<div align="center"><strong>Olivia Wilde</strong></div><br/>Olivia was working away furiously at her desk when the door suddenly burst open and a servant rushed up to her side, bowing deeply but hurriedly. “Your Eminence,” he said in a rush, holding out a small, folded piece of parchment, causing Olivia to jump to her feet with excitement. “We’ve had word?” she asked, snatching the letter from the messenger’s hands. A long, long time ago while the King was away she had established the position of Postmaster General, a move that on the surface was aimed at ensuring that all messages coming to and from the palace were handled more efficiently and swiftly. What almost everyone failed to realise was that it was a political appointment, allowing her to place her own loyal servant into the office. Not a single message came to or from Castle Oasis without Olivia knowing about it, and having a copy made when necessary. “Go, get the servants!” she ordered as she tore the seal on the copied letter, opening it up to see what message Haidar himself would probably be in the process of reading right now. Her deep blue eyes slowly went wide as she scanned the document, her skin growing pale as she started to take everything in.<br/><br/><div align="center"><em>The King is Dead.<br/><br/>Aserits are in Theiri for peace talks.<br/>Leave for our capital immediately.<br/>Lose no time in arriving.<br/>You will be welcomed upon your arrival.<br/><br/>Lyssa.</em></div><br/>“Black widow!” she hissed as she clenched her fist tightly, crumpling up the note into a little ball before hurling it to the floor. She stood there for a few moments, running her hands through her hair as she slowly felt her world beginning to spiral out of control. This was supposed to be her big break; the day that she would finally escape these Nydewian cretins and get to meet a<em>real </em>king. Casting a furtive glance over to one of her mahogany bookshelves she saw an entire row of texts published by the late King Garawin, given a prominent place on her shelf and arranged neatly like a small shrine. Although she had never met the man she had always found him inspirational, the very embodiment of everything it meant to be wise and noble. Now he was gone and a whore sat in his place on the royal throne. The very thought made her stomach churn.<br/><br/>Her bitter reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a flock of servants, who promptly started grabbing the set of chests she’d prepared for her journey, while another group flocked off and started helping her undress. “Quickly!” she hissed, lashing out in anger at those around her. “We don’t have any time to waste. The King will be summoning me any minute now!” She knew that the Theirians would have prepared a banquet in their honour for when they arrived and she did not wish to present herself in the robes of the desert people of Nydewia. As the last of her clothing came off, a group of servants started helping her with her undergarments, although Olivia herself was instead focused on the dress that a pair of servants were very carefully bringing over to her. She had ordered the designer from Theiri itself and he had designed the evening gown to her exact specifications. Lightweight and elegant, the dress was on the very cutting edge of Theirian fashion, accentuating all of her slender curves and pushing up her average sized bust slightly, creating a rather appealing illusion that her chest was slightly larger. Olivia was rather conservative in her dress sense and as such the gown revealed very little of her small, lithe body, although the way the fabric fell around her was incredibly seductive, not to mention tasteful. However the most appealing feature of the dress was the colour. While the style was exquisitely Theirian, the shimmering blue pigment of the dress came from a dye made from very rare, crushed lapiz gemstomes found almost exclusively in Nydewia, giving the dress a rather exotic appearance that would clearly denote both her Nydewian origin and the fact that she was<em>very </em>wealthy and powerful.<br/><br/>“You look beautiful, milady,” one of the servants said to her with a smile and she soon recognised the girl as one of the two girls Haidar had had his way with; she had made sure to reassign the two of them to her personal staff to protect them in future. She flashed a tiny smile, although she didn’t really feel any happiness behind it, nor did she feel any as she stepped in front of the mirror and examined how the dress fit. She looked exquisite, like the kind of perfect beauty you only ever see in artwork but never in real life, although she no longer cared. The bitter news had completely dissolved her excitement. “Yes,” she replied absentmindedly as another servant suddenly rushed through the door. “You’ve been summoned to the Gate Room, milady!” he called, and she turned to him with a nod.<br/><br/>Beckoning for her servants to follow, she soon started walking towards the Gate Room, her attendants carrying chests of clothes, books, gold and other assorted necessities behind her. The Gate Room was locked away in an obscure, seldom used part of the castle and it took her a few minutes to arrive. By the time she did, King Haidar and P’Tulla were already present. She took a moment to curtsy politely, before looking up as though ignorant to the contents of the letter save that they were summoned to Theiri. “We have finally received word then?” she asked, with as much of a smile as she could manage.