute to get through the doorway. Outside, there seemed to be some guards cleaning up a mess so she soldiered on past. Confidence wavering the closer she got to the castle.

*You'll be fine*, she told herself, *You'll give your evidence, ~maybe get laughed at a little~, and then you'll move on with your life knowing you tried to help and you'll go back to teaching*.

She missed her students. She missed her expeditions. The closer she got to the castle the tighter her chest felt, though she kept walking. Faking confidence.
Edith
**Captain Retto Elbaroda**
**The Council Room, Vallen**

Elbaroda had already been awake even before the light of the sun swept across Vallen. He had been nursing a hazy hangover; the result of having a tad bit too much rum in the library the night prior. Before the shouts of "ELBARODA" Rang through the Islanders' quarters, a fresh polish had been applied to his hurdy gurdy. He doubted he'd play it save for the réveille song he was about to perform to awaken the Islanders who had not already stirred from the Pirate King's shouts, but he had always been meticulous about keeping the instrument in the finest of conditions, and he took thirty minutes every morning to ensure that it was. 

With a smirk, he stood up, and called back to the king; "AYE SIR!" He began to play, this time not like the somber melodies he had performed the night prior in the library, but rather a jaunty and lively one. As he played, some of the Islanders joined in with the singing. He went around as he played, kicking the bedframes of those not yet awake. A myriad of curses, death threats, and groans rang up in response. Elbaroda simply flashed them a smile and kept going. Eventually they were all awake and getting ready for the day's events. Satisfied with his handiwork, Retto stowed his instrument on his back and walked to Bradai's room. 

He gave the door a knock. "Th' men are all awake, your highness." He called through the door, not wanting to intrude if his king was not ready to be seen yet.
Charles
Lady Anna Barrmount
Grunewald Castle, Valen

Ever since the sun rays filtered through the window, Anna could not stop pacing around the room, muttering over and over a speech she had been thinking about since her journey started.

"Steemed guests... No, steemed attendants of this council. Yes, that sounds better..."

"My Lady even *I* Have memorized the speech" Remarked her maid, a joking tone in her voice "It will go fine"

Anna stopped and looked at her.

"Sibyl is counting on me to get help, and that help depends on this council..." Anna sat down on the corner of the bed "Fine is not enough"

Pippin sat down beside her, brush in hand, and started fixing the Lady's hair. 

"It will be okay, and we will go back home before we even know it"

"I hope you're right dear..."

...

Anna was giving a last look at herself in the mirror when she got the notification of the start of the council. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the worst. 

As she walked towards the hall, her white gown clashing once again with the interiors of the castle, she remembered last night's trip to the dungeons. How was the wolf? Would she be fine? Anna hoped her animal acquaintance could be free after everything was over. 

"Well, time to get this over with..."
John
**King Dennon Bigsby, Queen Lucrezia Scheer, Kirk Pinewood
The Morning After a (Mostly) Peaceful Night of Sleep, Castle Grunewald**

Dennon was ready to go first after receiving their wake-up knock, and he was getting tired of waiting. "I'm going to see if Kirk is awake." He yelled through the closed door of their washroom, where Lucrezia was still getting ready.

"Save me some breakfast." She yelled back.

"I'm not going to eat. His room is right next to ours!" Dennon noticed a small scroll slipped in through the bottom crack of the door an picked it up.

There was a pause. "Ugh. Fine."

Dennon left the room and found that the hallways had not yet been cleaned of the blood from the night before. "Gross." He muttered as he walked to Kirk's door and gave it a knock.

"I said I'm coming!" Kirk yelled from inside.

"It's me." Dennon said.

"Oh." Kirk opened the door.

"Good morning." Dennon said with raised eyebrows. Kirk seemed a bit unkempt.

"How are you so awake this early?" Kirk asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Years of being a knight, I suppose." Dennon said with a shrug.

Kirk cleared his eyes enough to finally get a view of the hallway. They widened when he noticed all the blood. "I guess Lucrezia isn't pregnant again, eh?" He giggled at his own joke.

"Hilarious, but no. However, Gregor had a hog god fertility statue placed in our room to help us get results."

Kirk laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Dennon said with a nod. "The thing is huge."

"I'll have to stop by later. What's with all the blood then?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe they dragged that pig Gregor beat to a pulp through here. I'll ask about having it cleaned when we get to the council. Speaking of which, clean yourself up too. I don't want people thinking the Ibbish are dirty. We're representing more than just ourselves today."

"How kingly of you." Kirk yawned. "I think Verina made the right choice taking off when she did."

"I just hope she's alright. Perhaps she'll show up today."

"Alright. Give me a few minutes to get ready." Kirk said before closing the door.

. . .

The three eventually parted their rooms for the council, which was said to be held at the top of Grunewald tower. After clearing the 2nd flight of stairs, the three were feeling it.

"Kirk!" Lucrezia said loudly, stopping to catch her breath.

"What?!" He asked, a few steps behind her.

"Carry my shoes." She kicked them at him. One hit him in the stomach. The other fell to the bottom of the last set of stairs.

Dennon stood at the top of the current flight, waiting for them. "Are you sure you want to go barefoot on these floors? They're a bit dirty."

"I don't care." She wheezed, her feet in pain.

Kirk caught the first shoe and looked dismally down at the other below him. "Perhaps we should leave it behind."

"GO GET IT!" She shrieked at the useless antique merchant.

"Keep it down." Dennon urged quietly. "People are coming."
Sarah
Arin Cragton
Taemar

Arin fidgeted in his spot a little while the two women stared each other down with such an intensity that it seemed arrows would fly from their eyes. Arin looked at the new woman for a moment. "You remind me of a sailor. One second accusing lies and the next demanding payment. Who cares if it's real or fake. It's the hunt that's fun." He said, smiling again. He began to clean his fingernails with his blade as he looked at the woman. 

"What's your name?" He asked the both of them. "If we are going to be traveling I would assume it would be helpful to know everyone. I am, as I have already told this young woman, Levi. Levi Cragton." He said, the lie oozing off of his lips. If there was one thing he was good at, it was lying. He didn't trust this woman yet. He had already told his name once that day, and who knows who wanted to murder him. He made enemies easily. 

He just prayed that the other woman would keep the lie going. He thought for a moment. *Why did that name seem so familiar. It was as if there was someone out there, someone he knew that held that name.* He shook the idea out of his head, making it seem as if the alcohol was still influencing his decisions.
Katherine
**Anyanka Durkhan
Vallen, Taemar**

Waking up the next morning was quite possibly the hardest thing she had ever done. Pulling herself from a hypnogogic state into a conscious one made the light behind her eyes dance wildly, and she felt as if she'd spent the entire night wrapped tightly in a vice's grip. _Everything_ ached, and the effort it took to lift her head from Heath's shoulder brought tears to her eyes. Her temple fell back against the man's shoulder a little harder than she meant to as she winced, suddenly very aware of how tightly clenched the entirety of her body was. It wasn't going to get better, she feared, and she grit her teeth as she pushed herself up with her good arm. The room spun for a moment, and the woman blinked a few times to clear the stars from her vision as she moved out of bed.

There was a dirty mirror across the way, water spots stained it's surface despite there being no real clear indication of where the water that soiled it might have come from, and she caught sight of herself for the first time since Angelica had helped her change. The afterglow of blood loss didn't suit her, she looked pale and worn, her hair dull in comparison to the crimson that colored her chest, arms, and neck. The neck of her gown was torn, as was the hem and she thought for a moment on the best way to strip out of the tattered thing without hurting herself further. The dagger she had received from the Hog Dangle laid on the vanity -gods knew how it ended up there- and she reached for it blindly. It wasn't a clean cut, but it managed to break through ruined silk as she scrunched her face in displeasure, every move feeling like it was resisted with the strength of ten men. A few more let the shreds fall at her feet, and she stepped out of them. 

She was already exhausted, today was going to be hell.

But the thought reminded her that Danico had stopped in to give her a vial of something, and another of something else. The first was said to help with the pain, though only on the surface, and the other was theoretically to help keep her energy up. 'Up' didn't feel the right word, maybe 'existent' was better suited, and she turned with intent to find it, remembering then the sleeping man in her bed. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen her in this state before, but something about it felt wrong now. She felt vulnerable instead of empowered, and she moved from the chest beside it where Alistair had left her belongings. One handed, she fiddled with the latch until she was able to release it, and heaved the heavy lid upwards. She didn't mean to, but she let out a yelp with the motion, soreness making every muscle ache. The adrenaline from the night prior was officially gone, and the full weight of the realization that she wasn't twenty anymore and couldn't bounce back from being thrown into walls and ripped apart like she used to bruised her ego to match the ones blooming on her side. 

Gritting her teeth once more, she pulled a robe from her trunk, deciding if she just moved _fast_ it might hurt _less_ or she'd at least pass out from pain more quickly and be done with it. Maybe if she was lucky she'd wake up back home instead of in Taemar. Awkwardly she pulled on the robe, tying it half heartedly around her hip, and turned back to the bed where Heath was starting to wake. "Heath," She started, intending to wake him easily but really finding she was growing more irritated with every second she was alive. "Heath I need help. Ca-" Before she could finish the sentence there was a half knock on the door, and a letter was slipped beneath it. Anya eyed it, and settled back onto the edge of the bed, her good hand reaching back to push through Heath's sleep strewn locks.

"Heath, we have to get up, the council is starting." She told him.