Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Vallen, Taemar

Hearing that he had separated her from the children assured her. As much as she didn't care for his wife, she did care about his children. 

"I'm glad to hear Dar and Serena are well. Though I'm not surprised that you're finding yourself immune to the disease. Mikhail seems to share that trait ever since he returned from the Witherlands." 

'Returned from the Witherlands' was the nicer way of saying 'came back from the dead' or 'was murdered then bodysnatched then brought back to life via blood magic'. Anya pressed her lips together and moved her hands behind her back, palms outward to brace against the stone as she leaned back against it. 

"He's doing well at it on his own, I have to admit. He's been traveling the holdings." Anya tilted her head, giving him a soft smile. "I think he's trying to build his court, it's sweet watching him bring home friends from Astoria and South Feyshore, I wish you were there to see it."
Robert
Prince Nickles
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

"*Oh I'm sorry to tell you this, I'm sorry to tell you this*," Nickles mocked her in a garbled tone, swatting her hand out of his face. He thrashed as she lifted him onto his feet. "I'm sorry to tell *You* This, but your Araedian disguise is the worst I've seen in years. You *Clearly* Stole your dress from some Taemarian peasant. That rag did not have fine, Araedian stitching. DID IT LOOK LIKE FINE ARAEDIAN STITCHING TO YOU?!" He snapped. He slicked back his three, fine hairs and attempted to shove Cecilia out of his way. Much to his dismay, she seemed to have shifted into her whale form. 

"Gods, did you eat enough hog at the banquet, Lady De Lancret?" He said, struggling to push her. "I wish you were dead."

Sir Heath Romanov
Vallen, Taemar

Heath chewed on the inside of his lower lip when Anyanka mentioned their similar *Trait*. He found it somewhat funny that despite being father and son, the most defining trait that they both possessed had been acquired individually. "Well there's a silver lining to every affliction, I suppose," Heath said airily. He was not in the mood to talk about death, dying, or being undead. It consumed his life to such a degree that he had, on more than one occasion, found himself wildly drunk and teetering on the edge of some cliff face over the South Sea. Briefly, he wondered if Mikhail had ever found himself in a similar situation. 

It was not that he wanted to die. Heath Romanov very much preferred being alive, seeing as his afterlife had not existed. Being nothing, *Again*, had no appeal to him. What did appeal to him was the flickering lights of the tavern down the road. 

"He's a smart boy. Smarter than I was, on top of having his mother's charm," Heath said with a small smile, "I too wish that I could have been there to see it."
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald Library, Vallen

Serafina felt her heart begin to race as the Pirate King rambled off the things he could to end her career, if not her life. She hadn't made the decision lightly and consulted Saris and other gods for their guidance in the matter. The answer was always the same. 'A non-believer is not fit to rule our people.' The Wisdom's eyes held her opponents steadily, though her heart was pounding her ears, and she responded with an eerie calm of someone who was content with her fate. "I cannot speak to what the Queen would do, but if Xolile calls me to her warm embrace as I act upon the gods will, so be it. I am not afraid of death." She wondered if he could say the same.

The suggestion of marriage came as a surprise to Serafina and she drummed her fingers against the leather binding of the book on her lap in thought. She wasn't close with the Queen and couldn't say if the woman would be open to a proposal of marriage. Not that it mattered one way or another, Cleos Vortigern was just a boy and Serafina knew Charity wouldn't support the bastard on the throne, especially once she realized his parentage. He would be a popular choice among the people, a Terresolian who had lived among them, ate at their tables, and bought their goods. The boy was a prime candidate for the throne with the remaining Vortigerns in exile.

"Marriage is an arrangement that leaves uncertainty." The Wisdom paused, her fingers resting flat against the book at she looked back up at King Bradai. "Putting a Vortigern on the throne ensures your trade and legacy will thrive and their leadership would be blessed by the gods." At the mention of making friends, the Wisdom chuckled. "You would have more friends in Terresol than you do currently if this were to occur."
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Vallen, Taemar. 

She couldn't help the smile at his own when he turned to face her. Every time she saw him up close her image of him changed. In her minds eye, they were both still young lovers in Feyshore. And every time she saw him, not old but definitely older, she swooned a little bit more at the man he had become.

"He's so much more like you than you realize. I was hoping he'd spend some time in North shore with you and his siblings in the upcoming warm season. But that's his decision to make." As she spoke, her hand moved back around her, lifting to push back some of his golden hair from his face. 

"You look well, Heath. I'm thankful you didn't get pulled away before we could speak." Another set of shouts came from the distance and her eyes moved from his face to the horizon, then back. "Even if this place is overcrowded and dripping in shit wine." She laughed, and let her hand drop from his face to his own hand by his side. 

"I had anticipated that though, there's a case of Terresolian wines in my room, if you'd like I will happily share with an old friend."
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Castle Grunewald Library, Vallen

"You're an Araedian." He grabbed the bottle of rum, refilling his cup. "You should know just 'ow much your religion expects of women, vhat includes marriage. She sacrificed 'erself once to an unfair marriage, if you'll remember, not vhat living tha life uff a Queen is much of a sacrifice, even if 'er 'usband did fuck fish." He stared into the fire of the hearth. 

"You propose to put a Vortigern on tha frone? And 'ow do you plan to do vhat? I didn't fink vhat Carney wanted tha damned fing. And, maybe I'm missing somefing, but I can't see 'ow vhat ensures my trade and legacy. Would vhis Vortigern of your put it in writing? Vhey're too prideful to submit to an Islander."
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Grunewald Castle

The shifter dug her claws deeper into his bicep as he attempted to push her off him, wondering if he knew how pointless it was considering he was nothing but a scrawny sewage rat beneath a shifter who's muscles hadn't weakened while under the bog water for five hours. She began to drag the prince back to his room while rolling her eyes towards his insult, not fazed the slightest bit.

"It isn't the first time I've been told that, however some are idiotic enough to fall for it like Gregor's servants. But to me a dress is a dress and *Now* I have to find another." She huffed before using her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. Perhaps if he was kind enough, Bradai would help her with some clothing.
Robert
Prince Nickles 
Grunewald Castle

Prince Nickles squealed as the shifter began to drag him away to a second location. "I CAN MAKE YOU A DRESS! I MADE MY OWN EXQUISITE DRESS TONIGHT!" He said, struggling against her grip. He dug his heels into the ground, in an attempt to slow them down. "You can't turn me in to him! He's going to *Kill* Me!" Nickles pleaded, "I'VE DONE NOTHING WRONG!" He cried, his shrill voice echoing through the chambers.
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Grunewald Castle

His cries were like music to her ears, not finding a single empathetic bone in her body to release him like he begged. "I highly doubt that. But either way, I prefer to have you bound and gagged the rest of the night so it wouldn't exactly be possible for you to make me a dress." 

Cecilia found his resistance futile, noticing they weren't as far as she thought from her room. Nickles happened to make it easier for the shifter by running back into the castle like some idiot. "I don't care if you did nothing wrong. You could be innocent and I wouldn't give to flying fucks about your current predicament."
Robert
The Musicians 
The Burnt Thistle 

"The mulled mead in this tavern tastes like an old rag," Imogen sighed moodily, pushing her glass away from her vicinity with a wrinkle of her nose. 

"The bread tastes like grit," Arnaud added. There was a reason the Taemarian musicians were so gaunt. They resorted back to smoking, leaving the loaf of bread to stale on the table.

"So be thankful we haven't had to spend what little coin we have on it," Bertolt said with a wry smile at Kallophon. The tavern was warm and crowded, filled with a diverse group of Marinese people who traveled from all over with their royals. A pair in the corner had a hushed conversation in Silvertongue, while a raucous group at a nearby table old storues in Old Feyorian. The majority, however, conversed in Common. A band of fiddlers played jovially from up on the stairs, above the haze of smoke that had settled upon the crowd. 

"Did you piss your pants when you were up on the table?" Imogen asked Kallophon with a slight smirk, "I would've."

"I'm surprised you're still lucid after that ordeal," Bertolt said, "I would've drowned in a bucket of rum after that fucking show."

"Mhm," Arnaud hummed.

Sir Heath Romanov 
Vallen, Taemar

"I would hope that he is not much like me, at all, actually. Your court would look more favorably upon him," He said with a small chuckle. There was a large degree of truth behind his words. Heath had neither the disposition nor the selflessness to be a ruler. "He is always welcome in the North Shore. He will always have a home there." 

Her touch took him by surprise as she moved his hair from his face. His eyes met hers and his gaze lingered for a bit before he refocused on a passing carriage. Despite having undergone five lifetimes worth of loss, Duchess Anyanka truly did look as radiant as ever. 

"*Terresolian* Wines?" Heath said teasingly, "I'd heard rumors that you've developed a taste for Terresolian goods. Yes. A drink with an old friend sounds great." 

When they'd walked back to the castle, the screams had seemed to have died off. Nonetheless, Heath was glad that he had his sword at his side. He noticed that the corridors were unusually dark. "Are you truly planning on sleeping in this place? It's fucking—"

A shrill scream cut him off midsentence and he looked up, stunned at the sight in front of him. Cecilia was dragging a thrashing Nickles down the hall. The boy prince spotted the couple and screamed, once more. "HEATH! HELP ME, HEATH!" He yelled. 

"Cecilia, stop!" Heath said, angrily. "Why are you abusing a child?!"
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Grunewald Castle

The corridors were slightly confusing as she dragged the prince along them, doing her best to remember where exactly her room was. She was surprised no one so far had attempted to interfere with her task at hand until the boy screamed out a familiar name. Pausing in her steps, the shifter's head whipped around to face Heath and a female who was unknown to her yet for some reason, had a familiar face. An agitated sigh left her lips as she raised the hand holding Nickles, showing Heath who exactly the boy was. 

"For ONCE in my life, I'm following orders. This specific one was to bring Nickles to King Gregor during the Council." The two of them stood covered in filth water, however Cecilia hadn't been completely drenched compared to the boy. Instead, only below her waist had been soaked while her face had been covered in blood from her earlier wound. "You out of everyone should be proud that I haven't murdered him and instead, simply captured."

Her gaze shifted towards the woman he was with, trying to figure out why she was so familiar until recognition flashed in her eyes, causing a large grin to form. "You're the one who fainted right near me!"
Lawrence
Kallophon
The Burnt Thistle, Vallen

"Poor piggy didn't piss his britches, thankfully," Kallophon replied as he chewed uncomfortably on the bread. It's exotic. That's what he told himself. He sighed and held his glass of mead up to his soft, inspecting gaze. Kallophon's face had a thin sheen of sweat; partly from wearing a mask in a warm room, partly from his brush with cannibalisation. "Listen, I enjoy a good laugh, and I enjoy other people who share that love. I also have to appreciate Old Potentate Porky's desire to put on a 'good show', I do. But where am I left now? I need patronage. Clothes, shelter, being on the *Right* End of a good meal. And thanks to Gregor's antics, I'm no further on that quest than I was wading into this backwater." 

He leaned back to stare out the window. "Couldn't find out what Queen Blondanov or Yankydurk Skirt-Splitter thought of my performance. The list of 'desirable clients' ends there, really. I'm too pretty to survive Beardy Maith's magnificent sailing circus. I imagine the South Feyshorians are too busy eating bricks and drinking their own tears. Witherlands, they'd butcher, salt, store, and then devour me come a bad winter. Araedia, too much of the same. Azarya, I'd never be seen again. Back to Terresol? Beautiful kingdom if you've never seen it, friends. I prefer the countryside personally. Truly a delight. But I'm not playing a peep or tapping one foot for Queen Lane, I'll tell you that much."

He looked wistfully into his glass. "Oh, Queen Lane. I mean listen, in many ways she's perfect. I would love, *Love*, to diligently serve my queen, provided it wasn't in the same bed in which he diligently served Vronti. I can see why that cocksucker - oh, that's an ironic word to use, isn't it? - I can see why he accepted her hand in marriage. I'm sure they've heard even as far as Amoroth that she's Charity Lane on the streets, Vulgarity Lane in the sheets. But after I'd done my duty to the crown, I'd be out of there faster than you can say 'Kelwynd' and get her foaming at the mouth."
 
Kallophon frowned, dipping a finger into the warm mead. He looked sadly upon his fellow players. "Listen, friends- and I think I can call you friends - I have more serious reasons. The Witherlands is ever war-torn. In Araedia, they torture young women to serve a false god. Terresol ... I just need to get away from home for a while, you know? I poke fun at Lane, but in the end, I just don't appreciate her rule. And ..." His eyes went wide and strayed from them. "Oh. Oh, I *Just* Remembered that Ibethiel exists."
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald Library, Vallen

"Yes, she's lived quite the life of sacrifice." The Wisdom scoffed, her tone betraying her dislike of the woman she was forced to call a Queen. Serafina tolerated Charity and in the recent past her dislike had grown even more as she tried to upset the Blood Caste by starting those cursed academies. 

"I have my ways, King Bradai, as you'll no doubt come to learn." Serafina smiled as he asked her how she planned on putting a Vortigern on the throne. "Vronti Kelwynd attacked the Southern Federation and cost you good men and part of an island. I can give that back to you. I can also add your company to the official Terresolian trading register." She paused for a moment and looked at the men in the library. "I will put a Vortigern on the throne with or without your assistance, King Bradai." She replied, her eyes reflecting an undeniable determination. Having said her part, Serafina slowly rose from the chair, smoothing the wrinkles of her dress, the red book hanging loosely at her side. "If you doubt me, I encourage you to watch things unfold. My offer remains on the table. For now."
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Grunewald Castle Library, Vallen

Bradai was impressed at her curtness. It was rare to find a Wisdom that wasn't longwinded. "Your secret is safe, I suppose. Vhere seems no use killing you, you're too bold." He gave her a short smile, if only for an instant.

He reached across the table, grabbing her glass of rum and pouring it into his. He sipped on it lightly, "I fink what you can provide to me can be discussed. I know when a trading partner is 'olding out." He set the glass back down onto the end table, lifting up the book he had taken from the shelf and placing it back in his lap. 

For a moment, he turned around to get a good look at her, remembering her face. "Try and get 'er to abdicate. Charity Lane is a rational woman, but 'er people? Vhey'll tear 'er to shreds once tha rightful family is back wiffin tha borders. Do vhat soon, or I'll 'ave to, and when she asks me 'ow I know just what's being planned, I might not 'ave tha strengff to lie." 

He paused for a moment, then stepped towards her, his voice hushed. "Caderyn Vortigern is alive, as is the Late King's daughter Fleur. Boff uff vhem are in my protection. If vhis does become a war uff succession, I do fink you'd be 'ard fucking pressed to do better vhan vhat." He shrugged, standing up from his chair and making his way to his men. "Sleep on vhat information, write down what you're willing to give me, and vhen double it. I do not like being fucked wiff." He took a step away, "Like I said, sleep on it." 

Expressionless, he returned to his seat by the fire.
John
**King Dennon Bigsby and Queen Lucrezia Scheer
The Suite of Love in Grunewald Castle**

The married pair were laying on their backs in bed. Dennon was staring at the ceiling, but occasionally looked at the giant pig fertility statue King Gregor had graciously left in their room. Lucrezia broke the silence. "Do you think that musician would take a job playing in Ibethiel?"

Dennon turned his head to stare at her. "You almost voted to kill him."

"But I didn't."

"We could all hear your verbal hesitation!"

"I was hesitant because I thought it was rude and disappointed that I didn't get to participate in the first hog dangle, but I thought his playing was nice."

"Well, despite your heart being in the right place," He said sarcastically, "I think he would still turn us down. I'm sure he heard you." He paused for a moment. "It may have been rude, but it did get you thinking about him."
Robert
The Musicians
*The Burnt Thistle*, Vallen

They listened as Kallophon lamented. Their line of work certainly did not provide the most coin or security. It was also unsurprising that he wanted to leave the boglands. 

"There's no culture here," Imogen said in disgust, "We've traveled the continent quite a few times."

"Some kingdoms are more receptive to music than others," Arnaud said, crushing a bit of ash between his thumb and forefinger until his fingerpads were blackened with the soot. He wiped it off on his pantleg and sighed. "But playing for a court is hellish. Playing for an unstable court will fucking get you killed, which you've discovered firsthand tonight."

"The frozen pricks in the north are too busy defrosting their balls to listen to a ballad," Bertolt said. Imogen nodded with a cringe. "And the queen of Ibethiel is a baby killer. It's poetic justice that she's seemingly barren, the fuckin' cunt."

"Araedia appreciates the arts," Arnaud said, "But they *Are* Uptight. Your quick tongue would be most unwelcome."

"Terresol is where I'd go," Bertold nodded, "However, I do not mind the queen. She has horsey teeth, though. I could do without seeing those."

"If worse comes to worse, you can always resort to conducting the Great Taemarian Bog Frog Orchestra and Choir. Unless you're allergic to bog frogs," Imogen said with a shrug of her thin shoulders.

Sir Heath Romanov
Grunewald Castle

Heath rolled his eyes at Cecilia's explanation. "*Whose* Orders are you following, exactly? And since *When* Do you follow anyone's orders? I assumed that you came here on your own accord. I swear to the gods, Cecilia, you better not be planning on eating this child," Heath said, reaching out to grab Nickles' arm and moving to tug him out of Cecilia's grasp. He wrinkled his nose in digust upon smelling the two of them. They were damp and scummy, with the unmistakable musk of the bogs that polluted the air with their rank stench. 

"And why is your face all bloody? You look like a fucking nightmare," Heath added. He wanted to apologize to Anyanka for this scene. The two banes of his existence were currently ruining what would have been a nice evening together.
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah 
Grunewald Castle

When Nickles was tugged out from her grasp, the Cecilia's eyes instantly shifted to a striking blue shade. It had been a struggle to capture the prince and she was not going to let Heath ruin it for her. 

"There was a change of plans and I found a better, easier way to earn coin for double what I was offered. Who gave me the order is none of your business." When she spoke, Cecilia's voice had been mixed with a threatening growl. She made sure to keep her attention towards the boy in fear he would make a run for it. "Now give him back to me or I swear Heath, you will not like the outcome. Nor will your friend or anyone else who attempts to stop me." 

She knew it was wrong to threaten him, however she had her own neck to save and he was preventing her from doing so.
Robert
Sir Heath Romanov
Grunewald Castle

"Tell me," Heath challenged, pushing Nickles back behind him. Heath was basically Cecilia's father, as he was the one that gave her life this time around. The jagged scar around her neck from where Heath sewed her head back on was a permanent reminder of that. "If you need coin, I can give it to you," Heath said, "I'll double whatever the hell you're getting for kidnapping a child."

Her threats had little effect on him.
Rosa
Heath was basically Cecilia's father
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Vallen Taemar

The tease had her brow raising, and she gave a laugh. "There are a lot of rumors about me, I thought you would have known better than to start believing things just because I have been gifted a _significant_amount of Terresolian wines from Charity." She turned, letting him lead the way inside. They were both unsettled by the castle, but she was using it as an excuse to linger close to Heath. 

Until there was a scream.

The scene that unfolded was chaotic, and she blinked, feeling like she was missing a crucial piece of information. 

"Wait is this Nickes as in _Ramsalot_?"
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah 
Grunewald Castle

"Yes it is Nickles Ramsalot. Someone who is WANTED." 

When Heath asked her the second time, Cecilia took a couple steps towards him so she was merely inches from his face. She rose her clawed hand towards the Duchess beside him and used her index to point. 

"It was King Gregor who have me these orders so either give me the boy or I will have to start my murder spree with her." There was no point in answering his question truthfully. Cecilia could feel her heart pounding against her chest, indicating that she was close to shifting and losing control. "Then I will kill the boy next, *Even though* I wasn't planning to originally and then I will murder your entire family starting with those currently in this castle and then move on to Gabriella and the rest, leaving you for last. Shall I continue?"

She cocked her head as she waited for his answer. It was harsh for her to threaten his family, considering Heath was like family to her himself.
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan 
Vallen Taemar

She blinked as a hand was raised and pointed to her. "Why am _I_ being threatened cause you couldn't keep a child in your control?"
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald Library, Vallen

Serafina raised an eyebrow at his passive aggressive threat to kill her wondering how much alcohol he could drink before turning into a sputtering idiot. She had taken a vow not to engage in some pleasures beyond moderation, but experience with scholars of the libraries she frequented suggested men couldn't hold their liquor if their life depended on it.

The Wisdom chuckled as he insisted on holding to the timeline he dictated. "You cannot rush the will of the Gods, King Bradai, but rest assured the plan is already in motion. Saris has made her will known and I will fulfill it." 

Serafina's knuckles whitened around the book in her hand when he stepped towards her, the smell of rum mixed with blood wine and hog from the feast rolling from his mouth causing a wave of nausea to settle in her stomach. Her eyes shot to the Pirate King's at the mention of Caderyn and Fleur Vortigern being alive and she searched to find the smallest flicker of deceit. A number of thoughts overwhelmed her in the moment, surprise being the most prevalent with the new information. Maintaining her composure, she returned the book to the shelf nearby to give herself a moment to process. The Pirate King's voice drew her back to the moment. "You'll have to forgive me for not taking you at your word. If you want me to extend my offer, I want proof of your claims." The woman made her way to the door of the library and turned back to examine the Pirate King lounging in his chair surrounded by his guards. "May the Tide Bearer look favourably upon our arrangement. I look forward to speaking with you again." She nodded graciously to the guard who accompanied their conversation with his melodic strumming before pushing the door of the library open, stepping into the cool night air flowing through the corridors of the castle.
Robert
Sir Heath Romanov
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

Prince Nickles sighed heavily, tapping his foot on the floor as he waited for their confrontation to be over. "It is *Far* Past my bedtime," He muttered with his arms crossed. 

Heath Romanov grit his teeth, his jaw flexing as he stared Cecilia down. He gripped the hilt of his sword. He felt a pang in his chest as his oldest friend threatened his loved ones. She was crazed with a look about her that Heath knew all too well. She was teetering on the edge of shifting into some murderous animal. He hoped it would be the pigeon looking bird, but knew she'd go for her horrid wolf form. Nickles whimpered and clutched Anyanka's skirt, burying his lopsided head into the fine fabric. 

"You'll murder my entire family? Over this boy that *Might* Get you a handful of coins from that Hog man?" He asked with a scoff. "You're fucking ridiculous and if you touch Anyanka, I swear to the gods that I will detach your head from your body and put you back in that fucking snow bank."