The Blight of Mortals
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><span style="font-size: 36px">The Blight of Mortals</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
The war, it had ended long ago. Even our forefather's fore fathers hadn't seen it. The battles were things of myth, the Shadow Lords were beyond myths. That is what we thought when I was young, just a little girl in this village not far from the coast but not near anything of importance. The Imperium they called it, this large all powerful state that was headed by the Emperor, our emperor my mother always chided me for not showing the man enough respect. Respect didn't save his life in the Fourth Divine March though, he like most of the other soldiers never returned, my father included.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
My brother volunteered for the army the following spring, leaving my mother, grandmother and father along with some of our cousins to tend to the family shop which we lived above. We ran a small but profitable bakery. Fortunately my mother had been the baker while my father the one who procured most of our goods, so when he never returned we still had the baker for our bakery. I took after my father though, entering into the merchant trade and helping to make sure my mother had all the goods for baking while selling the extras to some vendors. It was something I was told I was good at, not sure how I think of that now days though. Memories from another time, a far simpler time and one that was... happy.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
It wasn't long into my twenties that Grand-Divine Auresia III called the Fifth March. My brother had risen in the ranks of one of the various Holy Orders at the time and was sent in the first wave. A letter came a year later saying that he was stationed in one of the Divine Realms as Commander of a Castle. My mother was proud of him and frankly I knew that while he was happy there, it meant he was a reservist. My brother never could stay out of trouble though, a couple years later news came to the Imperium that the Divine Realm of Riven had fallen to the Demon Armies and that all soldiers were being pulled to the Grand Range, a line of mountains running from the northern most of the Divine Realms to the southernmost. Riven had been beyond the Grand Range, the last of the Far Realms as they had been known following the Second and Third Marches. It had been the Fourth March when most of those had fallen. With Riven gone the number of Divine Realms had dropped from seventeen to sixteen, a far cry from the thirty three there had been following the Third Divine March. Such grief griped all the Faithful.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
My mother and I knew the outcome of our brother's situation. One more member in our family killed by the hands of the Demon Armies, Shadow Legions they were called. I felt lost, I think for a time we all did. Auresia died the following year, the new Emperor was assassinated and the Imperium seemed to be on the verge of a civil war. The first in its history. Sure enough when the Emperor's cousin ascended to the throne, a challenger rose. Lines were draw, armies gathered and then nothing. It was the silence before the storm, nobles, patricians, clergymen, and anyone that could seemed to be abandoning the cities in a hurry knowing that should they remain it would likely they would perish in a siege. The battles never came though, the Emperor died in his sleep due to a disease. After that I decided to no longer be on the sidelines as a merchant, I enlisted in the military academy selling everything I had to get in. Father had taught me to use a sword and shield, while mother and brother had taught me to use a bow. Those skills I had maintained through the years and honed in on during the lead up to the possible civil war.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
Several years later and with several ranks on my shoulders I entered full service in the Imperial Legions. For a time it was just bandit hunting and killing, securing our highways and such. Then news reached our little corner of hell that the Grand-Divine Galina VI had called the Sixth Divine March. Our Emperor being faithful to the Faith joined and brought to bear the might of the Imperium. Truly for only the third time in its history the Imperium was pulling out all the stops, and had somehow convinced ally and enemy alike to do the same. Two years of preparation went into the March, thousands of ships, with hundreds of thousands of soldiers, equipment and animals sailed across the Great Ocean. Months on the high seas saw some ships lost to storms, others were flat out lost in fog. When we all arrived at the shores of Elium it truly blew the air out of my lungs. I was speechless at the sight of the Grand Citadel of Kyne's Shield. It was the largest military installation on this side of the Grand Range. Riven's citadel had been larger, the thought something larger than this monstrosity had fallen chilled me to the bone.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
Another few months were spent preparing the forces to divide up into our three groups to march in separate directions and prepare a pronged attack to recapture Riven's old citadel. It was our goal, our mandate. I wondered if my brother, my father had similar thoughts when they first laid eyes upon Kyne's Shield. I was sent in the task force that was dispatched from the Citadel to the Marshal State of Pavona, the southernmost of the Divine Realms. I like many others was scared, eager and naive as to what would come. We knew only of the tales we had been told as children for what the Demons looked like. Some imagined they'd look like men but corrupted by dark magics, others like feral beasts twisted by dark energies, I personally wasn't sure and didn't want to make up my mind as to what they would be like lest I be caught completely off guard. I commanded a cohort by this point, having obtained the rank of Centurion. Commanding the third cohort of the eighth imperial legion was an honor in my mind, Legate Alphonse Trantio was a good man and an able commander. He had been in the Fourth and Fifth Marches in other officer level positions, being one of the few to actually survive and come back to the Imperium rather than being impressed into the service of one of the Divine Realms. He had taken me under his wing when I entered the Academy saying he had known my father and commanded my brother, he had seen both their deaths which honestly gave me closure. I needed that, I needed to know that they had died fighting and not cowering in some corner.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
We arrived in Pavona and received word that the other two Armies were beginning their pronged assaults. We honestly had the longest march out of the three and would arrive well behind the other two. The idea was that those two would engage the enemies and hopefully defeat them, we would be clean up and security at that point allowing for the other two to rest while we provided fresh eyes and arms to the defense. In the event of the worst case scenario and the First and Second Armies were defeated we would act as the shield to cover the retreat upon our arrival. Intelligence had suggested that we would face minimal resistance along our route and that Riven Citadel was not currently occupied but rather vacant. </span><span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><i>Intelligence</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';">, they didn't deserve such a title. Unless you see it with your own eyes, never believe the intelligence. We did in fact arrive a week and a half behind the others. We found them dead, not a soul survived. The Citadel had been occupied and the scouts had been corrupted, their memories wiped. It had been an elaborate trap set by the Shadow Lord Phyrion. Rather than engage our foes in an honorable battle, Legate Trantio had us withdrawal to the Divine Realm of Caspia where their ruler, the Grand-Marshal Rhengar was informed of the situation. I don't think I've ever seen an Alf turn so many hues and shades of red before, even his ears changed like his face did. That was the end of it. The Sixth had been a complete failure, a single large battle that had cost the lives of nearly a million men and women, the Emperor many of his military leaders, several foreign Kings and Queens and many of their military figures. A total catastrophe, and yet that word didn't seem to fit quite right as though it was still not describing just how bad it was.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
Forces were aligned upon the defenses of the Grand Range in preparation for a counter-attack by the Shadow Lord Phyrion and his Shadow Legions. It never came. When the time came and my tour was over, I decided to remain in the southern Marshal Realm of Pavona. I offered my services to Grand-Marshal Owin Ostbrannen. He accepted me and promoted me to the rank of Senior Centurion in command of several of his border castles. It's been twenty years and here I am. Sitting on Grand-Marshal Ostbrannen's throne now, the man died several years ago and his immediate successor was assassinated by agents of Phyrion. I was the senior most member of the Governance Council by that point and the only real candidate. The vote was merely for show as the other Governors of Pavona agreed that I was the only candidate. Somehow this feels hollow, empty as though time stopped for me upon arriving on this continent. I'm sure mother passed some time ago, perhaps even some of the others. Something inside me says they all died when I left, though for mother I'm sure she did. Her only family leaving like the others had, she probably thought I was dead, just as I think she is now. Strange how the will of the Gods works like this.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
We have been in the interwar period for some time now. Pavona hasn't had skirmishes in nearly two years. Some believe that Phyrion has counted his losses and more or less accepted that the lands east of the Grand Range are no longer his and are solidly under Divine Faithful control. Optimists believe that, naive people believe that, children do and even soldiers. I don't though, a Shadow Lord is eternal like the gods, Phyrion is biding his time like any good commander. He's letting us get complacent, comfortable in the knowledge that we are </span><span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><i>secure</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"> and that it's finally over. The war will come, some thing I might be too harsh for making my men and even my women stay ready at all times. Those people will die first. Here I sit, on the throne of Ostbrannen, before him it was Resoria, and before her it was Luivano and so on. I Alessia Riencourt will not falter, I will not waiver and I will never surrender and inch to the darkness. From my cold dead hands Phyrion will need to pry my sword for we of the Divine Legions are all that stand between the Shadow Court and the Lands of the East. Here we stand on the edge of the abyss.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><br>
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	<div class="message-userContent lbContainer js-lbContainer " data-lb-id="post-5794208" data-lb-caption-desc="Oberons Veil · May 20, 2016 at 7:28 PM">

		

		
	


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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbcode-border" style="border: 3px Solid #868686;"><div class="bbcode-background" style="background-color: #326698;"><div class="bbcode-background-text"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #868686">✢ The Iron Bear of Pavona ✢</span></span></span></div></div></div><br>
<br>​</div><br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">A conference had been called in Kyne's capital, The Citadel as it was known throughout the Divine Realms and indeed in the East. The Arch-Cleric of Kyne had requested that the leaders or representatives of them come to the Citadel for important information from Val Calais back in the Imperium. Most knew what this would be and what would come from such a missive. The fact it was not public knowledge but rather information only to be handed down to the top ranking officials of the Divine Realms meant that this was almost certainly the call to war. The Grand-Divine in the comfort of the Imperium was likely about to call for the Seven Divine March against the Courts of Phyrion and Pothos. Perhaps not, perhaps she was going to call for a Divine March against the northern court of Phobator, maybe somewhere north against Pothos are perhaps to the south against Antaeus the alleged de facto leader of the Shadow Court seeing how he personally led what was dubbed "the first court."</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
The journey to Kyne's Citadel had been somewhat challenging as this was the season where storms typically dominated the southern coast of the Divine Realms making travel by ship perilous. Grand-Marshal Riencourt along wither her company decided to still make the journey by ship as it would cut weeks off the trip if they had gone by land, along with allowing them to simply bypass several other Divine Realms with whom Pavona was not on the best terms with. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
The journey reminded Alessia of a excerpt from the Divine Infinitum:</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>"On the edge of the storm we stood,</i></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Graced only by the presence of the Goddess Marea,</i></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Aurelia's light was gone,</i></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Inara's flame unseen,</i></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Therrin's lands hidden beneath the waves,</i></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Only Marea's azurean realm was seen.</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">"</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
The excerpt was just a small piece of the Infinitum's long epics about the gods and the realms of the mortals. Something about it resonated with Alessia while they were out at sea in the storms, they were truly at the mercy of the Lady Marea, Goddess of the seas and wielder of storms. For six days their ship was tossed about by the waves, racked by the wind and assaulted by the rain, yet they arrived in Kyne's Citadel alive and well if a bit sick. The grand stone edifice reaching for the heaven's above, a massive citadel perched on the cliffs overlooking the city below. Nearly a million people resided in Kyne's Citadel now, colonists some would have called them, sent from the Imperium and other states in the East to carve out a small existence in this new land. Their choice to be here baffled Alessia. She did not understand why those who did not need to be here, who did not heed the call to come and who did not know how to fight, came to such a dangerous place. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
All Divine Realms maintained a permanent Embassy in Kyne's Citadel as many of the major nations from the East did as well. This served as the diplomatic and political hub allowing for the Divine Realms to more easily communicate with the lands of the East. Typically whenever Realm Lords, as Alessia's rank was called, stayed in Kyne's Citadel they were expected to stay in their Embassy for accommodations rather than seek others. It allowed for the city's security to focus on a smaller area during large gatherings such as this. Alessia's delegation had arrived a day early and she had decided it wise to pay the Grand Basilica a visit. This structure dated back to the First Divine March when the land that Kyne's Citadel now rests upon was liberated from the Shadow Legions and the Court of Phyrion. First would be the embassy though. Soon things would be changing and for Alessia she was unsure if that was a good thing or simply the blight of mortals. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
The inevitable had come, the grand precipice before a dark ocean of blood and bile. It was a thing that was surprisingly graceful and yet, also was disgustingly revolting. Something that people, abhorred, enjoyed, feared, and worshiped. It is said that without it, no true peace can be obtained but with it, we only cement our own graves. Permanently sealing mans fate to be one of strife and horror, but by sealing our own fate we seal the fate of evil to a similar outcome. In the midst of the coming storm, evil would find it's absolution and men would find their redemption.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
It was the call to war.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000">and... </span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000"><i>CHARGE!</i></span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" a grizzled old voice called, it's withered visage covered with a grey beard and long grey hair. Glaring down at the squired boys below as they charged a line of full fledged Tytonidae Knights wielding tower-shields. Still, the young boys fearless gave their artless battle-cry and charged the Knights with Lances to fit their small hands. Crashing into the shield-wall, several lances slipped from their hands while others grip was tried and true but their small size proved inadequate against the imposing stature of the Tyronidae Knights. Still, it was an impressive displayed to see them so fearless charge their Masters in the hopes of one day, earning their own wings.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">An impressive sort of Squires, Knight-Captain.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" Came the familiar voice of Lord Arban Phocius. His gracious opinion no doubt a welcome one to not only the Squires, but to the Knight-Captain's ability to train. Arban walked to stand next to the Captain as he bent his knee and presented his sword arm to the Lord as a sign of respect, the squires and knights below mirrored the gesture.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000">Your Lord, I was unaware of your coming.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" The Captain said, staring down at his knee.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">Rise, Knight-Captain. Ease yourselves, this is an informal visit, I merely wish to discuss details of the coming events.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" The Lord Arban said with a warm smile. Despite his trust and pride in his people, the call to war had been kept a secret from all but the most highly decorated members of the Lord's court. The Knight-Captain Cauld Du'Boux, Arch-Priestess Emaline Saridon, and of course his Steward; Kilard Ori. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000">Ah, so I see.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" the Captain said as he stood. He looked to the training below and waved his hand over them, dismissing them for now. "</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000">Then shall we depart?</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">Of course.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" Arban said turning heel with the Knight-Captain as they began to walk the stone path that would lead them from the Training ground and into the courtyard. "</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">You're training them quite hard since the news arrived.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" Arban commented, looking to the aged Captain.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #b30000">I know I'm hard on the Squires, but I am actually quite proud of them. They'll make fine Tytonidae Knights one day.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" The Captain said proudly, lifting his chin high into the air.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">They'll likely play an important role in these trying times.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" Arban said with a sigh. "</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">I've decided to answer this call, it's time we've made this call to action public in hopes of receiving more supply or enlisting more levies before I march our Tytonidae Knights ahead of House Phocius' addition to the war effort.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">"</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
The Captain offered no protest, only words of mutual agreement with the Lord's decision to join the war-effort. The news of such an event would likely stir the populace into an uproar, whether it was in joyful pride of the Church's decision to put an end to their Dark Foes beyond the Realms or in fear of the war that may end humanity as it was known. The estate and it's subservient fiefs (a respectable five) immediately found themselves overwhelmed with men and women either looking to enlist as a levy under their Lord and God, or in protest as the war would ignite a flame in the bellies of their enemy. Regardless, the Lord Arban mustered his Tytonidae Knights and mounted up to lead the March to Kyne's capital. They would take their march from East, to West, sweeping over the five fiefs under Arban's control to gather the levies before the journey to the capital began. When all was said and one, the 500 Tytonidae knights would lead an army of almost 5,000. Though they were hardly trained and possessed only the most basic of weapons (as levies provided their own weapons and armor) they were each loyal to their Lord and would receive training as the others mustered to the capital. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
It was a journey that Arban had made twice in his life, the first being his official induction as Lord following his father's death. The second was to attend the funeral of his late wife, Lady Catherine as she died attempting to give birth to his still born son. His grim history with the grand capital left a foul taste in his mouth, impressive as the citadel was as it seemed to scrape the heels of the Gods themselves. Today's march had been particularly rough, they marched completely adorn in their arms and armor if only to make a presentable force for the denizens of the Citadel. Looking at the glowing city through the eye-holes of his Owl-mask, Arban looked back and give the signal to his Knight Captain. The Captain raised a solid gold owl fixed atop a scepter that served as the Tytonidae Knights Signifer, this triggered a reaction from the following 5,000 levies as each battalion's Lieutenant began barking orders at their Levied soldiers. The Lieutenants each were Auxiliaries for the Tytonidae Knights that not only served as Battalion leaders but also reinforced each Levy battalion as to not leave them completely overwhelmed in the heat of battle. Before long, the gathered army was marching in a proper formation, the first thing that these would-be soldiers would learn. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
They marched to the Citadel, marveling at the Gateway to the East.</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Grand Hotel';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #ff0000"><b><i>The Crowned Centurion</i></b></span></span></span><br>
<br>​</div><br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';">Aurelius awoke softly, stretching slightly in the linen bedding. For whatever reason, he had a feeling that today would be good, that something unexpected would please him or that things would be accomplished - but it was something he felt about most days of the week unless he had proper reason to suspect otherwise.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
Despite a delicious morning breakfast, these presuppositions concerning the forthcoming hours were quickly shattered. Unless the relatively warm flowery air of the day so far was the culprit to blame for the reddened eyes and the stifled sniffles of his dear younger sister, something was quite wrong indeed. Lucia never cried without reason - whether or not it was the best, most useful reaction to something was often questionable, but one could always at least understand and see it from her perspective - there was never no justification behind such acts on her part. And Aurelius feared that he may know the true cause behind her upset already, so much so that he almost daren’t ask. But in life, the things that were hard to do, which cause hesitation and reluctance, seemed to be the things that one really ought to do on a surprisingly common basis.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
The Prince gradually rose from the luxury of the chair in which he had found himself sat, concern written across his face, detailing his willingness to assist and make things better if he could, and the anxious worry, nay, fear, that he too would have grounds to feel pain and misery at whatever was causing it to her. He hugged her close to him, wiping away her tears, and asking if she would be so kind as to let him know what the matter was.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
And so, he learnt that war was looming ominously on the horizon, unless Kyne’s Citadel was to be the setting for some kind of grand party or something equally ridiculously unlikely. Aurelius needn’t inquire as to why this fact would cause distress to his little sister, even if Lucia was very much becoming a woman in her own right at sixteen, he was always going to be one of her older brothers. She did not wish to see him go, to see Flavius go, and who knows, perhaps their father would be involved, leading from the very front, for she was afraid that they might not return.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
There was no need to be upset, explained the Prince, ever hopeful that he would return, whenever that may be. To not believe so would be decidedly defeatist, and the last thing that one wished to do was resign themselves to a fate. If you believed and prepared for failure, that would be undoubtedly what one would find - as anyone who worked the land in Setaria would readily tell you, you reap what you sow. They would all return, he promised, for Lucia knew that he would never in good faith promise something that he was not certainly convinced of to her. This statement was not constructed just because it was what the Princess obviously wished to hear, but because in the depths of his heart of hearts, he genuinely believed it too. The two of them, Aurelius continued, would have so much to catch up on when they saw each other next. Maybe he himself would have a slight reluctance to tell tales of battle, and it was not hard to think why those conditions may or may not arise. But she would be older, perhaps a true and proper woman in her own right. If the war lasted long enough, would she be married by the time of his return? Would she be a mother, and would he have unknowingly became an uncle? It was difficult to imagine in the present moment, but they were very real possibilities. And when he returned, not if, would he inevitably get married too?</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
The mere fact that Aurelius was willing and able to consider such hypothetical ideas and happenings really demonstrated the extent in which he truly believed that even if they were not victorious in their aims, he and the people he cared about were going to return to the Kingdom of Setaria. Some would say that this was founded upon naivety, and some would say that it was founded in blind faith. Whoever postulated that it was the latter would find themselves to be correct.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
Of course, Aurelius was well aware that the will of the Gods was not to miraculously protect and shield their faithful followers from harm. Alvenkind and humanity had brought this tragedy on themselves, and almost like parents the Gods sought to let their metaphorical children see the consequences unfold and play out firsthand. It was a learning process. But good parents, whilst making sure to teach lessons, never took things too far and always stepped in if need be. The Gods would not stand for total destruction of the Divine Realms and the lands to the east, reasoned Aurelius, similarly to how a parent would not let the consequences translate into serious harm, and gods forbid, death. And Aurelius knew that at least one person would pray for his safety, it put a smile on his face and would surely offer him hope and strength in dark times to know that Lucia was thinking of him at any given moment.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
Aurelius had proceeded to set about the rest of his day in a more normal capacity, expecting that his father and perhaps his older brother, the Crown Prince Flavius, would be making the journey to Kyne’s capital to attend this so-called ‘conference’ and that he would be staying behind for the time being waiting for their return, definitive orders coming back with them. He wanted to maximise the time spent with his sister before he had to leave and it would offer him the opportunities to train further with a couple of his men, lest he raise suspicions within the realm, which would see them more ready than they would have been otherwise. These assumptions, however, were proven to be incorrect, as he was summoned by his Father and his initial protests were waved off and away. Fair points were raised, so much so that the young man could not raise any objection or counter arguments. Even if Aurelius wasn’t expressly needed, the learning experience would still have immense value, even if the King was deliberately overstating it. Just because Aurelius might not ever the rule the land that he was born in, didn’t mean that there wasn’t a chance he would have to in the future, but he didn’t like being the contingency plan.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Consolas';"><br>
And so Aurelius bade farewell to his mother and his sister, and his home too. How soon would he return? Only the Gods could possibly know that. They made their march to Kyne, some within the party complaining at the arduous nature of it all. The Prince imagined that these moaners would either be silenced and shut up completely very soon after any confrontation with the enemy, or that their expressions of disgruntlement would increase tenfold in frequency and severity. If the flat lands of their Kingdom had not been so landlocked, it would have been quicker to set forth and make one's journey over the waves, even in spite of their perilous reputation at times, but it was not to be. In this armour and with his sword sheathed (yet ready to be drawn at any moment, such was the wisdom of being cautious), there was more time than ever to perfect marching technique, in between stopping to eat or rest, and making polite conversation, or marvelling at the blade he now called his own, having as much sentimental value to the family as it had economic value.</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #326698">The Iron Bear of Pavona</span></span></span><br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #326698"><i>"Blessed be the light that graces our quest, may the hand of the Goddess ever guide our blades and our hearts."</i></span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> Alessia said before standing from where she had knelt praying to the Lady Aurelia. It was the morning of the conference in Kyne's Citadel, a ship bearing the crest of the Imperium had arrived nearly upon the third bell, such an early time for a ship to arrive. It truly was anyone's guess as to who was aboard that ship, anyone from a simple representative of the Emperor or perhaps even the Emperor himself or the Grand Divine of the Faith had arrived. Whoever it was would almost certainly be at the conference in the Citadel. No matter who it was though, the end of the conference would signal a beginning of renewed hostilities with one or more of the Shadow Courts. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Perhaps that was not entirely a bad thing, in Alessia's eyes the other Realms had become complacent and content in the peace that had followed on the heels of the disastrous Sixth March. Few were prepared for a counter invasion now, Pavona fortunately was prepared but it could never and would never be able to stand alone against the dark tide should it flood over the Grand Range. The abyss would come and indeed all in the Divine Realms would perish unless they fled East in some version of an exodus. In recent years Alessia had been working with Grand Duke De'Salle of Telemar and Grand-Marshal Avenmoore of Thalentine to shore up the southern area of the Grand Range and the Summer Coast. The Grand Duke provided much needed financing to Thalentine and Pavona while the two made sure to send mineral resources they mined from the Grand Range. It was a comfortable arrangement and one that allowed the three realms to work together very closely. The influx of funds from Telemar had also allowed for Pavona and Thalentine to restore the old beacons which were supposed to run from the southern most tip of the Grand Range to it's northernmost termination in the Northern March of Esthalia but had fallen into relative disrepair following the peace after the Sixth March. Most of the realms now no long bothered with the beacons, a thing that Alessia despised. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Spending the night in Pavona's Embassy was by no means bad. Unlike most others the Pavonese had decided not to build their Embassy with all the others and instead purchased lands just below the city on the cliffs and they carved it out of said cliffs allowing for their own little area to themselves. Pavonese stone engineers were widely considered some of the finest throughout all the Divine Realms and indeed by some as well in the East. The structure slightly overhung the the ocean below with some balconies, on which plants and chairs had been arranged to liven the place up. Inside it was intricately carved stone upon which mosaics and paintings had been placed to give the interior color. Due to the lacking of natural light the further into the building you went there was always braziers or torches burning. Along the cliff side though windows had been cut to allow for the maximum amount of natural light. The interior was also extremely open as large sections had been carved with pillars to allow for an open feeling for those that instead were generally claustrophobic. Truly an interesting sight. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Alessia prayed in the small chapel in the Embassy before donning her armor, placing her rapier in it's scabbard, taking her helm in her hands and holding it by her side as she walked out of the Embassy to where her men waited with her horse. She along with four honor guard would proceed to the Citadel Proper for the Conference, they of course would be waiting outside the actual chamber like all other personal security. They were members of the White Sword which was a Military Order headquartered in Pavona and led personally by Alessia herself. The journey to the Citadel was pleasant enough though rain seemed to be in the day's forecast, dark clouds moved in from the sea and would be upon the city at some point during the conference proper. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
They rode through the clean streets of Kyne's Citadel, the houses, shops and other buildings lined the streets with banners of the various Realms draped about welcoming their leaders. Flowers and trees were in bloom thanks to the season, both of which always lined the streets save for in winter when things retreated from the cold. Truly this city, this bastion of mortals stood as a testament to the beauty of the races. High vaulting architecture, beautiful public squares and plazas, decorative statues, banners and mosaics adorned the various areas of the city which was conveniently cut into Districts for various purposes. The group made their way through the crowded streets not really interacting with anyone outside their bubble but at the same time not being wholly inconsiderate. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Finally arriving at the Citadel proper they were escorted through the winding halls down many flights of stairs before being brought into a massive undercroft which sat beneath the citadel. This area below the undercroft directly opened up to the ocean and through a cave opening which was massive in and of itself one could see the storm beginning outside. Vaulted arches, beautiful pillars and a massive stone table with twenty chairs arrayed around it's circular body gave a clear indication of what was to come. The back of each chair bore a carved insignia of the Divine Realm meant to take their place. Alessia's guards were showed out to where they would be waiting with other guards. Already some other leaders were present including those from Telemar and Thalentine who were to be seated next to Alessia. A convenient matter really, Alessia crossed the distance to them and began striking up some conversation that was generally light hearted as the group waited for others to arrive and for it all to get underway. </span><br>
<br>
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Camped outside the Grand City, Arban Phocius Levy army lit camp fires and erected tents for them to stay their time within. It was an executive call by the Lord Phocius himself that he forbid the amassed army to seek refuge inside this Holy City and that they only be permitted entry when on liberty at the end of the training day. This army of his was little more than a rabble of mismatched pitchforks, cow-hide armor, and grandfather's heirloom dagger. But when the day was done, the Quarter Master's tent was lively and crowded with the excited grins of irrelevant farmers who would so diligently volunteer to serve their God and Lord in the bloody tides of war. Each with their liberty ticket clutched tightly in their paws, eagerly awaiting the stamp of the Quarter Master's seal to allow them to explore such a grand place. To say that the Tytonidae Knights were treated much better than the levies was nothing untrue, the value of right and proper soldiers in this time compared to the untrained rabble who sought the chaos of war without knowing its sting was undeniably prodigious.</span><br>
<br>
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The Knights found themselves with just as long of a training day, they too found themselves camped outside the city walls, but the atmosphere that surrounded them was somehow still more golden and prestigious than it was among the commoners that mustered outside the Grand walls. For the Lord Arban Phocius, he would stay outside the city as well. One could say that it was he alone that kept his people from staying within the walls of Kyne's capitol for his own grievous past with the place made him alone too uncomfortable to want to live in such a place for any amount of time. Even when it came time for the conference to be held, Arban traveled alone and told his forces that their day of training was put off until his return, a welcome break in the grueling field of barking Knights. Some of the levies were smart or talented enough to spend their time purchasing or crafting more quality equipment for their campaign, while others spent their time in the taverns and bars, wasting their money away with their own thirst.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
Upon entering the city, Arban alone would stand out from the crowd. If only for his exotic and strange armor design, it caught the eye of the occasional city-dweller whom had only seen the city's own guards. Arban marched with a silent and determined pace, perhaps giving purchase to the fact he was here for the concord that discuss these matters of war. He made his way to the citadel without distraction or delay, for any amount of time spent within these walls was seen as a bad omen to him and his Owl: Phocus would agree with the occasional peep or fluttering of his wings. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
Entering the chamber, the Lord Arban bent his knee in fealty to his superiors who were already seated in their respective places. He brought his sword arm up and hovered it parallel to his head, his elbow bent as his arm wrapped around him. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><br>
"</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="color: #0000ff">Lord Arban Phocius, reporting as ordered my liege.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';">" he stated, loud and confident, not at all hindered by the full helm that still covered his skull. Assuming he was accepted within the chamber, Arban rose to his feet and was shown to be carrying no weapons, at least not visible but the Tytonidae Knights were never known for hidden weapons. He took his assigned seat and removed his avian shaped helmet, placing it on the table where Phocus perched himself and observed the others with wide black eyes of anticipation.</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #7C0013">The Emperor's Hand</span></span></span><br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">The journey had not been one Judar would willingly relive. The waves tossed the small fleet about, knocking everyone around for months on end before they finally arrived in Kyne at the Great Citadel late at night, or perhaps it had already become early morning. The bells were not easily heard upon the waves and thus he was not sure until they landed that it was indeed early morning the day of the conference, talk about cutting it close. He had spent most of the journey in his cabin aboard the ship, which was by itself quite large. The crest upon the sails was a bright gold set against the crimson which was common upon Imperial vessels. The gold was weaved into the designs of a fist in armor, a sigil only bore by </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>"the Emperor's Hand"</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> widely considered one of the best and most qualified advisers. Judar was qualified yes, highly experienced as well, his appearance though made him seem to be only but maybe twenty five. His actual age happened to be just over a thousand. He had been born on Elium before the Great Exodus and had hoped to never return following the First Great March. The alf was only here at the request of the Emperor himself, a very old family friend you could call it and Judar had very reluctantly accepted the post as </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>"Emperor's Hand"</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> due to a debt he owed the Emperor. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
The alf stood nearly six foot even in height and weighed a slender hundred and forty Imperial Pounds. His black hair and bright blue eyes betrayed his heritage to none. He fit the profile of many of the alven races though in reality if one knew his age they would know he was a Yaarine, or in common tongue a High Alf. His attire was neat, completely white with golden buttons and embroidery, a sword at his hip and a golden hand pendant on his lapel to signify his station. He had been pacing about in a small room in the Citadel for a couple hours as he was notified that various Realm Sovereigns had arrived and were already in the undercroft awaiting the arrival of the others and him. It had been by his own request that they simply be summoned and not informed of his arrival let alone the actual reason they were here. Matters were grim back East with a pretender having risen to challenge the Emperor Magnus III, his own damn cousin Grand-Duke Evander. To make matters even worse than that, a massive heretical uprising all throughout the northern Imperium was shaking the Faith to it's very core. They called themselves the </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>"Corvinian Sacellarium"</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> standing in direct contrast to the Faith's Sacellarium based at Val Calais.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #00b3b3">"Councillor?" </span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">The voice was somewhat dry as though the person was nervous, perhaps they were and it would have been likely due to Judar's station in the Imperium. The fact he had the ear of the Emperor whenever he wanted, the ear of the Grand-Divine whenever she was in Imperia, among other notable figures. The fact that the man's voice sounded dry seemed normal to Judar, it wasn't uncommon for that to happen in his presence or that of the Emperor. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #b30000">"Yes?" </span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">Judar said offering a small smile to hopefully calm the man down. He had no intention of seeming intimidating, what good would it do at this point? He turned his attention to the man in the doorway and away from the various documents that he had been pouring over. They were reports of the situation in the Imperium, reports of various strange beast sightings throughout some of the Divine Realms, along with missives that would be sent back to the East to states such as the Kingdoms of the Aven, Serene States of Eponia along with some of the Imperium's rivals. All their armies and funds would be needed in the wars to come against the Shadows. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #00b3b3">"Arch-Cleric Vale has come to talk about matters."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> The man said before stepping aside and in came the old woman. The Arch-Cleric Cassandra Vale of Kyne. The woman was a bit shorter than Judar and had advanced age written all over her wrinkled face. It still amused Judar how much wrinkles humans got in their senior years, yet here he was probably older than some dust in the room but not a wrinkle upon his fair skin. A small smile cracked it's way across his lips as he watched the woman waddle in like a duck out of water. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #00b300">"Good morning Councillor," </span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">the woman began not really keeping with immense formalities as she moved to take a seat across from Judar. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #00b300">"Several Realm Sovereigns have arrived and I think it would be best if you went ahead and entered the chamber." </span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">She said before standing and pretty much just waddling right back out, it was clear the woman didn't expect him to say anything whatsoever but instead do what she had recommended as though it was a command. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Judar sighed and stood following the old woman through the halls of the Citadel and down some stairs through more halls, another set of stairs, more halls some right or left turns that led to yet another thing of stairs. Judar's smile faded and he let out a very audible sigh to the Arch-Cleric Vale making his frustration relatively well known. Finally they came to a set of large doors that opened as though on command, probably because it was a command of sorts, then he could see a handful of the Realm Sovereigns. He had met a few of them in the past though it had been a very long time since any Realm Sovereigns ventured East to the Imperium for whatever reason. Fortunately there were sigils carved into the chairs allowing for him to at least be able to recognize the names of each person along with their rank thanks to their sigil. He picked out the Grand-Marshal Riencourt, somewhat well known back in the Imperium for her style of governance in Pavona. Then there was Arban Phocius a vassal of Arch-Cleric Vale and very well known for being the leader of the Tytonidae Knights who were something of a myth back in the East. Judar took his seat next to Arch-Cleric Vale, a golden hand carved into the chair while to his right was Lord Phocius. Judar simply remained seated and nodded and bowed his head to the various lords and ladies present waiting for the remaining few to arrive. This would be an interesting meeting and the Alf hoped that it would go off without a hitch. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="color: #ff0000"><span style="font-family: 'Grand Hotel';"><i><span style="font-size: 36px">The Crowned Centurion</span></i></span></span><br>
<br>​</div><br>
<br>
<br>
Here they were at long last, the sight of the city before the eyes of the Prince surely being the grandest thing in the vast entirety of this very continent, far surpassing anything offered in his home realm of Setaria, although in fairness to the place where he came from, it was pretty much all flat, and little opportunity was left for prospective architects to build something beautiful using natural features of the land and other such things, although it did have to be considered that when the ground was horizontally level, it also provided a solid and simple foundation allowing basic buildings to be constructed with relative ease. For it was it's relative flatness that allowed for Setaria's cities to easily be some of the most sprawling and populous in all of the Divine Realms when combined with it's agricultural capability provide such a great advantage over some of the more remote or mountainous realms.<br>
<br>
<br>
But Aurelius was not here to marvel at the exterior and interior designs, which was unimportant, especially in contrast to the call to war and conducting diplomatic conversations with important figures, rulers of other lands, leaders and commanders of entire armies, and the elite clergy of the Divine Faith itself, namely the Arch-Cleric herself who had been the very person to summon all people here, even if the orders for a new March against the forces of darkness was much more likely to have originated from the heart of the Imperium, either from the mouth of the Grand Divine or the Emperor, if the Prince was hypothetically inclined to make a wager on the whole affair, for in his view a decent man with faith ought not to do this sort of thing in reality, perhaps unless it was for something petty like a drink with a good friend. Context made everything. And given the situation, the entirety of one’s focus should be on preparing for the upcoming clash. The might of humanity and alves would be brought to bear against lands to the west, which if the success of earlier Divine Marches could be replicated, might see the Divine Realms once known as the Westerlands restored.<br>
<br>
<br>
One could dream, but even despite best efforts to maintain positivity, not all who had made this trip had made it. Not every last one. It was only a literal handful - it could be counted on fingers - but anything above zero was too many for the Prince to be comfortable. What chance did people have against the Shadow Courts or any other actual threats if they found ways to fail without being attacked or otherwise involved in combat? Eh, it only served to reinforce his belief that one could never train too much. These few who had not made it, they were not cut out for it to begin with. They would have been the first to fall surely, not offering any contribution yet consuming precious resources. It was harsh to think purely logically, but it was probably for the best that the dead wood was shed and got rid of now. But there was always an alternative in Aurelius’s head whenever he came up with something, and to be truthful, it meant less people to take hits, less fodder. Bah. To say that as long as it wasn’t a family member or someone under his personal command, or someone of his own cohort for whom he assumed responsibility and cared for, he didn’t care would be callous. No-one, no matter how well-meaning nor innocent, came out of battle the same, though, or so it was said.<br>
<br>
<br>
It was a pleasant morning in Kyne, as Aurelius made casual conversation with his brother, the Crown-Prince. They had not been together by each other’s side for the most part of their trip, and it was enjoyable to catch up. They were caught off guard (something unbefitting of soldiers) when they heard the familiar voice of the father behind them, addressing both of his sons. “My boys, it is time to make our way to the Citadel itself.” he commanded, the implied authority in his soft voice managing to co-exist with an almost eager and enthusiastic mood, presumably about having the honour of dealing with legitimate concerns in this very heart of the Divine Realms.<br>
<br>
<br>
“Father…” piped up Aurelius, always the kind to negotiate “…may I stay here, with my men?” It was partly reluctance to be involved in this particular important bit of history, and partly the desire to demonstrate that he did not think himself above his subordinates, that even though objectively he was considered to be more important, it wasn’t a view he held. However, that wasn’t to say that he wished to shy away from the occasion, certainly not. Of course he looked forward to it, but with nervousness in his heart. He asked these things almost solely to play the role of questioning things and requests not because he wished not to be involved or thought them to be poor ideas, but to ensure the validity and soundness of the proposition involved.<br>
<br>
<br>
“I did not bring you all this way, just so that you could sit outside.” was the calm, measured, yet stern response of the Setarian King, understandably so. Whether Aurelius liked it or not, this was not something up for debate on his part, it was not optional. They made their way through the gilded streets paying mind to the various important buildings sprinkled about the city before finally coming to the grand citadel itself. They wound their way through the streets and into the Citadel. Once they were led through the halls to the Undercroft the King took his seat but had his sons stand behind him as the last few leaders finally entered. The King of Setaria was flanked by the rulers of Belstrom and Caspia.</div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper">The Mandate of Belstrom<br>
<br>
<br>
I, King Hofmeister III, the sovereign of the realm and rightful sole leader of our most holy fatherland do hereby declare the creation of the next evolution of our glorious and noble state. For many years our people have suffered at the hands of extremist and malicious forces beyond and within our borders, aiming to weaken and steal our most holy and God's given rights. We, the privy council and United noble lords of our lands have unanimously approved and signed into law the creation of a defensive military to combat harmful thoughts and actions from within and without our borders, this army, the Light within the Black, shall maintain political stability and  maintain our most glorious Kingdoms culture and society. There goals will be let known within this declaration.<br>
<br>
<br>
Goal One.<br>
<br>
<br>
To protect and preserve the culture and united social construct of our homeland as well as maintain the legal requirements for the conduct of the nobility, clergy, and burgers  when interacting with the common citizen and defend the cultural rights of all Belstormites in state and abroad.<br>
<br>
<br>
Goal Two<br>
<br>
<br>
To preserve the peace of our time during these violent and turbulent times. To do so they are granted the right and privilege by the state to maintain a secure homeland by any means necessary by being allowed to contract any and all local guard and state leaders.<br>
<br>
<br>
The Youthful Elder, Thorsten<br>
<br>
<br>
Travelling to the city of Kyrn had been rather uneventful within the physical realm but within the war zone that was Thorsens mind a great debate raged, a week ago they'd passed the Mandate of Belstrom. It allowed an extra judicial defense force to maintain law and order among the province, effectively curbing noble power at the price of strengthening the nation's military and internal defense.<br>
<br>
<br>
Since then the states and domains within the kingdom had reported back general success with the new law keepers and their paramilitary border guards. Though minus the grumbling from those within their cozy ivory towers in the church and the fat burghers fearing the loss of funds the nation has positively received this endeavor,  though it's true duty known only to the king and his privy council was to suppress thoughts and support of another Divine March, and maintain a feeling of peace within the lands.<br>
<br>
<br>
The journey by carriage was nice, though with his state land travel was truly the only way to go anywhere being landlocked and mountainous as they were. But it did have the perks of no sea sickness, something in his handful of times on the water commonly left him bedridden and in a horribly foul mood. As the multiple day long journey finally was drawing to a close, the king once again had time to draft up his speaking points, to convey why he felt a war not only was not needed but in-fact would very likely stir up the wasps to prey upon the bees. He'd seen his hands decimated hears before, and alongside Lady Alyssa, understood the dangers the enemy posed  but also despised the attempted answer by the higher ups in the Empire and Church. Another major war could very well lead the lands to be barren of another generation of men and women, and crush what economies the lands had horribly,  leaving them at the mercy of both the dark tyrants in the west and the domineering nations to the east.<br>
<br>
<br>
Sadly, he mused, the only way to make those church zealots see the wanton genocidal actions they write off as a ‘holy’  divine march was to grind their face into it and even then they personally are not affected by the millions dead, the mass suffering of the innocent sheep sent to the butcher's cleaver. No, he wouldn't be the shepherd's dog, leading the sheep to the slaughter at the behest of the rich religious lady, who watches idly  by at their plight, and the Gods willing he would but a stop to the millions of lost souls cut in their prime from their mortal coil attempting to make the gods love them again.<br>
<br>
<br>
Over the next six hours their carriage caravan managed to cross the border and enter Kyne, making their way towards the capital, passing the various villages, cities, and hamlets on the road as they ride, about a full hour before reaching the capital they were intercepted and escorted by a garrison of cavalry to ride on toward the capital. Upon entrance to the capital, the caravan made its way up to the Belstrom Embassy, the embassy is a large manor house with it’s own exterior walls separating it from the other estates and homes nearby.<br>
<br>
<br>
Over the rest of the night he spent resting at the embassy and preparing himself for the conference tomorrow, steeling himself for most likely being the only man who was against this Divine March within the room. Upon finalizing the draft of the speech he was going to give, he finally retired for the night, barely being able to sleep and awaking long before the sun arose in the sky. After enjoying a much needed cup of coffee and a quick breakfast he made his way up towards the meeting hall, making his way inside and arriving among the fellow rulers of the Divine Realms and taking his pre-marked seat, steepling his fingers and glancing about at the rest of those gathered.</div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #7C0013">The Emperor's Hand</span></span></span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
So with time the other leaders filed into the Undercroft beneath the Great Citadel of Kyne's Shield, the second largest city and first founded in the Divine Realms. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>The Gateway to the East</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">, as it was known. This was to be a gathering unlike any experienced by those present, save for maybe Judar, or let alone any that had taken place in the last two centuries. What was happening today would certainly begin a new chapter not just in the histories of the Divine Realms but indeed in the histories of all mortal races for the fate of the world itself hung in the balance of what was to come. This at least was what the Grand-Divine and Emperor had tried to convey to Judar, telling him to get those same feelings across to the rulers of the Divine Realms. He was to prepare them for what was to come in time. For the following spring was to be a great time, a momentous occasion when the first Emperor in nearly three hundred years set foot in the Divine Realms to personally lead them to victory over their ancient foes the Shadow Courts. This at least was the plan, Judar was no fan and thus he could not fully commit himself to express such hope and optimism when he had seen first hand the failures of the last several Divine Marches against Phyrion's forces. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Finally the last had arrived and since they were all gathered and talking amongst themselves Judar didn't think it to rude when he chimed in and began to garner attention to himself by standing and waiting patiently for the others to come round and pay attention fully to him. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #7C0013">"Ladies, gentlemen I am Judar Anthari, Emperor's Hand and one of his Councillors."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> He said introducing himself to those assembled. This was merely formality and the Alf made no measure to make it anything other than that. He paused just a moment to take a second and fully register the look the Owl sitting before Lord Phocius was giving him. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #7C0013">"This time next year a great host numbering well over one million souls will be landing here in the Divine Realms to prepare for the Seventh Divine March against the Court of Phyrion."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> This much shouldn't have come as a surprise. Sure the troop numbers possibly, the Emperor leading them personally yes that too might have come as such but the fact that a March was being called certainly wasn't. Judar remembered the conversation he had with the Emperor and military strategists in the Imperium many months before. It had been a long conversation, more like a lecture as Judar had questioned them at every single turn recounting various failed attempts of the past. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><i>Oh how quickly mankind forgets its own failures</i></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';">. He thought to himself. "A second million strong army will land south of here, in an area not previously apart of the Divine Realms but we hope will be by the end of the seventh march. This army is to be led by Grand Sovereign Alrius of the Aven Kingdoms in coordination with the Celestial Ulvi Torellis of the Solar Dominions." Judar said taking his seat once again. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><br>
Now these revelations would surely come to those gathered's much surprise. The Aven Kingdoms and Solar Dominions were alven realms but on top of that they stood in direct opposition of the Imperium, holding strong as the bulwark against the Imperium's might for better part of a millennium now. The fact that they were also going to be landing at an area that had not been in the Divine Marches or Realms of the past meant it could possibly catch Phyrion off guard or force him to slit his forces rather than concentrating on a select area and the Divine Forces there. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #7C0013">"The goal is still to take Riven however ideally we would like to kill Phyrion."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> Judar said with an absolutely serious expression as he sat down. </span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"><span style="color: #7C0013">"Thoughts?"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell DW Pica';"> he said. That was it, that's all he had to say here, he wasn't going to convince them of anything if they didn't already want to. It was their decisions whether or not to take their realm to war against the darkness and with the coming forces of nearly two million mortals from the East it was surely to be the largest war waged since the Shadow War that brought the darkness to rule unchallenged on Elium. </span><br>
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Grand Hotel';"><i><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #ff0000">The Crowned Centurion</span></span></i></span><br>
<br>​</div><br>
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<br>
<span style="font-family: 'verdana'">Aurelius was more than pleased with the aesthetics and the design of this Undercroft, and definitely intrigued even more so by the faces of all individuals gathered, a small handful of which he swore he recognised. He desired to know from which realm they all represented, and all present were to be allies against the forces of Phyrion’s Court, so he truly felt it was more than just a simple thirst for knowledge that would make it useful if they were to interact. He thought of all the things he could learn from some of the wise-looking faces about, in between smiling at the owl that must belong to someone, and trying to identify people who looked to be of a similar age to him and his brother Flavius. Hypothetically, they were friends, and in the case of one or maybe two of the young ladies here, lovers? Probably not. And besides, his brother had a far more marriageable title. Not that marriage was a legitimate concern with war on the horizon.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><br>
Whilst he was admittedly in a surprisingly decent and relatively positive mood, despite the fact a war was being organised and declared, what made him slightly less than pleased was the fact that this Judar Anthari was only a representative and not quite the Grand Divine herself, nor the Emperor himself. That was not to say that Aurelius did not hold respect for this Councillor - for surely he would not have been chosen to break this news to the Divine Realms if he were not highly valued by the aforementioned people. One imagined that could be where he derived the title of ‘Emperor’s Hand’ from. And Aurelius was taught to pay special respect to the Alven. His father always used to say that the older amongst them were wiser and more sensible than any human could ever hope to be. But he couldn’t help but feel that if he were in the Emperor’s position, he would wish to address these people who stood at the frontier of the Shadow Courts personally. Would it not be a sign of respect, he pondered? Would it not be a more pleasant exercise of power over outsourcing it to subordinates? But he took care not to question the man too much. For all Aurelius knew, leaving the Imperium to come and travel here to do such a thing could leave the throne vulnerable to usurpation. That was a rather solid, justified excuse if that or anything similar was the case.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><br>
Those, however, were petty concerns in comparison to the dawning of the scale of the whole operation. The involvement of the Aven Kingdoms and the Solar Dominions personally didn’t mean much to Aurelius - rather little, to be more precise. But that was more out of a lack of understanding for the politics of the East, rather than a lack of caring or being a dismissive act. But over </span><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><i>two million!?</i></span><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"> And was that without adding the numbers that the Divine Realms could muster in addition? That gave them a real fighting chance, at least it was how he perceived it at first. It was a very large number, no argument could reasonably deny that fact. But what did Phyrion’s forces number - were they endless like legends told? The last March had been the largest so far and that numbered half of the forces preparing for the assault next year, but that had been disastrous. It put things into perspective - retaking Riven was going to be an arduous chore for starters. Then, to kill Phyrion? Who was capable of such a thing, and let alone that, who even knew how to do such a thing? Grand-Archon Arcasian sprang to mind first - Aurelius had heard glorious tales about him - but he was dead, of course.</span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><br>
Aurelius, as he always did, held questions in reserve. But in this context, he would not voice them unless he absolutely had to. It was partly due to the fact that he almost felt without authority in this room, but not really. He’d be one of many that wished to lay waste to the Shadow Legions, he’d be in the fight himself. That gave him the perfect reason to make inquiries. But not yet. What he was thinking was likely to be echoed by others present, and Aurelius decided to let them go first. If anyone from the Kingdom of Setaria was voicing an opinion or a question before anyone else dared to, it would be his father.</span><br>
<br>
<br>
And invariably, it was. <span style="color: #ff0000">"If we failed to take Riven on our last march, how shall we be successful at this time of asking?"</span> he said thoughtfully. <span style="color: #ff0000">"If we rely on our numbers alone, it will just be a massacre again, only this time worse for us, no?"</span> he put forward, to no-one in particular, not expecting an answer. <span style="color: #ff0000">"What we need more than anything else in my opinion is new strategy. Which is, I must say, why I am fond of the plan for Grand Sovereign Alrius to lead their expedition into uncharted territories,"</span> he added, beginning to trail off and fade in conviction and volume of his words <span style="color: #ff0000">"but it remains dangerous and risky still..."</span><br>
<br>
<br>
Everything in wartime was risky in one sense or another, to one degree or another. The King would undoubtedly pray that it was, in this case, a calculated one.</div>
				
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	<div class="message-userContent lbContainer js-lbContainer " data-lb-id="post-6022367" data-lb-caption-desc="Malphaestus · Jun 12, 2016 at 10:33 PM">

		

		
	


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	</div></span><span class="post-heading post-heading-"><span style="font-family: 'Cinzel';">Cyrus Leone Phaerona</span></span><br>
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<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Cinzel';">Knight-Monarch of Thalentine</span><br>
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</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><span class="bbcode-justify">The Marshal State of Thalentine had just gone through mass unrest as a direct result of the long times of darkness of the nights just prior. The overly superstitous had managed to rile up those who knew nothing better than to believe their words, and took to the streets of Thalamime, the grand capital of Thalentine, and seat of the palace-citadel of the Knight-Monarch himself. The streets had been filled with protesters with torches and forks alike, however, the determination and performance of garrisoned Laeros Templars and their emissaries within the local recruitment post had managed to get the situation well under control before midnight had passed. The mastermind being none other than Grand Strategos and Exemplar of the Forge, Cabar Korpus; second-in-command of the Templar Order of Laeros. Through his decisive maneuvering and decision making he had prevented the already riled mob from growing further through momentum; ultimately dissolving it thanks to manipulative scheming and thorough handling.</span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><br>
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<div style="text-align: center">@DefendKebab1918<br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><span class="bbcode-justify">Such read the report presented to him by his second advisor, Tarka Khan. As an Exemplar of the Forge, Cyrus knew that Tarkon Khan was a prodigous templar, and thus entrusted him with the better half of everything. Cyrus dismissed the report, he did not expect anything less from his first advisor, and continued to stand before the many statues of the various Gods of his faith. His trust in these marble representations of that which in truth is unspeakable would truthfully be unfathomable to all sane minds, but truth be told, he felt more secure before these statues than within any bastion. His iron grip around his emotions and desires softened as he fell onto his knees in prayer. Tarka Khan did much the same, as did their honour guard; all of which were allieged to the Templar Order of Laeros and the Steel Morals. </span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><br>
Cyrus could not contemplate the time pass by, his state of prayer was so extreme as to detach him from the world around him. For hours they spent, within the halls of a public temple, as commoners and nobles passed them by. They remained kneeling in complete devotion as priests and priestesses tended to them, their hearts forever touched by this act of supreme devotion. It wasn't before long that the entire city came to look at the sight of the famed Laeros Templars kneeling before the Gods of the Fifth House. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><br>
Quite suddenly, almost as if through forced resuscitation, the templars jolted suddenly and rose from their positions of prayer as they holstered their swords and held on to their shields once more. The children, who were so very talkative just prior, were instantly silenced. The commoners and the nobles stepped back as the templars rose, giving them room enough to maneuver. By the time Cyrus had risen, the Knight-Monarch of Thalentine and Forge-King of the famed Order of Laeros, the head priest had presented himself before him with a chalice of water. "Your devotion deserves recognition, the divines of the Fifth House smile upon your deeds and upon your faith."</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><br>
The priest offered Cyrus the holy water to him, and Cyrus nodded with his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The priest elevated the chalice above him, and then let the water flow down upon the templar. The massive crowd that had gathered inside and outside of the temple cheered as the Knight-Monarch and his templar honour guards turned around and headed towards the citadel in complete silence, a massive crowd following behind their white cloaks.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><br>
Just before the archway of the Citadel's main passage, the crowd dispersed as the garrisoned guardsmen took care of the situation. Cyrus and his trusted honour guard merely continued their avenue of approach, not stopping for anything before they finally, through the help of various event guides, found themselves within the Undercroft of the grand citadel of the West; the Gateway to the East. Cyrus found himself being observed the moment he took step within the Undercroft, and rapidly made his way over to his assigned chair, right next to his friends the Grand Marshals of both Caspia and Pavona; two steadfast allies amongst those who ignorantly stand fast to the idea that there would be no counter-attack. Flanked by Cyrus was his Advisor and foremost capable military commander; his honour guard had taken to the walls directly behind the Thalentine seat.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'EB Garamond';"><br>
At first he and the Grand-Marshal of Caspia had initiated conversation on their own, but soon, the two of them were met by Alessia Riencourt, Grand-Marshal of Pavona. The three would engage conversation until the Alf would take to the Undercroft and demand silence.</span></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><b><i>"L'ARMURE EST L'APEX"</i></b></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Josefin Slab';"><b><i><br>
(Armour is the Apex)</i></b></span><br>​</div><br>
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div class="bbcode-centerblock" style="width: 78%;"><span class="post-heading post-heading-"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell Enlighs SC';">The Divine Sword</span></span><br>
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<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell Enlighs SC';">Beholden to the Throne</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span class="bbcode-justify">While the Grand-Marshal was away at the conference various preparations and matters were being carried out by her deputy, the Premier Legate Maxius Abbadon. The man with his white well kept beard had been Alessia's deputy for nearly forty years, serving under her in the Sixth March. The two had actually lived in the same village back in the Imperium though he had joined up a couple years prior to her. They always seemed in recent years to be two bodies of the same mind though. Whenever she went away on business he seemed to know precisely what she desired to happen, and whenever he went in her place the matters and details he brought back always seemed to satisfy Alessia. Some had said that there was likely some kind of intimate bond between the two though nothing official had ever transpired or been confirmed by the pair to the knowledge of anyone. </span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
Upon her departure Premier Legate Abbadon had begun stationing more soldiers in some of the castles and forts along the Grand Range while drawing from the garrisons further east towards Telemar. This was to provide for more soldiers at the front along with providing internal locations that could then be used as rally points for mustering of the larger forces. Abbadon also began to summon up one quarter of the realm's levy to begin assembling at local forts before reporting to muster outside of Pavona's capital city, Aras or Hearthstone in common tongue. Aras stood as a great testament to the preparations of Grand-Marshal Riencourt and her predecessors for it's defenses and walls were built right into a mountain which it sat upon. The great harbor allowed for trade with the other Divine Realms and the East. The mountain already provided great mineral wealth with it's mines, Grand-Marshal Aros Callidan was the one who seized the mines and decreed that Pavona's capital would be built here. It was not named Aras for nearly a century taking the name of Stonekeep. The name was abandoned for Aras though the reasons are not clear. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
The city was buzzing with anticipation of the return of the Grand-Marshal with news from the Conference as to what would come of them. What they would do would purely depend on her thoughts on the matters at hand. Pavona was prepared to march at a moment's notice but this meant that the taxes were quite high and some goods that were abundant and other less militant realms were not such here. This meant that the people learned to make do with what they had though sometimes their grievances came to a front and things got tense. This happened a few years prior when a small aggravated crowd stormed a local tax collector's office in a small village. Grand-Marshal Riencourt attempted to diffuse the situation but when it further escalated she used the soldiers to put down what had turned into a riot. The swift restoration of order with limited casualties resulted in some bloodshed though it quelled it before it grew. The incident had visibly shaken the Grand-Marshal at the time but has since faded. Pavona was stronger for it in the end, the iron hand that guided them was meant to protect and sometimes the people forgot who the real enemy was after all. </span><br>
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<div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbcode-border" style="border: 3px Solid #7a92ab;"><div class="bbcode-background" style="background-color: #cccccc;"><div class="bbcode-background-text"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #7a92ab">? The Iron Bear of Pavona ?</span></span></span></div></div></div><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span class="bbcode-justify">The conversation with the Grand-Marshal of Caspia and the Knight-Sovereign of Thalentine was pleasant as it usually was with the pair. Alessia had respect for both men and they seemed to return the favor quite nicely. Over the years since the last march and their individual rises to power in their respective holds had seen the three realms come closer and closer together in cooperation and coordination of internal security along with the maintenance of the Grand Range's defense. Thalentine was pleasantly nestled between Caspia and Pavona providing a great location for conferences and such between the three whenever matters to be discussed arose. This had allowed the three Stratocractic rulers to become well acquainted. Then the Imperial Alf got the attention of all present before laying bare the plan that had been devised, like always in the east without the consultation of the Divine Sovereigns. This was always how they went about it since the earliest marches. They believed themselves superior and better equipped to make the decisions than those on the front lines of the wars, the fools never understand that they reacted far slower than the Divine Sovereigns who seemed to be begrudgingly present. Alessia for one was not in favor of another March unless a true plan was completely thought out and had not been done before in the least. </span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><i>Two million souls to march into the darkness,</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> Alessia thought to herself as she sat watching the owl before the Lord Phocius and then the Alf as he spoke that a million would be provided for by the Aven Kingdoms and Solar Dominions who had decided it was in their and all mortals best interests to truly commit to the fight. That much was nice to hear though she didn't necessarily like the whole idea of more soldiers from the East coming in and thinking they own the damn place like they seemed to do whenever new recruits came over. Fortunately the Centurions knew how to whip it out of the recruits, sometimes literally, as arrogance and presumptions had no place in the Legions. She had no words to describe how to respond to the situation, the strategy and such at hand. No words to describe how she felt really, least other than anger at the arrogance of those in the East. Politely she rose, bowed to the Arch-Cleric of Kyne and then to the Hand of the Emperor. </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #7a92ab">"Thank you for hosting me and my men Your Holiness."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> She turned to Judar, </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #7a92ab">"May your journey be well Your Grace, Pavona however will not submit to this plan. We cannot risk failure here, no again. I bid you farewell or until we meet on the battlefield."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> She said as she departed the Undercroft not wanting to hear any more of this plan. This failure was not to rest on her shoulders. </span><br>
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><i><b><span style="color: #ff0000"><span style="font-family: 'book antiqua'">    The Youthful Elder</span></span></b></i><br>
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Throughout the majority of the meeting Thorsten remained silent, sitting and listening to the Emperors Hand and the various other leaders of his neighboring nations. It came to him as a surprise that the Aven Kingdoms and the Solar Dominions would bother sending their warriors to a slaughter that they knew oh so well could give them the advantage in numbers over the Imperium if this March failed. Of course this could be chalked up to religious duty, a feeling of national pride, or a thousand other political reasons that they could be scheming with behind the scenes in that far away land. Thorsten was raised out of his self monologue thoughts by the voice of the so called "Crowned Centurion" He then glanced over to the man, arching an eyebrow at his question before speaking in a crisp, clear voice in agreement "</span><span style="font-family: 'book antiqua'"><span style="color: #ff0000">The good Centurion isn't wrong, we know not what the Dark Lords have been up to as of late, we simply cannot march that many soldiers into a land we have no knowledge of and expect that we will simply crush them.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'book antiqua'">"</span><br>
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Returning to his silence yet again, Thorsten mulled over the plan within his head, two million men and women would be quite a-lot of warriors, though no doubt many of them would be poorly trained and ill equipped, mostly raised from the peasantry and other lower classes for a chance for glory in the name of the Gods. This boded ill if it was the case, as no doubt the Dark Lords had a well drilled and trained army, along with their black magics and whatever hellish beings they could summon. Stroking his goatee idly and glancing around the table, he watched the Ladyship of Pavona stand and speak, standing also after he finished and clearing his throat quietly before speaking again. "</span><span style="font-family: 'book antiqua'"><span style="color: #ff0000">Your Holiness, I respect and agree that something must be done but I will not remove another generation from my people and cast our homeland into turmoil once again, I bid you and those who stay in this March a good luck, Belstrom will not take part in this March, I bid all of you good day.</span></span><span style="font-family: 'book antiqua'">" He then bowed to His Holiness, then the Hand of the Emperor and turned, walking out of the Undercroft. As with the Iron Bear, Belstorm would not suffer for the failure of this plan.</span></div>
				
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					<div class="bbWrapper"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #ff0000"><i><span style="font-family: 'Grand Hotel';">The Crowned Centurion</span></i></span></span><br>
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<br>
<br>
Aurelius became frustrated as he watched the proceedings unfold as they did, firstly with the woman who was leading the realm of Pavona and then subsequently with the representative of Belstrom. It might have only been twenty years since the last time duty called them all to action against the darkness, but it seemed that many had forgotten their obligation to submit to the will of the Imperium and whoever their Emperor or Empress should be. Fighting the forces of the Shadow Lords was why all these people had re-settled on this continent and established their lands and states to begin with. Without the Imperium, no Divine Forces would have ever landed and this massive bastion that they were currently in would never have been standing. And now some decided to repay this by acting as if they had the right to say no and refuse, leaving petulantly like children throwing toys. In the Prince’s mind, if they didn’t like the plan, they ought to stay and re-negotiate better terms, with new tactics and strategy that they felt appropriate, so that the best preparations could be made to counter the threat of Phyrion.<br>
<br>
<br>
Any force embarking on a march would need all the possible numbers that could be mustered, and so this insubordination directly undermined the plans to bring two million men and women to bear upon the forces of evil and weakened them. If they could not all main united against the most major threat to the existence of good people, then what could ever unite them at all? It made him angry, fuming inside at the actions he’d just witnessed. But his mind and the mind of others couldn’t just think about how dare they do such a thing. Whether he liked or respected their decision was irrelevant ; it would be wrong to spend time condemning them when that time could equally be spent trying to convince them to see the error of their ways and getting them to change their mind, or mounting the greatest possible offensive regardless of their participation. But that was an issue that fell to the Emperor’s Hand, not him, a lowly centurion with royal blood flowing through his veins. It never really occurred to Aurelius that naivety could be clouding some of his judgement and reasoning, but loyalty was what he valued as he made efforts to thinly veil his disapproving facial expression. He never expected the Seventh March to be easy or to be the safe option, but nothing great or glorious had ever been done the easiest and safest way…</div>
				
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<div class="bbcode-centerblock" style="width: 78%;"><span class="post-heading post-heading-"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell Enlighs SC';">The Gathering of Crowns</span></span><br>
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<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell Enlighs SC';">A Distant Sovereign</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span class="bbcode-justify">The rain gently swept down from the eastern mountains, bringing a spring smell to join with the salt of the air from the sea. Great thunder could be heard in the distance but was muffled by the time it reached the city itself. A beacon shining on the shores of the Summer Sea, the white stone buildings with their golden yellow tiled roof tops stood as a testament to wealth and power of this city that ruled the world. One could walk down the streets of this most ancient city and not see slums anywhere in sight. They did not exist in the city proper but instead beneath it in a great carved cavern that ran the length and size of everything within the walls. The Undercity as it was known to all was where the poorest of the poor lived and dwelt, it was virtually self-sustaining for they could not count on the city above supplying them in times of need. They virtually governed themselves, their own laws and some would argue that in certain parts their own gods as well. It was upon the backdrop of these great cities, the Twins as some knew them that a great council was being held to determine the fate of the known world, both here in the east and those realms across the great sea in the West, on Elium. </span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #b3977b">"Can we indeed kill a god?"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> The voice asked to those assembled. None spoke. </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #b3977b">"No mortal has, so how is it we believe that we mortals can?"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> The voice asked again if somewhat desperate and less composed than before. Again the room was silent, it was not that no one was present, indeed there were several in this dark fire lit room deep in the bowels of the citadel that guarded the city. Here in this stone room with carved walls that told of the great wars of Epochs long past this gathering of crowns was silent. None could speak, least none would to this notion. The act they wished to commit to most would be a crime against creation and indeed they themselves believed it to be, though they also equally believed it to be necessary for the continuation of the Mortal Races. </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #b3977b">"They turned their backs on us after all!"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> The voice said clearly coming unhinged and less coherent. Grunts of agreement went up from around the table. Those gathered were of similar mindset on that front at least even if they were uneasy with killing Phyrion the fact the Gods had yet to do so or the other Shadow Lords was a clear sign to all mortals that they were very much on their own. No other reaction from those assembled came forward so the voice became silent and the one who it belonged too sat back in the chair they had lept from in the first place. Silence fell upon those here, in this stone room beneath the great citadel in the most ancient of cities in the east. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #977bb3">"Killing </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #977bb3"><i>him</i></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #977bb3"> is something we must do whether we face judgement in the Faded Halls for that or not, come for better or worse it must be done."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> Another voice spoke this time, though instead of growing unsteady this one was firm and wised with age. It spoke with great reverence for what was to be done and what had to be done in their eyes whether it got them sent to the Eternal Shadow. More grunts of agreement rang out upon the walls. This was not to be some easy task by any means, the mere act of landing two million soldiers was going to be a feat worthy of praise in and of itself, then getting them to their designated areas mostly intact would be a second praise worthy feat, the third and final part of the plan... well that would rewrite history's definition of </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><i>praise worthy</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> feats should they succeed in killing Phyrion, Lord of the Shadows of Fear and King of the Third Shadow Court. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
</span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #ccac00">"I vote to move forward with the plan,"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> a third voice said. The man it belonged to was still young, a gold circlet adorned his head, and rich military garb his body. Upon his finger the seal of the Imperium rested. Chiseled jaw, soft green eyes set against blonde hair. A statue standing in the flesh was something many said of him. </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><i>Lysandus, First of His Name, First of House Aquila-Savirien, Emperor of all Pharus, Emperor in the West, Descendant of the Eliate, Defender of the People, Bearer of the Six Burdens and so his titled continued</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';">. This man, this young man was the most powerful figure in all the known world that was short of deities. He worshiped the divines as if they still graced the Mortal Realms. One by one the others voted, none voted against and so they committed themselves to what would be the fate of the entire March. They would not sit idly by in their gilded halls and watch from afar what transpired on that dark continent, but instead they would take part first hand to hopefully shape the destiny of all involved and all those that would come after. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
After the meeting adjourned and the various parties departed back from whence they came Lysandus stood at the very top of the citadel, a small garden had been constructed there some years prior under the Emperor Annorius, Eight of His Name some four hundred years earlier when House Aquila had regained the throne from House Ducati. The gardens had since become known as the Aquiline Gardens. The rain gently landed upon Lysandus' body as he watched the horizon looking ever westward to the lands he would be in soon enough. His thoughts were not about whether he would die for surely he would but instead turned to the fate of his wife the Empress Elyse who would remain behind as a guiding hand for the realm. Not more than a month earlier the realm had been rocked by the Corvinian Uprisings and the divisions in the Faith were growing daily as dissenters believed it needed great reforms. Indeed it did but who were mortals to say that the very organization of the Gods could be reformed? Some believed that such thoughts were Heresy, by the gods a war had been waged over the thoughts and the reformists had been soundly defeated by Lysandus no less. Why? Not because he hadn't agreed with them or because it threatened his position, no in fact reform would have only strengthened his position as the head of the Imperium but defeating them was in it's own was to atone for the past sins of his that needed to be washed away by standing up for the Grand-Divine. That at least was what the Empress Elyse had said to him upon his return from those battles. Such were the times they lived in. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
</span></span><br>
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<span class="horizontal-rule bbcode-horizontal-rule bbcode-horizontal-rule-thick thick"></span><br>
<div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbcode-border" style="border: 3px Solid #7a92ab;"><div class="bbcode-background" style="background-color: #cccccc;"><div class="bbcode-background-text"><span style="font-family: 'IM Fell English SC';"><span style="font-size: 36px"><span style="color: #7a92ab">? The Iron Bear of Pavona ?</span></span></span></div></div></div><br>
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<span class="horizontal-rule bbcode-horizontal-rule bbcode-horizontal-rule-thick thick"></span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span class="bbcode-justify">Having walked out of the conference Alexia stood in the hallway for a moment thinking to herself of what to do next. She needed to return to Pavona but perhaps now was not the time to do so. She needed to urgently speak to some individuals with whom she had corresponded with for year and even decades but they were not readily accessible. Her thoughts were interrupted when another figure emerged from the Undercroft, the King of Belstrom had apparently also departed with displeasure from the meeting no doubt for similar reasons as to Alexia. </span></span><span class="bbcode-justify"><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #7a92ab">"Your Majesty,"</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> She said bowing her head out of respect though she needn't do so. For a moment she pondered what to say if anything, </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #7a92ab">"I won't stand to watch more people die like they did thirty years ago."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> Alexia said looking the King in the eyes and wondering what he was planning to do. Whether he was to return home and simply sit this out on the sidelines watching the chaos unfold and hoping he could brace against the coming storm's backlash or if he was planning something else, perhaps like her? </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
Alexia shared a few kinds words for the apparent solidarity he showed by also departing the Conference. The shock it likely caused, along with disrespect that might have been assumed, was surely enough to get the point across without further issue. The fact that the Emperor Lysandus had dispatched the Councillor in his stead was certainly to be expected all things considered with the current political situation in the East. This only further highlighted that now was not the time to draw such resources West to strike at the Shadow Courts but instead to be spent on stabilizing the interior realms. Alas what was likely the decision was to distract the public with a great war while consolidating his hold in the shadows, that would be just like Imperial Politics after all. </span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><span style="color: #7a92ab">"I must bid you adieu your majest as I am going to go take care of business, if you need me please send word to my realm anytime."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"> She said before departing down the halls towards her Embassy. Once there she summoned the Ambassador to whom she relayed a sealed letter to send at once with the utmost haste to Pavona. The Grand Marshal donned her finest military uniform and made sure her men were with her every step of the way as they proceeded down the fine avenues of Kyne's Shield and to the docks where her small fleet of ships awaited. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: 'Advent Pro';"><br>
They set sail soon after not heading up the coast as would be apparent to those that watched but instead East... East to the realms of the Imperium and others. East to the great halls that held the politicians, the bureaucrats and clerics that were deciding the fates of the people of the West without their input. Allies, Alexia needed to discuss things with those whom she considered her allies and they were in the East. It would be some time before she returned to her home in Pavona though she had the utmost trust in Abbadon. He was a good man and one that had the respect not only of Alexia but also of the soldiers and people of Pavona. If anyone could hold her realm together in her absence it would be him. Her eyes drifted from the coast of Kyne to the horizon, and her thoughts too drifted upon the waves remembering the last time she had seen the East... all those years ago.</span><br>
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