Open Chronicles From the Inside, Looking Out

[Ashuanar]

Much had changed.

No longer was he crushed beneath the feet of oppression and grief, blindly flailing through the trial of life with hardly an inkling of what lay ahead. No longer did he suffer from the arrogance of Men, spiteful and savage harbingers of despair.

But not all their blood was as such it seemed – those who bore the colors of Vel Anir seemed friendly with the God King and had even aided him at the ill-fated coronation. Yea, even others whom he really had little knowledge of before his ascent by Gerra’s command. He now presided as the Vizier of the Imperial Army, a position he felt ill-suited for. Though he would never breathe a word of it, and in fact carried on well enough. It was just so different.

Having been unaccustomed to such authority, he’d found it difficult to balance the duties required of him. But over time, and with the council of many of the Arch-lectors and other useful individuals, he’d found his footing.

And now, here, he thought it suitable to call for a meeting. There were imminent campaigns to attend to – primarily the expedition north. There was a city, named Salitra, set alongside the sea within the Trident that the Emperor’s eye grew keen upon.

“I leave this to you, Ashuanar. Go forth, in my name.”​

With a deep, reverent kneel he replied, “Yes, my lord.”

So, he called for the Viziers, the members of the Imperial Divan, the Archlectors. All those who were needed, and even those who were not. For even now, just east of the city along the great Baal-Duru, as Gerra had so instructed him to do, the Imperial Army mustered in preparation for invasion. In the meantime, there were matters of the court that were to be discussed and settled, and with the God-King’s absence it could prove and interesting gathering. Nevertheless, now was his final opportunity for such a meeting until his return.

~*~*~*~

Annuakat.​

There was a certain arrogance to him within these streets. An air of pride. This place had once been a horror for him to imagine, and now in his current position it was little more than a bitter memory. A shame, though. He would not have chosen here if it were not the best place for the army to gather before their journey across the river, and then move north-west.

Some armies may pale at the prospect of crossing these sands, but not an army such as this. With rank upon rank of Abtati elf, traversing the desert would be only a tedious task. Only those not so accustomed to ages amid the dunes would slow them down, and only so much at that. But none of that for now, the army would deal with itself in the meantime. He had business in the city, and his mind as well as his body should be present.

He approached the Royal Palace. There in the throne room the meeting had been called, and though their Emperor was not expected, should he choose to be present Ashuanar felt it was appropriate that the meeting be held where he may be properly seated.

He strode through the street, followed by a large number of Sipahi warriors – members of an elite contingent, under Vizier Ashuanar’s direct command. Each of them was robed in white, with little more of them than their eyes to be seen. Here, now they did not don any armor, but rather a garb more akin to an assassin – loose fitting and light. More akin to the Tribe of Mari'kuul. But each one was yet armed, always ready to shed the blood of an unfortunate heretic.

As their rank filed through, the way was made clear without hesitation, for on his arm he displayed for all to see a golden armband that had a scorpion on it with a rearing stinger. It was known that Gerra had awarded this very item to a particularly zealous Abtati, who he’d made Vizier. And the sight of him prompted whispers of dismay,


Ashuanar Akrep is coming, be careful...

Look out, look out! He’ll summon his monsters if we don’t get out of the way!​

He snickered.

Hardly.

He would not waste their time on such meaningless blood. He could manage that himself. But no, these were Gerra’s people now, and he would treat them as the Emperor would have him. Such was his devotion, to obey regardless of his own will. And so it would be for him, he had resigned.

He arrived at the palace, and climbed the steps to reach atop to the throne room, where hopefully he would be joined shortly.

 

[Ava Gilleth]

Spoiler

Fortune would have it that business had brought her to Annukat a day before the meeting, giving her time to get the lay of the land, to bend a palace servant or two to her will and make herself known. Ashunar postured his way though the city with his Sipahi warriors while Ava made quiet but careful preparations for their arrival. A large rectangular table had been brought into the throne room and brought to rest at the foot of the dais, along with several high backed chairs. The usual throne room servants had been swapped out for several of her own and they stood along the edges of the room, un-moving, each holding something different. A tray of dates, a carafe of wine, a jug of water, whatever may take the vizier's fancy while they spoke.

Ava had seated herself at the foot of the throne, the steps of the raised dais stretched beneath her feet, sunlight glancing off her golden hair. Her eyes were greener today and they remain fixed on the door at the far end of the hall. In her head she counted down, each number falling as the unified steps of Ashunar's warriors echoed towards her. A slight nod of her head and the servants manning the door hauled it open. Ava adjusted a silver bangle but remained seated at the foot of the throne...though still higher than the rest.

Ashuanar

 

[Halul]

If there was ever a summons for the Imperial Divan before this occasion, Uvogin had ignored it. His focus, prior to and during the Emperor’s temporary absence, had been solely on the creation and training of the Immortals. In its present state, it was nothing more than a group of disciplined former-Bronze Claw mercenaries. Hand-picked by Uvogin, of course. He had not touched men of the Imperial Army, as they were not his to pick from.

Already, Uvogin created a system where young orphans from all over Gerra’s vast empire would be taken in to the Madrasa of War in hopes that the end result would be loyal, peerless warriors to serve the Emperor. The orphans, who previously knew only hardship, would be given the opportunity to retire from a lengthy service as upper-class citizens of the empire alongside a formal education amidst their grueling training.

Uvogin hoped for a fearsome, elite fighting force in the future.

The captain went alone, arriving in the throne room shortly after Ashuanar. The protection of the palace was another responsibility that fell to Uvogin. Naturally, he knew the palace’s interior as if it were his own home. Still, as his footfalls echoed off the walls, he studied the temporary changes in the throne room made by Ava to accommodate all who would attend.

 

[Xaviera]

Xaviera stood in the antechamber, examining the scroll that had been dispatched to her court some weeks prior. It bore the hand and seal of Gerra and named her, Queen Xaviera of Tyria, to the Imperial Divan. It had been rather a surprise to be included in this distinguished group, especially given that Tyria was a neighbor more than a member state. Xaviera's advisers had told her that her inclusion had likely been one in a series of overtures Annuakat had made to entice Tyria to join its fold, stretching back to her father's reign. In any event, Xaviera had not anticipated the Divan being called to sit, expecting that the empire would be administered much as it had during Gerra's presence.

Yet and still, the summons had come. Leaving Jaliah behind as regent and praying that her grandmother did not use the opportunity to undermine her, Xaviera had set off for the Annuakat.

Now, having examined the scroll for the dozenth time and having to accept that she was, indeed, supposed to be there, she straightened and squared her shoulders, strolling towards the entrance to the throne room. The men at the doors pulled them open. Xaviera nodded curtly and entered the throne room. It was her first time; though she had been to the palace before, she had never made it to the throne room. It was an impressive room, to be sure. Ostentatious, some might say, but not Xaviera. She was accustomed to the glamorous life, after all.

It did not escape her attention that she was not the first one there, nor that the individual who had arrived before her seemed to have positioned herself advantageously near the throne. It was suggestive, Xaviera thought, perhaps even provocative to some. Xaviera felt that, as something of a guest, it was not for her to have an opinion on such a thing.

She folded the scroll away into a pocket and stood to one side, admiring a tapestry that hung, richly embroidered in the glorious sun.

 

[Ashuanar]

Ah.

So, he was not so early, and that was most pleasing. As he entered in, he stepped forward a few paces and paused, beholding the arrangements that had been made for their council. This would do, and for the purpose it served he was certain the Emperor would approve.

He proceeded forward, and many of his entourage dispersing to go about their own duties for the time being. After he approached the large table he paused again and regarded Ava with a cordial greeting and bowed his head respectfully.

“Vizier,” he said, “I trust all is well, I thank you for tending to the preparations for today's gathering.”

He’d taken notice of the change in personnel, as well as Ava’s own posturing near to the throne. But then again, she – like him – was awarded high esteem by Gerra. Perhaps she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Then he heard the footfalls behind him, and he recognized the stride. He turned to see Uvogin who entered in just shortly after him. He regarded him in kind,

“Master Uvogin,” he nodded, “Word has reached me of your great deeds, and I have no doubt our Emperor will bless you greatly.”

Many Abtati children have for many years been cursed as orphans, and it warmed him that now many more of them would have a chance. A good chance, to at least have hope and to be a part of something greater. Even a death in service of that in place of misery was a gift.

And then another entered into the great throne room. Xaviera of Tyria, the Empire’s friend and neighbor. Gerra was indeed a remarkable emperor, to entrust an appointment to the Imperial Divan in the hands of an outsider, one not truly of the empire.

His power must be great indeed, to be so confident in his judgement. Or perhaps it was merely a loaded scenario, and God King waited patiently for one or all of them to give in to the temptation of his absence and seize what was his – and then destroy them. Or perhaps his position of power and politics had gone to his head.

He greeted the Queen of Tyria, offering a more formal and appropriate demeanour for the arrival of royalty.

“My lady, I am pleased you could join us.”

He moved nearer to the table and motioned to a few of his men who had remained within the throne room. The warriors came, and from within their robes they pulled out scrolls and tomes, and a few larger rolls as well. Battle tactics, maps, finances, food, all manner of documentation – most of which needed signatures.

“There is much to discuss.”

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Archlector Snaaib presided over the lector-priests of the Annunaki, and served as one of Gerra's principal counselors - admittedly, not a distinguishing feature in this particular room. That Beltessar Snaaib attended was not a matter of note.

That he arrived with a woman on his arm, however...

Mirielle had chosen her wardrobe carefully. Clothes from Ashdell, her birthplace, wouldn't do. Neither would the featureless black veil that she wore as she went about in public or at war. She was here as Beltessar's plus-one, but also - to those few who might recognize her - as the sister-in-law of Lazular's Amir, Farid Ibn Baha. Therefore, she wore the attire of an Amol-Kalit noblewoman in Lazulari blue and gold, a dress made specially for this occasion. For once, she didn't have dried blood under her fingernails.

She offered Ava Gilleth a friendly, somewhat impish 'surprised to see me?' smile but otherwise kept to herself as Snaaib got to work. Rather to her surprise, she also recognized Uvogin as a man whom she'd encountered in connection with a certain enchanted item of low prestige but undoubted utility. It was anyone's guess whether he'd recognize her in attire a couple of social ranks above that which she'd worn when they'd met.

Ashuanar Xaviera

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

I hear
Only the wind
Carrying
The cries of the dying
__________________________________
​

The past three months had done much to change Jerik.

As he warred his way back from Elbion, destroying a city on Gerra's command, he had finally completed the contract he had signed all those years ago. The contract that cost him his soul. The power it granted him however, was far worse than he or Gerra could ever have imagined. He found it ironic; although his soul was now his own again once more, he was less human than he had ever been. His body was larger than it had once been, his vitality enhanced by the abilities Imamu had granted him. It almost scared himself, when he realised he had potentially become the most powerful Pyromancer on the face of Arethil.

He felt invincible.

However, he could never escape the scars he had earnt himself in the Siege, his face still a distorted horror, his skin a torn-up mess. Nevertheless, his feats of conquest and mass-murder seemed to make an impression on the locals of Annuakat, and indeed far further than that. Elbion had sent word to almost every corner of Arethil of the danger he posed, describing the mask he wore, and of his real name, Maho Sparhawk.

Though he was cloaked in dark, pinned to each shoulder, his hood covering his face, the unmistakable glimmer of that still visage was still very much apparent to anyone that cared to notice him. Walking through the streets, he expected people to be afraid of him. But he didn't anticipate the sheer horror that would be written on their faces. It wasn't of local pride, of respect or awe, it was of untainted, unadulterated dread. To the world, he was not only now a killer. He was a killer of children, orc-folk, wizards and everything else within the spectrum. He was viewed as a remorseless, cold murderer. Not a warrior like one might expect. He could swear that in the eyes of those he passed, he could see them notice the screams that followed him, the ones that couldn't escape Imamu's cleansing fire.

The knowledge that, if he so chose, he could go on a rampage and kill every man, woman and child he came across with little effort used to scare him. But he'd done it before.

He had truly become other.

When he finally reached Amol Kalit, he received word from Ashuanar, a newly made Vizier he had then found out, and head of the Imperial Army. He'd fought with him at the Palace at the coronation. Clearly, much had changed since he'd made his way to the College, in order to enact Gerra's will.

As he entered the boundaries of the Palace, and up those familiar steps, he could see the various guards and spearmen stand to attention as he passed by. He wanted to believe it was out of respect, but he knew the question that was rolling around in each of their heads;

What would he do if I didn't?

That was a fair assessment, Jerik thought.

He entered the throne room that he'd been in many months prior. It was, truly, a beautiful work of architecture. He found it hard to ignore the various others entering the room, staring at him. They were all members of the Imperial Divan, all wagers of war, but all the same they looked at him differently. Like Gerra's mad dog. Like a monster only he could tame. He thought that a little elaborate. After all, he's still human.

He approached the large table, the other Viziers surrounding it, notably Ashuanar, who had organised this meeting. He undid his cloak, revealing his very simple, but extremely worn plated armour, which he had not taken off since he made way to Elbion. He likely smelled considerably terrible, but he did not care. Once he'd gotten this over with, he could take as much time as he wanted recovering. He simply gave a nod, and stood waiting for instruction.

 

[Ashuanar]

Ashuanar leaned over the table while some others sat. He nodded not the Archlector – many of his priests had been a benefit to him. While Gerra had awarded him a magnificent gift, he had been unlearned in its ways. Several of the priests served as guides for him in commanding its powers, as well as aiding him in his adjustment to his position.

Curious, though, his companion. He’d never seen her before… nevertheless, if Snaaib had brought her with him then it was no business of his to think any more of it.

His eyes cast down to the scrolls, “as you are no doubt aware, the Imperial Army musters just outside the city. I have plans for a few siege engines dismantled for transport as well… I fear to do otherwise would slow us down…” he looked up, this time his eyes caught sight of the one he knew only as Jerik. Ashuanar was still certain that had it not been for Jerik’s aid in the battle at Ragash, he would not doubt be dead.

Or worse.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling a chill run down his spine at the sight of him. For all the praise he had for the mage, there was a lingering uneasiness in his presence – like an unseen maelstrom of toil, twisting and pulling around his very being. And no doubt, with all that he had done and all that he was capable of – or so the elf had heard.

“Ah, Vizier,” he said, “I am pleased you could join with us.” He stood upright, “once Salitra has been taken, the Trident will be all but ours. I foresee a need to develop a formidable navy for the northern waters…” he went on a little more about the trading routes, of many commodities. But not too long, this was no his area of expertise – only the benefits their imminent conquest held in store.

“As for the army…” he outlines their route, to take them around the north of The Forgotten City. “We will be ready to depart by the end of the week.”

 

[Gerra]

A clamoring rose from the streets, growing until it reached even the top of the palace ziggurat. People flocked to either side of Annuakat's central road, where strode a single figure, his robes in tattered strips, stained by sand - red hair so dirty it was an unrecognizable shade of brown. Yet, the stern, strong lines of his jaw and towering height marked him instantly.

The word traveled swiftly across the gathering crowd.

"Gerra."

The Emperor had returned home.

* * *

Up, up, up the palace steps he strode, until he entered the eaves and made his way into the inner throne room, where his bare feet left dirt upon the marble floor.

He stopped before the table and swept eyes of molten gold across the gathered viziers and nobles, saying nothing.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Ashuanar Uvogin Xaviera Gerra Ava Gilleth Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk

It couldn't be coincidental that Beltessar brought her along on the day that the Emperor returned. The Archlector looked entirely unsurprised and eighteen kinds of serene. He bowed; Mirielle followed suit to the degree.

"Your Majesty," said the Archlector. "Welcome back from your pilgrimage. I suspect divine favor behind your survival."

It might be flattery but it didn't have that air. Beltessar Snaaib was a true believer.

"This is Lady Mirielle Merlon," he added. "Sister-in-law to Amir Farid Ibn Baha of Lazular."

That had to be the most surreptitious yet blatant brag that Mirielle had seen since her time in Elbion. He'd just informed his master that he'd brought the trade city of Lazular significantly farther into the Empire's embrace.

"Your Majesty," she murmured politely.

 

[Ashuanar]

Amid the conversing of the Empire's elect, a disturbance was made known. It traveled far, and quickly. But, just then as word had nearly arrived to Ashuanar's ears, did he appear.

After a breath of confusion, a jolt of realization struck him as he approached.

Gerra.

The faithful servant straightened himself, and humbly bowed, rising only after an enduring respect had been paid.

He listened closely as Snaaib addressed Gerra with greeting and praise, for both the Emperor and himself it would seem. But, he realized then that the woman whom the Archlector had brought with him was none other than whom he had encountered weeks earlier, on the outskirts of Kherkhana.

Finally a chance to speak.

"My Lord," he said, his voice modulated and tight, "our preparations to take Salitra have been, delayed... but we are proceeding with all haste-."

He stopped himself, though he wished to go on. In the presence of the God King he'd grown somewhat discomforted, and he felt that any more than a prompt debrief would be nothing more than making excuses. He perceived his failure to have Salitra in hand to be just that: a failure. He would take no surprise if the God King felt the same, and should choose to punish him. He was but a faithful servant.

 

[Gerra]

Mirielle’s introduction bore the half-giant’s full attention for a moment and the intensity of his study of her was that of a blacksmith pausing his work to look upon a still glowing ingot, wondering what shape it must be beaten or smoothed into.

Yet, when Ashuanar spoke, Gerra’s focus shifted. In Telenar’s absence, the sand elf seemed had risen far, but the emperor did not pass over the clear discomfort in his tone and posture.

“My child,” Gerra spoke, parting parched and peeling lips. “You have done well.”

He reached out and rested a hand on the elf’s shoulder.

“It is small wonder we have failed to convince Salitra of the glories of empire. We have slept too long in these Kaliti cities and dream only as high as their palace domes. We must sleep again upon the sands, so that our dreams will be as high as the stars.”

 

[Halul]

After quickly surveying the throne room, his attention fell to the Queen of Tyria. Through the slits in his eerie mask, he watched as the Queen approached. From his understanding, Tyria was quite far from Annuakat. The Captain thought it quite dutiful of her to answer the summons. His gaze remained on the Queen longer than what was likely acceptable, and only did he look away when Vizier Ashuanar regarded him.

Uvogin was far from courtly. He was never exposed to it until his employment under Gerra, and even after his appointment to the Imperial Divan, he'd not taken it upon himself to learn etiquette. His focus was solely on his duties. So, when the Vizier of the Imperial Army greeted him with honeyed words, the Captain responded with a curt nod.

"Vizier." Uvogin's voice reverberated within his mask.

He could never mistake Archlector Snaaib. Uvogin dealt with the man more than he could care. He also should have recognized the woman with him, though he didn't. In fact, he'd completely forgotten about the spudmancer's ridiculous intrusion upon the festival long ago.

Uvogin stood away from the table while the others gathered closer and attentively listened as Ashuanar briefed them.

He watched as the man he knew as Sparhawk entered the throne room. Ashuanar respectfully greeted him, but the Captain only watched the man walk closer. His power was undoubtedly a formidable asset, and the Emperor seemed to hold the man in high regard. To Uvogin, however, such an ostensibly unhinged man served only as a liability. Of course, he'd never spoken to his man and made his judgment only off the rumors spread about him.

His attention returned to Ashuanar as he resumed the briefing, though it was short-lived as Gerra strode into his throne room. The Emperor was always a physical marvel, the mere sight of him was able to silence any room he walked into. Despite the size of him, his footfalls were silent and gentle. Gerra moved with all the comportment of something greater than an Emperor.

While the other Viziers greeted him with words, Uvogin moved for the first time since placing himself away from the table. While all of the attention was on their Emperor, the Captain silently poured wine into an empty goblet.

After Gerra finished speaking of Salitra, Uvogin approached the Emperor and offered the goblet to him. He hadn't considered how the other Viziers might have viewed the gesture to be impertinent. But, Uvogin and Gerra had established a sort of camaraderie between them during the festival of gods. Especially on the last day of festivities when Uvogin finally conceded to the Emperor, exposed his face to Gerra for the first time, and drank alongside the half-fire giant.

"Welcome back, Emperor."

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Gerra...​

He'd thought it strange. All the people in that room had known him as a God-Emperor, who would soon gain dominion over most of Arethil, through his sheer drive, will-power and military stratagem. A man who's name was feared across the oceans and hills, the mention of it ringing in the ears of lesser men, from respect, fear, or both.

When he stepped onto the battlefield, whether it be his legend or his experience, even his footsteps seemed to quake the ground, thunder the sky and wave the ocean. It seemed as if the very steel on the armour of the opposing soldiers would turn to smoke as his presence shook the earth.

However, he remembered a time when he was all ambition. When he was just one of the sons of Molthal, sent out with an army to do his lord's bidding.

Full of intention.

And now, after all that had happened, he stood at a table, surrounded by some of the greatest soldiers and minds Amol Kalit could offer, with God-King Gerra at the helm. Jerik didn't think much of anything anymore, after all he'd seen and done, but it forever bothered him- the thought of whether he'd earnt his place there. Each one of them, in their own way, had done Gerra's bidding, through conquest or otherwise. But when he looked through his brazen mask at the faces around that table, their eyes on him, he couldn't tell what they thought. It wasn't fear, it wasn't respect. It wasn't contempt either.

He couldn't tell what they thought. But he knew the words that rang through the streets.

Gerra's Mad-Killer.

He wondered what Gerra thought. Even if he considered them old friends, did Gerra see him as simply another pawn at his command? Just another soldier who killed more than the rest? Why was he there?

It's not my place to ask.

He looked at Gerra, seeing those same fiery eyes that he'd seen so many years ago, and gave a nod.

“It is small wonder we have failed to convince Salitra of the glories of empire. We have slept too long in these Kaliti cities and dream only as high as their palace domes. We must sleep again upon the sands, so that our dreams will be as high as the stars.”

As well-said as ever. As much as he hadn't even rested since the Burning of Elbion, he didn't mind leaving the palace once again. The walls were claustrophobic.

"Command, and it shall be done, My Lord." He pushed through his still-damaged vocal chords. Although he wanted to call him his 'friend' or be less formal, it wasn't becoming of his position. He was a Vizier now. Certain things were expected.

 

[Ashuanar]

“My child,” Gerra spoke, parting parched and peeling lips. “You have done well.”

The words boomed through his mind, each one carrying the weight of a thousand swords. Truthfully, he expected a much harsher response.

He reached out and rested a hand on the elf’s shoulder.

Though he did not betray it, a great relief washed over him. He looked up to the God King with admiration in his eyes as words of merciful wisdom fell from his lips. He could hardly retain his awe, so humbly he bowed his head.

"My Lord."

And now he fell silent. Their business could continue at the Emperor's discretion, but now with the coming of his return was a time of great elation and adoration. The quest Gerra had taken upon him had - from the looks of him - indeed been a trial. But of course, he had conquered it.

And now he had returned.

Now they were once again whole.

 

[Gerra]

“Jerik, Uvogin.”

A small, weary smile tugged at the corner of Gerra’s mouth as he looked between them.

“It is good to see you all, my most faithful companions. Please, Vizier Ashuanar, continue your briefing.”

 

[Ava Gilleth]

The Queen of Tyria, Archlector Snaaib with Lady Mirielle on his arm (whom Ava offered a small bow of her head), the Emperor’s hound, Maho ‘Jerik’ Sparhawk, Uvogin and of course Ashunar who called the meeting Six out of eleven members of the Divan… it was good. Not of course for the Empire, the fact that only half had made it to their first meeting spoke volumes about how successful this governing body would be. She made a mental note of who was not in attendance and filed it away to investigate later. Perhaps there were some more allies to be had there, seeing as the majority of the people present fell under the category of ‘true believer’ or ‘loyal to a fault’.

Ava watched them all enter, but offered nothing in terms of greetings to any of them beyond small nods. She was comfortable on her step, it gave her the perfect elevation required to see everything. The clamour from the streets below snapped her attention away from it all and she sighed inwardly. Of course he would choose this moment to come home. The perfect time for her to assess people without his influence over them and he had to go and ruin it.

Only when he had finished his round of greetings did Ava rise from her seat on the steps and move down towards them. There was no point in playing hawk now he was here. She moved behind him, trailing a finger over the exposed flesh his tattered robes revealed, smirking and moving to his side.

“Welcome home, Gerra, I missed your company.”

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Missed his fire giant dick, more like, Mirielle thought but absolutely did not say. Assuming he's proportionate.

In truth she actually quite liked Ava Gilleth, and would have said it to her face if this wasn't such a mindbogglingly inappropriate moment. Archlector Snaaib glanced at Mirielle with just the tiniest bit of trepidation in his eyes. They knew each other well enough by now that he'd tuned into her puckish sense of humor. He knew she was biting her tongue and could probably guess why. She gave the Archlector a warm and innocent smile.

 

[Ashuanar]

Ashuanar did just that. He rewound to cover a few things he thought crucial, "my lord," he began, leaning over the table to go over certain texts, "the army musters east of the city. Annuakat has been nothing short of superb in assisting the army's mobilization. Siege weapons are already being prepared..." a few points about the established route to head north and across.

"But my lord, your absence has stirred a great deal of unrest among many of the tribes, and whats more is there has been an increase in skirmishes along and within our borders, occupying many soldiers on their way here - many are still indisposed." He stood upright, and folded his arms, "but the force we have gathered, I believe, will prove to be more than enough."

"Their defenses may prove difficult at first, but they have little advantage. Our sources tell us the people there are ruled under an iron fist of greed - they need only an offer of your graciousness, and they will be yours." He brought up several tactics he sought to employ, diplomacy amongst them, "And if all else fails, then..." he lifted his arm, and beheld the gold scorpion whose legs wrapped around his arm to fit him perfectly: the Band of Serqet, an item which afforded him a great deal of power, the likes of which that until recently he'd never imagined wielding, "...there are other methods. One way or another, Salitra will fall to the Empire."

 

[Gerra]

The half-giant did not react to the sorceress’ touch. She flaunted herself too much before the others, perhaps hoping to make it clear that she had his favor... or that she owned his affections.

Such assumptions would need correcting, in due time and without an audience.

Praise in public made allies. Humiliation in private prevented shame.

Gerra listened attentively to Ashuanar, then nodded slowly.

“Excellent work thus far, Ashuanar. You are a credit to your tribe. The army requires further reconstitution, but that is a conversation for another time. You speak of a greedy ruler, is it still that spineless Soleiman?”

 

[Ashuanar]

The Vizier bowed his head solmnly, "I know not his name my lord. Only that he is indeed a coward who will quake at the sight of your banner. He may yet prove wise, should he surrender." For all the good that will do him.

Ashuanar couldn't help but observe Ava's interaction with the Emperor, though he did well to avert his gaze. Such business was not his, and Gerra seemed to pay little mind.

High esteem indeed.

Then he moved to fetch for himself the glass of wine. Even as he did so he felt a certain sting. Jealousy?

Witnessing the candid relationship between Uvogin the Immortal and the Emperor left him feeling a certain discomfort he did not betray. He felt that as useful to Gerra as he could be, he would never match the appointments of those he was surrounded by. He felt such great comradery between especially a few - a sensation he'd even willingly departed from long ago.

Could that have been a mistake?

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

"If I may, Your Majesty," Mirielle said, "Soleiman Afrit is less predictable than he appears. He's cultivated a reputation for greedy spinelessness, the king who'll go along with anything. But I have a friend in his court, and she tells me he's the sort of man who keeps guards hidden behind false walls and poisoned blades in his throne. A man like that might roll over but turn on you when he finds the right moment. And he has a significant navy to work with."

Gerra Xaviera Ashuanar Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk Ava Gilleth Uvogin

 

[Gerra]

“Indeed, Lady Merlon, your counsel is wise. It is well that we have prepared for a siege, Ashuanar, for it may come to that, but I would not spend the lives of our people against Salitra’s walls until we have exhausted all other means.”

Here the half-giant paused, wishing he had a goblet of wine to swirl, then remembered he had one in his hand gifted by Uvogin. He swirled it vigorously.

“If Soleiman is as greedy as our agents report, then it should be easy to equip those he has wronged with what they need to overthrow him. Once rid of his tyranny, the city may choose to join us. Their navy would be of great aid.”

He glanced significantly at the Queen of Tyria.

“Uvogin, Ava... will your assets be able to carry out such a mission, if supplied with weapon caches from Ashuanar and the army?”

 

[Ashuanar]

Goblet in hand, Ashuanar turned back around, "of course, my lord."

An informant?

Well now, that was the sort of thing these meetings were for. And all for the better. Ashuanar wanted that city for the Emperor, and he wanted no cowards in their midst. This information solidified that aim into plan.

He drank.

With the taking of this city, not only could the Empire's hold in the northern reaches tighten significantly, but a navy of this description would assure their path to dominance over the local waters as well. That, paired with what he knew of Salitra, only heightened his determination.

The economy would boom.

And the Imperial Army along with it.

He turned to face the group once more, regarding Uvogin and Ava respectively. The army could of course provide their assets with anything at its disposal to carry out their given tasks.

 

[Halul]

After handing the goblet off to Gerra, Uvogin returned to his place somewhat away from the table and other members of the Imperial Divan. He remained silent and listened attentively to any that spoke.

The Captain could feel the slight tension among his compatriots, though he had little interest in that game of power. While others would pander to their Emperor, Uvogin would remain transparent and merely follow through with Gerra’s will, whatever it may be.

He folded his arms behind his back as Gerra addressed him.

"Yes, Emperor." He paused and gazed at the Vizier at Gerra's side.