Chapter 8: Gathering Storm Clouds
Aethelbald's Family Palace in Stormfist, 337 Solar Year

In the Northwestern regions of Falena, in the mighty stone fortress of Stormfist, the once national capital, but still holder of the Sacred Games, the great house of Aethelbald's influence has guided this grand city ever since the royal family moved its seat of power to Sol-Falena.

However, in recent years, the noble family's power and influence has waned due to Commander Alen's advancing years and his constant attention being drawn to national affairs. Also, there was no clear competent male heir to the family's dynasty as most of the Aethelbald men died in the recent war with the Nagarea Theocracy. Other than the Commander of the Queen's Knights the only surviving male heir was Alen's nephew, Emerites, which concerned the aging leader greatly.

As Emerites, though physically sound, was not all there in the head. Often it was reported to Alen by members of his family that the young man would often take long trips into damp wet caves for days on end for no real particular reason. Other times it was reported that the eccentric noble could often be heard arguing with himself as he walked through the city streets.

These and many other strange quarks had prevented Alen from assigning him to any significant position in the military during the war. But now to Alen's dismay it seemed that his whole House of Aethelbald's future political power and legacy would rest on the shoulders of this clown, thought Alen as his ship arrived and docked at the port near his family estate.

It must be a cruel cosmic joke, or perhaps punishment from the Sun for failing to truly defeat Nagarea, he theorized. The idea that it should come to this for him and his house brought him grief. However, these thoughts were quickly pushed aside as his daughter and the next Queen, Cyrah, entered his cabin.

Smiling at each other, neither needed to speak a word as the 20-year-old woman came in and sat next to her father silently as she realized he was still in deep thoughts. That was one of the things about their relationship Alen truly had come to enjoy over the years. The two were able to communicate so much to each other without needing to say a single word.

If Olinda had inherited her mother's charms and beauty, then Cyrah had certainly inherited his sharp wit and cunning. There was no doubt that she was attractive, but it was her mind that drew most of the attention to those who really knew this woman. Whatever unknowns were installed for the Aethelbald's legacy after his death, he at least was comforted at knowing that the country would be in good hands with his daughter one day on the thrown. This thought brought him relief as he smiled at her.

Cyrah turned her gaze back to her father and asked, "What? What's so funny? What are you smiling about?" "Can't a father just look at and appreciate what a fine young woman his daughter has grown into?" he retorted. She was indeed attractive with her short silver hair and brown eyes. She was not as slender and trim as Olinda, but she was certainly endowed well enough in many areas to get any guy's attention. She had no problem using her charms to get what she wanted from any man. And in the new red and white dress she had acquired for this very occasion, she was certain to make a good impression on her future husband, Marcus Godwin.

"You really have grown into a fine young woman. Indeed, I am sure the kingdom will be in good hands when I…" "Now stop that kind of talk. You've got many more years of stories to write and read to mother, me, and Olinda." said the young princess having interrupted him mid-sentence. With that they heard the captain's whistle indicating they were about to arrive.

Alen spoke up, "I guess we'll have to finish this father-daughter time later. Let's go meet your betrothed, shall we?" With that the two got up and walked out with Cyrah scooping up her father's arm with her own as they exited the cabin.

As they approached the castle fortress that was left to his family's charge by Queen Khorshed Falenas more than a century ago, Alen could not help but to look over the high stonewalls to the other parts of Stormfist. Many new houses had been built since his last visit home nearly two years ago. Even with a destructive war, it never stopped impressing the old warrior poet at how resilient his people were and how they always manage to persevere even though they had been through so much.

Upon entering the castle's main chambers, a number of servants, a few relatives, even his unusual nephew, began approaching Alen and his daughter with glad tidings and congratulations at her upcoming nuptials.

However, one face that was missing from the small crowd, which had not gone unnoticed by the wise sage was that of Marcus Godwin the winner of the Sacred Games, his future son-in-law and next Commander of the Queen's Knights. Moreover, his whole reason for returning home. Alen glanced down at his daughter's distained face as she too had noticed the absence of her future husband.

It had been a lucky break for Godwin, many of the nobles, their sons, or their gladiator proxies had died during the war. So, the competition had not been as fierce nor as competitive as it had been in the past. Normally, men from all over the Queendom would compete in 1-on-1 competition for the hand in marriage of the next Queen in the great spectacle that was the Sacred Games. Alen sent his servant to fetch Lord Godwin.

Lord Aethelbald was still skeptical of this new Godwin family as that only recently had they risen from the ranks of class merchants into the upper echelons of nobility. However, prior to his death in the war, the father of Marcus had proven himself the Queen's loyal subject and a brilliant military genius and tactician. He won several important battles before Nagarean Acolytes had captured and executed him for not converting to their religious views.

Alen wondered how much of his father's keen military mind, Marcus had inherited. He had heard the rumors that in spite of Marcus's weak sword arm, his excellent magical prowess more than made up for any physical shortcomings. Moreover, he had only met Marcus for a short time after the games for the traditional victory ceremony and banquet. But this time together on the ride home would really give Alen the time he wanted to judge the man who would be, whether he liked it or not, his successor.

The servant made his way to the newly built mansion estate of Godwin. He was told by Godwin's attendant that his master could be found in the courtyard, but that he was not taking any guests at the moment as he was in the middle of practicing some very powerful runic magic. Insisting he, a servant of the Falenan royal family, be allowed to see Lord Godwin now. The lower servant capitulated to his more prestigious peer, commenting, "Very well, it's your funeral."

Despite the ominous words, the man pushed ahead and opened the doors leading to the courtyard that the attendant had gestured too. As he made his way down the hall to the outside courtyard, Aethelbald's servant suddenly felt the temperature in the air rise intensely. How could this be he wondered to himself? He had just been outside a few minutes ago and the temperature had been quite cool, but right here in the courtyard it was starting to feel like a hot summer's day.

As he rounded the end of the hall, there before him was a huge plant creature, it looked like a venus-fly trap with arms and legs. It was indeed a Giant Creeper, but the monster was in chains not that it needed to be as it was currently howling in pain unable to escape.

A raging sea of inferno began consuming the green beast. And as though the hellfire was not enough suddenly huge bolts of lightning began pouring out of the sky seemingly out of nowhere as the servant suddenly had his attention drawn away from the burning creature to the other side of the room thanks to a booming voice shouting out "Blaze Camp!" There was a silhouette of a man who appeared to be surrounded by fire himself, but he wasn't being consumed.

The servant watched in terror as the rays of lightening and fire subsided and only an ashy silhouette of the Creeper now remained. "Who are you? I told them I was not to be bothered during my rune experiments." shouted the tall powerful magician as glyphs of the Rage and Thunder Runes still faintly showed on his right and left hands, respectively.

"I was sent…sent… by Lord Alen, t-the c-commander. H-he has arrived and wishes to speak with you, my lord," the trembling servant said with a stammer. Godwin replied, "Very well. I've been waiting all morning for his Majesty to arrive."

Turning his attention to his servant that had just rounded the corner, the fairly fine looking noble said with a very intolerant voice, "Did you contact that useless Runemistress? Did she get me a Pale Gate Rune, yet? I want to summon forth powerful creatures to test my powers on. Not these worthless plants you insist on bringing me. With a rune that powerful I'll… Well, does she have it yet or not?" "No, Milord it's a very rare rune, and she's having trouble… finding it." replied the nervous attendant.

Interrupting his servant, Godwin rebuked him, "You tell her, find me that rune. Or the next time I test magical combinations it will be on her and you. NOW GO!" With that the noble walked toward the exit of the courtyard while his servant took off in another direction. Stopping at the door he turned back around to the commander's representative who was still dumbfounded by all he had just witnessed and heard. It took Godwin whistling and then yelling to finally break the man's trance.

Back at his castle estate, Alen was having a meeting privately with some of the local nobles in his office about what could be done with the Great Colosseum. "Milord," one noble protested, "the whole stadium stands there unused for nearly decades on end at times waiting until the next future queen is old enough to undergo the rituals and have her Sacred Games. We spend thousands of Potch every year to clean and repair the place out of your and our own pockets. But if we do this, we will have more than enough revenues to pay for the regular maintenance of the building and extra money to rebuild the entire Queendom after such a terrible war. Plus, we can put this, otherwise, unused space to good use the years when there are no games. In addition, my lord, think of the people. This would give them some much needed entertainment and distraction in these dark times."

"Yes, your Majesty. Please think of the people and tax revenues it will bring to the royal coffers," echoed the second weasely noble in what he hoped was strengthening his cohort's point.

Alen, paused for a moment, then in a very clear, sober voice that had great finality, he spoke up and said, "I have no doubt that money would be generated, but the question is for who? For the Queendom? Or greedy weasels like yourselves and your friends in the Senate? As for the people. It is they, in whom I am thinking of. You think I don't know about how you already use your lowest servants for your private and personal gladiator entertainment. It may not be illegal, what you are doing. But I will certainly not allow you to nationalize your entertainment of mindless combat for the masses."

"Your Lordship," they retorted, "they are just peasants. I mean…warriors. Umm… Really, they're paid gladiators. That's right they would be paid combatants. Why no different than circus folk really. Doing what they love to do for the entertainment of the masses. All while making a little something on the side for them and their families."

"Are you deaf? I said, Queen Elemark and I have already discussed it, and the answer is no. The men you're talking about would be competing freely for now, but it is a slippery slope and money and greed have a way of changing politics and society for the worse. So again, I will not in good conscience legalize something that will one day, most likely, lead to permanent bondage and slavery for Falenans. Now, Gentlemen the matter is settled, Good-day."

"But, Milord..." they tried to protest. "I SAID GOOD-DAY, Gentlemen." exclaimed the older man placing his hands on his sword as he began to draw it out slowly. The slimy nobles got the idea and quickly fled the room.

As they exited, Alen's servant entered the room. "My lord, Sir Marcus is here to see you." he announced with a quizzical tone wondering if now would be the best time. Alen let out a deep sigh and singling with his right hand gestured his servant to send the Sacred Game winner into his chambers. As Godwin entered the room, Alen stood up to greet his future son-in-law. The two men never broke eye contact as Alen stood there once again trying to evaluate the man who now appeared before him.

Before he left his home, Godwin had put on the uniform of a Queen's Knight that he had been given after the Sacred Games for this occasion. It suited him thought the older man. Marcus was fit for his age and a full 15 years older than Cyrah.

But that is how it goes for royals as Alen, himself, was nearly 15 years his wife's senior. He had perfectly combed brown hair parted down both sides along with brown eyes. Godwin stood tall, proud, and with purpose. Almost demanding of respect; a true noble thought Alen to himself.

Marcus bowed respectfully before the Commander of the Queen's Knights. Then he began to speak, "Forgive me my lord for being late, but I had some rather urgent business I had to attend to of a grave and personal nature. Had I known that you and lady Cyrah had arrived when you did, I would have come immediately."

Upon mentioning her name, he finally broke eye contact with Alen, as he started looking around the audience chamber for his fiancée. Just as he was about to ask where she was, the door opened suddenly and forcefully and in step the older princess of Falena looking lovely in her red and white dress. Which now that Alen had a better look at it, the dress probably revealed a little too much of his daughter than most fathers would probably have felt comfortable with. While he figured, at least she got his attention.

She was a bit displeased at having to wait so long to see her future husband, but she put on a polite face and greeted the two older men. Marcus again bowed before his soon-to-be bride and smiled as he took in Cyrah in all her womanliness.

After a few moments of awkward silence, she spoke up, "Well, I must say, Sir Marcus, you look very dashing in your official attire. I cannot wait to become better acquainted with you in the days to come as we journey to West Palace for the Twilight Ritual. Now if you'll excuse me. I am still awfully tired from the journey here and I wish to rest a bit. Father. Sir Marcus. Farewell for now."

Alen spoke up at this point, "Very well dear, rest up we'll leave bright and early tomorrow morning, so do get your rest." With that she departed and went to her room. "If the commander no longer needs me, I too shall depart." spoke Marcus with a degree of finality in his gentlemen's voice. Alen realizing he was going to get no insights out of this man who had shrouded his mannerisms so well on this day. So, he nodded and dismissed the man to go about his business.

The warrior poet, also, realizing the hour was growing late, figured it be best to turn in early so as to be well rested for the next chapter of their journey. However, not before he had one last meeting. He had to chat with his unusual nephew about the current state of their family's affairs.

Meanwhile, back in Sol-Falena, Olinda and the two Queen's Knights were giving the three diplomats a tour of the palace while they were waiting for the Queen to conclude her business with the diplomat from Nagarea, who had apparently arrived several hours before they had. Tanya tried to ask a question about the other foreign diplomat in the palace, but Graess had evaded the question, by suggesting this palace tour they were currently on.

Realizing she wasn't going to get more information from him about it, she decided not to push the issue, given they had only known each other a day. She didn't want to start off the negotiations for a peace and trade agreement on a sour note.

As they made their way up the second flight of stairs, Olinda spoke up, "The royal family sleeps down this hall here. And the guest rooms where you all will be staying are over there." She added, pointing to the opposite hallway some distance in the other direction from their current positions. Everyone looked the way she had pointed with interest, but Lazlo only looked that way for a moment, then glanced back at Olinda.

Rose saw this quick glance, but thinking he had been looking toward the hallway, which led to the royal family's bedrooms. She spoke up, in a semi-serious voice, and stated, "The Queen's Knights, also, sleep down that hallway and we're all very light sleepers. So, don't get any ideas now." She said finishing her sentence somewhat sarcastically while looking at Lazlo.

Olinda blushed and quickly stared at her red-headed friend with a female facial expression of oh my god. I can't believe you just said that in front of him and everyone else kind-of-look. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Graess spoke up. "Perhaps, you'd like to see the Training Yard outside? I know I could use some fresh air, shall we?"

Trying to lead the way back downstairs, he was stopped suddenly by the older voice of Desmond, who was now pointing to the middle of a hall. There was a spiral staircase that seemed to be going upstairs to a third floor and it had guards posted at the bottom of those same steps. "What is up there? Is that the way to the tower where we saw that bright light that was shimmering and illuminating the whole city even in the middle of the day?" he asked quizzically. He felt that his hunch was correct, but he wanted to play dumb, just to see what they would say.

Graess made eye contact with Rose and Olinda, and then looked back at the Islanders, wondering how much he should reveal to people whom they had just met. He simply said, "It is indeed the source of the light, but only members of the royal family and official runic scholars are allowed up there. I can speak no more of it. That is to say, I'll let their Majesties Queen Elemark and Commander Alen tell you about it, when they decide too. Now about that Training Arena, let's go get some fresh air."

Robert had escorted the Nagarean Official and his attendant to the Royal Chambers to meet with the Queen in private. He had offered to stay as did the official's attendant, but both were dismissed by their respective superiors. He gave orders to some nearby palace guards to keep an eye on the attendant while he sat in a waiting area. The knight had followed his orders, but the Nagarean man had once again left such a distaste upon Robert that he needed to vent some steam, which for him met some training with the troops.

As the party of six made their way to the training area, there was quite a sight before them. "While here we go," spoke up Rose again, "you guys are in for quite a show. Robert over there is a Queen's Knight and is the finest long spear wielder in the Queendom. When he gets going with it, he is nearly unstoppable. Luckily, for those ten men it's just a wooden training weapon. Haha." she concluded with a bit of a laugh and grin. "10-vs-1 this should be interesting." said Desmond looking at Lazlo, who was silent, but nodded his head in acknowledgement of his old friend's statement as his main focus was now on the sparring match.

Robert lifted his training halberd in the air while spinning it above his head. He, then, brought his arm down extending it outward all while still whirling the wooden weapon. At the same time, he began charging at the 10 soldiers causing their once perfect formation to break apart, then one-by-one he quickly started to dodge and parry their sword trusts.

He blocked and countered nearly every would-be blow. So, it was that within a few moments, he had quickly dismantled and disarmed them all. As now 10 men lay on their backs most in some pain, but not seriously injured in any way. "How barbaric!" Tanya exclaimed, taking off her glasses as she cleaned the dust off them that had been kicked up into the air due to the fight. Desmond just whistled in awe of the spectacle that he had just witness, obviously impressed by the knight's battle prowess.

Robert walked over. "Brother. Rose. Your Highness." still a bit out of breath he added, "These must be our friends from the Island Nations. It is a pleasure to meet you." After everyone had greeted each other, Olinda asked, "Robert, must you be so rough on them?" Her tone was one of surprise at the amount of force she had just witnessed.

Graess spoke to his brother's defense, "It's not as bad as it looks, Milady. I assure you the men were never in any real danger; my brother is a master at what he does. His form and technique were flawless. Robert was in total control of the fight the whole time and only hit the men in a way that would disarm them, but not seriously hurt them. Besides, they all wear some armor and padding for protection."

"Oh, I see. I didn't realize." she responded back softly. Lazlo, who had not spoken since the palace hallways, spoke up again. "It wasn't flawless." the ageless runebearer said calmly. "What did you say?" asked Robert with a bit of shock in his deep strong voice.

Lazlo spoke a little louder this time, "Your brother said your form was flawless, but it was not. There was a moment when you left your right side exposed. Well actually, you did it twice, but it was so slight and quick, I could see how most could miss it. I mean no disrespect, just forget I said anything." The large knight was now growing a bit vexed at his words. So, Lazlo tried to play it off by saying to just forget what he said.

Graess always prided himself on being able to assess a warrior's strengths and weaknesses on the battlefield. In truth, all Queen's Knights could, but his keen eyes had always been better at it than any of his peers. And now here was this foreigner, who appeared to be no older than Olinda telling him he missed something during his brother's sparring match. While he was a bit offended by this, he kept these feelings well hidden.

Robert on the other hand was not very good at hiding his feelings. Indeed, he spoke up looking directly at Lazlo, and gesturing to his twin blades at his side said, "Perhaps, you'd like to show me this flaw you claim to see for yourself?"

His voice was a bit more intense than normal. Olinda and Tanya seeming to have the same idea spoke up at the same time saying they didn't think this was a good idea. While Rose and Daniel said nothing, but judging by the grin on each of their faces, both were intrigued by the idea of the two having a sparring match.

Tanya spoke up again, "This is not how we should begin our diplomatic mission, Laz..." Again, Lazlo spoke softly, but cut off his old librarian mid-sentence, "It's alright, Tanya. It's just a training exercise." She stopped protesting, but just rolled her eyes. Desmond heard her mumbling under her breath, "Men! Doesn't matter where we go. They're all the same. They always have to compare…"

At that her voice got too low for Desmond to hear the rest of what she was saying. Not that it mattered as his gaze was now focused on Lazlo. The brown-hair youth undid and took off his diplomatic robe and handed it to Desmond, revealing he had been wearing his favorite brown top and shorts underneath.

He took out his twin swords and replaced them with 2 short wooden training swords about the same size as his real ones from the weapon's wall next to them. Then, looking at Robert who was waiting for him in the middle of the floor his weapon at the ready, he made his way to the training ring while the last of the injured sparring troops hobbled off of it.

The Queen's Knight's eyes looked very intent and focused on this foreigner, who had the gall to tell him his form was flawed. He had been offended by that Nagarean dog all day and now this boy's words were the last straw.

Robert was upset, but still not a fool. He tried to gage what this young warrior's weakness might be as the two started to circle each other around the ring weapons at the ready. He figured those short swords the diplomat wore were for more than just show and based on the Islander's current stance he obviously has had some training. However, with those short swords, he's probably only use to up-close combat. So, if he attacks from a distance, it may reveal what the foreigner's own weaknesses are, reasoned the knight.

Tired of waiting for one of them to make the first move, Robert began spinning his halberd above his head as he had done with his troops moments before and started charging the Island swordsman. Yet, instead of scattering or moving to dodge the massive behemoth-of-a-man barreling down upon him, Lazlo just stood there his swords drawn up in front of him in a defensive posture.

Still wishing to execute his plan of avoiding close combat, Robert stopped a little short and figured he would use the benefit of his 6-foot length weapon to its fullest advantage. As he stopped short of the distance between the two warriors. He brought his spinning weapon to its highest climax. Then, with a force that would have enough to truly injure a normal man, he brought his weapon down upon the head of the young warrior. Lazlo not flinching or blinking had anticipated this kind of an attack and was ready for it.

As Robert was bringing the full weight of his weapon down in force upon him. Lazlo took evasive action. Moving like a whirlwind, Lazlo spun around with a speed and agility he had refined to a fine art over the last few decades. He spun to the right and escaped the deadly blow. Robert was shocked that his blow had missed its intended target so easily. Something like that had never happened to him before in all his years on and off the battlefield.

Once Lazlo's feet had found purchase on the ground, he pushed off the floor, and landed on the knight's own weapon. This move caught the large man off guard. By using the force of his own momentum and weight, Lazlo caused Robert to lose his grip on his weapon as it fell out of his hands onto the ground.

By the time Robert realized this it was too late, Lazlo was now dashing at him sword drawn. Robert rolled off to the side missing the swordsman's cross slash of his two weapons. Standing to his feet quickly again. He reached down and grabbing his training halberd, the warrior immediately regained his senses and located this brown clothed Islander.

Lazlo had stayed in his last position, his weapons were still drawn, but his back was now facing Robert. This surprised the knight that this strange young man had not pressed his attack, but had allowed Robert to recover both his weapon and wits; a mistake he would regret, Robert told himself.

Lazlo aware now that the warrior had his weapon in hand, made his move. Swiftly, Lazlo darted at the Queen's Knight and raised his left sword in the air while keeping his right across his chest. He instantly closed the distance between the 2 men and began to strike. Lazlo brought his left sword down for the attack and then his right. Robert had no way to counter-attack. So, he brought his Halberd straight up like a flag pole. Now he was blocking the swordsman's blows one after another left and right and then back again.

Robert was stuck he couldn't do anything. He knew if he missed just one blow it was over, because so ferocious were the strikes now, but the Islander didn't seem angry at him to be hitting that hard, just determined that's all.

The older brother hated being on the defensive like this, now was a time for action. He was a Queen's Knight after all. After waiting for what he thought was really his best chance after Lazlo's right strike, Robert lurched back and brought his right arm forward bringing the bottom of his weapon up. Concurrently, he brought his left arm backward, which brought the top of his weapon down toward his torso. Now he was in the perfect position to lunge at the man before him.

The True Rune bearer not missing a beat seemed to be waiting for this attack. He effortlessly sidestepped the spear thrust, but at the same time he did this, he also did the most unusual thing. The man tossed his left sword in the air, which got the attention of everyone watching, including Robert's, whose eyes went up for a moment to glance at the most peculiar tactic he just witnessed. But it was too late!

As soon as the sword fell back to the ground making a thud sound the fight was over. Lazlo had moved in to Robert's right side and placed his other practice sword against the warrior's throat. "See, like I said. You leave your right flank exposed just a little bit. Besides, I think this is a checkmate, right?" added Lazlo as his fierce expression now turned back into his normal placid demeanor. Robert dropped his weapon with surprise and disbelief on his face.

The group came running over. "Sir Lazlo," swooned Rose, "that was utterly amazing! I've never seen such a fighting style! Can you…" "Well done both of you, Sir Robert and Ambassador Lazlo." interrupted the gentler and calmer voice of Princess Olinda. Contrasted to the injured troops who were hooting in the background, Graess remained silent as his mind was taking in all he had just witnessed.

At this point a humbled Robert spoke up, "Well done, Mr. Ambassador. I see, I did indeed underestimate you. I will consider the words you have spoken to me and work on improving my technique on my right side. Perhaps after that, we could have another match?"

Lazlo raising his hands behind the back of his head started to smile. "Oh man, you fight so well. If you fixed your exposed flank, then I am not sure I would want to spar with you again. You'd probably clean my clock for sure." replied the ageless warrior in a light hearted, but not disrespectful, way.

His younger brother now spoke up, "Evening approaches. Why don't we retire to dinner and then call it a day until tomorrow? I'm sure you are all tired from your travels and I sure her Majesty will be more than happy to receive you all in the morning as well." "I certainly know I am starved," chuckled Desmond, "let's have ourselves some dinner. Heaven knows after eating thefood on that ship for weeks, I could certainly use a good home cooked meal."

As they were making their way back to the door several guards emerged to their surprise. They were followed by two men dressed in white robes with gold trim. The first was very large, not fat, just tall, and his white robes covered his whole body. He even wore a wrap over his head and veil around his mouth so that all you could see were his eyes, which to Lazlo looked very dark and somehow very unnatural. He seemed somewhat older as he had some wrinkles around is eyes, but not many. Also, he carried a gold scepter in his left hand, which was so long it no doubt doubled as his walking stick, Lazlo reasoned to himself.

The younger man beside him looked about Lazlo's age. Well, the age he appeared to look of about 20-ish, not his actual age of 50. Regardless, this young man wore a similar white robe, but the gold trim was different in some areas, probably indicating a lesser rank or status in their government.

In addition, he didn't cover his head or face in anyway. He was blonde hair and had blue eyes. He was about average height and had a physically athletic form to him. Lazlo, also, couldn't help but notice this young man walked with a certain cocky and arrogant swagger in his movement.

The high priest made his way toward the small group and basically ignored them all as if they were not even there. Or as though they were all so insignificant and so far beneath himself, they were not even worth wasting a breath on.

The white robed man, however, did turn to Princess Olinda and spoke in a deep hollow tone, "Peace, Daughter of the Sun, begotten of thy Chosen Ones." Then turning to Robert, but not speaking to him just at him, he ordered, "Thou shall return us to our pure estate, by and by." Robert looked at him quizzically and then turned to Graess for some sort of translation.

Concurrently, the old priest turned his gaze toward Lazlo, but said nothing, just studied him. Then, Graess turned to his brother and stated, "I think he is ready to be escorted back to the border." "Well, why didn't he bloody say so. I mean… Very well. Sir. This way…" stammered Robert. It was too late as the Nagarean Priest had already started making his way to the royal port with his attendant in close step. Robert took a few of the guards and proceeded to catch up with the robed men.

"What was that all about?" asked Desmond. "That man still gives me the willies." chimed in Rose. "What did he mean when he said, 'daughter of the chosen ones' or whatever?" ask Tanya quizzically looking at Olinda. Lazlo said nothing but just gazed at them and Robert as they walked off into to the distance toward the port on the Feitas River.

Graess spoke up again, "My apologies you are not the only foreign diplomats her Majesty is engaged in with at the moment. Those 2 are from one of are neighboring countries. As you may have heard, we recently just made peace with them after a long war. The tall man you just met is one of their High Priests named Nyoka and that young brash blonde beside him was his apprentice named Razi. Regardless, they are leaving. So, please don't worry about them right now. They're just here to make sure the Queendom is honoring her end of the peace agreement, which we are. As her Majesty, the Queen, always honors all her agreements and treaties as you yourselves will come to see very soon. Now then, let us go get that dinner. As I recall, Master Desmond was starving for a good home cooked meal."

And so, with that the party made their way toward the dining room, each with several questions on their minds, but those answers they each knew would have to be addressed later. Lazlo, however, still had a strange feeling about that man, Nyoka, his eyes, there was something so unusual and unnatural about his eyes he pondered to himself. Perhaps this was the dark force of judgment that Leknaat had warned him about so many weeks ago.

As evening came and went, bellies were full, and guest rooms were assigned as the Islanders settled in for the night. Also, the attendants and the remaining Gaien Knights arrived with the rest of the ambassadors' personal affects. They were assigned a room with Daniel on the first floor by the kitchen.

Moreover, Lazlo laid in a real bed, which was soft and comfortable. It was a real blessing and upgrade compared to his previous one. He got lost in his own deep thoughts about the day until finally they too faded and he fell asleep.

Dark clouds gathered over Stormfist that night. However, in Godwin's family estate the noble and another were talking. "So, everything is in order?" asked the unknown man. Marcus sipping his evening tea with a smirk said, "Yes, everything is going according to plan." The shadowy figure replied, "Very well, then I shall inform my Master to move to phase two of the plan." Then, like a whisper, the strange figure disappeared seemingly into thin air.

A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. Marcus arose from his desk and walked over to the door opening it. There before him was a form of a person. They were dressed in a dark cape and had covered them self with a black hood. Upon closer inspection, Marcus made out the human form to be a female. But before he could say anything the hooded figured pushed him back upon the couch and started kissing him violently as if she had not seen him in years and had waited for this one moment all her life.

In the midst of the passionate kissing, her hood came off revealing her short silver hair, which Marcus began stroking softly. After a few more moments of fanatical kissing, Godwin sat up on the couch as did she. "So, Cyrah that was quite the boring show you put on today, but it served its purpose," he said with a grin.

"It did indeed, and you served your purpose as well. But, making Father wait like that though was a bit rude, but I know why you did. And no is the other answer. I know what you're thinking. He doesn't expect a thing." A bigger grin now came on Godwin's face as he whispered a single word, "Good."

Then looking at her rather vivaciously he started kissing the side of her neck and strumming his fingers on the side of her leg and he whispered, "Now, what am I thinking about?" She stood up off the couch and then slapped him hard on the side of his face. "Oh!" he laughed, "You do know what I am thinking."

He reached up and pulled off her black hood and cape she had been wearing revealing the red and white dress she had adorned earlier that day. "You are so bad, but you were useful to me today. I guess you might as well be useful to me tonight as well." she added with a seductive feminine hushed tone.

With that she raised her hands to her shoulders and the sides of her dress' straps and pulled them off, letting the gown fall to the floor revealing she had nothing left to remove. An even greater smile now befell Marcus's face and with the words of great approval he whispered, "Royalty, indeed!" Cyrah said nothing, but merely raised her hand and gestured with her index finger for him to come to her.