Fantasy ~Fire Emblem Reverence: The Insurrection of Etalus~

[DistractionAttack]

Mentions: ThatGuyWithSouvlaki Yakov011001 ThatWhichShouldBe

Sephonia felt a sudden stop in the carriage pushing her momentum forward catching herself before she fell off the edge of the seat, how embarrassing would that be. Sephonia was glad that horrible bumpy narrow trip was over. Quickly she would give a hearty kick to the carriage door causing it to swing open stepping out gently opposite of the violent kick. She started to fix her royal blue officer that is attached to her left shoulder, it folded up on itself from the bumpy trip. This cape made her look more knight like, although it got in her way and admittedly looked very gaudy on her royal blue uniform. Once her outfit looked professional she fixed her hair as it was a traditional style that was famous on the archipelago, but was rather esoteric outside of archipelago. Fixed with strange braids and a side swept that leans on her left side. Once she looked perfect she would accompany the prince or that was the plan till her gaze fixed on a mask that looked familiar to her homeland.

Sephonia watched as the“welcoming party” introduce themselves, two retainers…well they expect no incident from us so we have light security what a privilege. She ignored the welcome as they were talking to the prince once they were through with the talking, Her eyes skimmed over Odette before skipping everything about her for the moment as her eyes draw towards Ichor. Her eyes lit up, sparkling like diamonds a giant stupid grin coming across her face as she shouted. “Kin! How ar-“ The light fading as fast as it came as her face scowled her eyes saying many things but she didn’t speak any of these insults instead defaulting to “thank you for having us this fine day, I must say your attire is very traditional.” Walking closer to the two retainers but far enough to address both. Sephonia grabbed her cape with her right hand putting a foot behind the other bending her knees and lifting her heels doing a curtsy the cape acting as holding the dress.

“I am Sephonia Grum retainer of Jussane birthplace of The Aechon Archipelago, Apologizes if I look frightening or make a face it’s a habit”

Sephonia had to make an excuse to make faces because couldn’t mask her emotions that easily. Turning to Ichor first Sephonia took off her right glove her soft white hand now exposed. She shook Ichor’s hand feeling his hands trying to get a good idea of grip and texture anything that could gleam anything about this masked figure. Sephonia although had a delicate grip but clear to anyone who’s ever wielded a weapon, she wasn’t using any grip strength making her seem more delicate, a charade she hated but her prince wanted her on her best behavior. Whatever he wanted he got, she pushed it to the back of her mind the thought about how this could possibly spoil him.

Sephonia cold eyes quickly switch their gaze to Odette, Seph trying her best with a weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes at all while offering a hand. “I’m guessing you heard my introduction so I won’t repeat myself, but if you need assistance in anyway don’t bother to ask. Jussane prides themselves on manners so any customs we need to adhere to please let me know.” Sephonia examined Odette’s face and outfit. Odette face felt like she was more knowledgeable and deadly of the two, meanwhile she glanced over her attire…as expected from Ditanian. Sephonia liked looking at fashion from other nations as the culture spoke volumes so rich, so many of years of traditions. The morals although probably dead and buried unlike Jussane the best nation.

After the introductions Sephonia looked towards the gate past the retainers, thinking of her battle plan for the upcoming battle of wits. Sephonia mentally prepped herself hyping herself up. She couldn’t wait to measure up any competition she had around her while offering assistance, along with some offhanded insults if the prince would allow. Well the assistance was for Ditanians have to keep your friends close and enemy closer and she wants them as close as possible so any double cross would be met with steel. The offhanded insults was meant for everyone mostly for Sanghalo those warmongering locus.

The backstabber nation’s capital, Etalus odd no weakness to be seen even though there was a civil war not too long ago. She couldn’t judge if morale was low or high based on the behaviors of the people she sees. Her eyes scan the environment a little longer before a grin appeared on Sephonia’s face and evil grin. “So do you have any pegasi farms around here? or do they exclusively graze in plains.” Quickly she wanted to cross off one item from her list, a few more items being Rations, Gold, with a scratched out item being Bark.with a hastily scribbled word next to it being Revenge.

Once again she changed her gaze to Ichor while flipping her cape around her waist was a medium kanabo wrapped up. Slowly she unhooked it from her belt handing to Ichor her words cold and serious.“Pretender tell me do you know this weapon. Your katana tells me you do, but you’re a Ditanian so you confuse me…Half blood perhaps?.” Her eyes looked at him accusatorially but her movements showed no malice to them. Her mind racing her eyes darting back and forth between the two taking in as many details as possible.

 

[ThatGuyWithSouvlaki]

Odette raised an eyebrow at Ichor response, noting a sigh and the brief answer she got. She wondered if she had struck a nerve with the question, for once asked innocently by her without any ulterior motive behind it. Was it that the question implied he was not Datanian? An interesting pressure point to have if so. In this crucial time when they had an unknown enemy attacking them out of nowhere, someone like him was likely met with suspicions. Despite their call of support by the other nations there was no proof that none were involved with the mercenaries that attacked Etania region, she wondered if he faced some suspicion? Certainly the thought had crossed her own mind of the fact but though she was careful she was not one to fully give in to paranoia. He was a potential threat but she was fairly sure she was loyal to the Rosaline.

"I am merely... She went to ask before she noted something catch Ichor's eye as she looked at the direction he did, he noted the carriage as well. Show time indeed. She turned towards the gate and waived at the guards, signalling it was time for action, getting them ready in parade and heightened security for any trouble. "Ok... We should..." She went to say before Ichor spoke over her. She looked at him a little confused by his statement. Speak or dont? How was that helpful? She shook her head off the confusion and took a moment to take in the sight of the delegation.

The delegation was large and looked like they were equipped for battle. And was that wyvern? Impressive creature. She had read a lot about the creature's toughness and ferocity, to think such a creature could be tamed by anyone and written like horses. It seemed almost a shame to shackles such independent seeming creatures, they should reign the sky free as long as the did not harm any humans. Still, she needed to focus on the situation at hand, she stood straighter putting her hands behind her back with a proud bearing as she waited for the delegation to approach close enough to them.

She heard Ichor call out, a little sooner than she would have done but still it did not matter. It took a few moments after the carriage door swing open the delegates to step out respected in their blue colours of their nation. They made for an impressive sight, particularly the attractive blonde female knight though she seemed to have a wildness to her that made Odette raise an eyebrow. Regardless, she gave a quick bow of her head when she was mentioned by ichor and got a reply.

"Not a problem, lady Grum." She said with a courteous smile. "I swear, whatever your face is doing, it still very complimentary to your fine features." She complimented, a little flattery did help a little to break the ice of the two sides meeting. "I am afraid, my associate, had done my a little injustice with my introduction. Let me expand: Lady Odette Katherine Bauford, daughter of the late Duke Prospero Beauford, sister of the Duke of Aeldemear, tutor to the Lady Rosaline, Mage of Datania. It is an honour to welcome your delegation and escort you to my Lady." She introduced herself formally do the delegation.

With the introduction made, she guided the delegation into the town, though she was all smiles. Answering any question given, she studied is delegate closely. The lady Grum had an air of sizing up a pig for slaughter as she looked around, and she wondered what it meant regarding their intentions. "I am not involved the rising of the pegasi, but one of my lady is a rider, you will get to see one up close in due time." She replied to her question. She knew more than she let on, but was not sure exactly how much of their famed cavalry that was wise to say to the delegation.

ThatWhichShouldBe DistractionAttack Dante Verren Stickdom Yakov011001

 

[Steve Jobs]

vittorio salieri

nortalis retainer

A

nd it is in the name of the Flame of Humility, the Archbishop herself, that the Church of Xios has found itself in these hallowed fields. We seek not solutions from a liar’s hatchet, but the brotherhood of a hundred generations," so said Nortalis' representative.

Calling the church humble was a bit of a stretch wasn't it? Of all the people who ought to be aware of the church's imperfections it ought to be De'Rovere.

An alumni and former speaker at his seminary, Vittorio followed his career in broad strokes. He was a man of humble beginnings who rose to prominence after becoming a cleric and later as a bishop--yet another path Vittorio couldn't walk. Not for nothing, he could appreciate De'Rouvere were it not for the lack of honest criticism.

Though he didn't display the same opulence as the Archbishop, this man still had a quiet luxury. Rather than robes embroidered in gold or gem encrusted accessories, De'Rovere kept to a few rings, embossed buttons, and an announcer for his arrival.

Were the rumors true, Vittorio was sure he had an entire staff to himself. Personally, he chose one of his father's military jacket and a cape, both old pieces his father bequeathed him when he still thought Vittorio could become a knight. With a bit of handiwork from a tailor, they'd restored the epaulets and added a cape to distinguish it from his brother's own coat.

Perhaps they were not so different.

But compared to Princess Rosaline and the Sanghelan representatives, they were no spendthrifts. Their elaborate garments, pristine armor, and proper forms spoke of luxury not present in the military nor their subjects. Was it a matter of practicality or presentation, he wondered.

Silence fell over the crowd as the princess of Ditania began her speech, allowing the missionary-turned-retainer to relax. Despite her neutral expression, Rosaline's words confirmed Vittorio instincts. She was still a child. Whether she knew it or not, a threat against not one-but two nations' armies did not bode well for the young girl.

He hid the mixture of pity and bewilderment in his eyes, shooting a quick glance to Bishop De'Rouvere and then Princess Valdis. Their expressions didn't offer much in way of proceeding so he stepped forward. Putting his hand over his chest, he looked towards both Jorrah and Rosaline.

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Your Highness, but I assure you we are reaching out in good faith. We have no need for such...

-he didn't want to call her hostile-

"accusations."

Vittorio could feel the Church's finest behind him, spears planted on the ground but firmly grasped. Whether she knew it or not, crusaders were a different breed of knight from Ditania or Jussane. A person who fought for their ideals was far braver than one who fought for coin or pride.

Using their dying words to wax on about their salvation was as close to divinity as one could achieve; for that he could respect the Aechon leaders he was forced to put down.

He hoped that Ditania would not meet the same fate.

/*

location:

Eastern Gate

tags:

SkyGinge TAC GamerKitty205 Misuteeku

 

[TAC]

The Bishop of Chatillon


“And a very fair morning to you as well, my dear delight.” The Bishop of Chatillon, dusting his hands off, graced her with a face splitting grin. It came off naturally, revealing the ambient positive energy reveling from the Archbishop’s creature. His steps were spring filled, as if the ground of Ditania were joyful to prod against.

Giuliano paused his encroachment onto the lordly daughter, his head cocked to the side as she requested he wait. His nose scrunched and his eyes fell from the bridge they traversed to the castle that lay just beyond their location, the home of their host. “Lady Rosaline, you are ever so kind to meet us at the gate. Let the Voice of the Archbishop sincerely thank you for your hospitality, your decision to personally meet with us… Is humbling.”

The blond man smiled, daggers behind those thin lips of his. It was odd enough for the daughter to be receiving them, De’Rovere oft found it that the clergy were used as middle men, in his dealings. It allowed them a good deal of strategems before meeting with a liege lord. Though what was odder, was the woman’s request that they patiently wait for yet another host to arrive.

This would not do, in normal circumstances. To ever assume the Church of Xios should wait for mortal continuations of her fallen champions was tantamount to heresy, in Giuliano’s eyes. One could not put the ever replaceable lords of this physical earth against the spiritual beacons that were those of the cloth. Unfortunate that the world found itself ruled by the aristocracy, rather than the enlightened few. De’Rovere shoved aside his discomfort, only a speck of it flashing on his practiced expression of paternal comfort.

“Indeed, my lady. Were you… Advised to meet with other delegations here?” De’Rovere checked his surroundings, his voice lifting with a sarcastic lilt. Eyes of a seafoam green found a man as tall as he, though darker in complexion. De’Rovere’s gaze lingered before a soft snort escaped his nose. “You must admonish your father’s men, my delight! No, lady’s and lordship’s do not wait at the threshold of their lands, they do not meet with dignitaries either, not as the doorman.”

The peasantborn clergy shook his head. “Should you wish, I may leave behind a missionary who can handle that for you. Then we can press forward, into more suited settings.”

Any suggestion to keep them moving, De’Rovere already missed the comforts of his inn from the night prior, eager to replace it with the finest that Ditania had to offer.

His offer would go unheeded, as the bishop spoke those words, those of Sanghala appeared at last. Their arrival was quick and with power, causing a few of De’Rovere’s men to curse as the Church’s convoy was forced to shift and move to accommodate the Sanghalans.

“My dear princess,” De’Rovere’s head craned, noticeably more than for Lady Rosaline. His eyes fell hard on the Princess of Sanghala, his lips quirking into a sweet smile. “Daughter of the great Damaron, it is a pleasure to be… Standing at such an august occassion, with you.”

Before the Bishop could lather on more flattery, it was the words of the lordling’s daughter that pricked the bishop’s attention. She beckoned them to join her into the village but only after she made yet another demand of him. An oath to not disturb either the land her father owned or the serfs her father owned, on punishment of banishment. A cold fury rose in his chest, an emotion bubbling from the importance of his position. Second to that came the raw shock, splayed across his features as he glanced at the missionary and princess next to him, as if to silently confirm that he heard their host’s daughter correctly. It was the youngster who spoke, an action that both impressed and annoyed De’Rovere—he did not need to be spoken for.

With a smile that hid his uncomfortableness with mixed results, De’Rovere nodded his head and allowed him to speak, his words were swift and to the point. De’Rovere nodded in return and lifted his palm at the youth.

‘Well spoken,’ De’Rovere thought with an arched eyebrow. ‘For his position at least. It seems as though I’ll have to pile on the logs to this pyre.’

“Wondrously put, my companion. He—” Giuliano shifted, his right shoulder bumping into the boys. “—Is one of the finest at the Church’s disposal. Quite the talented lad.”

De’Rovere complimented the young stranger, his nose scrunching as he smiled in a facsimile of genuine joy. “I must reiterate what he said, my lady. The Church of Xios did not come here for any purpose than the prospect of peace among all parties, with intentions to tend to your ill and wounded.” De’Rovere palmed his chest, an emerald ring glaring on his ring finger as he did. “We do not support this war of yours and we wish to reach the most Goddess chosen solution.”

Such a vow would be impossible to make. Not that De’Rovere would ever hesitate at going back on his word, should the reward prove large enough. But submitting to a mere child’s request, as the representative of the Archbishop herself?

Giuliano would rather see his innards split than allow such abject humiliation.

“I am sure your other guests feel the same—to arrive with the promise of help, only to be met with suspicion is quite… Discerning. I’m sure the Archbishop would not be pleased to learn of your lack of faith.” The Bishop paused, his words were viscous in the air as he looked around, his eyes on Damaron's daughter, if she would lower herself to Ditania's lesser and accept this vow.​

 

[ERode]

| Lvl 5 Soldier |
Arcanist High Moon Landsharks ​

Of course, the Windemere Lancers’ Captain had a lance up his arse.

Morwen rolled his eyes underneath his helm at the brat’s barking, but at Millicent’s own words, he set his spear back down upon the ground. Better to work out the kinks of his new comrades now, rather than later…not that he expected himself to work all that closely with those types anyhow. Why, he doubted he even possessed the capacity for table manners to dine three halls across from them!

And thus, the Sunflare Knight trudged onwards, settling on the right hand side of Princess Beatrix, a barely inaudible tune upon his lips as the Sanghalan dignitaries marched down to meet the Duke’s daughter.

As first impressions went, Morwen supposed that he liked Rosaline. Such clear eyes, and such a direct, audacious directive! It stirred up the clergymen just fine, those zealots aghast that their reputation for murder without gain had put them on the same level as those horrendous, baby-eating Sanghalan career soldiers! Yup, the younger one looked more surprised than anything, while the older one looked like common church-stock: a born snake with honey lathered upon his rotten fangs.

“Lotta spearmen for a hospital on legs.” It was ostensibly meant to be a comment for Beatrix’s ears only, but Morwen’s voice had a habit of echoing and amplifying within his helmet. “Seems like the faithful have settled on one particular cure-all, Princess Beatrix.”

 

[GamerKitty205]

Princess Valdis Gazam
​

Valdis could feel her teeth grind against each other as Bishop De’Rovere spoke. They were certainly not ‘mindless’ in their slaughter, but monsters of righteousness were hardly any better. And daring to speak of understanding. She had read the proceedings, she knew what kind of compassion he showed to— She took in a quiet breath. There was no reason to get twisted into knots so soon. It would serve her no good. Not now, not ever. It would be darkly amusing though, to watch the Bishop lie through his teeth as he vowed no ill will.

The vow itself was an interesting thing. A promise all parties knew they would not keep; An agreement supported by a threat of force that was wholly inadequate. Would she really dare face the army Sanghalo sent? Or risk making an enemy of the church? In these delicate circumstances, was a full rejection something Lady Proguer was truly willing to consider? Valdis hoped she was smarter than that.

And it seemed her fellows agreed. It had been too much to expect the Bishop to spout a gracious lie, she now realized. In an instant he had used Vittorio's words to launch into another one of his grand spiels. A laughable claim of pacifism considering the entourage that followed them. A point immediately expressed by a jovial sounding man in armor. Xios almighty, at this rate they were never going to make it into the gate.

“We, of course, understand your reservations, Lady Proguer.” Valdis said, choosing to ignore the errant comment. “But there is harm that can come from being overcautious.”

They had not even joined with the Jussane and still the games had begun. The posturing, and disparaging remarks, and implied threats she so despised. At least in this case it gave her a chance to endear herself to the Ditanians. After all, if one truly wished the best for Etalus, it was silly to fight so hard against what the duchess-to-be had asked for.

“That being said, I see no reason to refuse your request.” Valdis fixed Lady Proguer with a solemn gaze, and put a hand over her heart. “I, Princess Valdis Gazam of Nortalis, swear that I will not cause any harm to Etalus and its people. Whether that be by action or inaction.”

 

[Landsharks]

Beatrix Fortagon​

What a fine cavalcade of nonsense they'd already marched into! For the briefest instant, the intrusive thoughts within Beatrix's mind whispered at her to forget the plan and charge. The duke's daughter was right here to hold as leverage. Decapitating the Owls' command structure by eliminating their leader would have just been a bonus. Sanghalo could take everything they needed in one fell swoop.

Sanity then decided to reassert itself in Beatrix's mind. That would have been a short term gain for a massive long-term blunder. Acting in so rashly a manner would only ensure that every other nation would join forces. As powerful as Sanghalo was, she knew damned well it could not stand against the might of every other force on the continent at once. No, they had to play the game as it was presented to them for now. On their own terms, of course.

"This is an insult." Beatrix snarled through her helm from her place at Millicent's side, her armet and armor clearly marking her out as Damaron's fourth, infamous daughter. "You have no capability to expunge either of our forces, nor the luxury to. Else you would have dealt with this invasion on your own by now." Above all else, Beatrix would not swear an oath she had no intention of keeping. That was a due that even this fool girl deserved.

"All of Ditania ought to be counting their heaven-sent blessings and giving thanks to almighty Xios," Her helm tilted sardonically in the crusaders' direction. "That His Majesty deigned to send aid rather than seize your lands to open up a second front against Jussane."

Morwen's attempt at subtle commentary echoed across the meeting, to which Beatrix only nodded in agreement. The others could chastise him later, if they wished. For now, Sanghalo had to present a united front.

"Indeed, would it not be heresy to challenge Xios's servants on earth with suspicion and accusations? One does wonder how Nortalian crusaders are known to deal with such." The butcher cast her gaze over the other delegation, as if daring them to object. "I believe it tends to involve flames and crucifixion." The worst part was, she didn't sound disapproving.

 

[Dante Verren]

Konrad Bar Kastellan
mentions: DistractionAttack Yakov011001 ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

Despite the hostility of which Sephonia showed him, Konrad couldn't help but laugh out loud at her own answer. There was many thing that Konrad wanted to say about resolve. What counted as resolve, if a man died did that mean that their resolve was not strength, does failure count against you? It was a noble answer of course but a surprisingly childish one, one that Konrad wouldn't have expected from someone who gave of as a fierce demeanor as Sephonia. As for his own he could not deny it was a more Sanghaloan response to her question, it had been drilled in to him for over 30 years. He had an easy and well rehearsed response, I'm from one of the many disputed regions so I can not deny that some of my mannerisms may lean toward one of or towards a bit both cultures. It was the the answer he had used since defecting and it hadn't failed him yet. Before he could reply and continue the engaging conversation he watched Sephonia fall forward slightly. As much as he wanted to chuckle again he knew it would be rude and held back.

After the carriage slid to it's halt Konrad grabbed his axe and followed Sephonia outside. Positing himself behind the prince and his more talkative companion. While his companions began the greetings he place the head of the axe on the ground and put his hands atop each other on the pommel of the axe. It was a guarded stance that let him whip his weapon up to the ready position at a moment notice, but did not outright convey aggression. He moved his gaze to the walls of the city, and then to the town guard, and finally to the Dittanian welcome party. He ran the simulations through his head of which one would be the most dangerous, the mysterious swordsman or the lighter geared one. Most likely the lighter geared woman was some sort of back line that would either support or enhance the swordsman, if their was to be a battle he would need to cleave her in half first. While his mind flashed through battle scenario after battle scenario he gave each of them a friendly nod and smile.​

 

[Yakov011001]

Flinching a small bit from how fast he was set upon by this Aechon character, Ichor thanked the Dragons for his mask. Like that she wouldn't be able to see him throw up his eyebrows at her introduction.

“I am Sephonia Grum: retainer of Jussane, birthplace of The Aechon Archipelago. Apologizes if I look frightening or make a face it’s a habit.”

"So you have some self-awareness, do ya?" Ichor smirked smugly behind the mask, crossing his arms as he let Odette take over the conversation. Scoffing a bit at her remark on his introduction. "Injustice? I just knew you'd do a much better job of introducing yourself than I could."

His brows furrowed at Sephonia's eagerness, the speed at which she pushed the envelope on such a strange question about something that could be considered inconsequential. Still, those are state secrets that are so openly being asked about, and without intervention from the others. They've got a loose leash on this one, it'd be smart of them to tighten it. Thankfully Odette gave exactly the answer she should in this situation, and it gave him cause for a small bit of relief. That was until Grum rotated around to him again with a fervor.

“Pretender, tell me: do you know this weapon? Your katana tells me you do, but you’re a Ditanian so you confuse me… half-blood perhaps?”

Ichor's eye twitched a small bit at that. What the fuck did this bitch just call me? She revealed to them her kanabo, towards the top of its handle were carved the words 雷撃: "Lightning". What the hell was she getting at with this? Yeah, what if he did know, what does that change? If she's confused, she'll stay confused.

"You answered the question yourself, didn't you? My blade told you," Ichor's words bled with that same chill hers did. "But surely it's also told you something else," He closed the distance between them, slowly, uncomfortably. Less than a foot between them, he looked up at her. Towering over him as she did, he challenged her still with his arms crossed. "You'd best not test that tone with me, lass. You will call me Ichor, understood?"

DistractionAttack ThatGuyWithSouvlaki

 

[SkyGinge]

Jorrah Maidenshead

​

Settling into his place alongside his liege, Jorrah nodded respectfully to the two delegates who had already arrived, whose introductions he had only caught the end of. From her dark skin and smart garb, he recognised the young woman as Princess Valdis Gazam, youngest daughter of the Nortalisse royal family. Even without her visual distinctiveness, he would have recognised her anyway - the Nortalisse correspondence had indicated that Auxis (or perhaps the Archbishop; Jorrah knew little of foreign affairs aside from the cynicism passed down by Claudio's senior advisors) intended on sending one of his progeny to the bargaining table, as if to make a statement of intent. The young, silver-haired man was unknown to him, his eyes searching and intelligent, his military outfit as equally opulent as his companions. So the rumours of the church's wealth haven't been overstated, Jorrah mused.

He'd barely had the chance to examine the two arrivals before his attention was drawn by a certain flambouyant bishop, who was arriving mid-proselytization, his voice echoing across the courtyard. Instinctually, Jorrah's spine straightened up slightly, a motion which only someone as acquainted with his mannerisms as Rosaline would understand. The bishop seamlessly turned his attention to them as his speech concluded with a gregarious offer of 'the brotherhood of a thousand years'. A brotherhood which will no doubt play heavily into Nortalisse hands, Jorrah mused cynically, veiling his disgust behind his usual serene gaze. The man's voice made his skin crawl, full of dangerous and imaginative grandeur. His presence - in fact the presence of Nortalisse clerics full stop - threatened to disrupt his steely visage with his own conflicting, angry religious thoughts. The Bishop of Chatillon, so he says. More like the bishop of charlatan. He dutifully held his tongue as the bishop met Rosaline's welcome with faux-humility and an attempt to undermine their personal presence as welcomers. Pay the fool no heed, milady, Jorrah thought, as if transmitting his emotions psychically to his ward, Our presence here is not the mistake he would have you believe.

Soon after, the Sanghalans arrived in great number, fronted by another royal, Princess Millicent Fortagon. A Fortagon, hmm? In stature and appearance she certainly felt like the descendent of the warrior hero himself, her griffon mount towering above the other steeds as if to enhance her power further. She was a far cry from the princess of the story books he read to Mahlah - hardy, rugged and strong, dressed in practical soldier's attire with little excess wealth to flaunt. After all, her power was statement enough. The warmth and propriety of her greetings weren't matched by her cold expression. Jorrah's lips curled into the minutest of smiles, appreciating her composure and her straightforward practicality. Warriors and soldiers he understood - strange bishops, less so. Still, it is only a fool who swears by first impressions. No doubt her tyrannical father has sent her here with some sort of secret agenda, which we shall have to be wise to.

With both lead envoys now present, Rosaline addressed them directly.

"Bishop De'Rovere, Princess Millicent. I would like you two to swear that you will not disturb Etalus or its citizenry. As the representative of their lord, I will not hesitate to expunge you from Etalus's premises if, at this moment, a conflict occurs between my people and yours. Likewise, I will uphold judgment against my people if they have wronged you in turn. That I swear upon my father's name and as heiress to House Etalus."

A bold first move, milady, Jorrah mused. The content of her request was innocuous and straightforward enough: surely any foreign envoy arriving under the pretence of peace would have no qualms in agreeing to the very peaceable support they had so hurried to pledge in the first place. The subtext, however, was rich in power play, an attempt to stamp her authority as Etalus' leader from the very beginning. It made certain these foreigners would know that she is in charge, and that all bargains will be made on her terms. Reinforcing a call for peace at all would make clear that they were under no illusions that she was some naive young girl who would fall for whatever ploys or schemes they no doubt had in mind. The public nature of the proposal would serve to pressure even a proud delegation into subordination for fear of being undermined by their direct competitor, and in the face of the villagers watching on. After all, to refuse this vow would provide ample opportunity for another delegation to descend like a keen-eyed vulture, unopposed and able to secure whatever demands they so choose without opposition. Jorrah felt his heart swell with an almost fatherly pride. The nights of sneaking Rosaline out of the castle to train with his knights, the days watching with stifled laughter as she learnt to tame uncooperative pegasi, both felt like only yesterday. Now, before his very eyes, his little Rosaline was turning into a woman, playing proud Sanghalans and devious Nortalisse against each other in a gamble to consolidate her own fledgling power.

Except, of course, these veterans of courtly negotiations were well trained to see through her intent. No matter how Rosaline span things, the truth remained that they were in the position of weakness. They were the ones who needed aid - they were the ones who were dependant on at least one bargain to ensure the region's stability and survival. They had recognised her inexperience, and they were now weaponizing it against her.

One by one, the lead envoys began voicing their discontent - as they did so, Jorrah watched on silently and serenely, barely a flicker of emotion registering on his distinctive features. Internally, his mind was stewing with cynical frustration that these proud foreigners who knew nothing of propriety and customs spoke with such blatant disregard for public decorum. The young cleric was first to speak, branding the Dukelette's proposal as 'accusations'. A loaded term from a man more aptly dressed for the barracks than for the pulpit. Your loose lips have betrayed your guilt more than you might deign to notice. The snivelling bishop was next, gushing praise on his subordinate and accusing the young heir of faithlessness. Forgive us, o divine emissary, that we do not trust a man with a serpent's tongue. Princess Valdis, in spite of her allies, provided some stability by honouring the vow - for that, Jorrah narrowed his eyes in a miniscule expression of thankfulness. This stability was short-lived however, as the second Fortagon princess cut in, her words sharp and without filter, mocking both their depleted army and the Nortalisse delegation. Such a nasty, wild tongue, he scowled internally. No wonder King Damaron hadn't nominated this particular wench as his lead envoy, given her complete lack of decorum and her scandalous admission which would have been tantamount to an outright declaration of war if she was speaking with proper station. Yet, amusingly, lacking the station of lead envoy, this esteemed princess's venomous words held the same weight as his, a commoner. Besides, even if the Dukes had abandoned them for now, they would certainly not sit by idly should Sanghalo overstep their ambitions. Still, such sharpness was dangerous when paired with such a strong, battled-hardened frame, a giant of a woman who even put the seasoned captain slightly on edge. That the king had elected to send two daughters to Etalus was a troubling puzzle indeed.

Rosaline had given him permission to speak on her behalf - a move he appreciated and yet felt conflicted by. It was not a knight's place to undermine or overrule his mistress, no matter the circumstance. Still, what was intended as a simple opening agreement was beginning to spiral wildly out of hand, and his protective instinct soon overtook his concerns about proper order.

"Your Highnesses, esteemed clergymen, please forgive the offense caused by our cautiousness," Jorrah began, his voice calm and clear, "Truly, milady's intent was not to undermine your motives. Our caution is born out of the dark days our land is facing - as her highness has so astutely recognised we are indebted to your generous support for the sake of our very survival. Our people are short on hope and rich in troubles - the arrival of even benevolent foreign saviours like yourselves is likely to cause unrest if not handled with proper decorum. That is all milady is asking of you. She asks nothing of you that you have not already pledged. She vows to protect you from unrest, should there be unrest. In exchange, trusting as we do the earnestness of your intentions, milady trusts it will therefore prove no compromise for you to recommit to the promises of mutual cooperation and the aim of a peaceable, mutually beneficial solution outlined in your letters of introduction. Your cooperation in reaffirming the trust we already share solemnly, in the presence of the people and under the watchful gaze of the Divine Dragon - whose holy eyes see even the depths of our hearts - would be valued not just as a matter of formality, but as a source of comfort for the commonfolk."

I fear I have spoken too much, he mused internally. Yet, as ever, he had left far more unsaid. How he wished to tear into these proud, boastful mules, who presumed to defy any semblance of cooperation from the outset, and who dared put Rosaline through a baptism of fire on her first day as leader. Nevertheless, he had long learnt the art of holding his tongue. That he got to say anything at all to such esteemed visitors thanks to Rosaline's discretion was privilege enough.

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