<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“I was on my way to confer with some Lebi Knights. You might find the meeting boring, but you’re welcome to accompany me, if you want,”</span>Barth told Rajah, who had managed to introduce himself some time after the tenth ‘thank you’.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“You might find someone with a wineskin too, if you look hard enough. Not sure if you’d want to drink so soon after nearly dying of thirst, but I don’t judge,”</span>he added conversationally as he led the way out into the daylight, which was turning very slightly grey as the wind grew a touch colder.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> “Your horse is doing well, you should know. She’s a tough one. Is she mixed with toarn?” </span><br/><br/>A passing group of Lebis stopped as he walked by them, nodding in greeting; he spotted a red slash on their chests, and another on their left gauntlets, and he slowed down long enough to nod back.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“The Red Company,”</span>he said quietly, as the continued deeper into the second, much larger camp.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“Free men who value their lands and comrades over wealth and titles. You haven’t heard of Lebis like this, I’m sure, but they exist.” </span><br/><br/>It was an interesting feeling, giving someone a tour of sorts, given the tensions that had arisen when Barth and his comrades first arrived.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">A lot has changed</span>,</span>he thought, feeling a slight pang of sadness as his mind touched on Verana. He was going to need to get used to that, but it would take time - the wound was still too fresh.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“You were seeking my father, correct? If it makes you feel any better, he wouldn’t have helped you. Better to accept aid from a snake that never shows you its face.”</span>He wanted to ask Rajah if he’d been to Linden, but he feared the answer. He feared what the man would tell him had become of the place he had once called his home.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Have you been to…”</span>he stopped, trailing off, before shaking himself slightly.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">Not the time, Barth</span>.</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;">-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-</div></span><br/><br/><br/>Rajah knew nothing of meetings or Lebi Knights, but he knew that he didn’t necessarily feel like being alone right now. He trailed closely behind Barth, looking at soldiers and tents and horses as he passed them by. When Barth mentioned Emira, something struck him. The crown he’d retrieved from the horde of Tutari bodies, that had belonged to this man’s father. Though it was disappointed to hear that King Krinwulf wouldn’t have sent him help, Rajah still felt obligated to give the crown to what would have been it’s next inheritant.<br/><br/>Barth was fine company, though Rajah had only known him for the past couple of minutes.<span style="color: #8080FF">“She is mixed with toarn, yes. She is Emira.” <br/></span><br/>If he’d had the strength or motivation, Rajah could have almost laughed in disbelief at the idea of Lebis valuing anything other than coin.<span style="color: #8080FF">“The Lebis they tell us about, they are pompous and cannot see around their money.”</span>It was obviously not true for all of them, as he was currently being nursed inside a Lebi camp, but it seemed to really resemble what few he’d personally met.<br/><br/>When Barth fell silent, Rajah gave him a sidelong glance as they walked.<span style="font-style: italic">Have I been to…?</span><span style="color: #8080FF">”Linden?”</span>he asked, and then fell silent as well.<span style="color: #8080FF">“After the meeting, come with me to Emira. I have a gift.”</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;">-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-</div></span><br/><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Emira,”</span>Barth repeated, smiling at the sound of the name.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“I like it. She was distressed, you know. In spite of her exhaustion, until the moment you were healed. That is a special animal you have.”</span><br/><br/>They were almost at the meeting place, which was a cavernous tent with a peaked roof - not long ago he would’ve rolled his eyes at the sight, but he was growing accustomed to the ways of his allies. And how could he ever expect them to tolerate him and his people if he couldn’t do the same for them? There were too many good Lebis to condemn the lot, regardless of how rotten some of them might be.<br/><br/>When Rajah mentioned the Lebis as he knew them, Barth snorted.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“Yeah, I encountered some like that. Many of them were concerned only with their banners and wealth, but when they got their first taste of the Tutar… some of them changed, after that. Many of them. And while most hated the ragged prince at the start - and that only got worse once I was given command of the army - I think I can say some of them are starting to change their minds. I’ve even made some friends among them, and so long as I can help keep them alive, maybe that’ll continue.”</span><br/><br/>They were just outside the tent when Rajah asked him if he’d meant Linden, and Barth paused.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“I was going to ask if you have been to my home, but I don’t know if I want to hear the answer.”</span>The offer made regarding Emira seemed strange to him, but he smiled, nodding as he pushed through the flaps.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“Come, let us see what Lebidan’s bravest have to report.”</span><br/><br/>The Knights were fewer in number than when he’d last seen them all together, on the eve of the battle - it was easy to focus on one’s own losses, but no group passed through that conflict without its share of grief.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Thank you for coming, Knights and Lord Knights,” </span>he said, surveying them all with a steady eye.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“The battle has been won, but it was not the last. Those of you gathered here command the bulk of your house’s men, and as such I wish to hear of your troops’ morale, and also if you require anything. Convoys will be moving southward from Lebidan, and whatever resources you require will be provided.”</span><br/><br/>“Prince Barth!” ejaculated an older man, moving forward with enthusiasm that was definitely feigned. His manner of speaking was on the ‘breathy’ side, and Barth was grateful that he didn’t seem to have had onions recently as the distance between them evaporated. “Sir Derrald, at your service, Commander. I speak for Lord Brigham, who-“<br/><br/>“Apologies, Prince Barth,” cut in a much younger man, to the consternation of the other, who smoothed his combover down in an agitated fashion as he was shunted aside. If there was one area the former had an advantage, it was that his armor was positively shining in spite of the dim light. The younger man had long hair, high cheekbones and light armor, good for movement, but unappealing to the eye. He also had one arm in a sling, and a fresh scar running across a cheek. Barth liked him instantly. “Rendir Brigham, and I wish to spare you from Sir Derrald’s requests for more polish.”<br/><br/>“Appearances matter, Master Rendir!” the man squawked, sending a wave of hot air over the proceedings as the younger man winced. “We must separate ourselves from the animals we face, or we would look like… like…”<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Me?” </span>Barth asked, his voice quiet but a smile on his face as the man practically leapt up into the air, terrified by the thought of insulting a superior who happened to be wearing horribly dented, stained armor.<br/><br/>“No! never, Prince Ba-“<br/><br/>“<span style="font-style: italic">Enough</span>, Derrald. Prince Barth, if you could request fletchers I would be truly indebted to you. We have timber, but lack the craftsmen to arm up properly if the next battle comes sooner than later.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Of course, Lord Brigham. How is morale?”</span><br/><br/>The young man’s face darkened slightly, but he nodded all the same after a moment’s hesitation. “It is good enough. We suffered losses, like everyone else, but the men still hold strong. They know what they are fighting for, and they will be ready when the time comes.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Good. I am glad to hear that, L-“</span><br/><br/>“Please, call me Rendir,” he said, looking more than a little anguished about something.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Very well,”</span>Barth answered, although his expression remained serious as he watched the young Brigham.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“You have my sympathy, regarding your brother, Rendir. He was a great soldier.”</span><br/><br/>“Thank you, Commander. And my sister-“<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Is a hero, who saved my life,” </span>Barth interjected, the softness in his tone turning to steel.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> “She is more, much more, than your sister now.” </span><br/><br/>The young man, although clearly unhappy, nodded and walked away, to be replaced by representatives of the next house of lords. The whole time, Derrald watched with a longing on his face that the prince knew had everything to do with polish, probably for his sollerets.<br/><br/>Some time later the two of them were back outside, and evening was beginning to set in as they made their way to where Emira was being kept.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> “Do not lie to me, Rajah. We both know that was incredibly boring.”</span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;">-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-</div></span><br/><br/><br/>Rajah poured out of the tent, grinning for the first time in what felt like hundreds of years. He’d stayed along the wall of the tent for the duration of the meeting, uninvolved in the conversation and able to fall back and observe. Between the insistence that the army needed to look good and the love of hearing themselves talk, Lebis were more or less exactly what Rajah expected.<br/><br/><span style="color: #8080FF">“It was boring,”</span>he agreed.<span style="color: #8080FF">“North men love tents. When Plains warriors meet, it is under the sky for the Gods to see. We have fires and women and ritual.”</span>He stopped, looked back at the tent and then back to Barth, shaking his head.<span style="color: #8080FF">“It is not this.” </span><br/><br/>The stables weren’t terribly far away, or at least they were vaguely visible through rows of other tents. Emira had never been stabled, Rajah had seen to it. The entire Plainsman ideal was to roam freely, and that meant their horses as well. Nevertheless, he had never been happier than he felt looking at her in a stable.<br/><br/>He held out his hand as he approached, fingers brushing her muzzle. Emira’s saddlepack hung on the wall just next to her stable, and Rajah’s free hand set out to searching through pockets until eventually he found the only item in the entire pack. He stood with his back to Barth for a second, looking down at the crown in his hand.<span style="color: #8080FF">“I took this to give to the king of Linden, but the king no longer exists and neither does Linden.”</span>He turned, extended his arm and offered up what Rajah guessed was the last heirloom of Linden.<span style="color: #8080FF"> “It should go to his son instead.” </span><br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;">-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-</div></span><br/><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“We didn’t use tents for our meetings either, not unless the weather was bad,”</span>Barth replied, smiling at the man’s recollections.<span style="color: #FFFF00"> “These fiery women, though. I’m interested in learning more about them,”</span>he said, still grinning as they moved to the camp’s outskirts.<br/><br/>They reached the stables and Barth watched as the man was reunited with the horse that had taken him so far in so little time. He looked on, curious, as Rajah began digging through a bag that was hanging near Emira. Eventually the man turned around and held out something that flashed as it caught the light.<br/><br/>The crown of Linden.<br/><br/>Wordless, Barth reached out and accepted it with trembling fingers. Gleaming silver, that had been tarnished in his memory, but which was now flawless and beautiful, sat upon his callused hands, the jewels set within bright and colorful. Paetar Krinwulf had defiled the crown in Barth’s eyes, but as the prince stared down at the heirloom he remembered not his father, but the legendary kings who’d existed before him. He remembered the history lesson he’d received when he was young, about how Linden had formed in the shadow of an empire, under the leadership of courageous men who sought only to do what was best for their people.<br/><br/>He remembered being young again, the embrace of his mother, and the days when he would look out onto lush countrysides from the back of his horse and think of the hope that the future would bring.<br/><br/>He remembered Linden.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“Thank you,”</span>he said quietly, as he stared down at the symbol of everything he had lost.<span style="color: #FFFF00">“Thank you for this, Rajah. I am… forever in your debt.”<br/></span><br/>Even as he gazed at the crown he’d thought was lost forever, and right before he put it away, wrapping it in cloth to keep it from seeing the light of day, Barth heard the voice of King Thorin Sgaran Sahir echo through his mind.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">“Accept the power that is your due. Don't walk away from your true calling.”</span></span><br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Upper Regions</span></span><br/><br/>A different Demigod stood in the entry to Naiya’s home.<br/><br/>Like Piedal he was slim, but he was darker and shorter, with messy hair and sloppy robes. He was staring angrily at the man striding alongside Rolyn, having somehow failed to see the Circle God approaching him. “I said not to bring anyone,” he shot, clearly annoyed. “We can handle this on our ow-“<br/><br/>He broke off, realizing who was accompanying the other Demigod. Rolyn walked up to him and smiled, indicating the doorway behind him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Greetings Kilkren. Do you intend to prevent me from entering this dwelling?"</span>There was no threat in the words, nor any heat to his tone, but the man's face paled slightly and he quickly stepped aside, fixing Piedal with an incredulous look as Rolyn walked smoothly into Naiya's home. He took an additional surprised step back when the old wolf trotted past him, before fixing Piedal with yet another stare, one that was more confused than anything else.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Naiya Flamecloak,"</span>Rolyn said softly, and the woman looked up from her lap to stare up at him, looking shocked to see him standing there. He could see that the corners of her green eyes were glistening, but at the moment it was shame that dominated her expression.<br/><br/>"Lord Rolyn, I- what are you doing here?"<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"I am only here to talk. I wish to know what has happened to you, and if I can help you in any way."</span><br/><br/>She turned to glare at the doorway, and the young Demigod standing just inside flinched as if he'd been struck. She seemed content to focus on her affront at the moment, leaving the more difficult items behind for the time being. ”Piedal, I will have your hide for this! I-"<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"Forgiveness, Naiya,"</span>Rolyn interjected, watching her calmly.<span style="color: #00BFFF">“The young man merely acted out of concern for you. And while I would like to assist you, if I can, if you wish for me to leave I will not argue." </span><br/><br/>The fire left her emerald eyes and she shook her head sadly, looking doubtful. “I don’t know what I want. I… I brought this upon myself,” she finally choked out, looking down into her own lap once again. “I deserved it, and perhaps the lesson will teach me not to meddle in things I do not understand.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“What are you talking about?”</span><br/><br/>“The message that reached you from Seagan Kahz,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “It came from me. And Malinar… he… he found out.”<br/><br/>Rolyn moved closer without realizing it and placed a hand under her chin, forcing the Elder Goddess to look up at him. There, on one cheek, was the shadow of a bruise. And in her eyes was the pain of betrayal. She’d never believed him capable of such a thing, and when he struck her he’d shattered something that could never be repaired.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“Malinar,”</span>he said softly, and a muscle twitched in his face as the fury within him grew to alarming levels. All of the childish squabbles between them, the Chaos God’s refusal to let him gain an inch of progress towards his goals, all of it paled in comparison to this. This was a member of the Circle, and with this act he had brought shame onto all of them.<br/><br/>There was a flurry of movement behind him, and when he turned Rolyn saw all three of Naiya’s Demigods moving for the exit, their faces mirroring the rage he felt.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“Stop,”</span>he told them, his voice firm and unyielding, but only two of them obeyed. The third, Kilkren of course, continued stalking towards the doorway leading outside. By the time he reached it, Rolyn was standing in front of him.<br/><br/>He jumped, taking two steps back, before squaring himself up with a scowl. “You can’t stop me. I don’t care<span style="font-style: italic">who</span>you are, I’m going to find him.”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“And do what, precisely?”</span><br/><br/>“Going to teach him a fucking lesson,” the Demigod growled, practically shaking with fury. Naiya made a sound of alarm, and his comrades moved to put their hands on him, but he drew his sword, eyes blazing like the fire his Mistress wielded.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“I will not allow that,”</span>Rolyn replied, matching the man’s gaze. His tone was that of a person simply stating a fact, and his level demeanor only seemed to make the Demigod even angrier.<span style="color: #00BFFF">“He would kill you.”</span><br/><br/>“He wouldn’t dare!”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“If you are foolish enough to give him a reason, he will most assuredly will. He would also be able to do so with very little difficulty.” <br/></span><br/>"I… I don't care! I'll fight him if I have to!"<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">"No, you won't. And that is the end of this discussion. Sit down,” </span>Rolyn said, pointing at a chair in the corner, but the man bristled, staying right where he was.<br/><br/>“You will not treat me like a child! I won’t be sent to sit down like a-“<br/><br/>The sword’s gleaming steel blade corroded with astonishing speed. The glimmering metal dulled, turned an ugly shade of black mingled with rust streaks, and then it was falling to the ground in a small swirl of dust. The Demigod had only enough time to stare down at the ruined weapon in shock before a blast of pale blue light hit him in the chest, sending him flying backward into the arms of Tamin and Piedal, who only just barely managed to catch him before he could hit the ground.<br/><br/>“What did you…? Is he?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“He will be fine,”</span>Rolyn said, as Naiya looked down at the man with considerable distress. He was perfectly still, and didn’t appear to be breathing.<span style="color: #00BFFF">“In a moment he will awaken, and hopefully he will be much calmer than he was before.”</span><br/><br/>“Kilkren is a hothead,” Tamin replied as he worked in unison with Piedal to lay their fellow Demigod on the ground. “What if he isn’t calm?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“Then I will make it so.”</span><br/><br/>All three of the home’s conscious occupants looked at him with some surprise, but Rolyn himself was not calm. Far from it, really, as Malinar’s transgression could not be overlooked. Not this time.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“It was necessary, to save his life,”</span>he added, peering down at the man he’d stunned.<span style="color: #00BFFF">“Malinar is a vengeful individual, and I know that better than most. He would have hurt this one, more out of spite than from any real need to protect himself.”</span><br/><br/>“You were his friend, once,” Piedal said, before looking shocked at himself for saying it. It was something everyone knew, more or less, even if no one spoke about it openly. The man’s nervous expression faded when Rolyn nodded, looking from him to the Goddess he served.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“Rumors are usually based, at least partly, in fact. Malinar and I were once friends - no, we were much closer than that. We were brothers, and in those days whenever the Circle faced turmoil and strife I always knew I could rely on him.”<br/></span><br/>“What happened?” Naiya inquired, the look on her face making it clear it was a question she’d longed to ask for a very long time. Perhaps she had tried, at some point or another, but Malinar was unlikely to have given her any real answers.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“When the Empire of Grahn was brought to its knees in its war against Thaam, Malinar, the famed Grahnese general, had blamed himself for it. His Uplifting had meant abandoning the nation, and it struggled following his departure. From the Upper Regions he could do little to help them, and so he beseeched me to vote for intervening. He wanted the Circle to stop the destruction of Grahn, and because I was his friend, he believed I would do so without question.”<br/></span><br/>“And when you voted against him…” Naiya said, looking at him with disbelief etched across her features.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“He never forgave me. He believed I was taking Valiya’s side, choosing Thaam and her friendship, and he refused to see it any other way. Even now he fights me against aiding Soluunar, all because of what happened all that time ago.”<br/></span><br/>“I… I don’t believe it.”<br/><br/>He nodded, unsurprised by the reception received by his revelation. With everything happening in the world, it was difficult to fathom the idea of a man with as much power as Malinar being so vindictive - particularly given the lives at risk. Many centuries had passed since the rift formed between the two oldest Gods, but it was perhaps time to make things right, if such a thing was even possible.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“I have to leave,”</span>he said abruptly, suddenly feeling confusion and uncertainty nagging at the edges of his mind.<span style="color: #00BFFF">“Be well. And keep an eye on him,”</span>he added, indicating the man still sprawled out on the floor as he left the dwelling, Fenric trotting along behind him.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #00BFFF">I do not sense him. Something is wrong,</span></span>he thought as he looked around, focusing his mind, but to no avail.<span style="color: #00BFFF"> “Phyrexus,”</span>he called, opening his palm as a golden light appeared at its center.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00BFFF">“I need you at once.” </span><br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: white;background:white;"/></div><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 125%; line-height: 116%;">Soluunar</span></span><br/><br/>“A right mess, this. What say you, Sir Keln?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“I say you should shut your trap,” </span>came the response, and the portly man with the curly brown beard stopped talking immediately.<span style="color: #808000">“Your words are your own, but watch where you speak them. And take care with hefting my name around,”</span>the man with the golden bear on his chest added with a glare, and the other Lebi nodded rapidly, eager to show his understanding.<br/><br/>“Yes, Ke- friend, of course.”<br/><br/>The other man, a slender but solidly built knight with a reputation for as a master swordsman as well as for being completely incapable of staying out of trouble, offered the flustered man a grudging grunt of acceptance. After maintaining eye contact for a moment longer, during which the corpulent Lebi began squirming, Sir Keln Sasek shouldered past him into the dark, spacious tent whose entry was hidden behind his girth.<br/><br/>A table had been set up, around which sat a number of men just like him. That is, they were all angry and discontented.<br/><br/>Keln sat down at the end of the table furthest from the entryway, and the others, who’d been speaking softly but intently, quieted down almost immediately. Whatever smatterings of conversation remained were quickly stifled once he tapped the table in front of him with the tip of an armored finger.<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“Good of you all to make it,”</span>he said quietly, as the hefty man from outside waddled in and busied himself with a bottle and some mugs in the corner.<span style="color: #808000">“Today is a day that shall determine not only our fates, but the fate of Soluu-“ </span><br/><br/>He broke off, glaring at the man who was hurriedly picking up the mug he’d dropped, whimpering a string of apologies as he moved. Once his momentary rage passed, Keln returned his attention to the Lebis at the table.<br/><br/>Each and every one of them were of the fallen House of Garth, a name that would be stricken from all records, but never from the hearts of those who remembered its greatness. There was the pair, Borrie and Pav Hormen, brothers known for their fist fighting skills as well as their equally bald, ever shining heads, Lad Lazinus, who was older than any of them with the long grey hair to prove it, but whose face remained remarkably unlined, and then there was Sir Fenn Hewten, a cousin of Borim Garth and an honorable man through and through. It was said that the boney, nearly skeletal Fenn only ever beat his wife when he was drunk, and that was only the first of his many admirable qualities.<br/><br/>Aside from those notable guests there were others, men who had not been in the employ of Garth for as long, but who knew enough in spite of their youth to see where their loyalty truly belonged.<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“Anyway, as you all know, today is the day we are to be… relocated.”</span>Keln looked sadly down at the bear adorning his chest, and shook his head regretfully.<span style="color: #808000">“Either join the king’s men, all of whom are common simpletons, or we join in the other Houses, the ones that would take us, anyway,”</span>he added, his words fed by a tone of sheer disgust.<span style="color: #808000">“And they won’t, for why would they <span style="font-style: italic">sully</span> their ranks with the likes of us? We are men of House Garth, and as such we are poison. Taking us on would be political suicide,”</span>he finished, watching the fat man closely as he set his mug down in front of him with painstaking care.<br/><br/>“What of Resuran?”<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“Hah!”</span>Keln barked, staring wide-eyed at the speaker, who was one of the younger among them whose name didn’t matter.<span style="color: #808000">“The Red Company would seem like a way out, but only if you’re an ugly fool.”</span><br/><br/>The ‘ugly’ part wasn’t necessarily needed, but it certainly helped to get the point across. The soldier slumped in his chair, and Keln nodded, pleased with the result. They needed to learn while they were young, after all.<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“Jahal Resuran is a blood traitor, whose family served the noble House of Garth for <span style="font-style: italic">generations</span>. That is, until he decided to spit on the banner that shielded him and that fucking mustache for all those years,”</span>he said, his voice heavily laden with bitterness as he stood up.<span style="color: #808000"> “He could have done something when Borim was murdered by that scarred bitch, but instead he turned his back on him! On us! We were brothers, all of us, united beneath the golden bear, and Resuran chose his new friend <span style="font-style: italic">Prince Barth</span>, lord of ruins and corpses, over his own family.”</span><br/><br/>The table fell into a deep silence after the pronouncement, and Keln sat back down, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself. On the faces of the elder attendees was the same anger - Resuran was a hated man in that tent, and his days would be safer if he kept his distance from it.<span style="color: #808000">“On top of that,”</span>he continued, his tone now level,<span style="color: #808000">“Resuran knows me. He would watch me, all of us, like a hawk. The Red Company is not an option.” </span><br/><br/>Resuran and Sasek were friends long before, briefly, until a bitter rivalry and eventual hatred developed between them. Resuran was an accomplished swordsman, but Keln knew he was far superior although the two of them had never directly clashed. He also knew Resuran hated him more than he hated anything else, and that he would love to be the one to end him, somehow and some way.<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“The answer, you idiots, is obvious. Or at least it <span style="font-style: italic">should</span> be. The king’s men are plentiful and simpleminded, and they are led by Lord Knight Paraan, who is merely a figurehead, a puppet to a king that is miles away. We would blend in, and then…”<br/></span><br/>They all watched him, waiting expectantly for what was to come. For he was Sir Keln Sasek, and he never failed to deliver.<br/><br/><span style="color: #808000">“And then we will take what is ours.”<br/></span><br/>A cheer rose up, and the mugs clanged together before their contents vanished.