Hello everyone! Just a short announcement/author's note today. I've started working six days a week, ten hours a day, and as you can imagine that makes writing a bit difficult - my time is very limited. I need the work to continue living (I'd like to do that, I enjoy living very much), but I hate to have it affect my writing so much. Therefore, there will definitely be longer update times between each chapter until the end of the summer, and I apologize for that. I figured I owed everyone a heads-up, though, and I hope it's a forgivable issue. If I happen to be laid off, well, expect to see an uptick in how many chapters I publish per week - although being laid off comes with a host of other problems.

Anyway, please enjoy, and I'll try to work as much as I can on the next one!

Simeon was treated rather gently for whom he was. Technically the enemy, and a deserter at that, he was provided with an impressive amount of hospitality by the guards who escorted him down to the Third Level of the city. He had to wait briefly, arrested in the company of the guardsmen, but he was quickly taken through a side tunnel into the warren of hallways leading to the lord of the city.

Leon Walker was a pleasant man to be with, and quite well dressed too. Modest but proper, he evinced an aura of command and wisdom unmatched by most men, and Simeon was almost calmed by his presence. He did not smile but he shook hands when walking into the room, bid the guardsmen leave, and closed the door behind them.

"You've come a long way," Leon commented.

"I am no longer a Thell," stated Simeon.

"Your last name tells me differently." Leon looked at the paperwork reports the gate captain had given him. "Do you come to surrender, or to seek something else?"

"I am a traitor to my city," Simeon said. Why lie about it? He had nothing to gain from his connections back to Thellden.

"Interesting," Leon mused. "I remember you. I remember dealings with you. You were honest and fair, and more savory than the rest of your family."
"That's not difficult to do," said Simeon flatly.

"Hah, well, that much is true," Leon said, dryly witty once more. "Why do you come here, though? Do be honest."

Simeon decided that was his best course. So he told his entire story, including the most important details and leaving out some fluff, and described the injustices delivered unto him while Leon listened. When he was finished, he sat back and let Leon speak again.

"You have been unfairly treated, that is clear enough," Leon acquiesced.

"I didn't come for pity, though," clarified Simeon. "I came to pick my side. Thellden has nothing for me anymore. Nor does Reinhardt."

"I see," said Leon.

"I have nowhere else to go, and I have no home. I wish to stand by the Alliance, for what it represents," Simeon declared.

"I understand that. But you realize that you're asking me quite a bit?"

"I do."

Leon waited a moment, to see if he would say something else. Simeon kept his mouth clamped shut.

"I do not trust you entirely...but I know you are not a liar. I am torn," Leon mused.

"What do I have to gain by lying?" Simeon asked honestly.

"A new home," Leon said, watching Simeon warily. "That is one thing, among others."

"I would rather receive it by honesty than dishonesty," said Simeon.

"If not for our past dealings I would not believe that," Leon said. "But you seem a different breed of Thell. You may be of use."

"I will do what I can-"

"I am leaving soon," Leon interjected, forcibly hushing Simeon, "but I will put you into the trust of Lord Erik Tanser. Hopefully he will not be seeking vengeance for the slaughter, and hopefully he will be willing to integrate you into our city. I, for one, believe that with a little proper assaying you will fit in well enough. If all goes well, you will be welcome here."

"Put in a good word for him, when you talk to him," Simeon pleaded.
"I will ensure you stay safe," Leon promised. "You may very well be of use."

"I will do what I can," Simeon promised back.

"I trust you. Well enough...you will remain under guard arrest for a week so that you may be properly cross-examined and interrogated. Is that fine?" Leon rose from the table. The guards were coming back in again, and Simeon sensed the question was very much rhetorical. He did not reply, and departed Lord Walker's presence without another word.

This was already better than Thellden, he thought. He had a gut feeling that he would live through this.

VVVVV

The ash was falling thick again after a month's reprieve. The farther east the Xonos went, the more commonly it fell and the more it accumulated. Here it was only about two inches thick, insubstantial compared to the foot or so around Crestan, but enough to slow his army down a little. As large as it was, they moved slow enough already.

The decision seemed sound and logical back when they made it. After the engagement with Reinhardt forces, the Xonos had met with his team of officers to decide their best course south towards the rendezvous point. They all had desired to avoid conflict with Thellden and Reinhardt, and even the weaker Alliance, and had opted to swing east around the major cities instead of go directly south. It would take more time, but they all agreed it would be worth preventing material losses and irreplaceable casualties.

Now, trudging through ash, he was regretting the decision, just a little. He almost missed the green grass of the western Rush and Southrun.

They were a hundred miles from Thellden, but far from any Thell stronghold. The closest castle, New Charleston, was thirty miles away and did not send scouts out this far, and the massive phalanx had gone unnoticed while trekking through the edge of Alliance territory. They had come across a few villages, but they were either empty or the villagers fled on sight of the mighty army. Those that didn't had plenty of regrets about not doing so, certainly.

He finally made his way to his tent and parted the guardsmen to enter, desirous to take care of his business. He had letters to write, missives to send, if only to allow his gambit to proceed. A few officers were taking care of quartermaster paperwork within his tent, but he was allowed to head to his desk unmolested by them. They all had their orders, and would not trouble him.

Sitting down to pen and paper, the Xonos began to think about what would work best. He needed the right words to spur his opponents - both of them - into the actions he wanted. He wanted to write to Thellden first; whoever his Thell benefactor was, they could be more important than the loyal Kleisardathans on the shore. He decided to take care of them first.

The letter to Thellden was simple; he expressed himself very articulately and ensured that he enshrined his mysterious benefactor as the superior man, using fluid diction to "suck up", in a sense. It felt almost vile to write such a thing, given his own inflated ego, but he managed to close up the letter and hand it to one of his officers, who would take it to the messenger. Meet him at Redtimber Watch, it had said; a simple proposition that could not be ignored. It was likely whoever was reading the letter would not see the gambit behind the words.

With the other Xonos, he had to be much more careful. This unknown Thellden benefactor may be slow or lacking in wit; the Xonos, however, was definitely a crafty and unpredictable opponent. Every Xonos was, and the ones who were lacking became weak and succumbed quite quickly. The Archon, whomever he was, would have certainly picked him for his brutality, his cunning, and his quick thinking. He would be dangerous, and Mallistron pondered the best way to goad him towards Redtimber Watch. He had to think for a bit, and began the message as officially as possible.

Dear Respectable Xonos,

Having received your previous missive and having dispatched one to you, I intend to accept your offer and will acquiesce myself and my command to your person as soon as possible. Regrettably, respectable Xonos, I am not near enough yet and wish to arrange a location to turn myself and my command over to your hand. I will be moving south to Redtimber Watch, thirty miles from your location and in a neutral zone, in order to bring this rendezvous about. I respectfully request that you meet me there, and I will willingly surrender myself.

Warmest regards,

He couldn't bring himself to write his name. He simply put "Mallistron", thinking that ought to serve. His stationary and handwriting would be familiar, anyway, as would the language. WIth luck, the current Xonos would accept this proposition. If not, Mallistron might have to rethink his plans.

He dispatched the letter to the necessary messenger and hoped it would be able to get out. With luck, it would be convincing enough, and his plan would fall into motion with ease.

VVVVV

Weak sunlight filtered in through the collapsed ceiling as the sun briefly shone down on the ruins of Milltown. The reprieve from the gloom lasted only a few minutes though, and as Lord Kleiner trudged through the grim skeleton of the council chambers the illumination faded, leaving the ashy entry hall devoid of life. Kleiner's skeleton crew didn't even bother to light the torches anymore; if anyone needed to see in the dark corridors of the collapsing building, they would carry a candle with them. He did not deign to carry a candle with him this time, though; he could find his way to his office in the dark just fine, being quite familiar with the passageway.

He struggled through a surprisingly thick pile of ash to open his office door, and found that part of the ceiling had caved in during his recent inspection of the city. The damage was slight, just some of the wooden beams rotting off, but it left his office looking even more untidy than before. He stepped over some of the moldy wood disgustedly, and sat at his desk to mull over the necessary business of the day.

He had to wait for Shen and Cobb, and what better way to spend his waiting time then considering the plethora of problems assaulting him every day? Simply glancing out his window overlooking the river he could see a few sentry camps set up on the eastern side, watching the dying city with gruesome interest. The undead did not dare attack Milltown outright, but resorted to ambushing scouting parties and skirmishing with Kleiner's forces, at least for now. With time, they would try again.

He finally had a map on his wall, although it was crudely drawn and recently made in order to assist strategic planning. What little "planning" Kleiner was able to do he conducted in his pitiful office, with his sergeants clustered around the table looking at the map querulously. It was pathetic compared to other armed forces, but what could Kleiner really do in his current state? Lacking in supplies, horrifically disorganized and suffering in morale, his army could only do so much to fight the enemy. They wouldn't last much longer, and they needed new options. And that's why he was calling Shen and Cobb.

Both of them arrived quite punctually, filing in one after the other into his office. Both of them noticed the damaged ceiling, but mentioned nothing of it out of a sense of professionalism. They were all quite used to decay and destruction on a much larger scale, so perhaps that was why it went undiscussed.

"Inspection of the city went well," Kleiner began as they sat down. "Little has changed."

"My lord, some buildings are beginning to fall apart. The lack of maintenance is killing us," Cobb the engineer warned.

"And so are the skeletons," Shen rebuffed him. "Let's worry about old buildings later, and worry about the enemy now. That is what we're discussing, correct?"

"Sort...of," said Kleiner. "I need…I need eyes. Scouts, scouting parties, to get me information on the surroundings west of the river. I know too little, and I need to be better informed."

"Aye, I would agree," Shen said. "But we have a lot of other problems too."

"I will take care of as much as I can. I want this scouting done, though. And I want to get repairs going on the north barracks wing, if possible," Kleiner ordered. Damaged during the siege, the north wing needed repairs so the barracks smiths could work again. No smiths meant no weapons, and no weapons meant trouble.

"I think that can be done-"

"But you, Cobb, I want you on one of the search parties," Kleiner interrupted before Cobb could leap upon the job.

"M-me, m'lord?" Cobb stuttered, glancing at Shen as if confused. "Were you asking me?"

"That's why I called you here," said Kleiner.

"I am no warrior," Cobb declared anxiously.

"I trust you, and you're a dedicated follower. It should not be difficult, but you will travel far. I think the city can survive without you for a week or two," Kleiner argued, casually breaking Cobb's argument. The engineer could not defy an order, of course, so he submitted.

"As you wish, m'lord," he said, bowing his head.

"And for me, sir?" asked Shen.

"Well, you will be scouting too," said Kleiner, turning to the wizened sergeant. "I give you twenty men each. That's a fair allotment, and a lot of soldiers for our skeleton force."

"Where will you have us go, though?"

"I want you to take to Crestan," he ordered Cobb. "And you, Shen, to New Connaught. The capital may be far more dangerous due to the volcano, so do not be putting your men at any unnecessary risk."

"I will take caution, my lord," Shen promised. Kleiner had no doubt he would, but it would not be an easy task; the lava flows had likely swamped the city and left little but rooftops to be scoured. There would be little to find in that wasteland.

"What will we be looking for?" Cobb inquired.

"Anything. I want everything to be reported back to me, any observations of interest or any objects you recover. We are like archaeologists, scouring ruins," Kleiner mused.

"And what if we find people, m'lord?" Cobb asked hesitantly. "Should we...ah…"

Kleiner didn't know a good answer for that question. Truth was, there would be little chance of finding anybody outside of Milltown, not even the enemy. The western shore was simply deserted now, as all of the refugees had starved, departed or become rabid.

"Treat them at your discretion. I cannot make a general decision for that," he finally admitted, grimacing. They all knew it was an insufficient answer.

"Begging your pardon, m'lord, but I didn't expect to find anybody…"

"Nor would I," he agreed. "You will likely find only ash and ruin. That is our province now, it would seem. But we need to be familiar with this new world, nevertheless."

"We will do as commanded," Shen said, ending the subject to Kleiner's relief. He wanted to hear no more about death and destruction. He was surrounded by it, unable to escape.

"Dismissed, soldiers. Rest up and pick your men. I give you freedom to do so."

The sergeants saluted and bowed, as per custom, and departed. They would leave at their own discretion, too, but he knew they would not dally on such a matter. Something this important would have them out the northern gate by sunrise, likely; Shen, especially, would be gone quick and back in good time.

It was, indeed, unlikely anything of value would be found in either city. They were definitely deserted, and even though the undead army had managed to attack Crestan before, when he controlled the city, they had been forced back to the other side of the river, and the bridges had since been destroyed. The only bridge remaining, apparently, was his - the one strewn with rusting armor and bleached bones after the great battle.

As he left the office for the night he reflected on the late Rolfs and the late Kastner and the late Brennan, Caullon and Tanner and Kenly, Thompson and Partridge and Lanos, all long passed. How did he, James Kleiner, survive when the others had died one after the other, in such brutal succession? In the span of ten years all of those houses had been brought to destruction and hardship, most of them in the past year. How had Kleiner, his estates ruined and his treasuries devastated, manage to pull through when they didn't?

He didn't have an answer, but he continued to question it. Maybe soon he would be able to find that answer; for now, he decided to continue to survive. He looked out the window and, in the dying light of day, saw even more campfires than before. The enemy was beginning to gather again, ever so slowly, and he knew they were waiting for the city to die.

They were able to bide their time; he could not. He had to act soon.

VVVVV

North Driftmist lived up to its name the day Aeric's party prepared to leave. The streets were shrouded in fog and the oil lamps hanging from their poles did little to disperse the thick mist. The air outside, crisp and chilly, made heavy clothing a necessity, as Aeric discovered when he stumbled into the cool dawn and was left shivering after a minute.

Most of the party was slow to wake but those who had gotten up were sharing a pithy breakfast and donning chainmail and heavy leather clothing, both for warmth and protection. Aeric had heard a few stories of the roaming nomads and war parties between Dwerhold and North Driftmist, no longer wondering why the party members were gearing up so heavily.

Aeric helped himself to some crusty bread and cold butter while waiting for everyone else to wake. He had an outfit of armor and warm clothing for himself, provided graciously by Anoth, but had no idea how to put it on and let it sit at the seat beside him, untouched.

The aforementioned great bear of a man was already slugging down ale at the counter, but he was making little trouble and remained quiet as the inn came to life sluggishly and more gruff, brutish men struggled down the stairs for breakfast. Aeric stayed out of their way as they chatted and barked orders at the stablehands; he was waiting for Will, who was hopefully washing up by now.

Will emerged a little later, his hair mussed and face red but otherwise looking enthusiastic and cheerful, abnormally so. He carried his own armor and clothing with him, likely provided by Anoth as well.

"Cheery this morning, aren't we?" Aeric mused as Will strode over to his table.

"I'm actually a little excited," he admitted. "Isn't that surprising?"

"I'm just glad that you are, that's all," said Aeric. "Food?" He offered the loaf of bread to Will, who only grabbed a small slice with no butter.

"I'll have a little," Will explained. "I don't want too much, spoil my appetite for lunch."
"Ibin's buying more on our way out, so we can keep plenty for the road. I think he said we'll be leaving in about an hour," Aeric informed him.

"Mmkay," Will murmured, stuffing his face with bread. He smiled awkwardly at Aeric, his face flushing as he tried to keep the food in his mouth.

"Hungrier than you thought, eh?"

"Eh," Will returned, mumbling incoherently. "I just wanted a bite, that's all."

"That was more than a bite," joked Aeric.

Will swallowed. "Are you ready?"

"To go?"

"Yeah...you think you're ready?" he reiterated.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess...and you?" asked Aeric.

"I think this could be fun," Will admitted, smiling. "Or at least, y'know, adventurous. You were right."

"As I always am," Aeric joked.
"Oh, don't push your luck," Will shot back, smirking. He bowed his head a little after that. "I'm sorry about all that before... I don't know why it happened, it just-"

"We can forget about it," Aeric cut him off. "Don't apologize, there's no need."

"Okay," Will said surprisingly sheepishly, his head still hanging. "I...yeah. I was a dick."

"You were a little. But you're with us now," Aeric said. Will smiled back cheerfully, his brisk attitude pervading his grin.

They sat together and watched as the inn came to life. Anoth, fully dressed in mail and helm, was by far the most imposing figure in the room, and already preparing to leave. Even Rikken and Ibin were quiet before him, dressing in their armor without a word. As breakfast finished the inn room became quiet, and both boys returned to their quarters to dress and prepare themselves.

They didn't really have armor, besides leather, but it was enough to both protect them and keep them warm. Anoth had provided it, completely for free, on the provision that they stood by their promise and stayed with the company.

"Enjoy the warm water." Aeric motioned towards the wash basin. "We won't have it for long."

"I'm gonna miss it," Will mused, washing his face with a warm cloth.

"Dress warm, too…"

"How long do you think we'll need to get to Dwerhold?" Will asked, pulling a leather cuirass over his shirt.

"About a week and a half, I think Rikken said. I honestly don't remember," said Aeric. "Just be prepared."

"I am ready," Will reiterated, his attitude a complete 180 from a few days ago. Something in his mind must've clicked. Perhaps the argument had finally become sufficient.

"Are you sure?" Aeric asked teasingly, strapping his own cuirass.

"You did a fine job of being convincing," Will admitted, wrapping his arms around his partner's waist. "If it had been anybody else, well…"

"Don't flatter me like that," Aeric sighed, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. Will laughed and leaned in for a hug.

"Aeric, you've got a way with me. Just be nice about it," he asked softly. "No taking advantage of it."

"I promise," Aeric said. He hugged his partner even tighter, just to be safe. A little love could be his shield on the long road ahead.

What little belongings they had were packed and prepared, and they left their room bare and relatively clean. Slinging packs over their shoulders, they returned to the common room and followed some of the men into the stables, where horses were being prepared.

"We ride two abreast, in a line," Anoth barked, already mounting his warhorse. "Stay organized as best as possible."

One of the stableboys handed both Aeric and Will a horse, and they mounted the beast and fell into line, silent in the face of the leader's commands.

Anoth, having taken command from Rikken, led the column out of the stables, two by two. Mailed men dressed in furs and leather, astride on powerful destriers, made for quite a scene. Will and Aeric, with their smaller stature and less imposing figure, were almost invisible within the mass of adventurers trooping solemnly out of the stables, moving down the city streets. The few pedestrians who were about at the hour stayed to the sidewalk and either averted their eyes or stared warily at the passing party. Aeric could see plenty of haggard figures and weary facades amongst the populace, indicating the city was still definitely recovering.

They passed through the center of the city and hit the main boulevard, heading north. Many of the market stalls they passed were only now opening, stocked with a pitiful assortment of mediocre wares expressing anything but prosperity. The scene was grim, even though Ibin had been optimistic about the city's future upon arrival; perhaps he ought to check his optimism, Aeric thought. He was glad to leave the city behind.

The mist was clearing as the morning sun flooded the plains and glimmered off the distant, snow-capped peaks of the Rokyal Range. Farther south the grim ash cloud loomed, shrinking but still malevolent, but this far northwest it had no influence. The sun caressed the grassland and Aeric felt warm within his leather armor despite the chill breeze rushing down from the slopes.

They moved north towards the birch forests, cool meadows and rocky cliffs of Surrey. That day they passed out of Connaughtsshire and into no man's land.

VVVVV

"We take the Great River up, past the Capion Hills, through Redwoods, and we can gather supplies at Old Marken," Herobrine thought aloud, studying the continental map. "We'll need a better ship, too."

"Going upriver?" Leon fretted. "That's…"

"Not easy, but would you rather go downriver?" asked Hero.

"I'd prefer to live, thanks," said Leon. Downriver would take them straight through Thellden; it would be imminent death, no matter what they did. The city controlled the river in Connaughtsshire, and that left them with only one option if they wanted to leave within a week.

"As would I," Herobrine agreed, tracing the meandering river with a thick finger. "We'll have to row upriver, but it'll be good for your lats, eh?"

"Wow, you're incredibly optimistic," Leon smirked. "I'm still worried about Capion."

"Too far from shore to be a problem," Hero dismissed him. "The fishing villages won't be a bother, even though Reinhardt men are likely stationed there."

"And what about Old Marken? What makes you think they'll help us?"

"They're neutral, we've got money, they want to keep their trade flowing. Why would they deny us?" Herobrine posited. There was no reason, but Leon remained skeptical. They had been planning this for weeks and weeks, and just leaving Connaughtsshire was trouble enough. How were they going to cross the world if they couldn't even sail out of the province?

"Hmmm, you're running far on circumstance here. Wing and a prayer, eh?" Leon asked.

"We're not even to the hard part yet," Herobrine reminded him, his tone grimly inflected. "What lies further ahead is worse. I have found another location."

"Do tell," he said, making a move to mark it on the map.

"A place called Norzinudh," said Herobrine. "You would have never heard of it, and the name only barely registers for me."

"Where?"

"Southern tip of the Cay, before the Great Divide, and up at the foot of the mountains. An ancient city, long abandoned to its haunted demise," he said.

"Oh, well, that sounds just lovely," Leon snorted. He marked a little X towards the southwestern edge of the map. "Where did you hear this?"

"The library is an invaluable tool, if you know how to use it," said Hero.

"The damn Archlibrarian never tells me anything," Leon swore. "Well, anywhere else?"

"Not yet. Once we get to B'aileth, I can look into their archives. They will have texts far more ancient," Herobrine assured him.

"What about Carl Manneh?" Leon inquired, now removing the map from the wall and rolling it up for travel.

"It's doubtful he'll know anything," Hero said glumly. "Markus would have, but-"

"Yes, yes, I know, dead," Leon scoffed, stowing the map in one of the many packs lying on the floor. "Lots of people are dead, he's just another number in the body count over here."

For a moment Hero was at a loss for words. Leon looked up from his travail and for the first time in recent memory he saw a palpable sadness in the normally stoic immortal's eyes. Fear and pain were foreign feelings for Hero; when they happened, it was clear something had shaken him.

"That was insensitive," Hero said , his voice stony.

"I'm sorry," said Leon, feeling rather awkward now. "I'm quite...anxious. I didn't mean to be like that."

"Anxious about?"

"All of this," Leon said.

"I would be too if I were you. This will be no laughing matter. Plenty more will die before we reach our final skull, I can assure you," said Hero, relaxing now. The moment had passed, but Leon knew those words would stay with Hero for a while. He had been stung, clearly.

"I was hoping you'd be a little more comforting than that," said Leon.

"I'm afraid that's the best I can do. We have to come to terms with the issue at hand," Hero warned.

They were interrupted by a knock at the conference room's door. The guards outside must've accosted a visitor. It was possibly something related to Simeon Thell, given that he was being gently interrogated at the moment, but Leon had the gut feeling it was something else. The knock was unusually urgent.

"Message?" asked Leon when one of the guards handed him not a scroll, but a printed letter.

"Messenger already left. He had this for you, though," the guard said. Leon could already see the name at the top right-hand corner, that old familiar nomenclature.

"Liam fucking Caldwell, finally punctual," Leon swore, poring over the letter with elation.

"Dr. Caldwell?"

"The very same." Leon folded up the letter once finished. "His first set of supplies and personnel will be arriving tomorrow, just on time."

"What's he bringing?" Hero asked.

"Whatever we might need," said Leon with a devilish smile. "I hear he has a few helicopters in his possession."

"Do you think he will get along with Erik?"

"Lord Tanser will have to make do if he doesn't like Liam," said Leon. "We need his support. He's got a lot that we don't have, to put it lightly."

"Make sure he knows who he's dealing with," Herobrine said. "Dr. Caldwell lives by a set of standards that might be quite alien to Lord Tanser."

"I'll brief him good and proper," Leon promised. "It's his problem now. I'll leave a note for Liam, that's the best I can do."

"So you're all ready, then?" Herobrine asked. He was already packed, and needed little. Leon had been busy preparing their three ships and all of the goods and personnel, while Herobrine had packed only for himself.

"Old Marken, here I come," Leon joked, chuckling awkwardly. Herobrine was not amused, and rather quickly vanished out of the room, teleporting to wherever he had decided to go. Clearly he was rather affronted by what Leon had said earlier, and had decided to take a breather. Leon didn't blame him; even immortals had their bad days.

He could confirm, looking at the map stowed in one of the travel containers. They were about to go a long way.

VVVVV

Shandra let Keldon run through his business, unwilling to interrupt him. If the assembly had been held yesterday, she would have been fretful and anxious, and would likely have tried to seize the soapbox from him. But today she found herself relaxed and aloof, listening to him run his mouth wildly in front of the entire assembly of nobility and elites. Why should she care? Let him undermine his own position, it would happen eventually.

Keldon had fallen in love with his power. Arms raised, voice booming, he spoke to the entire audience, who pretended to be enraptured. Where Arstas had once stood, Keldon had now taken his place, and was somehow doing an even poorer job. Shandra had control of the situation, though, and that's why she let him play his hand.

The three rogue guardsmen had been sentenced to death by his hand; they were led away as some of the elites in the assembly applauded his decision. Keldon, decked in ornate iron armor and wearing a flowing lavender cape, looked either ridiculous or majestic, depending on your opinion of him. Shandra watched as he stalked back and forth on the dais, waiting for the prisoners to be dragged away, before continuing.

"It is my duty to dispense justice within this city," he began anew, speaking to all. "Those who oppose me, and those who oppose my house and the law, will suffer thusly."

He was making an example of the prisoners, Shandra knew. Arstas would've done the same thing, and she realized Keldon most certainly took from his father. He had learned at least a few things from his bloodthirsty, gluttonous sire.

"All hail the wise words of the High Lord," one of the men on the dais cried, and the assembly replied. Strategic submission, Shandra knew, and she smiled despite herself. Keldon looked rather pleased at the reception he had been given.

"But I cannot do it alone," he continued, speaking to all in turn. "I have my wings, my fists, my eyes who watch the city for me. My knights, vizier, councillors, and lords." He swung his arm back to them and the assembly applauded for them. Even the aged vizier, nearly senile now, looked rather invigorated by the reception he had been handed.

"They stand by my side, as they did for my father, and for that I am grateful," said Keldon, bowing his head and placing a fist upon his chest. The gesture was received well, and even Shandra felt a little touched by it. It seemed genuine, but she knew where his true intentions lay; he was trying to soften some sort of blow.

"This service will not go unnoticed," he declared. "I am announcing the erection of a great monument in the center of our city, where the names of these fine men will be enshrined into stone!" A burst of applause followed that announcement.

He continued. "None of them will be forgotten. None of the men of Thellden shall go unnamed...and we must remember them, lest we forget how much we contributed. Some of their time has come, of course...hence why we must enshrine them in our history forever." That was where the confusion began, and even Shandra took a moment to figure out what he was saying. Only when she saw him turn to the vizier did she realize what was going on.

"Old age renders us, unfortunately, incapable of usefulness. It is a sad fact of society. This does not mean that one vanishes from the public sphere, they simply become part of history, a name that will sound through the ages," he said, directing himself to the vizier in particular. The old man looked positively aghast when he realized where Keldon was going. He dared not protest, but his frail body twitched as two knights stepped up to him to escort him from his seat.

"Our vizier has serviced this city for a long time, but his retirement has come. Both of us agree on this fact," said Keldon. The vizier clearly did not agree but did not protest or argue even as his successor, a young and hale-looking youth, rose from the front row of the assembly and strode confidently up onto the dais, taking the seat.

"Jonathan Sardisson will be taking the seat of our revered old vizier, and will be living up to his legacy to his fullest ability," Keldon announced, and the new vizier was given a fair round of applause from the bemused but acceptive assembly. Keldon continued after that, naming six new men and replacing old members of the council. None of them went out fighting, meekly accepting the decision and allowing themselves to be escorted back into the keep while their younger replacements took their seats and made themselves comfortable. Shandra looked on with a mix of curiosity and horror as she saw her council, appointed by her own hand, collapse before her eyes. She knew calling him out would only bring the wrath of the assembly on her head; they trusted and loved Keldon for his charisma and confidence, and every day Shandra's influence and power over them shrank. Today was not an exception to that pattern.

After replacing most of the council members, Keldon made himself a mouthpiece again, taking to the soapbox to denounce his enemies and decry their barbarity. That was typical of him, and had been typical of Arstas too; propaganda to fool the masses, to accrue support and assistance from those who could not reach their own conclusions about the world. It would work remarkably well, too - the assembly hung upon every word Keldon said, and even some of the councilmen listened to him with awe. Shandra awaited her turn to speak, letting Keldon do as he pleased; she would have her chance eventually, and she was patient.

He took half an hour to deliver his grand address, but as he retreated to thunderous applause Shandra saw her opportunity and rose, forcing heads to turn as she took to the center of the dais. Keldon stood by, looking irritated but certainly not angry, and he kept his silence as she began to speak.

"Our High Lord, most gracious as he is, is correct when he says we are beset by enemies," Shandra spoke. "Yet there is no reason to fear. Even now, our army marches north and will most certainly return home with victory and glory." She was resting all of her hopes on that victory happening; if Lord North were defeated in combat, it would trash all of her plans.

"I am certain, too, that victory will be ours," Keldon said. "What are you getting at?" His tone stung of irritation and provocation, and Shandra knew she was stealing his limelight. She had to make this fast, before he grew angry.

"I believe that, with this victory written in the stars, we must celebrate it," Shandra expounded. "Is there any disagreement to that?"

"None at all," said Keldon, letting her continue.

"Premature, perhaps, but I have faith in our fighters," Shandra said. "We must ease war weariness in our city, and give the people a way to express their gratitude and joy. Thus, a festival will be in order."

"I must agree," said Keldon. "There is nothing that-"

"We must plan accordingly, of course," she interrupted him, trying to keep him as silent on the matter for as long as she could. "Do you believe we have the finances for this matter?" She turned to the new finance advisor for this. A plump, fragile-looking man, he hardly appeared to be suited for the job, given how much he was sweating now that Shandra was focused on him.

"I...yes, m'lady - and M'Lord - I do believe that we, ah, do," he stammered. Keldon dared not speak, nor compromise the judgment of his chosen advisor, lest he make himself appear weak. He looked aggravated that Shandra was doing the talking to his appointees and not he.

"Then there is nothing stopping us!" she declared heartily.

"I was going to say that," muttered Keldon, just loud enough for Shandra and the council to hear.

"The council would appear to rule in favor of such a measure. We would have to convene, but it is likely we would favor this," the new vizier, Sardisson, interjected.

"I will overrule that. I am in favor, and so are you," Keldon said, gritting his teeth. He was plainly unhappy about agreeing with his mother, but arguing with her would undermine his position. Nobody could be unhappy about a festival, especially in a time of war when a morale boost was necessary. As long as the treasury could pay for the endeavour, it would receive a green light.

"Then plans will be made, yes?" Shandra asked. Keldon nodded, his eyes steely. "I believe that I am done here. You may continue with your business." She casually, pleasantly, returned to her seat as Keldon set his jaw, displeased with the turn of events. Shandra was anything but displeased. Her plan had gotten off to a good start, and she had just scored a point against Keldon.