Passing through the northernmost reaches of the Empire, there rose a mountain range that stretched from abrupt and unnatural mesas in the eastern desert, and spanned the whole length of the continent where it touched the western coast, crossing above the homes of both Plainstriders and Sylphs as it went.  These mountains—and the hills rolling down to the south of them, replete with winding rivers and sporadic woodlands—belonged to the Idra. The tallest peak was labeled Mt. Endymion, and on an artificially forged bluff stood a fortress of a city, a domed capital from which all of modern Vampire society stemmed—or so the Family boasted.  Whether or not that was the truth, the ancient capital of Hekalia remained the Idra's seat of power for longer than the Empire had been called such.

Much more relevantly, nestled deep, deep under the crust of the planet, a lonesome chamber known only to a handful of individuals sat. It bore no official name, but Cedric referred to it as the Hematomb. It was a fitting enough moniker, for in it resided the Elders of the Family. They were those who oversaw everything, and fed their wisdom and instruction to him directly.  Much to his dismay, and irritation.

Cedric Deimos Idra did not care for his elders. He didn't know how the speakers before him felt about them, nor did he much care to find out, either. If things went his way, he would be seeing these ancient, decrepit shadows of an era long past finally buried for good.  Of course, truly killing beings that managed to cheat death for hundreds of thousands of years would require some absurd, unthinkable, and unreasonable measures. The sort of measures that would involve the forbidden. Assistance that he couldn't believe he had even sought out, himself.  But he would rule. Not from the tin throne that the Exaltare sat in, but from a far grander throne. He'd tear the Idra Elders off their gloomy pedestals, rip the secret to their longevity from their skulls, and rule the world in truth. The other families could scheme and play around at ceremonies and heirs, but the future Exaltare would bend to his whims.

Of course even if he failed, he'd at least secure a future for the Idra that didn't involve these five decrepit fossils leeching upon their every act of progress. And attempting to peel it back, at times. Loathe as he was to admit it, he agreed with at least some of the sitting Exaltare's decisions.

As the gloomy lights dimmed and the curtains fell over each of the Elders' seats, Cedric was plummeted into pitch darkness once more. His quarterly meeting with them was adjourned at last, and as he stood back up, the door behind him slowly and silently slid open, as though an archaeologist were exhuming an ancient tomb.  Stepping through the portal, he moved from the musty old bomb shelter of a "theater" that they sat around in for all their dreary lives, and into a slightly less musty hall lined with white porcelain walls and transparent glass flooring. The only illumination were rows of scarlet lights that sat beneath the glass, casting a rather sinister ambiance on the whole subterranean tunnel.

He waited right outside the door for it to grind to a shut once more, the ponderous gears obeying the whims of the Five Fingers beyond as he followed proper etiquette for departure. Only once it was entirely closed was he permitted to make his way across the featureless hall, and at the opposite end, another set of automated doors waited.  These ones were far newer however, made of reflective metal rather than some mysterious engraved and embossed lacquered wood—though the gateway leading to the Elders' chamber didn't feel wooden—the material was far too cold to the touch. The first time he came down here, it felt as though the wood was trying to suck all the warmth out of his palms. Fitting, for the things sitting on the other side of it.  But, back to the elevator… the doors slid open slowly, a solitary white light shining out from it, and like negative space inside of a bright and cheery painting… A figure cloaked in black, with a pointed cap held in her hands and her head bowed casting her ultraviolet hair down in front of her, waited patiently for him.

"What are you doing here?"  "The same as you, I wager," she smiled, "I'm here to give you an update."

His disdain and annoyance was plain on his face.  Cedric was a poor actor at the best of times, for a nobleman, but especially after dealing with the Elders. "Life" wasn't the only thing they consumed.  Mastering himself, as there was no reason to assume any form of malice from her attempt at doing her job—it was merely poor timing as far as he was concerned—he nodded and stepped into the elevator directly in front of her. Neither spoke while they waited for the doors to close, such was the imposing aura that the Elders bore. It was impossible anyone could overhear the Witch speak, but not even Cedric was immune to the superstition that they might somehow see or hear through the great gate at the other end.  While they had eyes and ears everywhere, separate from Cedric, the truth was that their greatest blindspot were the grounds closest to them. Amusing how that always seemed to be the case with those types.

"Would have been nice to hear this before my quarterly trip down here."  "Mine apologies, venerable Speaker," she kept her head bowed, and took a half step back to get on one knee, "but the flow of time consumes us all equally."  Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted. "Dispense with the formalities, please."

Of course what he meant wasn't "treat me like you do the foolish wreck of a man I ordered to chauffeur you around" but "get to the point." Something that the Witch could have sorely commiserated with, in her prior office.  She stood back up and put her pointed cap back atop her head, briefly adjusted her hair, and began apprising Cedric of the situation as the elevator jolted and trundled upward.

"Of course. Kranes has been… retaken by the Empire. The sigil I planted upon the cloud generator was disrupted, and the Whispers exhibited curious behavior and left of their own accord. While I did not foresee this particular outcome, things are still moving apace. I give the Vanas a month, tops."  Cedric opened his eyes and stared down at her. "Are you telling me you managed to line up the destruction of one of the Seven in a few months?"  "Of course not, Your Grace. They did so themselves. I simply saw where the currents were flowing and… created a couple of eddies in the stream. Besides, we have been collaborating for far longer than just a few months, no? Ah, right my mistake."

She covered her mouth and tittered as he creased his brow in irritation. There was little that Cedric hated more than having a question answered with another question.  Just one of his many charming idiosyncrasies.  More pressing however, was the fact that Kranes was not supposed to be retaken. It was supposed to be leveled completely, much like the other city.

"On that note… Den-Ghel has been destroyed."  "So, all the plans to disrupt the current administration have failed, you're telling me?"  "'Stir trouble in the East, whilst striking in the West.' If I were so short-sighted, I would never have gotten this far. While what happened in Kranes is unexpected, the movements of the Geolle are still within my prognostications. All this means is that Her Majesty's pull in the Court will be unaffected, for now. I have no doubt that Your Grace can find a means to spin this to your advantage. While it might appear out of character, showing Her Majesty's mystery child a sliver of affability could perhaps position the Idra in an immediately stronger position."  "Strange, when did you learn of our courtly etiquette and procedures?"  "T'would be foolish not to, if I'm to assist the greatest mind of the past ten thousand years."  "Flattery ill suits you."

The man shook his head and glanced up at the indicator that showed they were nearly at the end of their long ride back up. The convenience of contemporary elevation was not to be underestimated, though it still paled in comparison to teleportation.  Instead of pressing for an actual answer, perhaps knowing that the Witch would never give a straight one—or perhaps assuming that nothing good could come of knowing the truth behind her—he changed subjects.

"If things are proceeding according to plan, fine. But speaking of that child, how does this 'Princess Lycoris' fall onto the board we've set up? You've made no prior mention of her."  The Witch paused, her facade of confidence faltering for just a moment. "I am… seeking answers to that question myself. My auguries never once revealed Her Majesty even had a daughter. Such a thing is biologically, conceptually, and narratively impossible. As you well know."  Cedric raised an eyebrow. "And yet she exists. We cannot deny that much, even if her origins are questionable." He rubbed his elbow, no doubt still feeling the ache of a week prior.  "Well… yes."

Cutting into their conversation, a gust of cold air rushed into the elevator as it came to a stop and the doors slid open. Beyond them, a snow-dusted rampart stretched from the edge of the mountain into the heart of the Idra's manse built onto a plateau sitting on one of the higher rungs of the city. High overhead, the dome built over the bluff remained intact, the interior of the shielding reflecting the naturally stormy skies overhead. It was curious that they allowed themselves to experience the inconvenience of inclement weather, but perhaps that was an attempt to retain a piece of normalcy. Perhaps it was something the Elders advised.  Or perhaps they considered it "fair" if they also got to experience the luxury of faux-sunlight, without fear of the real Sun's obliterating properties.

Before either occupant could take a step out of the elevator, a two figures emerged from the blizzard ahead, the far smaller shadow breaking away from the taller one and rushing forward with a cheery, innocent smile that belied the well-mannered monster it belonged to as she came into focus.

"Uncle Cedric! Good day to you! It appears as though our timing was impeccable, fuhu~"

Wearing a bright red and white winter coat, with a fluffy white cylindrical cap atop her rolling, pale lavender curls, was a Vampire girl just on the far side of fifty years old. A frilly skirt peeked out from beneath her coat, along with warm white stockings and winter boots. She extended her mittened hands and reached up to hug Cedric around his waist, her eyes glittering like rubies as she smiled up at him.  Those eyes, which marked her as the prized treasure of the Idra, were why Cedric held his niece in such a high regard. A strange and unexpectedly pleasant coincidence, given that his brother had married someone of far lower blood from outside of the family. Those should have been proof that she was destined to succeed as Heir-Significate and one day sit on the throne as Exaltare. She had been raised under that expectation since birth.  Except, obviously, someone else had come in and foiled Cedric's plan to put her on the throne. No doubt that was why he was so interested in Princess Lycoris, and why he had been so particularly stupefied by her sudden appearance.  He showed none of his irritation to his niece, as the girl held no fault for the unpleasant surprise that the Exaltare had cooked up for them, and he heard word that she was just as livid to find out the Empire had a Crown Princess now, while she was bedridden with a fever.

"Goodness! You're so energetic, I wouldn't have ever thought you'd fallen ill to begin with. Are you sure you should be out and about in this weather, Dahlia?"  The girl, Dahlia Solus Idra, puffed her cheeks out and crossed her arms, turning away from Cedric with a tut. "I cannot conceal my shame for falling victim to such an untimely seasonal cold. And right during what might perhaps be the most important Moosend Waxing banquet of the next hundred thousand years!" She hesitated, prodding her mittened fingers together. "…Are the Elders upset with me?"  Cedric crouched down and briefly removed her cap with one hand to tousle her hair with the other. "Of course not. They still have utmost faith that you will one day inherit the throne, Dahlia. As do I."  "Truly? But… what of that girl?"

She reached up and softly rubbed Cedric's arm, causing him no small amount of consternation. To avoid showing his expression to her, he glanced back toward the elevator only to find it devoid of his companion.  He probably should have been happy that he wouldn't have to explain who she was, but somehow only found himself more irritated. He clenched his hands and forced the tension out of his teeth before turning back to Dahlia with a smile and excuse.

"While the rest of the Empire might be clamoring over her, calling her Crown Princess and all that, it is far too soon to presume that she will succeed her mother. Five hundred years is a long time, Dahlia."  "…Yes, Uncle. Of course."  "You shouldn't overexert yourself like that, dear!"

Finally catching up to her daughter, Lucretia Dominus Idra bowed her head reverently to Cedric, before gently taking her daughter's hand and pulling her off of the Speaker.

"Good day, Your Grace. I apologize for her rambunctiousness. No doubt a result of her being cooped up in her room for the past few days."  "I did not forget my manners, Mother!"  "Indeed, I far prefer this surprise to the one last week. Speaking of surprises however, should you not still be in Kranes County, Lucretia?"

Of course, he already knew that the situation was all but resolved, and there was no reason for her to linger in that boorish place.  As the three of them began making their way back toward the Idra Family estate side-by-side, the low-blooded woman shook her head.

"It seems 'Her Highness' and the Lady Executioner have already resolved things within the County, the entire affair capstoned by Her Majesty's arrival. Not that my presence meant much to begin with, I was simply filling in for my husband. I'd much rather return home and see to see my daughter's health than deal with Her Majesty's brat."  "What sort of person is Her Highness like?" asked Dahlia.  "Naive." "Arrogant."

Both Lucretia and Cedric answered simultaneously, their replies earning a derisive chuckle from the little girl.

"Fuhuhu~ I meant positive qualities, dearest kindred. I have heard—and seen—as much as I could from my bedchambers, but I hoped for a slightly more earnest answer as to what exactly my future competition might be. Assuming Uncle Cedric is to be believed."  "She's sharp, and knows how to dominate a room like her mother, but that's all. She has the air of a child who's only ever seen and idolized her mother's militant side. Her manners are clearly cursory at best."

Her mother offered a rather harsh assessment of the Princess, though not an inaccurate one. In so many ways the girl defied all common sense of Vampiric nobility, but barely met so many standards that it was obvious she had, in fact, lived for forty-six years.

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"…Really?" Dahlia looked unable to believe what she was hearing. "The Exaltare's own daughter is… socially inept? I was uncertain while reviewing the footage of her debut, but…" for a brief moment, a cruel and sadistic smile crept onto her face, "perhaps all my worry was for naught."

＊　＊　＊

In the north-eastern reaches of the explored continent, beneath the mountains that separated the Sylvan home from barren lands cracked by dryness and dusted with ashen snow, massive evergreens stretched toward the clouds in dense packs. Amidst the dense boughs replete with foliage, wooden structures and bridges had been built up both around the trees and into them as well, as several were hollowed out and treated as still-living buildings. Glass and stone were considered luxuries, given their brittleness and weight, and the complications that arose with transporting them up from the ground hundreds of feet below.

Of course, Sylvan society was not without its magic, but using a teleport platform or the far lower-tech spiral stairs woven around certain trees were considered gauche, compared to spreading one's wings and taking flight. They were primarily for the benefit of the young, the infirm, and for the rare outsider or wingless merchant that dared to visit their lofty city-nests.

Boralus knew all of this quite well, being the former chief of the Grandwoods that shared a border—at rare times a contested one—with the Sylphs.  Which was partially why he had caused such a commotion when he disregarded all other available options and climbed directly up the side of a trees.  It had been no simple feat, given he was already dealing with a handicap even before factoring in his prideful stipulation of climbing without tools. But compared to when he had climbed the side of the Great Hollow every year as a young calf, it was child's play. For one, there was no competition trying to get one over on him here. And he was motivated by a sense of purpose that he could never remember feeling before. He traveled alone, after being cast down as leader of the Plainstriders and immediately branded as "over the hill" by his own clan.

Which is how he found himself in the open-air halls of the Sylvan Queen, on one knee with his remaining hand crossed over his heart and a chlamys of scales woven from a shed tail over his empty shoulder. The glittering scales—white as the frigid season—drew the attention of a great number of Sylphs, their love of vibrant colors betraying their mistrust of other races.  One sharp-eyed Sylvan woman had even approached from midair to ask if he was single, while he was in the middle of crossing rickety bridges to the palace.  Naturally, he ignored the impulse to flirt back at her, as he had far more important business to tend to. The fate of the world was more important than his own private interests, especially with such a skin-and-bones woman.

Perched atop her throne, the Queen clicked her scaled, claw-tipped feet together, the coin-lined shawl over her messy feather-like fiery red hair jingling noisily. She was deep in thought at present, after he delivered the oracle that the Dragon had bestowed upon him alongside her molted tail. Though Boralus wondered if she wasn't going to tell him anyways, and the loss of his arm was merely the pointless consequence of impulsive foolishness on his part. He brushed his fingers across the scales as he pondered the matter, for lack of anything else to do while kneeling.  His legs were starting to go numb.  When a figure cloaked in white and green—like a forest hermit—approached and crouched down to whisper into the Queen's ear, his eyes snapped back to pay attention. She waved them off with a flap of her wing, the digits of her hand atop it clenched tightly as though conveying her irritation.  The figure bowed deeply and stepped back in response. Boralus could all but hear the weary sigh coming from beneath the shadowed hood, and felt a sense of kinship with who he assumed was her advisor. The Queen had been mulling over his words for at least half an hour, he couldn't imagine everyone having to go through this sort of affair any time they sought an audience with her.  Boralus wasn't sure if he could even stand back up if he was asked to.

After another painfully long bout of nothing interesting occurring, save for the shifting of the sun in the sky overhead, casting a patch of warmth over Boralus as the light sparkled through the openings in the boughs. A tranquil gust of wind caused leaves to pleasantly rustle, the sound of hanging bells throughout the village ringing cheerily alongside the chimes hanging from Boralus's own antlers. Banners hanging from pillars standing tall along the room billowed lightly, only coming to a rest once the Queen finally stood up and raised her hand forward, the various bits of metal on her thin tabard-like dress jangling.  As Boralus jerked his head up, his own chimes created an oddly harmonious accompaniment.

"I have come to a decision. As leader of my people, I, Queen Thea Artemysie, cannot accept your offer, Boralus of the Root-dwellers."  "…" His heart sank, and his jaw loosened in shock and annoyance. Root-dweller felt like an insult targeted specifically at the Grandwoods.  "To do so would invariably drag my people into war. We cannot suffer the same setbacks our forebearers did so many millennia ago."

The white-robed figure off to the side shuffled in place as she spoke.  The branches overhead and all around crinkled and swayed as the audience that had gathered to watch the proceedings began to mutter and chirp quietly at each other.  Just as Boralus was about to force himself up on his numbed legs and march forward to give her a piece of his mind, she lowered her arm again, folding her wings behind her back.

"That is to say, I cannot make the decision alone. Our kinds have long failed to see eye to eye with the Humans, something I have no doubt you are equally aware of, once-leader of the Plains."  "Aye," he winced as she made it clear that she had been paying rather close attention to events on the Shailoam Plains, "which is exactly why I take the Dragon's words so seriously."  "I would expect you to. She is a flesh-and-blood deity, no? Frankly, the idea of even meeting a being like that sends a shiver of terror through my feathers," the Queen lightly tittered.  Boralus wryly grimaced. "I would liken her more to a… strange hermit than something like a god. She speaks in strangely compounded and hard-to-comprehend terms, and acts… like a brat. But you're not wrong, and my people would hang me from the trees if they heard me speak of her so flippantly. But I've met her! And she's…"

He reached over and clutched at his shoulder, a phantom pain stinging him as though the Dragon were still squeezing and twisting his arm.  Boralus shook his head, dismissing the thought.

"It doesn't matter, the point is she passed her words on to me, and told me the only way to survive was by uniting with the Sylphs and Humans."  "And yet, my position remains firm. I am no hen before seedlings."  "Huh? Well anyways, just talk it over with your fellow clansmen, if that's what you need to do to agree. Will it take a while? I might as well seek out the Human king in the meantime if so."  "You would venture forth without even awaiting a result? Your haste belies your position as a uniting force."  "Well if you wanna shack me up somewhere, be my guest," Boralus snorted and replied in faux-politeness, "but I did not bring any clansmen or supplies of my own to tend to me. I wished not to impose upon you."

Queen Thea lifted her wing to conceal her face as she chuckled, then snapped her finger sharply. At her command, a pair of Sylphs in padded leather armor fluttered down and landed one-footed on either side of her, clanking spears gripped by their other foot on the wooden floor.  Stepping forward, the hooded white-robed figure—a man, roughly judging by the body shape under his robes—approached Boralus flanked by the two guards and spoke in a subdued, breathless whisper.

"Her Majesty shall permit you to stay among her boughs. Consider it an opportunity to engage in some… cultural exchange."

His face was concealed by a pitch-black mask, and the rest of him by the robes, which only made him that much more suspicious in Boralus's eyes… Not even a single strand of hair was visible, but the man seemed as friendly as he could be, given his choice of garb.

"And you are?"  "Call me… Telos. I serve as one of Her Majesty's advisors, and I look after Her Highness Feena when available. Allow me to guide you to your lodgings."

The robed man offered a cordial bow, and casually guided Boralus out of the palace grounds.

＊　＊　＊

On the south-western peninsula, at the tip of the land and the centerpiece of the Kingdom of Dauwen, a grand parade marched down the main thoroughfare. Confetti flew into the air and scattered upon the cobblestone roads. People cheered from the windows and flocked in droves to observe the procession.  In truth, it was supposed to have been a far more modest affair, but word had breached containment and spread far beyond what Mizar had initially intended.  Not that Fawaris saw anything wrong with that. It wasn't meant to be some covert military secret or surreptitious affair. Perhaps their escape from their wicked masters had instilled a sense of worry in their hearts that caused them to urge secrecy, or perhaps it was their expectations of how humanity might behave in response to their arrival, but the Geolle being escorted into the castle were welcomed with open arms and blaring trumpets.  Things had taken a remarkably one-eighty after the assault that'd claimed her father's life a couple months prior, but—

She cast a glance toward the man standing beside her on the white marble balcony, overlooking the celebration below with a bemused expression and slacked shoulders that ill-suited the gilded crown atop his head and bright violet-purple and silver cape draped around his shoulders.

—the influence of a Hero chosen by Her was something to be awed, Fawaris supposed.

Mizar had returned just in the nick of time, slayed or otherwise drove off the Piscin that'd somehow infiltrated the castle and launched their surprise attack, and managed to save a great number of important dignitaries and nobles—as well as Princess Fawaris herself. After a tearful funeral, he held her close and promised that never again would he allow her to be alone, and amid a whirlwind of activity in the aftermath of that terrible raid, the two of them were wed and he stumbled his way into being crowned ruler of Dauwen.  Much to his chagrin. In private, he confessed that he'd rather have finished what Uncle Al started and snuck her away to live a quiet life somewhere idyllic. But that was not to be the fate of this hero, and Fawaris couldn't have felt happier in the days that followed. It truly felt as though the Goddess had emerged from behind the clouds and was once more able to cast Her light down upon Fawaris.

Of course, Mizar still relished the chance to take advantage of his new position. Not one to waste time, he immediately set to work using his crown to establish some changes and pull on connections he had made over the years; which is what led to this shining day unfolding before the two of them.  On his travels with El and Al, Mizar had seen another side of the world, and made many strange and wondrous allies and enemies. That included members of the Geolle, who suffered under the tyranny of the Exaltare for centuries. The group marching toward the castle below were those who could no longer withstand the erosion of their livelihoods and culture as more and more they were being forced to live by the standards the Vampires set. While it was on a timetable so long-term that it made Fawaris's head spin to consider how many lifetimes of hers it would be, she still felt nothing but pity and compassion for their plight, and agreed that enough was enough when Mizar pitched his ideas to her.

As the procession finally came to a stop in the castle's courtyard, Mizar traced his fingers along the edge of a hand-sized bell positioned in front of him, causing the sigils traced along its stand to light up.

"Attention all citizens of Dauwen, this is your King, Mizar Aurena the First speaking!"

His voice reverberated through every belfry of every church within the entire kingdom. It was an artifact unearthed long ago, and the Church had left it in the hands of the Kingdom's ruler for grand announcements after deeming it safe for use.

"As many of you may have noticed here in the capital, and potentially across the entire kingdom, we are greeting new visitors never before seen in these lands. Geolle, from lands far to the east beyond the Bay of Sunora, who lived underland in great subterranean cities. Millenia ago, they were invaded and conquered by the Vampires we know and fear, and ever since have been forced under their tyrannical rule. These refugees are here to seek solace and new beginnings. As king, I implore you: please, treat them as you treat each other. They are here to live as amicable neighbors, in and around our lands."

Mizar paused for dramatic effect, closing his eyes while a gentle smile dawned on his face.

"…I have seen their craftsmanship firsthand, and I know that they are a people that—while unique in custom—are honest and hard-working. And quite passionate about their craft, too… ahaha…"

He rubbed the back of his head as he no doubt recalled an awkward memory, his lack of regal decorum something that had surprisingly endeared him to the citizens, even if the aristocratic class were less than enthused.  It had been up to Fawaris as his queen to assuage their concerns, and to shore up her husband's weaknesses on that front. In that sense, they were a perfect match for each other.

"But, ah, I realize that is perhaps not enough for some of you. 'So what?' 'Why should I care about some random strangers moving here?' For those young and brave of heart, I have an announcement to make!"

There were no surprises here for Fawaris, as this was already part of what the two of them had discussed in private. Neither of them had told another soul about this particular idea, save for the Geolle themselves. And Fawaris wasn't entirely sure how to feel about it herself, or what sort of reception it'd receive, but on a personal level, it excited her and—somewhat embarrasisngly—reminded her of the stories she used to love reading.

"I am proud to announce that, as king, I am creating a new institution separate from both the Church and Monarchy." Once more, he paused for dramatic effect, as even the citizens parading in the streets mumbled in interest and curiosity. "Drawing inspiration from my own travels across the continent, I am henceforth establishing the Cabot! It shall be a guild for those who seek adventure, and perhaps fame and fortune—though I make no guarantees of success on that front!"

He chuckled wryly, pausing for a sip of water from the podium beside him before proceeding with his explanation.

"To describe its purpose in as abbreviated a manner as possible: it shall be an institution for those seeking help to offer a bounty, where the able and willing may offer their assistance for coin in return. Without a doubt, there are many nobles that have problems the Monarchy simply cannot solve in a reasonable timeframe. This is meant to alleviate those woes, and offer an avenue for able-bodied but otherwise occupationless individuals to find work. And as I alluded to, there will be no shortage of opportunity for those brave adventurers to follow in my own footsteps, and see the wider world. My hope is that, by stepping beyond our borders, we might grow more familiar with our less foul-tempered neighbors, and might bridge the gap between our races.  "I bring this up now, because our kingdom now harbors some of the finest craftsmen on the entire continent, wielding techniques that even I can't fully comprehend. No doubt adventurers will find themselves in need of specialized equipment, beyond the ken of our smiths. For that, the Geolle have offered their services as mentors and blacksmiths both, teaching young craftsmen their techniques so that we might better arm those we send out into the world!"

There were more murmurings at that, some less certain than others. The thought of learning to craft and wear exotic foreign goods was enticing, but doing so without the guidance of the Church was understandably a difficult pill to swallow. Especially when said tutelage came from a race so alien to their own; especially when it was one living beneath the shadow of Tenebreimen.  Fawaris foresaw many upset cardinals paying a visit to the castle in the coming days.

"The exact details shall be disseminated at a later date, after the Courts and I have had a chance to properly determine how all of this will shake out, but I hope that you all find this potential new frontier as exciting as I did before I took my first steps beyond our kingdom's borders. That is all!"

He thumbed his fingers across the bell and heaved a laborious sigh, his shoulders slumping as he slouched beneath the weight of his bright violet cape.

"Darling, the citizens are still watching. Back straight now, or you'll be hearing about it for weeks during the proceedings you're oh-so-eager to get to."  "Ahaha, yes, thank you Fawaris dear. Hahhh, why me? I thought my life was to end exchanging blades with that Tyrant, as we each breathed our last and freedom returned to the world. Not… here, giving grand speeches like this."  "And I am glad for it. It wounds my heart that our friends are all gone, but if their final gift to me was delivering you back safely…"  "Yes, I am and shall ever be eternally grateful to them that I am here standing together with you, Fawaris. Though we could not bring down the Tyrant, there was much knowledge that I did manage to return with. And, were it not for Tatyana, I never would have made it in time to save you. Even though she may not have been part of our initial trio, she holds just as important a place within my heart."  "Indeed. Though, I wish that she would come here and speak with us. The damage to your memories has me concerned…"  "Now now, we are in front of our people, right? Don't make so sad a face. She lives beyond the Kingdom's border for a reason, I'm sure. And it is only reasonable that so grand a teleportation spell would have such an effect. And… I'd rather not dwell on the sight of Teach sacrificing himself while I fled that fetid palace with my tail between my legs like a lame hound."  "Yes of course. My apologies, Darling. Today is supposed to be a day to celebrate. Let us put those sad thoughts out of mind and focus instead on the tasks ahead!"

Fawaris clenched her hands and pumped her arms energetically, though Mizar chuckled wryly and looked back toward the crowd.

"If only I had your gusto for governance…"

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