Wayne
Blaire Orlainne
Vallen, Taemar

Before the downfall of King Ramsalot, Blaire and Meredith would sometimes accompany their father on his diplomatic visits to other kingdoms. The trips had always been lighthearted, in nature: a simple renewal of a trade agreement, or even a ball celebrating an important birthday or wedding. Blaire remembered those times fondly. 

Fondly, because after the king's fall, such good-natured trips became practically nonexistent. The family instead moved from relative to relative seeking safety, constantly watching South Feyshore and waiting for the day in which stability was restored.

This particular trip reminded her of those frantic moves. Blaire sighed, rubbing at her temples. Growing anxiety made her feel on edge, her muscles tense. A stress headache was making her head throb. She'd understood the reasoning for making the trip to Vallen alone, leaving Meredith behind to watch over the manor. But, it wasn't often that the twins were separated. Especially, in times of crisis, like these. She wished her sister were here, now, talking with her to help her relax.

The young lady was sitting in a small carriage, two attendants sitting across from her. They were marking stacks of documents for Blaire to review later—cheat sheets about the lords and ladies who were attending the council. Blaire felt her headache worsen with just a glance at the documents. _'It would probably be better for me to think of something else..,'_ she thought.

So, she turned her attention outside, moving a little curtain to peer at the quaint town through one of the carriage's windows. She smiled, seeing the common folk tending to their homes and their children, sweeping and beating dust from their rugs..

The lady paused as she saw a woman rush into a home, one that looked as if it hadn't been kept up for a while.

Blaire frowned. Within a few moments, before the carriage could pass by, she knocked on the ceiling, bringing the carriage to a halt.

The two attendants looked up at Blaire, noticing the sudden pause. One of them pushed up the pair of monocles on his nose.

"M'lady, we are almost there. Why are we stopping now?" He asked.

"I..." Blaire hesitated. "I saw something. I just want to make sure everything is alright. I'll return soon."

Blaire stood and hiked up her skirts, opening the carriage and stepping outside. She breathed in the fresh air, relieved to at least be out in the open. She was wearing a magenta dress, the train made up of black lace. Her hair was pinned up and away from her face. 

Despite the muffled protests of the attendants in the carriage, she cautiously approached the house, holding her sleeve up to her mouth.

"Pardon? Miss? Is everything alright? Would you require some help?" Blaire called into the open doorway, her blue eyes peering curiously inside the house. _'It looks as if it's been raided..'_ she thought.
Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Vallen, Taemar

King Gregor's blood boiled. He was not the smartest man, but even he recognized that this woman was a downright idiot for the way she was conducting herself in the presence of a king. It was as though she had deathwish, and Gregor was more than happy to oblige her. Zehe's cries began to weaken as his blood pooled and dampened the ground. Gregor reached into his sock and pulled out a boar's tusk, gripping it tightly in his meaty fingers. 

"*You* Are on my grounds, unannounced and uninvited," Gregor rasped, breathing heavily through his nose in exaggerated puffs, "*You* Shot at me, the sovereign leader— the MONARCH of Taemar, you shot my boy, and now you are INSULTING ME IN THE BLOODY YARD OF MY CASTLE," Gregor roared. "YOU HAVE TRIED TO ASSASSINATE A KING! YOU SHOULD BE GROVELING ON THE FUCKING GROUND FOR ME TO SPARE YOUR LIFE!" 

A woman stomped over to them and began to add to the screaming. "Ah, *The plague*. Is that why you've all camped out on my bloody lawn? You want to know how I prevented the plague from reaching my kingdom? WELL THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD BECAUSE I ORDER YOU ALL TO LEAVE TAEMAR THIS INSTANT!" He screamed, "I WILL NOT ALLOW A SINGLE FOREIGNER THROUGH MY DOORS AFTER THIS BLATANT DISRESPECT!" He threw his boar's tusk with all his might at Zehe's assassin, hitting her square in the forehead. "...Unless the council agrees to hang the murderous bitch."
Edith
**Wilhelmina Ulster**
**Vallen, Taemar**

Wilhelmina had just had about enough of this man. He reeked of self righteousness and arrogance. How typical. How utterly typical. However, she had let her temper get the better of her, and she needed to calm down, no matter how *Infuriating* That situation was.
She indignantly listened to his crazed spiel, her hands on her hips, and gave a *'hmmf'* At watching him throw the tusk at the woman. 

"You charge others without knowledge of their intentions and expect them not to defend themselves, then call it assassination? Firstly, your behavior has reflected your indecorous demeanor. If this is how you treat foreign people and ambassadors, then the Iron Plaines will have to reconsider our willingness to do trade with Taemar. Secondly, you simply *Must* Have gotten a multitude of letters informing you of this occasion, of which you have obviously elected to ignore, or have you forgotten?" 

She stepped in between the woman and the King, switching her gaze in between the two of them, her hands on her hips. 

"There will be no more bloodshed today, is that clear?! I will have none of it! Do not let your arrogance blind you to the realities of today! There are no enemies among these people, King of Taemar. Lord Nicholas lays undisputed in the north, and is slaughtering innocents. People are starving, and the plague consumes all, or does your status as *King* Blind you to any other than yourself? The Council *Will* Convene. Do I make myself clear, or should I explain it more simply to match the childish fashion of which you conduct yourself?"
Robert
The Romanovs
Vallen, Taemar

After a long and ardous journey, the Northshore arrived in Vallen. Camp was set up adjacent to that of the Southern Isles, with tents emblazoned with the Black family crest. King Daniel Black, Queen Elsinore Romanov-Black, Lord Aleksandr Romanov, and Sir Heath Romanov would attend the council on the Northshore's behalf. 

The Romanovs were not accustomed to the grime and filth that Taemar housed. Pigs ran amuk and the majority of its citizens were of the dirty, workingclass sort. Everything smelled of pig shit. A group of ten Taemarians barely had a full set of teeth between them.

"Shitbloods upon shitbloods," Lord Aleksandr Romanov muttered, glaring out of the tent at a group of farmers passing by. He scoffed and turned back to address his siblings, making a show of waving the air in front of his patrician nose. "Not even the plague will touch these people," He remarked. Queen Elsinore Romanov-Black laughed lightly, combing her lithe fingers through her golden curls. Sir Heath Romanov sat in the corner, polishing his shoes and trying his best to pay his siblings no mind. King Daniel had chosen to remain in the carriage, claiming that he needed a quiet place to complete some work. Heath assumed that he was simply avoiding an evening in a tent with the Nightmares of the Northshore. 

"The fucking state of—," Heath began to speak and immediately cut himself off at the shouts outside. 

"Oh, don't open the tent back up. We just got the smell of shit out," Queen Elle complained, dipping her nose down into her wrist to inhale her perfume. 

"It's King Gregor!" Aleks said excitedly, "Something's wrong." He walked out of the tent. Heath and Elle cast each other an intrigued look before getting up to follow after him.

The Romanov siblings stood next to each other in their finery and glistening hair, completely out of place. Through half-lidded eyes, they watched as two women screamed at King Gregor. 

"Who are they?" Elle murmured, crossing her arms. Her brothers shrugged.
Heather
Marsila Vema
Vallen, Vema House 

The woman had knelt down towards the floor and lowered her face, almost touching the ground with her nose before inhaling deeply. She hoped for her senses to work as this had been one of the very few times she attempted to find a person's scent, especially after they had already left the scene and not once had she been successful. She hoped her desperation would allow her senses to heighten and focus, allowing her to find multiple scents in the room including her parents which she tried to ignore and seperate from the others. As she focused on the smell of her surroundings, a headache began to form and she was forced to back away from her parent's room before it became too much. 

The shifter found no luck in finding the scent she was after and turned her back towards the entrance of her parent's room. Her chest began to weigh heavy as she pulled in her lower lip before biting down, doing her best to keep the tears in until she heard a woman's voice. Marsila's eyes snapped in the direction of the small staircase that led down towards the main room and soon found herself following the woman's voice, each step dragging against the ground from the lack of energy to properly lift her feet. The woman soon came into her view and her appearance was immediately studied. She showed nobility in the way she dressed which brought Marsila to the realisation that this woman was here for the council. 

She didn't know what to say as she stared at the woman, unsure on how to answer her. She wanted to simply cry but instead, swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and shook her head. No, she was not alright. Usually she wouldn't dare to involve anyone in her mess but Marsila was completely lost, desperate. She didn't even know where to begin with finding her parents. 

"They are gone. My parents.." Her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper as she attempted to speak. "Something happened to my parents."