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After hundreds of years under Kestar rule, Wintreath had become a prosperous nation.

Driven by a desire to rediscover the wisdom of the ancients, its culture and sciences had started to experience a renaissance that would propel it into achieving many wonders that would be looked back on for millenia to come.

But underneath all the fancy new stone work and gallant celebrations, trouble brewed that would shake Wintreath to its very core. The king, loved by many, was getting on in years, and it would only be a matter of time until he passed away. He had not a single heir to succeed him.

Already, there were those who saw an opportunity to ascend beyond their station, amidst the chaos that would be created upon the king's passing.

A feud between two of the most powerful Houses had been brewing for decades, and either one wanted nothing more than to make its rule absolute. Yet the people had grown tired of the nobles and their petty games, and one commoner saw here an opportunity to instill a new hierarchy, one where, rather than noble blood, vasts amounts of coin could determine the future of the nation.

While these factions schemed, across the sea another threat lurked, waiting patiently for the chaos to unfold before making its move.

And so it came to be that amidst the greatest cultural and scientific renaissance the world had seen for more than a thousand years, Wintreath would pay the price for its success with its own blood.

Piety Malediction Valeria
Frostlake City
Porta Coeli Imports, near the docks

Mal sat, reading the report in his hands. It was sophomoric and grandiose, full of colorful prose and descriptive exaggerations. It spoke of a small town to the south of Frostlake City called Roth. It spoke of the writer's intent to try and set up a new distribution network for importation there using the river. Smart. The taxes to bring goods into Frostlake City from the docks directly were prohibitively high but bringing them in a cart, especially if you had the right paperwork or the right guards, were much more reasonably priced. Overall, it was not a bad plan. Roth had the right mixture of location and infrastructure. It was a brilliant plan. Such a shame that Malediction was going to have to ruin it. He read the final sentences from the report.

'As such, I will take the liberty of setting up operations in Roth. I am sure that you be pleased with my results when I am finished.

In The Name Of The Noble House Of Valeria
Felicitation Ex Nihilo
Gaius Gavros"

It had been easy enough to trick Gaius into exposing himself. After all, he served the Valerians so why not go to meet a Valerian near the docks? Malediction smirked as he imagined what his family would say when they found out Gaius was missing. First though, he would have to make sure Gaius would never be found. Malediction turned around to face the figure hanging from the ceiling by his hands, his body and face bloody. Gaius looked at Malediction, whimpering. "Why......why are you doing this? I work for your family!" Gaius cried out between sobs.

Mal smiled as he stood up. "Yes, my family. My noble, noble family. I know that, Gaius. You've made my family a lot of money with your business. A lot of money from all your efforts." Mal stepped over to Gaius, knelt down next to him and leaned on his dislocated shoulder, causing Gaius to scream in pain. "But you know who never benefited from all your hard work? You know who never benefited from all the work and wealth of the Valerian family? Me. So instead, I shall make my own future. And just so happens that you were in the way. I assure you, Gaius, it was nothing personal." Mal reached behind him, drawing his short dagger from his sheathe behind him. On the blade of the dagger was an engraving of Mal's personal motto. "Perceptio Est Veritas". Mal read out loud. "Perception Is Reality." Then he put the blade to Gaius's neck and slit his throat.

Mal looked into Gaius's eyes as he died. As he gasped for air. As he bled from his cut throat. Mal watched as the light left Gaius's eyes and all that was left was the broken body. "In infernis arderet, Gaius." Mal whispered under his breath. "Et erunt apud te cito." Ok, maybe it was a bit personal. He stood up and tried to collect himself. He felt really pumped and it took a few breaths before he calmed himself down. He took off the leather apron he was wearing and wiped his face. He would have to bath when he got home to clean all the blood off but this would pass a cursory inspection. He went to the door and exited the room.

His trusty servant, Vulpes, was waiting for him. "Are you finished with Gaius, sir?" He asked. Malediction nodded, still breathing a bit heavily. "Yes, I am. Bring his body back to my house and prepare it for disposal. I trust you made sure him and his proposed operation will disappear?" Vulpes nodded, a faint smile escaping his normally stoic face. "Yes, sir. We burnt all the other documents about his plans for Roth and left a trail that will make it seem like he left the city to go North, sir." Malediction looked at Vulpes and smirked. "Excellent. We will have to move fast, though, because we did not buy ourselves that much time. If Gaius discovered Roth someone else surely will to." He turned to look out the window. The docks were within view, the squalor of the slums of the city gave Malediction an idea.

"Do we still have the cargo we bought from that plague ship?" A cargo ship had been struck with plague and the crew quarantined on the ship until not a single man was still alive. It kept the disease from spreading to the city but also left all the goods on board untouchable in most circumstances. Malediction, however, did not much care about such trivial details. "Specifically, the grain?" Vulpes nodded, again a small smile on his lips. "Excellent. Make sure Roth's next shipment contains that grain. Nothing that can be connected to us, of course. That should make Roth.....unwelcoming for long enough." Vulpes nodded and left to make arrangements. Malediction called out after him as he left the room. "And make sure we will be ready to leave soon. I want to see this town myself. What was it called again, Vulpes?"

Vulpes stopped and turned to face Malediction, his hand on the doorknob leading to Gaius's remains. "Ravensbridge, Sir."

Marinia Laurentus Valeria was bored out of his mind. Ever since he had come back from his visit to Frostlake City, he had had to endure endless mindless squabbles among the common folk, and all of them insisted he get involved.

It made matters worse that the newly appointed guards seemed to be woefully incompetent and had taken to upsetting the local populace. Case in point: he now had to hear the appeals of a gentleman who claimed that one of the City guardsmen had been eying his daughter, and when the gentleman refused to give his daughter's hand for marriage, the brute had apparently destroyed one of the gentleman's market stalls.

He had actually heard of this incident. From what the reports said, the gentleman had not so much kindly refused to give his consent for his daughter to get married, but called the guard every vile name under the sun, while threatening to have him ejected from the guard and having his family turned out onto the streets.

Laurentus was in no mood to be diplomatic today, so in a rare bit of unsubtlety, he told the man the following: "Yes, yes, I am sure you were very traumatised by my guard's behaviour. I will instruct my treasurer to dispatch carpenters to your market stall to inspect the damage, and fix it with the money made available from the treasury. I trust this will suffice?"

He had asked the final question with the certain tone that there had better not be any objections, but to his amazement, the man had the nerve to protest anyway. "Nay, that will not suffice, not at all. This man should be ejected from the guard and turned out of his home. I will be satisfied with nothing else."

The court that had assembled was stunned into silence. This was becoming an ever bigger concern. The wealthy merchants and bankers were bold, of late, acting less like humble peasants and more like nobles. They demanded a lot, and were wont to bribing the guards with lavish sums to get their way.

Laurentus would not tolerate this. "You forget yourself, sir. It is not your place to make demands over my guard. Now leave, before I change my mind and send some inspectors down there to investigate the various claims I've received of your illegal enterprise." No such claims existed, of course, but it was a rather safe bet that this man had not come into such a vast fortune completely legally. It paid off.

"I apologise if I have given offence, my lord. My emotions got the better of me. You have been most gracious in your judgment. I will not take up any more of your time, and I thank you for hearing of the matter." Too late for the man to resort to such sycophantic measures now, Laurentus thought, but he let it be. He would have to investigate where this unrest among the merchants and bankers was coming from.

He decided he had heard enough for the day. "Lord steward, I leave the rest in your capable hands. I have business I must attend to." He vacated his throne and started taking the long path to the message coop. It was time to see if his efforts had borne fruit. He smiled as he walked through the fragrant streets of the city that he had built. This was his pride and joy, and most likely to be the only legacy he would leave behind after his death, as he had never had any interest in children. He had seen how it ruined his older brothers. All of them capable, and all of them forgotten as they spent their days tending to the concerns of the House. He loved his brothers, of course, but that was simply not the life for him. His aspirations lay elsewhere. Even this city, which had been given to him by the king himself, was but the start of his grand design. For what was a city when he was destined to rule an empire?

He had often been told to leave such small matters as collecting messages to his attendants, but considered this a missed opportunity. He often got to meet truly useful characters on his adventures through the streets, and it helped him to cultivate an image as a peasant in noble clothes. His advisors often underestimated what the love of the masses meant to someone as ambitious as he was. He would need their love for what came next.

When he reached the coop, he was alarmed at the return of the white pigeon. He had sent it out with express instructions that it was never to return unless something befell the king.

He rushed to open the cage and pry the note from its foot. What he read changed his life forever: "That property on Frostlake has opened up." This was, of course, the code he had instructed his spy in the Royal Court to send to him should the king die.

He felt a flash of sadness. The king had been very kind to him. But now was not the time for mourning. His greatest rival would be sure to move soon, and he had to be the one who struck the first decisive blow. He hastily scribbled a reply and sent a black dove off this time. The message simply read: "Excellent. Expect visitors soon."

As he climbed the streets back to his castle, a million thoughts raced through his mind. At long last, he would begin building his empire in earnest. Millions would die, but this meant little to a man such as him. Destiny did not care for such petty human attachments, and he was not one to ignore his destiny.

Saerien Burdock
Somewhere in Frostlake City
Crouching on a rooftop, Saerien had his crossbow trained on a man known to kidnap children.  For now, he was on contract with the guard, hunting down known criminals with no restrictions as to what he could do, what resources he could use, to bring criminals to justice, including killing them.  He watched the man approach a child, and, as the man snatched the child, Saerien fired, striking the man's throat.  The man collapsed, and the child ran off, crying for her mother.

Frostlake City, Färnhel District

Lord Gerion Burdock stood on his apartment's balcony, overlooking the city below him while sipping on some wine. The sun was just setting, casting most of the most of the city in shadows, though some of the taller buildings, including his apartment, got to experience a few more moments of sunlight. The familiar orange glow of the streetlamps down below began to light up as taverns and theaters sprung to life, laughter and music rising like heat to warm him in the evening breeze. Gerion rarely took the time out of his day to enjoy such a sunset, let alone with wine, so he soaked up as much as he could.

Just then, as if to wake him from this dream, Gerion's personal servant rushed to his bedroom door.

"My Lord!" Harrald almost shouted, out of breath.

Gerion turned with furrowed brows. "What is it?"

As Harrald opened his mouth to speak, loud bells began to ring in the distance. Gerion's eyes widened, and he quickly turned back around and leaned across his balcony's railing to look southeast towards the Royal District. Indeed, they were the Royal Castle's bells, which only rang in times of celebration, mourning, or attack. Seeing as how there was nothing to celebrate with a bedridden King and the country was not at war, that meant only one thing.

"Is it true?" Gerion desperately asked his servant.

"Yes, my Lord," Harrald spoke solemnly. "The King is now at peace."

Gerion was surprised at his shock -- this day had been expected for some time now, though he inexplicably always held on to a sliver of hope that the King would somehow recover. His hope was apparently misplaced, so he was thankful that he had always prepared for the worst. The coming weeks were sure to pass very quickly with the amount of work to be done, and with no heir apparent to the Crown, there would almost certainly be blood shed to claim it.

Gerion met his servant's eyes with a pensive gaze. "It's time."

Piety Malediction Valeria
Frostlake City
Malediction's House

Malediction was writing a short letter to his uncle, Marinia. The name always amused Mal, he likened it to seeing a god named Bob or something. It just did not seem like the name of a man with untold power in the palm of his hand.

"Dear Uncle Marinia,

Hello again. It has been a while since we have spoken. I trust you are well. If it is convenient, I would like to meet you to speak about a family matter.

Your faithful nephew,
Piety Malediction Valeria"

He dripped some wax on the seal for the letter and stamped it with his personal sigil. He smiled. His one benefit from the family, a fancy crest. He pulled the bell cord to signal Vulpes to take the letter away.

Lighting one of those foreign tobacco cigars, he went to his balcony to smoke. The last thing he wanted to do would be to smoke up his own bedroom. As he looked over the city from his balcony and took a long drag from his cigar he heard bells ringing. Those could not be...yes, they are, those are royal bells. But what....

And then it hit him. There could only be one thing that bell could signify. Malediction began to laugh. Things were about to get very interesting.....

Dima Valeria, Frostlake City, Rougish Rounds Bar and Tavern

Dima sat, man spreaded with a young lass on both legs. In his hand was a tankard of something expensive, and likely not his first or even third. He laughed and chatted with the others surrounding him between sips and kisses on the cheeks and necks of the two girls. He turned to one lad next to him.
"Oi, Tio, I've been thinkin, we need to start developing some stuff of our own, I mean don' get me wrong, we are making a minor mint with just movign stuff, but imagine the profit we could make if some of our product was home crafted!"
The man apparently called Tio turned, and stroked a lightly well kept goatee. "Aye, but then we gots to get crafters. That aint much of a smugglers job Cin."

The apparent royal chuckled. "Anyone'll do it for a healthy paycheck. Plus it can tie up some loose ends. I don't want this to get up cuz some Valeria or Burdock prick gets ta thinkin he's the hero oustin our operation. Either way, we should at least think about it." He said before even in the loud tower the bells rang. The rougish noble grinned, lifting his cup to his lips before shouting loudly.
"OI LADS N' LASSES! NEXT 3 ROUNDS R' ON ME!" He said with enthusiasm. For this could be a time to celebrate, if he played his chips right.

Sent from my SM-G950U using Tapatalk

Aragonn Valeria
Highever
2 hours before

Heat swelled the air in the armory as the fire in the forge flared with every pump of oxygen blown into it. Sweat glistened on the pale skin of the man working the forge. The man was none other than Aragonn of House Valeria. Various tools lined the walls, weapons adorned the pillars, and materials lay strewn about the tables in an orderly chaotic way. Candles lit the areas the sun could not touch. Hammer striking steel pierced the ears with a distinct ringing.

Quality workmanship was being demanded of him, and quality workmanship would be delivered by him. Even in his position, the revenue flow did not allow for him to hire quality workers capable of doing jobs for nobles properly. At least not if he wanted to be able to retire with any amount of money. The menial tasks were left to a few employees while the business and quality jobs were performed by Aragonn. It was not exactly what he had in mind when he accepted the position, but he worked it nonetheless.

After many long rounds of heating and hammering, he took a break to rehydrate and cool off. Sitting in a chair with his waterskin, he looked over at the weapons in his workspace. Many noticeably needed repairs. A notch here, a bent piece there. Most of it was simple, and his minors could deal with them. With a few swigs of water downed, he went back to work.

Hours later his project had taken shape with refining being the next step. The project goal was to craft an ornate sword for the noble house in Erid. As much as he did not enjoy their company, Aragonn would not turn down their money. He was about to begin the refinement process when a messenger ran in to give the news about the King's departure. The sword could wait. Aragonn had to see his brother Marinia. He set the hot metal into a barrel of oil to cool it and prevent it from oxidizing while he was away. After this, he changed into something more presentable and equipped his things: a longsword sheathed on his back, a smithing hammer on his right hip, a hatchet on his left hip, and a knife concealed in his boot. And with everything he needed, he set out to see his younger brother.

Marinia told his scribe what to write as he paced up and down the study of his magnificent castle.

"You are to write down the following. It need not be anything long. Simply convey my deepest sorrow about the King's death and my wish to see us all united at his funeral in Frostlake City.

"Afterwards, you must invite everyone to the meeting, to discuss our nation's future, and if possible to solve the matter of succession. Suggest we hold it at a neutral location, and that every noble bring their own entourage of ten fine guards. That should put all at ease. After a king dies like this, people feel anxious about the next few years, after all, as this is always how civil wars break out.

"See to it that the fastest riders get despatched to deliver it to everyone. Do this task well, and I shall personally fund your child's education. Now, I have to prepare for the journey-" he had barely finished the word when his brother came into the study. Well. He intended to go see Aragonn quickly, anyway.

"Dearest brother, you come as if summoned. It is always good to see you. How may I help?"

Eldarion Telcontar
Linhir
The Ducal Royal Palace

Over the ocean, across the sea, something was brewing.

It was His Majesty's cup of tea of course.

Mind you, it was very hard to obtain tea these days, what with the whole war going on, but not impossible! Nothing would deny Eldarion the satisfaction of a nice cup of tea after a days work, and his subjects had made sure of that fact. His manservant's face did seem a bit worried, but the poor man was always worried.

"Scrunched up like a dog..."

"What was that your Majesty?"

"Ah, nothing Feiredir." Eldarion wracked his brain for a moment. "Ah, there was something you needed to tell me correct?" The man suddenly looked even more worried then usual. It was an impressive feat really. "Well, come on now, out with it! There's nothing you can tell me that'll land you in any harm."

"Your Majesty..." The man couldn't even look at him! He'd never seen him this distraught.

"Come on now, you could tell me Augustus was coming in person to execute me right this moment and I wouldn't flinch!"

"We.... We...."

Eldarion almost fell over with anticipation.

"We are out of tea sir. This is the last pot."

Eldarion stood silent for a moment. Then gave a small sob.

"If only Feiredir, were Augustus coming with a sword to execute me!" He cried out before weeping on Feiredir's shoulder. This was worse then if Galdir had come himself to tell them they had lost the war!

Feiredir just pat his back as he wept.

Galdir Osgaror
Linhir
The Palace of the Duke of Linhir, outside the Queen's Chambers

They had run out of tea at an opportune time it had turned out. The blow of telling Eldarion they had lost the war hurt less when he was weeping over such a minor thing. The man was hiding in his room now and Galdir knew there was nothing he could do, for a few hours at least.

It was good that he needed those hours then. He had a meeting to attend to. Galdir had seen the inevitable coming, and since Eldarion refused to lead his own armies he had tried one last time to stop it himself. Not only had his men failed to take Pelargir but they had been forced back across the river Sirith. The road to Linhir, the last major city they controlled, would soon be lost. It seemed so recent that all the lords of Lebennin had sided with Eldarion! Only the lords of Anorien resisted, and with them Minas Tirith! Now? They had nothing.

Almost nothing.

Galdir had a trick up his sleeve. The commander of Augustus's fleet had long been in his pocket rather then Augustus's and while he blockaded the coast he would yield to him and Eldarion's will when Galdir commanded him to turn. This was backed up with a few well placed hostage takings to ensure the man wouldn't back out at the last second. They still had Kort, and they could get there, the fleet could carry their entire army, or what was left of it.

The news that the King of Wintreath could not be more perfect. With no heir the realm would be divided and Eldarion would be able to claim his extensive Wintrean lineage (The royals of Ainur and Wintreath had married many times) in claiming the throne. He would have an army and a reason to be there in the first place, Kort was still theirs after all. There was another reason Galdir was excited though, ecstatic even.

Men were allowed to marry other men in Wintreath. None of this "The Valar would be disgraced" crap he heard from the priests, the Wintreans did not care and their nobility did it often, simply adopting a child to compensate. The Old King of Wintreath could have done that and saved his realm the trouble but he didn't and Galdir was thankful. Finally, he could get rid of Bachorien! It was not that he hated the woman herself, he hated what she represented. A denial of the love he and Eldarion felt! A rebuke of the closeness and the need to put some random woman in between them instead of letting what was, be. Admittedly, he was also jealous of the woman, but he had made the world yield to his will before, he was not afraid to do it again.

She would however, be a valuable ally. Unlike him she had connections in Wintreath. Sources and news. As Mistress of the Second Chamber she ran all of the court's spies, though she had no jurisdiction over his spies for the military. Her's were far better at what he needed though, information. Information about the nobility and their loyalty. Information about who was who and what their intentions were. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her. For now.

So here he was, waiting as the woman took her sweet time, as if to mock his position. Who else would make him stand outside their room for half an hour saying she needed to "complete her womanly duties." Nobody else would dare!

Yet, as he thought that, the long closed door, finally, opened.

Bachorien Heriril
Linhir
The Palace in Linhir, her Chambers

Bachorien had enjoyed the past half hour, knowing that someone was outside the door, waiting for her.

She wasn’t much for pettiness, but when one man held himself in such regard she couldn’t help but humble him a little. Not that Galdir would get her lesson but such was his way.

The man stood in front of her, tall, broad shouldered, beautiful. Few men could claim to look the way he did, or draw eyes of the women and often men of the court. Yet she saw the ways his eyes looked at her, judged her.

Eldarion had terrible taste in men, she confirmed as usual. He hadn’t changed since she last met him. She always tried to give the man a chance, for Eldarion’s sake since he always asked her to. Yet she knew she’d never like the man. Open mind or not he’d always be the same haughty brute as always. Her opinion’s aside though, there had to be a reason he was here. Yet he just stood there, gawking at her as if she were some sort of caged animal.

“Good evening, my Lord. I assume you have reason to interrupt my business at this moment?”

“Very good reason, your Highness.” He spit the last two words out like it hurt him. “I have a proposition that will benefit us both immensely.”

“Well go on with it now.” She said, dropping her formal tone. “I don’t have all day now do I?”

“Your Majesty, you speak so harshly yet you have barely given me a chance to speak.” He almost looked pleased with himself, he knew she only stopped hiding behind formality when she was relaxed or annoyed.

“I am usually in better company then this. So, what grand plan do you have to sell me on? If it’s as good as how you’ve lead the army I’ll have no part in it.” That’d make him angry she was sure, and if he was angry he might slip up.

“My plan. Your. Majesty. Is simple, you know the King of Wintreath is dead yes?”

“Yes, I’ve known for a few days now, why?” He looked shocked at this statement. Birds flew faster than ships could sail.

“It’s very simple, the war is lost.”

“No surprise there.”

“Allow me to finish my sentence if you would please.”

“It wouldn’t please me but go on anyways.”

“Ahem. The King of Wintreath is dead, the war is lost, my plan is to sail across the sea to Kort and from there press Eldarion’s claim on the throne of Wintreath while they are weak.”

She was expecting some sort of escape plan, but not this.

“I can see your logic behind that, except for one problem.”

“And that would be?” He asked almost innocently.

“The sea is, you know, filled with Augustus’s ships and we have no more navy since someone lost it.” His face flickered in annoyance.

When she said lost she meant lost. They had no idea where it was. It hadn’t been lost in battle, it might have been lost at sea, but it had simply been sitting in port and then BAM, gone.

How a man who could literally lose an entire navy could be trusted with an army was beyond her.

“The man who controls Augustus’s fleet is in my pay. With that and a few other arrangements I can safely sail us and the army to Kort.”

“What’s left of the army anyways.” She huffed. “And other arrangements? That explains the prisoner’s you’ve been trying to hide from me, badly if I might add.” The flicker of annoyance returned.

“Well you can see the plan is sound then.”

“Certainly, but why do you need me? I assume that’s why you're here right? Or do you just need to find someone to blab about your plans at any given moment?”

“Your spies. I have no agents in Wintreath. You just said you found out about the King’s death before us. Is there any other information you’re hiding?”

“I’ll tell you if and when I decide it is in the interest of the realm. In the meantime, what are you offering?”

“Our lives? If we sit around here Augustus will come for us and you can guess what happens next. I’ll also see that your father is amply rewarded with new lands for his loyalty.”

Ah yes, her father hadn’t quite gotten over losing the family lands. Augustus had stripped him of them when she had married Eldarion and unlike then they no longer controlled them. Her father was not happy in the slightest.

“I can make sure of the latter myself.” Working with him was tempting though, their lives were on the line and without their cooperation their plans might fail spectacularly. He still controlled the army, and the army was what would get them anywhere. Spies could only do so much.

“If you can get Eldarion to agree with your plan I see no problem with providing you all I know on the state of Wintreath.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with him quite yet but…” He sighed. “If you require it”

“I do.” She was happy to pawn the job of consoling him on Galdir. It was hard work.

“Then deal.” And with that he put out his hand.

She shook it. Knowing that she was only delaying their doom.

Firdun, the Prince's Palace

Ainur's instability had been monumentally profitable for Firdun - and, naturally, for Finglas' family as a whole. They would not be reckoned as a great House like the Valerians or Burdocks, but the Merchant House of Fitch had both a sizeable fleet and significant wealth from tariffs on Spiritan and Hyperian trade goods. These were both, naturally, being put to great effect buying up vast stocks of Valerian arms from all over Wintreath, then shipping them out in massive convoys to Taethon and his loyalists, who were eager for any support from overseas.
He'd been kicking himself for backing Taethon (including the plethora of loans he'd provided, not to mention contracting out two thousand gallowglasses under one of his nephew's command) when Eldarion looked to be winning the war, but by all accounts he'd started losing the war quite badly, and so his investment seemed like a sound one now.
He had little doubt that in the next few months, Eldarion's little revolt would end in tears, some blue blood would be spilled and found just as red as everyone else's, and he would collect on both the wealth and gratitude of Ainur's newest king. Most favored trader status would doubtless ensue - and it would be quite the coup to seize that from Kort, and the wealth that would flow into the Fitch family's vaults would double once again.

Naturally, the Sorhavners, with their proximity to the Valerian forges in Highever, were not thrilled to be getting undercut in this extraordinarily profitable enterprise, and, indeed, there had been a brief spot where they came out supporting Eldarion, but an unremarkable naval clash, a few sunk ships, and there was a nice little garrison of Firdan pikemen 'protecting' the city's Reeve (under one of his brothers, of course, so there was no risk of bribery), and a few young, new faces who'd come to be 'tutored' in Firdun - and a host of new ships carrying Valerian weapons joining the Fitch naval convoys to Ainur. He'd honestly expected some form of censure from the Court, but it seems the King had taken ill before the clash, and so it had likely simply been ignored, as many things from the realms' southern reaches seemed to find themselves.
Pity. He quite liked this King, but it seemed he wouldn't be long for this world.
Still, waste not, want not. The inevitable interregnum that would ensue would be his opportunity to rise higher than even now. "In the absence of a clear heir, should we not hold a Great Council, that the people might choose their next king? Why be beholden to blood, when it is clear that it is only men of ability who can lead this kingdom to greatness?" Pamphlets like that lay in dusty crates in the warehouses of all the great cities of the realm, just waiting for the king to die, and Finglas to cry out for the Free Cities of Wintreath to come together, and force the 'rule of the people' on those who thought rule was their birthright.
Of course, the people could quite easily be bought...and who better to buy them than a Fitch?

Aragonn moved quickly through the streets. Many people moved out of the way when they saw him approach, automatically recognizing the look of importance and urgency, 'meaning business', that was on his face and not wanting any trouble with House Valeria. As he approached the home of his dear brother Marinia, the guards snapped to attention from their relaxed stances then hastily moved aside to allow him access. If he had the time to spare, he'd chastise the guards for being too slack. But this wasn't a good time.

Upon entering the castle, Aragonn was greeted by the butler. "Ah, Mister Aragonn! It is good to see you here again. What brings you here?"

"Where is my brother?" The question was rather rude and abrupt, but Aragonn needed to move quickly.

The butler's smile was swept aside along with the pleasantries. "You'll find my master in his study."

"Thank you," he said as he began walking to the study with a brisk pace, hoping those two words would help dull the pain of his sharpness.

As he approached the study, he could hear Marinia talking to someone about 'fastest riders', 'delivery', and 'funding education'. Though he did not care about these, as his issues were much more pressing to him. Walking into the study, Marinia took notice of him almost immediately.

"I may as well have been summoned. I have heard of the King's departure from this world. And knowing you, you are planning something. I wish to know what your plans are."

Marinia regarded his brother coolly. He briefly considered not telling him of his plans, but decided this would be a foolish idea. He would need his brother's help should war break out, so it would be ill-advised to keep secrets from him.

"Leave us. Send the messages as instructed, and make sure we are not interrupted."

Marinia did not take his eyes off Aragonn as his servant left the room. Once the door was closed, he motioned to his older brother to take a seat.

"I pray you, a little more subtlety. I do not know who can be trusted with my plans yet."

He took a seat himself and proceeded to bite into an apple as he did so.

"I will cut to the chase. I know you prefer that. I plan to be King, and that is why I'm headed off to Frostlake City. I actually wanted you to accompany me.

Marinia saw that his brother was not in the least bit surprised.

"So, then. I've answered your question. Now tell me why you're here. I know you have no love for politics."

Aragonn kept his eyes locked on Marinia as the servant left. Only after the doors had been closed and the sound of the servant walking away had faded that Aragonn relaxed a bit. Despite being offered a seat, he remained standing. He liked being on his feet more.

The revelation that his brother planned to become king did not surprise him in the slightest. He actually expected this. He always knew Marinia had vast ambitions and the mind to make them reality. And he knew that staying with his brother would likely bring more success for himself.

The inquiry caught Aragonn off guard. He thought the answer obvious, as his business was so closely tied with the city.

"War. Conflict. These things require supplies. Tools, armor, weapons. All of these things are my business. If there is conflict between the Noble houses, I will need to be prepared to keep our forces properly equipped. And here I am seeking to know if conflict is coming."

"Well, it's settled then."

Marinia got off his chair and opened the door.

"We have a long road ahead of us. We can discuss some more logistics further on the road."

He proceeded to exit the room and head to his carriage.