<div align="center">Serin<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">(Day One)</span> </div><br/>Sunrise over Estaris did not remain long. There was nothing to break the wide, panoramic view of the Arcunur Plains and her sky save a wispy cloud or lonely tree. When sunrise came, it came in a glory of rich gold. The bright disc would always rise from the horizon after transforming the dark night with vermilion warmth, bringing with it bands of bright tangerine, bold copper, and vibrant scarlet. This morning sun would seem to recognize no boundaries, stretching fingers of blazing fury long across the sky, tracing the yellow grass of the plains as if it were a lover caressing another’s sloping curves. It blessed the land in such a way nearly every day’s beginning before fading off within minutes after birth. It was a beauty for many to behold no matter where you were standing in Estaris except for her capital city, Japivul.<br/><br/>The ancient metropolis was not designed for receiving pampered beauty from the heavens. Instead, it was built to snuggle within what many considered a natural geographic icon. It sought its blessings from the mighty Estaris River that cut the land in two from north to south, long ago fashioning a deep canyon of grandest proportions. You practically couldn’t see the city until you were right on top of it, standing atop the sheer cliff and looking down into the river’s bedded gorge. Japivul defied the basic laws of home defense where the higher ground was an essential key to survival. It embraced the belly of this river’s canyon using the sheer difficulty of its location as a formidable defense.<br/><br/>Serin did not need to see the sunrise kiss the heights of the sentinel cliffs elevated above the rooftops of even the tallest spiraled towers, or the morning light nudging awake the violet cascades of Laviere Flowers which clung to the smooth surfaces of iron-painted cliffs to appreciate Japivul’s beauty. He did not even need to look outside the balcony window of his private study upon the heart beat of its existence, that mighty river, where elaborate bridges were constructed to connect the east shore to the west. To Serin, the true magnificence of his city lay within the pages of an old, fat book. Documenting the bare bones of Japivul’s architectural structures, this large hardback detailed every account of construction that ever took place under the reign of King’s in the past. Everything from the layout of infrastructure to the building blocks of arches and towers, to the strengths and weaknesses of walls and gates to the blueprints of tunnels running beneath the Arcunur Plains, it was all there.<br/><br/>Dressed in a dark violet tunic with gold trim and black pants, he was an early bird for meditation. Lounging over this valued book he took particular interest in the two massive gates guarding the mouths of Japivul’s canyon; the only two points of entry for the general public into the beast. The crown spent incredible energy maintaining strict control over who entered and left the capital, whether by foot, horse, wagon, or boat. It proved to be a constant headache for Serin, but one he couldn’t afford to ignore.<br/><br/>Loras Bairn would have entered Japivul long before sunrise, under invitation from the king through one of these gates and escorted to the palace. Activity never seemed to cease in Japivul no matter what time of the day it was, even at night. But only after the skies settled into blue shades following sunrise would an attendant gently disturb Serin’s morning routine to announce the arrival of his guest. Serin nodded, expressing a desire to meet as soon as possible. “I will see him on the breakfast patio.”<br/><br/>A couple of minutes later Loras and Serin were meeting privately on a balcony overlooking the stone buildings of the large city, cramped into every crevasse of the canyons belly. Of course the palace was the forerunner of all; however there was a similar tower that just about paralleled the majestic presence and power of the king’s home, swelling the broad view of the balcony. It was the Tower of Benevolence, with a structural beauty of odd delicacy wrought into the spiraling adamantine stone. Home of Onul’s Order, it was a religious building, recently turned into Etaris’ headquarters of magical exploration and training. Already there was a shadow from one of its stray peaks osculating across the breakfast balcony because of the climbing sun, and in a few minutes it would be silhouetting the tray of food on the table set for two.<br/><br/>Serin smiled warmly at Loras who entered with two guards, who customarily took their positions on both sides of the double doors. “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he extended his hand to gesture towards the palette of breakfast delicacies, “would you care to join me for breakfast?” The invitation was somewhat of an odd request from a king such as Serin with unlimited resources at his disposal. What could he possibly want from Loras, a petty mercenary?<br/><br/><br/><br/><div align="center">Dasyra<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">(Day One)</span> </div><br/>Moloch Mounts are finicky creatures, so much that many consider them untamable creatures of the Estaris sky even after proven by the grassland elves that they can be ridden. Only by tolerance, and the potential for more, does the Council continually permit the funds for issuing Mounts to a select few military personnel. They are utterly useless creatures in the face of aggression, and have primarily fallen into the exotic means of transporting travelers across the prairie. Even then, it is difficult. Capturing, training, maintaining, and sheltering a Mount is considered an art form not even halfway understood, still. It is possibly the second largest embarrassment for the Estaris empire aside the unconquerable Moloch Mountains in their backyard. To have a species such as the mounts playing on the winds of the grassland plains and not be able to exploit that resource is downright frustrating. Yet one can observe these odd creatures and wonder if they were even meant to be a part of this planet at all. With the anatomy of a bird, the wingspan of a dragon, the head of a gargoyle, the appetite of a whale and the smarts of a gentle dog, it was no mystery as to why they were so difficult to understand.<br/><br/>According to military officials Ralos was Dasyra’s mount, but she could never admit to such a possession. That was half the problem with humans, or at least in the shadow of the Estaris Empire. They always wanted to triumph over and stake mastery claim to any simple thing capable of being owned. It seemed only the elves understood and embraced the symbiotic importance of living alongside one another, an essential detail when approaching these flying beasts. Ralos was only with Dasyra when she was garnished the duties of scout patrol. On any other day the Mount was somewhere off over the Arcunur Plains living with the wilds.<br/><br/>It was mid-afternoon, on scout duty over the Dulany Hills and mountain edges that Ralos alerted Dasyra to the resting eagle. Really, Dasyra had to cling onto the flying beast as it suddenly flipped around in the air to seek the fastest current out of the vicinity. Although having no natural predators, the Mount was not stupid, and did not desire to be lunch for a giant beaked bird that was not even supposed to be on this side of Isadoln-Dale. But that was exactly Dasyra’s concern about the sighting, and less over their safety. A giant eagle so far away from home was something to investigate, if not report. Dasyra had to literally beg Ralos to turn back. Then, after continual refusal to enter the shallow valley she had no choice but to land her mount on the high ground of the bowl. Flying Molochs did not like to touch ground at all. They favored perches, ledges, sturdy tree limbs, cliff edges, or high sitting rocks. Only when they were nesting would they land to touch earth, and in those times they would bury themselves under the thick growth of the grass to keep unseen from other flying Molochs. Coupled together, Ralos was not happy with the situation at all, and nervously pranced in place on his two legs. Dasyra dismounted, and her one handed grasp on a thin string of leather leading to the thick belted harness wrapped about his massive barrel chest was the only means Dasyra had in keeping the animal from fleeing. It was her signal to Ralos that she desired for him to stay, and underneath all the fuss she still admired him. Any other mount would have not tolerated her requests.<br/><br/>Whether all of this alerted the eagle and its companion to their presence or not was hard to say. Dasyra couldn’t tell if the giant was dead, hurt, sleeping, or…  she had never seen one before. Most of her time was spent confirming it was a giant eagle even though it lay before her eyes some yards away. No one back at the camp would believe her report unless they were actively seeking for an estranged eagle. She took Ralos’ advice and decided this was close enough until she could determine if it was alive or dead. But more importantly, this was something warranting an investigation.<br/><br/><br/><div align="center">Kesmon<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">(Day One)</span> </div><br/>“Ah, there you are!” Kesmon greeted Amarin with a smile slightly stuffed with spice cake. He dropped whatever morsel of breakfast was in his hand to the plate and stood up, finishing the bite in his mouth with a quick swallow. “I never thought you would call a recess today.”<br/><br/>He shooed away whoever was following behind the king with a sweeping motion of his hand and moved to pull a chair out from the table for Amarin. “Have a seat my King.”<br/><br/>“It is sad that your appetite is the only thing that can pull you away from the morning court.” Kesmon snatched a bottle out of a servant’s hand, daintily plucking the goblet from the other hand as well and urgently waved the dazed fellow to leave the room. “You already know my opinion on that matter of course, there ought to be someone else who can sit and fairly judge your people every morning as you do. There are more important matters your Majesty ought to be doing.” He poured the contents of the glass bottle into the glass goblet, whatever liquid it was that the servant was going to serve, and sat it down at the edge of Amarin’s plate. By now Kesmon had chased everyone out of the dinning chamber leaving the two alone. “Like spending more time with that lovely little filly upstairs.”<br/><br/>Kesmon returned to his own chair across the square table, and picked back up that bite of cake. He knew he was speaking nonsense that carried no weight. Amarin wouldn’t desert his people like so and Kasmon would never seriously advise doing so…but it was always harmless to pretend such things. “So you like her, hm? I was interrupted from my own morning chores with orders to find Lady Lima a room of her own. Imagine my pleasure!” Kesmon chuckled, and then took a bite. After swallowing he added, “By the ratio of keepers and throw-aways I am beginning to worry you might run out of eligible ladies. Nautali is only so big, you know.”<br/>