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Meeting the Wolves [closed]

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If seraphs had headaches, she would have had one by now.

Rozharon did little, thought little, felt little apart from the command of the Syngraf, but over the millennia she had come to the vague understanding that when given the choice (which was rare, as nearly every facet her existence was dedicated to obeying the Syngraf) socializing was not something she quite liked. She was patient, yes, and the mental toll of the carefully constructed verbal rhetoric she employed against the nobility, keeping the delicate balance of benevolent ruler and respectable authority, was insignificant.

Still, it was with the slightest measure of relief that the Thaumelin made her way to the Mythal estate. These elves, at least, she was almost certain supported Taen's overthrowing of Damien. There was always room for doubt, but she would have less resistance here. At the least, she would be able to talk in a civil manner with these people. At the most, perhaps she would gain a powerful ally in this game of thrones.

The seraph landed on the edge of the Crossroads, before a pair of startled guards. Folding her wings, Rozharon beamed a smile at them. "Gᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ. Mᴀʏ I sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ᴛᴏ Mɪʟᴏʀᴀɴ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ?"

 

@Aleksei

Edited by Csl

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PgEKC4W.png"She just landed m'lord! Just came out of the sky, like ... like some sacred angel! I swear on all my days, I've never seen such a fantastic sight! Wings, she flew!"

Milorian hid away his amused smile as the guard sputtered the description of their Empress arriving in fond fashion. In a mix of armor and leathers, the gentleman stumbled into Milo's office wearing a look of complete shock and wonder that only painted his words. At first, old familiar wounds caused him to stand up and rush to his guard, asking him a series of questions about the danger that has befallen the Free Marches again. Thankfully, said wounds remained closed and scarred now that he understood no threat taints his land. 

He walked by his guard, who finally gathered his wits and followed after his lord. 

"Empress, welcome to our home."

The elf approached and gave her a sweeping bow, causing a heavy braid of white hair to fall over his right shoulder. When prepared for rulers of all kinds, tea would be set out, some food (mostly cakes) would be offered, and a glorious procession would follow. Unfortunately, Rozharon would only be welcomed by Milorian and his standard guard - it would have to do on such short notice. 

"How may I help you?"

Calm and collected, the tall elf stood there before his ruler with a slight smile on his lips. It worried him that she'd come here to deliver some awful news, be it Taen was relinquishing their rule over Ursa Madeum or Uldwar has finally gone wild. Neither one of those options appealed to him, especially the latter since it would mean he would have to draw his sword and he'd rather not. It's not their way to brandish their weapons openly for all to see; the Dred Wolves prefer to stick to their shadows where most secrets are swept. 

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Comparing the reactions of the noble houses to her arrivals was fascinating. While others didn’t so much bat an eye at her appearance (the veils over her face wouldn’t be necessary, she decided) Mythal’s estate was the first time she’d openly displayed her wings. Unlike Karradeen, though, nobody attempted to shoot her. Mythal’s personnel seemed to be more aware of who the Empress was. As they should be. Their support would be helpful.

“Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.” Rozharon said in response to the greeting, smiling. The smile was a constant in these visits, though she would tone down some of the formality in addressing the Mythals. She was well aware of the family’s history during the Tyrant King’s reign. The warm manner by which the elf greeted her only was further evidence that their support lay with Taen.

“I’ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʏ ᴀ ᴠɪsɪᴛ. I ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡɪsʜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ,” she paused, then added. “Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴘᴏʟɪᴛɪᴄs, ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ɪᴛ’s ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ.”

Andelusia was barely visible at this distance, though for those that had been looking in its direction, the attack on the castle would have been a brilliant display of light and magic. Rozharon turned her head slightly, gazing towards the capital. “Iᴛ’s ʙᴇᴇɴ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Tʏʀᴀɴᴛ Kɪɴɢ ғᴇʟʟ. Hᴏᴡ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʙᴇᴇɴ ғᴏʀ Hᴏᴜsᴇ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ?”

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PgEKC4W.png"Well."

The word was small in its description, but it held weight. 

"Please," the elf offered the Empress his arm so that they may peacefully meander across Crossroads. 

"Our ricefields have prospered, just as well as our people. We have a healthy herd of woolybugs, elk, and so forth that occupy the Emerald Graves."

Milorian spoke with some semblance of pride and happiness as he guided his companion forth. Freckles of people wandering about occupied the large bridge that connected the small island to the mainland. Far off on the shore, the market was respectably busy and before it was minor ships occupying the timid harbor. Once upon a time, the Free Marches had been a hub of extreme activity, now it is merely a cracking shell of its former self. Nonetheless, he was proud of what they've done from nothing so far.

He guided her to a bench that gives them a look over the lovely scenery of delicate waters. Milo waited for her to sit before he joined her, showing his respect for the Empress the best he can. There was no time to prepare or settle the heart in his throat; when you're visited by those above your head, there's something wrong going on somewhere. 

"You and the Emperor, have you had a difficult time?"

The question carried a curious note to it. He can only imagine that it must be difficult juggling the likes and dislikes of displaced individuals who've grown salty over the months. 

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Rozharon took his arm and listened as the elf recounted their house’s activities. Progress in economic activity, rebuilding, replanting - all good news. More evidence that, in the macro perspective, the Taen Empire’s rule over Ursa Madeum was beneficial. “Tʜᴀᴛ's ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ.”

Decamron was nowhere to be found, Damien was an ursuper, and the noble houses were too busy squabbling, hosting parties, or tending to their own domains to band together for large-scale rehabilitation efforts for the kingdom.The Empire’s control over Ursa Madeum was a necessity: this was the paradigm Rozharon worked with when interacting with the nobility. The image Titus wished of the Taen Empire - virtuous, just, a beacon of hope - required it. Things such as sovereignty and independence were insignificant in this paradigm, or were goals for the far future.

The Mythals, at least, believed this.

Rozharon sat, casting her gaze out over the bridge. Difficult time? “Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ,” she said simply, “Bᴜᴛ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ɪɴᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ.”

At the moment, that was. The future possibilities that branched out from the islands political situation, though… would be worrisome, if Thaumelin were the type to worry. As they was not, these possible complications simply consumed more of her attention, which was mildly inconvenient.

Should problems arise, she would have to take more… extreme courses of action.

“Osᴄᴀʀ Uʟᴅᴡᴀʀ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏsᴀʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴄᴏɴsᴛɪᴛᴜᴛɪᴏɴ,” Rozharon began. She lifted a hand; from within her sleeve slipped a piece of parchment; a replica of the constitution, reproduced by her through a careful rearranging of a similar scroll’s atomical structure. The copy drifted before Miloran, and Rozharon lowered her hand. “Hᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴜʀᴇ sɪɢɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅs ɪɴ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ. Wʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ Hᴏᴜsᴇ Sɪɴɢʟᴀᴄᴇ, ᴡᴇʟʟ…” Rozharon’s expression shifted to one of mild amusement. “Tʜᴇʏ sᴛᴏʟᴇ ɪᴛ, ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ Uʟᴅᴡᴀʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ.”

“I’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ sᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ Uʟᴅᴡᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ sɪɢɴᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ. I’ᴠᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪsʜ ʀᴇꜰᴏʀᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴜɴ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʟᴇss ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅs.”

The Thaumelin shrugged. “Iɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴀsᴇ, I ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴄᴜss ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ʟᴏɴɢ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ. Sᴏ I’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴏsᴀʟs ᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴsᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪsᴍ ᴏɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʀᴜɴ. Iᴛ’s ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇs ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴠᴀʀʏɪɴɢ… ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴs… ᴏꜰ Tᴀᴇɴ. Wʜɪᴄʜ ɪs ᴡʜʏ I’ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ.”

She met the elf’s gaze. “I’ᴍ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ Hᴏᴜsᴇ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛs Tᴀᴇɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, I’ᴍ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ. Aʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇʀ.”

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PgEKC4W.png"Oscar, that bumbling idiot."

He was not going to pretend before the Empress that he cared for Oscar in any way. Their small reconciliation on Dali lands may have happened some time ago, but he was still tilted from the situation. The man wasn't sane, his reasoning unstable, and his eagerness uncanny - he was a problem. As much of a problem as the rest of them, he muses once his mind travels across his minor disheveled emotions before reaching paved roads. 

"There is so much good that man can do, his House is far more established than my own, and he has so much gumption - obviously - that could benefit Ursa Madeum profoundly," he laughed at the compliments, but they still held their conviction of truth.

"Yet he chose this route as if it were necessary. You and the Emporer have never shown an inkling of distrust that Uldwar would have to be so underhanded."

The elf pinched the bridge of his nose. He knows that Oscar's actions did not reflect every house scattered across the islands, but it solidified his soured feelings towards the Uldwar house. During the Mythal celebration just a day or so ago, Milo had added two unlikely individuals to his household: Uldwar's daughter and the heart of Oscar's Dogs of War. He refused to believe it a mistake to try and hit Oscar where it hurt the most; Rozharon's revealing of the constitution made Milo wonder if his not mistake will bite him later on.

"Advice?"

He looked at his Empress, a timid smile creasing his usually sour appearance. 

"Tell us what permissible is and what is not. We've all lived in absolute turmoil for so long and had to ... turn to less than savory paths to facilitate our needs. I believe what is necessary now is to let those in power understand their responsibilities and rights as a said power."

Tapping his chin, he became somewhat thoughtful. "We are willful children that have been left on our own for too long and now believe we know what is right and wrong better than the parents."

"I know what Free Marches needs, but what does the rest of my home need? We need to eventually all come together to do what is best for Ursa Madeum, not just our houses."

There are many things he would like to do for his home, but to be honest, he only knows a thimble amount of what is happening outside the borders of the Free Marches. It made him feel anxious to be so separated from the outside world. They've always been a tad sheltered, pilfering away their knowledge and resources, now that he is Lord he finds their old ways unnecessary and cruel. The people of Ursa Madeum deserve all the opportunities they can afford, and the Mythals are more than delighted to offer hopes and dreams for a brighter future.

Edited by Aleksei

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“Oʜ, I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴ ɪᴅɪᴏᴛ,” Rozharon said lightly, “A ʙɪᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ-ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅᴜʟʟ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ.”

She listened to the short tirade, nodding in agreement. “Hᴇ’s… ᴍɪsɢᴜɪᴅᴇᴅ, ʏᴇs, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪs ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇ. Hᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ.”

“You and the Emperor have never shown an inkling of distrust that Uldwar would have to be so underhanded." Never shown distrust, yes. 

“Wᴇʟʟ, ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ʙʀᴇᴇᴅs ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴇᴅs ᴄᴀʀᴇʟᴇssɴᴇss. Tᴏ ɪᴍᴘᴏsᴇ sᴛʀɪᴄᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏɴɪᴛᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴅɪssɪᴅᴇɴᴛs ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴇxᴛʀᴇᴍᴇ ᴍᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇs ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʟᴀɴs. ” The Syngraf willed that Ursa Madeum remain under Taen’s influence. She was here. It, therefore, would, and no amount of scheming would do anything to change the will of the Syngraf.

The Empress cocked her head, concerned. Miloran Mythal was looking increasingly stressed. “Hᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ ᴜɴᴘʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴɢs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛʟʏ?”

If there was any doubt the Mythals were not in favor of their rule, it was banished by his next words, spoken almost-hesitantly. Rozharon took care to craft a genuine smile for the elf. “Pᴇʀʜᴀᴘs, ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ᴡᴇ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛ.” She briefly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ, Lᴏʀᴅ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ. I’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴏʀɢᴀɴɪᴢɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏʙʟᴇ ʜᴏᴜsᴇs ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀsᴛ ᴏᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴜɴɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴀʀɪꜰʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ... ᴀᴍʙɪɢᴜɪᴛɪᴇs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ʀᴜʟᴇ. Aɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀᴜᴍ ᴏꜰ sᴏʀᴛs, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɪsʟᴀɴᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ sᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ.” 

Advice had been gained. Reassurances had been given. “Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪsʜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴀɪsᴇ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ I’ᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ? Aɴʏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ?” It would be polite to stay and chat for a bit, exchange pleasantries, perhaps meet the other Mythals. It wasn’t very necessary, though.

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PgEKC4W.png"Unfortunately, yes."

The elf relaxed in his seat and gave his Empress a brief shrug. Replaying the slight confrontation between himself and Oscar made him frown more than the usual - the rise of his annoyance prickles his skin. 

"At the Dali Estates we had a brief confrontation  that ended up with his wife being injured, and our relationship withering still."

Milorian can spread the blame between himself and Oscar. The two will never get along, but there had been some thread of hope that they could stand together without wanting to kill each other. During their "conversation" they had thrown their feelings at each other, trying to force one another to understand their positions in life. Milo, though not agreeing with the process to which Oscar has obtained his fame, felt for the man and his apparent struggle with the new rule.

"I know that at the end of all things we are all striving for some bit of peace, something we've not had for many years now."

For once, the elf showed a genuine smile that was edging laughter, "Now we have it, and are struggling to figure out to do with it - the right thing to do."

With the freedom they've been given, all Houses have had an opportunity to enjoy the reestablishing of their lands that either died or weakened beneath the once King. The Mythals have never mingled much with anyone, something he would like to rectify down the line once he finds the courage. So long they've stayed out of the spotlight, the only time they had a majority of his family was killed but ... after, well, he was guilty feeling that it had been worth the pain. Just like with the freedom, he was struggling to find a way to put himself forward and be agreeable with the rest of the Houses.

"Thank you; for now; we've procured a helpful hand. The Grand Kommadant of Renovatio has been sympathetic towards our cause, creating a ... fond relationship."

Fond was used loosely. Primera has proven that Milorian has little patience when it comes to clingy women, especially those named Primera Cartyr.

"I know she would appreciate an audience with you and the Emporer if that would be appropriate."

Renovatio is just as secretive and just as closed off as his tiny little House. 

"Other than that, we've got a few projects of our own that are slowly coming together. Soon we should have a few things siffting about through the markets, such as rice-wine and the wool from our woolybugs."

There was so much more he could do - wants to do. "I would like some help if you don't mind pointing me in the right direction that is. I can't dedicate much to anyone, but on our time and with our people from the Free Marches, we would like to assist towns that need a little helping hand. Do you have any in mind?"
 

Edited by Aleksei

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Rozharon’s brow furrowed as she listened to Miloran recount Uldwar’s actions. “Tʜᴀᴛ’s ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴɪɴɢ.” 

Uldwar had injured his wife. Not entirely unexpected, though having a concrete example of Oscar lashing out was a new piece of information. Briefly, the Empress reviewed her encounter with the Uldwars a few days prior, noting the signs of tension between the couple. A chink in the strong facade the family presented. The coldness between the two had been subdued, but the resentment would boil over one way or another. It seemed that she would not need to intervene in Uldwar’s affairs to nullify any threat the House posed to the Empire.

The comment on peace softened her expression. “Pᴇᴀᴄᴇ… ʏᴇs. I sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇ ɪᴛ’s ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ- ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʏʀᴀɴᴛs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟᴇɴ, sᴛʀɪꜰᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴs, ᴀʟʙᴇɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴏʀᴇ sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴡᴀʏs. Iᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ sᴇᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ..”

Rozharon listened quietly as Miloran spoke again: Mythal had formed a bond with Renovatio and their Primera had requested an audience with Titus. She made a note of the former: Mythal wasn’t a concern, but she preferred to keep a close eye on international affairs. In addressing the latter, she nodded. “Oꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ. I ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ Tɪᴛᴜs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ.”

Miloran continued talking, outlining the progress of House Mythal (rice wine, wool, woolybugs). The elf was more at ease talking about these matters, something akin to anticipation shining in his eyes. Something like hope.

Damien’s reign had taken a heavy toll on House Mythal. Titus would be pleased to know they were recovering well.

“Fᴏʟᴋ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴs ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇɢᴜɴ ᴍɪɢʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ sᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀʀᴇᴀs, ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴍᴀɪɴs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Nᴏʙʟᴇ Hᴏᴜsᴇs. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʟᴏʀᴅ ᴏʀ ʟᴀᴅʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀssᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Iꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ, I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Hᴏᴜsᴇ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ ɪs ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴠᴀssᴀʟs?”

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PgEKC4W.pngConcerning had been the proper word to paint the feeling in his chest. He had wanted to extend his hand to Uldwar's wife, offer a safe-space within the realm of the Free Marches, but she would have ignored it. The pride deeply rooted inside the woman would not allow her to become friends with her husbands enemy, nor would she be taken as weak. When Oscar slapped her, she stood up with dignity and excused herself without shedding a single tear. It had annoyed Milorian.

He nodded at her comment of peace; nothing can indeed be so simple and easy. When they had returned to the Free Marches, he felt the disappointment like a weight pressing down on his shoulders. In an ideal world, peace would have wafted through the lands with ease, and each powerful House would rise without strife. Ah, but that's just it, if they had no conflict, they wouldn't be able to appreciate all those losses and minor triumphs. Work, there is always more work needing to be done; it is an honor to be alive to be so stressed and tired. 

"Ha! Primera is usually a few steps ahead, but I am glad there will be talks. Beneath her superfluous ways, she is a kind ruler."

To say the least. Milorian knows well enough about the blood staining the Grand Kommadants name; the many lives lost to her hand, to her generous rule. 

"I would greatly appreciate that - as would everyone else."

A very nervous, uncharacteristic laugh escaped the sour-faced elf. "I'm no gardener, and I'm terrible raising walls; having helpful, educated hands will bring in opportunity for my people overall."

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"Beneath her superfluous ways, she is a kind ruler."

Rozharon smiled. "I'ʟʟ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴇɴ."

She left the affairs with other nations to Titus. There was more than enough to keep an eye on within their lands, and thankfully her husband seemed to be more partial to alliances than armies these days. For now, the empire's future eluded her, her duties limited to building its foundations and strengthening it from within.

"Wᴇʟʟ. Aᴄᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ's ʟɪᴍɪᴛs ɪs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴀ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. As ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢɴᴇss ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇʟᴘ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ɪs ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ. Iᴛ's ʀᴇꜰʀᴇsʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀ ɴᴏʙʟᴇ sᴏ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴇᴅʟʏ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇʟʟʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʜɪs ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ." Perhaps in the lips of another, these words would have rung like flattery. Rozharon simply spoke them matter-of-factly, albeit in a tone a touch warmer than one would use to describe the sky. "Hᴏᴜsᴇ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ ɪs ɪɴ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅs."

The empress stepped back towards the edge of the Crossroads, giving Miloran the slightest bow as she did. "Mᴀɴʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ sᴜᴄʜ sʜᴏʀᴛ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ, Lᴏʀᴅ Mʏᴛʜᴀʟ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ. Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ."

Rozharon unfurled her wings, allowing herself to fall from the structure. She departed the same way she arrived, a dark shadow in the distance against the brilliance of the sea.

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Full summary: Empress Rozharon Paralios visits House Mythal's estate to speak with Milorian Mythal. Milorian updates the Empress on the state of House Mythal, while Rozharon informs him of Uldwar's attempt to pass a new constitution. Milorian raises his concerns on Oscar Uldwar and passes on Renovatio's Grand Kommandant's wish to meet with the Taen Empire. Miloran seeks advice on helping the towns surrounding the Mythal estate; Rozharon suggests accepting vassals and promises to announce Mythal's intent.

Minor summary: Empress Rozharon Paralios pays a visit to Milorian Mythal at the Mythal estate. They discuss House Mythal's progress, concerns about the Uldwars, and Mythal's plans to accept vassals.

Timeline date: 9/17/18

Edited by Csl

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