<div class="floatleft">(https://pro2-bar-s3-cdn-cf6.myportfolio.com/acfc487f628999a8d795fd4e0bac95b4/7144f155-86a7-460e-be3c-29249aa92920_rw_1920.jpg?h=751cf9fdab3ea959a3579c38026e854e)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Valerian Izyumov  (http://url=https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=324631.msg15584949#msg15584949)<br/><strong>Timeline:</strong>Week six<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Manor district, Greythorn Estate (near lair)<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Round 6 action: self-reflection reveals a secondary motivation of<span class="bbc_u">power</span>.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Ixeor, Sovereign of the Realms Betwixt and Between (mention only)<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Valerian was a world-class ruminator. Hexville might’ve been his home, but the grim-dark lands of Duskmoor were his birthplace, and he could call upon his heritage to brood with such dark, unremitting gloominess that even the city’s gargoyles were awed.<br/><br/>Perched in the mouldering ruins of Greythorn Estate, Valerian stared down at the raging sea below, watching the black waves crash against jagged rocks. A few storm clouds had also gathered, setting the scene for his somber reflection quite nicely, and while it was certainly unlikely that the sheer intensity of his dark introspection had actually changed the weather, a hypothetical observer would be unwilling to rule out the possibility entirely. His brow creased. His sojourn into the shadowed heart of man continued… and it was indeed ‘man’, because he was contemplating his own self. After weeks of futile, impotent action, he had finally heeded the advice of his minions and tried a different tact. He had sidelined his crusade against magic, and instead adopted the mantle of the dutiful military man. These days, his rhetoric was anti-magic only by implication and omission: he espoused technology, organisation, and hard work to address the city’s problems – or rather, to keep them from spreading. The change was working, too. He was finally gaining a foothold in the city. Still, the question arose: what was the cost? It was something he asked himself a lot. Energy and matter, power and motion: they were only ever moved around, not created or destroyed. All things had a cost. Even magic. And even his newfound inaction against magic.<br/><br/>Valerian had but a single companion with him, albeit one that was singularly well suited for introspective companionship. Picaro had virtues common to any hound – soulful eyes, deep reserves of empathy, and the uniquely canine ability to provide both company and solitude simultaneously. That fact that dogs were commonplace made these qualities no less remarkable.<br/><br/>“Your rivals seem reasonable enough,” suggested Picaro. Obviously, the dog didn’t actually speak, but he lent an air of reassurance and comfort; Valerian mentally filled in the rest with intuition and a bit of creative licence. “Maybe you can convince them. Maybe, if you shared your concerns about magic, you could change their minds…”<br/>“I am a soldier, Picaro. I have witnessed countries in their death-throes many times before, and I’ve grown familiar with the folly that causes it all.”<br/><br/>Just as the magehound didn’t need to speak aloud, neither did Valerian. Still, if the latter had, it might’ve been refreshing to hear him speak with full use of pronouns, rather than the choppy Hexvillian Common that he usually used.<br/><br/>“I have seen island nations cut down their last tree. I have seen plagues ravage kingdoms while their leaders bicker over whether it’s even real. I have seen empires unable to accept that their mines and quarries would one day be empty.” He shook his head, and creased his brow a little deeper. “Hexville will be no different. They will never accept that magic has a cost.”<br/>“So, that’s it? You’re just giving up on the throne, and consigning the world to ignorance and ruin?”<br/>“A magician will take the throne, my friend. It is just a matter of numbers. I am only one of many contenders, and most of the others are either magic users themselves, or openly in league with one. I doubt anyone will align themselves with me, and I cannot win alone.”<br/>“I thought you were going for a new image? A military man of grit, science, and hard work…”<br/>“Ahh, but the cat’s already out of the bag. A figurative cat, don’t get excited. People know my feelings about magic, and I doubt that a re-branding exercise will make them forget. Just look at Ixeor’s golem, besmirching my name…”<br/><br/>The pair lapsed into silence. Well, strictly speaking they were already silent, but the<em>imaginary</em>conversation was also silent as they stared wordlessly down at the churning maelstrom of rock and foam below.<br/><br/>“You’re only half right,” Valerian hypothetically said at last.<br/>“Hmm?”<br/>“I am not optimistic about seizing the throne… But Hexville is still our home. We’ll be a part of this city regardless. An<em>important</em>part. We just need to manoeuvre, to adopt a different approach. If we can’t be the ruler, maybe we can still influence who is. And after that? Maybe we can make sure we still have a voice in the new administration.”<br/>“But everything you said before still applies. They will ignore every warning about magic. They will tie it up in rhetoric about freedom, or impacts on treasuries. They will make weak compromises. They will convince themselves that a terrible reality somehow has a happy solution, as leaders always do.”<br/>“You assume that king or queen gets to make all decisions.”<br/><br/>There must’ve been some tell-tale movement of Valerian’s body – a tensing of muscle, perhaps, or a shift in the cadence of his fingers stroking through the hound’s auburn coat. Either way, Picaro looked up quizzically, as if he really had heard his master’s thoughts.<br/><br/>“There is one antidote to tyranny, Picaro, and only one. Separation of power.”<br/>“And how do you plan on ensuring that happens?”<br/>“It's simple, though not necessarily easy. I stop them having it all. I secure a portion of power for myself... and I guard it.”<br/>