[Prologue] The Return of a Legend

[Pirvan Kaldres]

The Month of Kalendryas, in the Season of Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum.

The stallion trotted down the white marble bricks that lead up to the tranquil town of Frigid River. All black in color, except for the gray hairs on his mane that showed his age, the stallion was a stark contrast to the brickwork; so was the man seated upon the healthy animal. He was dressed in a light gray suit accented with vertical white stripes; freshly polished black elegant solid black shoes graced his feet and matching colored leather gloves upon his hands, the majority of the coming winter cold was kept away by the fashionable gray leather coat around his shoulders.

Pirvan reigned in Talon as he neared the gates. He just sat there staring at the gates and the town beyond. He took in the scenery, the grass matted with snow from the oncoming winter, the trees standings tall and blissful their leaves’ rustling in the slight breeze... this was Frigid River. He smiled, reaching up to remove the band that was holding his dreads together; he let them fall, resting upon his shoulder.

With the tap of his hand Talon started moving again, walking forward coming to a rest once again before the gate guards, the Frigid River Rangers. Of course he recognized none of them; it has been so long, oh so long since he had been here. As he pulled his visa from his inner pocket and handed it to the gate guard his mind drifted back to the events that had driven him away from Aelyria and brought him back…

Money, fame, and family he had it all. He was the richest man in Aelyria, owning property in almost every province, a businessman at heart, a thief at hand, and a politician in mind. He was once the Thane of Frigid River that he now sat before and later becoming the Governor of the entire Lylles Kingdom, all before the age of 30. He was a man of many means but apparently those means had gotten to him, his midlife crisis had come way earlier than expected. With a simple resignation and letters to his family and associates Pirvan had disappeared, where he had gone no one knew, where he spent all this time that passed was a mystery to all except Pirvan himself. He had gone home, not the many residents that he had around Aelyria but home home, to Trell. His birthplace and the birthplace of his family, House Kaldres, Pirvan had never been home since he had left some years ago when he was still a young teenager. The time he spend there was amazing, it was extremely different from how it was when he left, the plague was far behind them and the island was thriving once more. It was the same in many respects as well as Houses still dominated government, only this time, House Kaldres didn’t exist. He had no interest of bringing them back, not then at least, he only wanted to rest and relax and that is what he spent the majority of his time doing.

Now though, now he was back, a little older in age, but wiser, stronger and more determined to reach that pinnacle that was within his reach before he left…

[Wildcard]

PROLOGUE TO INAUGURATION:


Horseshoes struck stone with an even tempered pitch. The sway of the animal's tail brushed away falling snow utilizing effortless nonchalance. The stallion's rider also shed an easy gait, calm while underlined in confident posturing. The city's broad gates welcomed him as any stranger, but the hushed words that followed while his passport folded beneath a bristled cloak fed whispers like wind to pine needles. Citizens payed the traveler no real mind, moving from his path with mild glances and passing account. A particular woman strayed lost in her own thoughts, the winy of reins forcing her eyes upwards to the faded outline of nobility, vision suddenly locked in captivation. She moved startled from Talon's path, while touching a hand to her chest and the other atop a shoulder adjacent. "That's the Thane.. Kaldres.." "What? I thought him Dead.. "

A runner was dispatched and the youth broadsided Pirvan's leg while hurrying by, excitedly avoiding a cart of frozen fish.. palmy not for the knowledge of news, but for the shiny gold crown he'd only recently earned by relaying it. Blending amidst the rhythm and tempo of the crowd, blue and white colors of the courier's tunic quickly disappeared leaving only glimpses, several fingers to mouths and busy merchants ignorant to any fact outside their focus. Riding into the main promenade, the lofty aspirations of the man gazed upon familiar sights; Trellis Inn still stood strong and open for business, as the The Anvil Reborn across from it. Throngs of citizens cut past the stallion while it then turned east entering Rook's Row. The excitement of arrival finally reached Kaldres's gut as the broad stone basilica of The Court entered into sight; home of the council hall and public offices, once seating the very Governor of Lauryl himself..

Atop the stone steps of this monumental structure now stood a long haired dwarf with straight orange locks grayed and thinning. It was recognizably Gret Ironstone, the senior Aedile and strong fisted council seat from yahren past... Who could judge where the regal politician stood, except above him lined with stewards and primed officials placed on every step beneath spread out like a wedding reception. The mighty dwarf was clothed in an expensive red velvet overcoat, tailored breeches and an inlaid belt of pristine white metal. His limbs lifted unto the air as Talon broke into view..

"Master Pirvan... It has been so long. Please, do come in."

One of the stewards on the lower level, a man whom at one time saved Kaldres's life looked coldly into his eyes now in the present, shaking a sharp featured head from left to right. It was uncertain whether this gesture was a warning or simply an outward sign of disgust but the scene unfolded around them regardless. Ironstone descended his arms outstretched, boasting a broad cheerful smile.

"I cannot believe my eyes, yet here you are... Guardsmen see to this long lost son's steed, servants 'his saddle. " The Dwarf clasped Pirvan's frame warmly. "We have much.. Much to Discuss..."

"You are Welcome here."

[Pirvan Kaldres]

It felt weird being in the spotlight again, but more important it felt good. It increased the smile on his face being recognized. Most people just seemed shocked to see him again, but a few amongst those faces looked happy to see him, of course a few of those faces probably were distraught as well. It didn’t matter to him though, he always had his fans and his enemies and that would never change, it was impossible to be liked by all.

As he maneuvered through the streets and crowds he came upon The Court and to his own shock he saw the familiar face of the stout Grent Ironstone along with a reception of more figures. That brought out a laugh from him. Stopping at the base of the steps Pirvan dismounted and then a figure walked up to him. "Master Pirvan... It has been so long. Please, do come in."Pirvan was so focused on Grent that he really didn’t catch the cold gaze. Pirvan was never a rude person and was always one to show respect so he turned and bowed his head slightly to the fellow, catching his face Pirvan could’ve swore he knew that face and he probably did, but being away so long his memory was quite thin. “Thank You.” Pirvan replied as he shifted his gaze back to Grent.

Returning the dwarf’s embrace Pirvan nodded agreeing with him. “Not many can believe their eyes, not many at all. Yes, yes there is much to discuss, like how have you been, how has Frigid River and all of Lauryl been?” Questions just ran off his tongue like a river.

[Wildcard]

As the contingency of guards and servants swept the elegant enclave into it's center, Pirvan could feel the strong hand of Gret Ironstone lead him to the front hallway of the basilica. The Dwarf seemed to take each word in stride with his step, placing consonant after vowel utilizing the precision of a metronome.

"I.. am well. Acting in your stead, my Lord's humble servant has served the people to the best of his abilities. Trade as increased, new resources found.. Jewelsteel. The Agarwood forests nearest the hotsprings are at long last being harvested while the Army has much dissolved into the Sherian war effort."
Then arose concern, honest to the point of drama crossing the features of the weathered dwarf.
"Raids have escalated, as a rise in monstrosities.. predators seen at our borders and lakes. Without imperial protection I've had to rely heavily on privately funded mercenary companies for support, but I suspect they are as much the problem as solution.."He paused, lifting his own spirits with a forced crawl. "Perhaps now is not the time for such talk. Come.. let us dine. Feast on the cuisine that your providence and guidance have wrought us..." Blinking, it was barely noticable that the Dwarf was preoccupied with something, as suddenly one of several advisors whispered into his ear in passing. "Right this way.. I shall join you but shortly." With that Gret turned into a well lit chamber, warm with fire. In his place walked a noble steward, refined and elder. The man gestured to an immense mahogany table covered in silver beneath the shadow of two familiar chandeliers and a well lit fireplace. Pirvan was to sit at the head, opposite a great chair with raised seating. Ironstone's.

Slipping through the background, Kaldres then made out the presence he detected earlier and was yet unable to place a name to the face. This strange man now donned the guise of a waiter, with a towel over one arm while approaching the table. "Wine sir?" Was all a grated voice could carry over a badly healed throat puncture. It was Turin Talas... one of founding members of the Jaded Claw. Noticing recognition in his once master's eyes, the seasoned warrior smiled coyly in return. "No? Perhaps the White then..." Pouring the liquid into Pirvan's glass without asking, the late-Thane could sense a certain stillness overtake the room, as the clink of glass immediately snapped the festivities back alive. Gret returned through a veil of curtains with a broad smile, clasping both hands together in celebration. "Come, Come.. Let us Drink and be Well... Our beloved Thane has returned unscathed..."The politician raised his own dark grape, also poured by the enigmatic figure. "To you Pirvan.. The Eye of the Storm."

[Pirvan Kaldres]

Pirvan eyes wondered as his ears listened. Walking through the basilica Pirvan took in the simple yet elegant beauty of the building. “Acting in your stead…” Pirvan chuckled slightly as he heard that, he hadn’t been Thane of Frigid River for quite some time. He did have strong ties to Frigid River though, it’s where he had moved to settle down somewhat, and essentially where he began his brief political career. From Thane to Governor to missing, all in the span of seasons if that much, but those were crazy times back then and as he continued to listen to Grent, there were crazy times now as well.

Jewelsteel? Indeed that was new, he had never heard of it. Mercenaries, raids, no imperial protection… Each word ran different images through his mind, what was really going on in Aelyria?

Smiling Pirvan nodded, but it dimmed away quickly as he noted that Grent was being called away. Nodding once again Pirvan followed the elder steward. Thanking him, Pirvan took a seat, remember this room and this table.

When the waiter came towards him, Pirvan face twisted up into one of thought, deep thought as he racked his brain trying to place the man. His eyes lit up as he remembered, Turin aka Faces, a long standing member of the Jaded Claw. The man was talented at disguises, he could be one person one moment and a blink later another. Pirvan didn’t know what was going on, Turin was the first to greet him and now he was his waiter, serving him, why? He was put on guard, he had no reason to distrust Turin but Pirvan hadn’t survived so many ordeals by taking things in stride. Before he could reply though, liquid was poured into his wine and the clink of glass brought him out of his deep thoughts. Grent walked into the room at the same time as well, Pirvan was still a bit stunned and lost in his thoughts but his hands kind of moved on their own, lifting the glass before him but as they caught his eyes he caught himself.

Shaking his head he forced a brief laugh for Grent at the title Eye of the Strom and raised his glass but he never drank from it, he placed it back on the table and rose. “It’s been a long ride my friend, I need to go relieve myself” Looking around he looked to see if Turin was still around, if he was he would ask him to show him where the restroom was. “My good man, can you show me to the facilities?” He needed answers and he needed them now.

[OOC: lol, you have me looking up threads I have long forgotten about. This is the link that I found about Turin Talas, I don't know if you guys have different information on him in my CIR or SOF.]

[Wildcard]

As Pirvan rose to excuse himself, the daunting figure who had served him blended into the taunt execution of service with nothing more then the turn of a collar. Turin Talis was gone.

In the absence of ceremony, the beaming face of Grent Ironstone awaited response and approval with a raised cup. His spirits fell momentarily broken as his guest of honor began to turn away. The Dining Hall of the Court overlooked the cavernous atrium of a great domed Throne room, now clothed in night, shadow and the light of Lunaisa. It`s curved seating and rising echoes reminded Kaldres of his days past, sitting atop that mantle clothed in honor and radiant prestige.

Undeterred, Grent took a sip from his glass. Then the crystal shattered on the stone floor below, red wine splattering like the spray of sanguine. The Dwarf began to choke, falling toward his knees in white faced terror with a hand over his throat and the other against the furniture, clawing for support. Stewards, manservants and chambermaids all came to his aid, the call for a healer resounding across the courtyards. The Thane of Frigid River had been poisoned.

A lithe nobleman draped in black finery literally threw an awaiting attendant away from the fawning circle surrounding his liege. Tilting the foaming Dwarf`s eyes back, this newest figure commanded respect. Removing a tiny vial from beneath his midnight tunic, the human plucked the cork and downed the sultry liquid into the maw of his master. ''Damn IT. Our sovereign isn`t breathing. His heart beat slows the MORE I SPEAK... GET ME MAC MERED NOW!!''

A nearby page quickly panicked while falling against the remains of cutlery, taking off running down a long corridor of tapering torchlight. The Thane`s personal cadre of military guard secured the room and would immediately seal the entire building without a resounding spoken word. Cradling the dying Dwarf in his arms, this dark haired patrician lifted the Thane upwards with fierce abandon. Pirvan recognized the steward immediately as did the man him. ''Lord Kaldres, it is excellent to see you, rather our meeting fell on kinder times. We must get Grent to safety... MOVE you DITCH-DOGS!! RUN... GET THE PRIEST OR I SHALL SEND YOUR SKINS SUNDERED TO THE TANNER IN PIECES.'' The figure was at the time of his leaving but a squire in the council hall, cheery eyed and youthful.. Tanus Purefoy. Now it seemed the Thane`s closest envoy and personal retainer. Surrounded by soldiers, any question as to the culprit or Pirvan`s own suspicion was drowned beneath the torrent of saving Ironstone`s dying body. Armed Guards continued to surround them on every side as Purefoy stormed down a flight of stairs with renewed urgency. They cut across the cusp of a tall stone rampart, while through the spread of towers, mist and pale trees lied the outline of the great city temple.

[Pirvan Kaldres]

Pirvan cursed as he noted that Turin had disappeared, he looked around making sure that the man was nowhere in sight. As he heard the glass shatter and Grent start to choke behind him Pirvan cried out. Foolish! He bellowed. Foolish, foolish, he wasn’t sure what was going on but he had figured himself as the only target. He was the target of that he was sure, if Turin wanted to poison Grent he could of done it way before Pirvan showed up, even more no one, not even Pirvan knew he would be showing up in Frigid River this brightening. Regardless, he had erred in not thinking of anyone but himself, he had only just arrived and it would’ve been out of place if all of a sudden he was jumping around pointing fingers and calling foul.

Pirvan stood there like a distracted school girl; he was lost in his thoughts and it was only until Tanus said his name did he come out of his reverie. Realizing that he had been standing there useless Pirvan tried to move into action. Quickly dropping into a state of clara Pirvan cast awareness and alacrity in quick succession. He was a Mystic not a Thaumaturge, he had nothing in his arsenal of spells that could aid his old friend. It made him question why he had even dropped into his magical state, maybe it was just instinct.

Pirvan could only give Tanus an agreeing nod as he moved with the crowd of guards headed towards the temple. Before they left the hall Pirvan tried to cast sentinel. He didn't know what help it would be but he wanted to make sure there wouldn't be anymore surprises.

Grabbing one of the guards Pirvan looked him straight in the eyes. "The steward.." He began. "He was the first to greet me at the steps and he was also the waiter who poured the drinks. He is a man of many disguises and exceptional at stealth. It's unlikely that you will find him but have the eldest steward search and identify every single staff. Go Now." With that Pirvan shoved him back the opposite way. Only after he had turned to continue to move with Tanus did he realize he was given orders. He would be surprised if the guard didn't turn and slap him.

[Wildcard]

The return of a Legend... Funny, as the foam dripped from the old dwarf's mouth swaying blankly in the arms of his retainer, this speech rang somewhat hollow. Closing both eyes, Pirvan could feel something akin to a cloak unfurrow over his senses as if someone or something was aware of the conceit of magic. He could hear then see faded doubles and echoes, snippits of conversation.. as if peering through a fogged window. The spell Sentinel cracked wide open, applified and distorted by counter spells and enchantments. It was only his history and familiarity with the site that gifted him any response at all..

He could spot the table, it's warm food spoiling amidst one spilled glass of red and another pristine chalice full to the brim with white. Two different wines... The subtle return of memories, seeing such glimmer of recognition in Turin's eyes. Why would a man who attempted murder let his prey gaze up his true nature before the clench of the kill? Was Talis simply playing with Kaldres, or had it been as it now seemed. Faces hadn't been expecting him at all.. it fell according to the mishap of a plan, a prior pact that stimulated the assassin's actions. Pirvan's glass wasn't poisoned, the man had protected his liege purposefully by slipping the old master White wine instead of the venomous Red. Friends came from strange circles indeed, or merely coincidences lined up and knocked down as the ex-Governor danced through the ball without a partner. It appeared so random in truth, but yet so exactingly precise that it's efficiency was threadbare scary.

Pirvan's spoken orders suddenly took priority over stray thought. The soldier under his scrutiny stiffened to attention as if such show of authority was the only direction he would understand. Purefoy blinked at the shared equilibrium of power.. his gaze bent fervently on saving his dying lord. All around men immediately took action, richocheting like coins against a well to stir at the rebirth of this welcome son of Lauryl. Pirvan Kaldres strided forward ablaze.


Watching the troupe of soldiers and gentry gallop across the raised stone ramparts of the misty eve, a tight wearing mistrel pulled at his codpiece while letting both feet dangle over the edge of the city gallows. He strummed gently on a stained mandolin then nudged his best friend in the arm.
"Eh." The matching musician shifted a posture of gnarled wood and elongated nose. Leading into speech, the first buffoon pointed his head towards the crowd. "What'du think that's about then."
Shrugging, the companion tuned his own viola with a screech.

"Lordies probably choked on a wishbone." The masked fiddler shrugged again, raising said instrument to the chin. As a spray of coughed vomit rained down from above, both figures tilted their head in time.
"Gulls are big this season...."

Charging over the halls of their forefathers, the entourage riddled down ancient steps of mineral to end at the base of a expansive white garden. Before them cold and silent as the very trees and vapour above stood a man of the cloth. A habit of purity dripped from the shoulders of this saddened elder, grizzled by both beard and burden. Quietly the shifting robes and repose of the man stepped into their circle of chilled and breathing bodies. A voice sharp enough to cut glass clean as parchment swung crisp and smooth above the gait of his brethren.

"What is it you want Bevy......" Grent's twitching body rolled between the Priest's legs.

"I see...." The old man leaned down sullenly as if tired from the carrack of his responsibility, even while staring at the face of such fervent calamity. "Stand back."
Suddenly searing white light shattered the expanse and Pirvan could see no more.
..His echoing magics.. shifting time and interlacing space to a view of Ironstone and a tall black figure sitting at the same table that birthed his demise. Sentences were exchanged.

"Kaldres can't know of this..." Blinking he returned to the white trees and garden. The Dwarf was aware and looking straight through his heart.

"Pirvan... Pirvan my boy.. come close, I would have words with ye."

[Pirvan Kaldres]

His spells had worked, or had they? He wasn’t exactly sure, when he was back on Trell, he hadn’t really kept active with his Mysticism, it felt weird to him somewhat but it also felt good. As the sentinel spell opened up to him he was even more confused than he was before. He wasn’t the target of this poisoning; instead he had been saved by his long time guild mate.

He had no idea what was going on here and as he watched the soldiers hustle about following his orders he wondered if he should recall them. He thought better of it thought. To recall them would seem too suspicious and he still wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. If they caught Turin, which he doubted, then at least he would be able to talk to him and find out what was going on. Or would he? He was no one special right now; he had no power in this place, would he even be allowed to an assassin?

The entourage continued to move forward at a hurried pace, intent on trying to save the life of the dwarf Grent Ironstone. They came upon a white garden and an old priest who commanded them to stand back. Taking two steps back Pirvan's eyes were focused on Grent’s twitching body. Then a searing light erupted, blinding Pirvan.

Screaming he stumbled back, he dropped to one knee to keep his place and balance while he rubbed at his eyes. He could hear some conversation going on and he thought he saw bodies, after awhile though his sight came back to him and Grent was right there staring up at him.

"Pirvan... Pirvan my boy.. come close, I would have words with ye."

Looking at his friend with new eyes Pirvan could only nod. Who are you telling. He thought to himself as he stepped forward.

[Wildcard]

With wrinkled state and grace of conscious the master priest leaned down to clear the Dwarven Ruler's air passageway. Pirvan coaxed empathy shoulder to the shoulder with the white flamen, remembering the times Grent stood up for him at the council meetings, and the moments he was too stubborn to back down to reason.. The memories of merriment and enjoyment of life amidst the Governor's palace come drifting red sunsets and casks of wine. It had been a good life, no matter how short or long the experience had taken them down along separate roads. Now reunited at last, there was a certain kinship between them.. a faint friendship. Ironstone held the boy's hand firmly with thick ice cold palms.

"Pirvan.. " There was an pang of regret to the Dwarf's nostril flair, as if begging mentally for forgiveness to what his mouth could never dictate aloud.
"If ye Mean to stay.. then you'll stay in the bed of a Thane. I should have never taken the mantle 'an my shoulders. It was never my place.. Tanus. "
The wounded dwarf bled from his nose while fighting away the hands of the healer, two guards carefully began to pin down his refrained desire.
"Please, wait.. Purefoy is a good man, when I'm gone.. he'll make a fine king. But you Pirvan, you .. must guide him. " King? The Dwarf swallowed hard, enduring some inner shaking struggle. "Take this." It was the ring of Lauryl. "The damn de Lylles claim birthright.. but it's power is the will of the people, the hub to their loud and angry spokes. I need you.. I need you to carry it. It has So .. much more potential then simply a crest .. a seal of divine a'tority. Keep it, Keep it safe and I shall be with you. Now." The next breath was his last.
"Now till Aether's End."

And Grent Ironstone was dead. Slumped in the arms of the man who he had nurtured to true potency. Fading warmth leaving his uncoiled white fingers.

The ring was something of a myth, a legend returned to life in the fist of Lauryl's newest Champion. It was told to unlock hidden magic and secret wings to the bastille and Governor's palace. With it came the power to protect it's people, but the bards were a little short on how exactly. Only that when needed most, the caretaker of Lauryl could set right all wrongs. Since it's conception the city had known such folk heroes. Nothing in his past would prepare Kaldres for what lied ahead. The elder priest then lowered his chin in shame.

"He's gone... The poison was clever. I countered the first but there were mutagen strands layered beneath that had been prepared to react to healing thaumaturgy. In effect.... I Killed him. With but a touch of charity."

There was silence as Tanus took Pirvan's arm while Father Mac whispered blindly to himself, feeling further for a pulse and signs of passing. "The Chief Constable will want a full autopsy..."

Tanus took Pirvas Kaldres aside, looking him gravely between the eyes then folding the newcomer's digits over the buzzing ring. The steward whispered quietly in earnest.
"Your the Thane now. The responsibility falls to you. I am your man and loyal servant. Rely on me and our trust will grow." The harshness of the gaze held. "Word will travel. I will spin the tale tall to imply natural passing. 'You any suggestions as how to proceed?... I know this is a grand step. A sudden change, but you'll fill the boots. We need to get away from the scene so I suggest the cellar." Vivid memories flooded Pirvan's skull. This voice, this young man was not the once from his vision.. but how far could the returning son truly trust after all that had suddenly and equivocally befallen. It made no sense, but aligned like some cosmic puzzle. Of course there would be days of mourning, a fresh coronation ceremony.. the investigation. If Pirvan was to rise to the roll now handed towards him, he would have to learn as much of the politics and players at work in this grand scheme as possible.. as quickly as possible. To underestimate his opponent if there were such shadows, would draw him to a grave as early as what lay below them both now. There was no turning back, if he took this role.. he would be marked forever in the annals of history. Responsible and beholden to the people of Frigid River. "Pirvan... Will you take this role?" The iron ring vibrated cooly between the folds of his skin, awaiting an answer as eagerly as every guard and servant there. "Will You?"

The dead eyes of Grent stared up with the stark blank poise of the afterlife.

[Pirvan Kaldres]

It was if he had been thrust into a whole new world, but the world wasn’t new, he knew the political position well, he knew the power he knew the implications as well as the dangers. Now it just seemed as if he had left and walked right back in.

Pirvan stood there, holding onto Grent’s hands, listening to him. What had Grent done? Why did he seem so sorry, so regretful? ”Grent.” Pirvan tried to interject during one of his coughing fits but the dwarf just kept on rolling. As the ring was pressed into his palm, Pirvans eyes and mind drifted off for a fraction, he was zoned into the ring until he realized Grent was still speaking. Two sentences later, his friend was gone.

Pirvan had no words for the elder priest, he only looked up. If one paid close attention to his eyes they might see a small build up of tears. Pirvan was a man used to death though, in his line of work and throughout his life, his lifestyle had hardened him about it, but for it to happen so soon, so fast and as soon as he had returned… it just through him off guard.

As Tanus touched his Pirvan jumped, he had been in his own reverie. Shaking himself he looked at Grent one more time before turning away, nodding to Tanus he allowed himself to be lead away towards this cellar. As he walked his memories whirled, his thoughts swirled and it all just made him dizzy. As he was questioned he looked up and noticed that everyone seemed to be awaiting an answer from him. He wouldn’t be thrown into the situation like this, before he had wanted it, he had sought it, he went after it and he got it. Now though, he had no idea of what was going on, locally, aboard or politically. He knew nothing of the situation. Maybe that is what would make it more interesting. Looking around Pirvan nodded and realizing that he hadn’t said a word in awhile he answered. [b]“I will.” He said to everyone.

Pulling Tanus to the side he looked him in the eyes and finished his sentence. “For a time at least. I will honor my friends request but I am new to this political scene once again, I have no knowledge of what is going on in the lands right now. I love Lauryl to much to allow myself to bring it down, so if things start to get out of hand…” He let it end there. He would step down before he allowed himself to mess things up more.

Taking a deep breath Pirvan straightened up and opened his palm. Looking at the ring he wanted so much to just throw it on his finger. Sighing he opened his jacket and placed the ring in one of his inner pockets. He was a thief at heart and had always had his clothes designed with hidden pockets and compartments for little things such as these. He had not stolen this certain ring but he needed to keep it well hidden and safe for the time being. “Come we need to talk. There’s a lot I need to find out.” And with that he turned Tanus to continue walking towards this private cellar.

[Wildcard]

From an aerial view the scene would lay out like a painting. Quiet, somber yet touched with beauty and a respectful allusion to mystery. Spiraling up in feathered vision the black sticks of white trees, deep chain mail, awaiting guardians, poets and stewards seemed to freeze; awash in a single cascading effect of this resonating moment. Frozen. Frigid.

Light traces of snow skimmed and blustered over the crust, getting lost along ankles, calves and unique boughs of ash and oak. Grent was the centerpiece, the immovable red velvet spark to draw the eye inward, as old Father Mac would then draw it back out in the gradation of removal. As the bird's eye viewed these cataclysmic events, two of the wind burned actors turned followed by but a single sentry. Black rippled like fate in monochrome against the Augustan flare of red. Footprints followed to a rustic elliptic door. The three men entered.
Under the shallow safety of stone Tanus eyed the place where the ring had been deposited somewhat warily, kicking a boot to the wall removing much of the lingering soak. The thin Secretary of State then secreted pulse and measure as to reacquaint himself with some internal metronomic beat.

"Power and potential has placed it's suitors in every wing of our palace host. There are the obvious acquaintances that would seek Grent dead and any bride unwilling to give up her chastity in company. Noble houses of the Eastern Quarter fighting to place more then a finger on the vein of Ardentium that now circulates through the body of our Imperial crowned lands. Obviously several share the misgiving that these star shrouded minerals protected by the Thane and his monarchy are predated in ownership to the aristocratic bloodlines of folly and house."

The porcelain jawline of Purefoy retracted it's facial hair in determined yet mild abhorrence.

"The Banker. De Lylles is an obvious suspect but not entirely outshined by his counterparts behind the white boudoir boards of Rook's Row sir, or tarry even enterprises far beyond our Cedar Gates. If I turn cheek te the other, I see miscreants, dogs of war, petty squabbling cocks pecking for seed to every side. .. unaware that the executioner's axe we drop looms jast overhead."

Their small party started down a dank stonewalled corridor, musty yet not entirely ill used. Barrels and even laundry dotted corners in stride.

"It disgusts me. Father Mac assures us that there is now a plague of dark hearted milk-livered rebels prying at our foundation like termites. Fine. My spies confirmed that groups of sadists have met and do continue to do so.. Much of the rabble has been swept to our dungeons but that has greatly to my surprise done very little. Their Spirit of Chaos is unbroken. Undiminished.. I have suspicion as to the nature of the flow between those trapped beneath the earth and the others digging six feet in blindly. The Church of Faith has turned one eye from the skies down here. to the River. We must be wary my liege."
The last word rang out somewhat forced.
"Even now a spiritual warfare has locked our lands in the death. Our people.. they know very little. But know enough to be fearful. I am the Spymaster of our .. late Thane. His Right hand and closest, personal guard. You.. will earn my trust, I will earn yours. That is all."

The team turned another corner, rising up a flight of dull flat stairs.
"Members of the court have changed since your leave Master Pirvan. If I am to become the judicial force of your strong Right arm then the newly appointed Mage be the Left. You will meet him soon. Aerengal Aetherwine. Claims residency in the spire of the citadel it's self. Fool stands atop in a thunder storm, our holdings breached twice by the temptation of his wishing. Lightning. Hits us now on basis most frequent... Be wary. My men have dug up little on the clairvoyant's past.. those that came back, or came back with a full casque at all."

Through the depth of hallways came a circular pillared underchamber lined with uncharismatic chiseled figures.. paladins, chevaliers and champions.
"That leads to the hall of the Kings. Grent's body will be laid and placed down like so many others who have served the River to finality. Come." The men paced further through the belly of their home. Tanus Purefoy open to dictation and recital if Kaldres chose get a word in through the edge.

[Pirvan Kaldres]

As Pirvan walked he listened to Purefoy go on about how Frigid River was having a power struggle. Not a mass one, but one serious enough that probably had gotten his friend killed.

As Purefoy went onto the church Pirvan could only shake his head, power and religion always created a lot of problems. Especially when things couldn't be explained or answers were sought, the church was quick to have followers this way and that spreading some word or another.

"Call the heads of all the churches, whatever religious leaders are in town. I would speak with them" The church would prove to be a powerful tool for the people. He continued on. "This Ardentium sounds like it will cause a man to turn in his own mother for a piece of the profit. Where are the veins, do we have any mining companies working on them now? We'll probably need to double up the guards and flip around the rotations to keep it secure."

As they came to the hall that lead to the Hall of Kings Pirvan could only think of his friend who he had just reacquainted himself with that had perished. Shaking his head he nodded and looked at Purefoy. "We will work fine together Tanus. Just fine. I am, for the most parts, an open man. This... Aerengal Aetherwine. I guess I will have to meet him, hopefully I come back in one piece. Can you lead me too him?"

[Wildcard]

The Head of State held both arms behind his back while a sweeping overcoat of sapphire trailed between the steady pace of heavily polished boots. His pause in speech warranted undivided attention to the words of their new liege as the trio broke out from the musty chambers of the Underhalls into a high window lit hallway filled with servants folding sheets and tubs of churning black water. The crowd parted with an eyeful of gazes upon the two leading men, Tanus nodding politely or garnishing simple compliment between sentences.

"Pardon Master. You have met the molten core of the light that guides the wayward home, back to the arms of our Lords and Ladies prying watchfully from above. Father Mac Mered is the resident priest here in Frigid River.. The healer clothed in white who tried desperately to save dear Grent, Umblat nare take him.." The young human thoughtfully greeted a tour of ladies all dressed in matching white shawls.

"Highly contested.. the man's methods are .. extreme. I shall arrange a formal meeting once this situation is contained but I would advise you to bank only your faith in the Three with this query. Mered is closely tied to the most militant wings of the Church shoulders.. Politically connected and with tred influence .. an influence that may sway more then breath and bolster. Soon my lord. Soon." Purefoy paused looking around once with even gaze as if contemplating against some stray thought and giving way but slightly.

"..A scourge claims these lands. Raiders like none seen since our towers lay as dormant seeds. Now is not the time. This is not the place. Come."

The group exited the expansive room into a corridor filled with the bustle of servitude aiming for the red glow of a distant stone cell. "Ardentium? It is not won from veins as in traditional geologic circulatory systems.. a hearty and difficult endeavor. Worth both in venture and capital let his sovereignty have assurances of that..." The look of wary smugness clamped over the steward's mouth. "Imperial Lands, Imperial Labor. Grent won excavation rights through a crafty backgammon triple. Cheated Lady Birch herself for a section of worthless forest saplings..." Tanus smiled. "Not to say I approved at the onset, but now that he's .. gone, it's something I shall remember quite fondly.
Ms. Birch? A Mercantile Bloodline.. One less bureaucrat to get in the way by her devilish minding.
Delvin, Grent's kin runs the primary mining facility.. his swift passing will herald a transfer of greater headache with such debt. It shall take nimble knees to win the stubborn gift of Dwarven loyalty.. yet that too.. shall have to wait. At long last the Arch-Mage.."

Entering a room bearing pinkish warm glow, this pair of intelligent humans and one loyal guardian could see stacked firewood neatly piled against sloping walls that lead into a ventilation system of chimneys and firepits. The Spymaster blinked, arrogantly pulling off a single glove of black leather. "Aerengal.. He's a difficult sort. Far worse then any mad holy man by my judgments.. though Father Mac has been called curse a cannibal he's so rabidly single minded. No, the wizard is a recluse.. rarely seen or wanted. It was a tenuous 'lationship at best that brought him, and should I see any pins in the cushion He'll be asked to leave given the instruction from someone .. higher then my affections sire."

Tanus looked Pirvan in the eyes evenly with a curt tilt of the head as if addressing the fresh Thane himself. "Though I should doubt we could .. Get the man to leave. I find myself delirious talking of such slander as the eyes in the walls itch the back of my skull .. if you take my meaning. In truth, I suggest we find alternative avenues in this locale that would greater cater our tasting buds. To give reference.. we should know what it is exactly that needs to be dealt with. The local bard. A bewitching cherubim by the nomen Corsi.. An expert on such matters is expected tonight actually. Her insights on not only *ahem* the Wine.. but also these transpiring events 'll be very insightful."

"The wizard is away on business th's darkening but Aoibheann Corsi should be attendance in the Lord's study. Grent asked to meet her privately at the Governor's Manor .. a palace in name alone.. though the foundation stones are dug damp and ancient. She is punctual and awaiting our every step." The last sentence turned from an unanswered self doubt to formidable assurance as the party was now adjoined by two additional mailed veterans swinging at every beck and call. Their direction set along the back gallery of The Court, out unto a sweeping stone silvus bridge. It's depth opened up to a breathtaking risen view of the landscape, clay baked roof shingles intermingled with thatch and boarding set into the shadows of hard stone and black star filled heavens. The city was washed in a faint blue light, it's reflection of a eery yet quietly parting mountain dusk. Sleeping soundly as it's leaders rose.