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[Dragor23]

"That's maybe the difference between us... I am a servant of the king."
 Theor plainly exclaimed. This topic for him was over.
"Let's argee, that we disargee... We both wish the kingdom prosperity. Maybe in different ways, yes. But that shouldn't tarnish our relationships."
He smiled a little bit, heading out of the castle. "I bid farewell... I need to oversee the recruitments of my new army."

[Kestrel_6]

After whistling a bit and singing a few songs to himself, Karas turned to the strange knight

"Hear that? Sounds like the night. Who are you, sir knight?"

[Tiruin]

Thoughts of doubt riddled Renart's thoughts as the last step of the tower was reached. Was Theor trying to implicate Richard on possibilities, or did he already know something about the royal family that he didn't? Of course, he put in the benefit of the doubt that nobles always aim for higher places - he would, to be honest, but he never thought that Richard would do such a thing. Especially since the coronation ceremony. Though, position commanded much more power and respect in rank, and the Duc was a lofty title indeed, vassalage may deny him that offer.

Or was it just him? He put his support behind the Iron Queen just as he did Albert. Perhaps it was just his own belief that blinded him as to how politics ran their course. He was but a borderline noble, and perhaps, this was a ploy that Theor had seen in it's entirety...

"That's maybe the difference between us... I am a servant of the king."
 Theor plainly exclaimed. This topic for him was over.
"Let's argee, that we disargee... We both wish the kingdom prosperity. Maybe in different ways, yes. But that shouldn't tarnish our relationships."
He smiled a little bit, heading out of the castle. "I bid farewell... I need to oversee the recruitments of my new army."

The door was opened by a guardsman. "Let's agree to disagree, then." He saluted his fellow general with his fist against his plate. "Farewell to thee, Theor Blackshield. May the Gods watch over you and your affairs."

As he mounted his horse, Renart kneaded his forehead with his hand. Perhaps it was all just musing, power could do things to people - every viewpoint must be watched. It was obvious that the Iron Queen still had supporters, people that wanted to see the downfall of Albert. He just knew it to be true.

But not Theor, nor Richard. The man let the notion go like the leaves in the wind as he rode back to his personal abode in Stormstead.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Later on...

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Renart said, seeing an envelope on his table. It bore the crest of his Commander, Trent Nethal - a timber wolf embossed in the wax - the symbolism could only be worn and stamped by his ring. He must have came after the coronation, and after receiving that apple wine.

I have much I wish to discuss with you later, my lord, that is if you see fit to meet me of course. If you do I ask you to seek me out when you return to Northwatch, I have much to do before I depart the Capital and I'm afraid I have not the time to meet you in person for the Ranger's Guard can not go long without my guidance.

Your Vassal,
Trent

As he put down the envelope and looked out the window - a sunny afternoon, to say the least - it must have been...only a month or so since his leave from his post? Personal matters shouldn't have taken long, especially for a man such as Trent. He was an industrious and deeply loyal man, charismatic in the sense of assertion and equality. Perhaps he was still here, for it would be foolish to leave only to find the sender's absence.

But where to look?

Return to Northwatch unless anything interrupts me.

The city inns? The brothels? Both were a viable option. With a shake of the head, Renart reclined on the stool, staring out onto the city, the Arendal river and the sea in peaceful contemplation.

[Deny]

Galhard turned towards the man, looking down from Moonstrider, studying him for a moment. He seemed like any normal man, however a commoner wouldent simply open up a conversation with a knight for the sake of it, unless they were mad, which may be a problem.
"My name is Galhard Thunderhound, knight of the Thunderhound family, baack from a long pilgrimage to serve the king, and who may I ask are you to ask?" Galhard eyed the man through his helm, watching for any signs of agression, the man did not seem mad, but one could not be sure.

[Kestrel_6]

"Just a servant of the King. Hopefully. What brings you to Stormstead, sir Thunderhound?" This one asks questions. Excellent. Certainly more talkative than the guard in front of them

"Seeking employment from the King, too?"

[Deny]

Galhard nodded "Yes, I have returned from pilgrimage to serve the king. And hopefully win back my honor in this kingdom, however I am puzzled as to what services you offer for him?"

[Dwarmin]

"I seek an audience with the King"

whilst awaiting a response, look at the Heraldry of the armour of the Guard, and Admire the scenery

The Guard checked his roster. "Getting a lot of people today...head on in, Saer. And watch your step in the main hall, it's being repainted. The King prefers more...autumn colors..."

You notice the Guard is wearing the symbols of the Castle Guard, naturally-polished silver armor with the twin diving hawks that are the mark of the Conricht family.

He's also wearing an orange patch on his left shoulderm with a red cross on it, meaning he's likely one of the intiated White Templars-they usually belong to one religion or the other, and always carry their badge on their armor, no matter their alliegeance, to symbolize their strength of Faith.

Given Kathryn Conricht was a vocal and physical opponent of Organized Religion, and banned them from serving in her castle, it could perhaps suggest the new King has different ideas on that subject.

"Galhard Thunderhound humbly requests an audience with the king, is he available?"

"He is. You'll probably be the last one today, unfortunately, so don't expect him to be in the cheeriest of moods-he's been a bit gloomy lately, rightly so. That Crown is heavy."

[micelus]

(I forgot to post.)

With the lady and lord Edgard gone, Osir went up to the throne and bowed.

"Your majesty, it is good to see you...although the trappings of power does not seem to have made life any better. Never less, I have a proposal to make, as the comte of Osport."

[King_of_the_weasels]

Cyril hadn't done much since the tournament and was growing restless.  His wife and child still in bed, for it was early, the time the servants rose to begin their duties.  He still woke at this time, he was accustom to waking up before the sun even peaked over the trees of Ironwood.  He remembers his day in servitude, being looked down upon like he was someone lesser, only for them to turn their opinion around when he was revealed to be the son of a noble. Suddenly "wine boy" became "the bastard", though unlike before the names were hushed in private rooms or chairs away, instead of shouted.  A large change with subtle difference.  He only made few friends with the nobles too young to know he was different, that he had lived like a peasant, like a slave.  Looking back on it now, that's what he was.  He was a slave.  He was owned, but now he was free. So some would say, but he was now in different shackles.  The shackles of responsibility, the shackles of guilt.  Why was he the one to be so fortunate? He would lose count of all the people he knew that had suffered more, that deserved better.  Cyril had no slaves for himself, all his servants are freemen, free to leave whenever they wish.  Though they are but a small fraction, and by no means relieve him of his guilt. 

The sound of blankets being tugged is followed by the soft and slow patter of feet. A slight smirk crosses Cyril's face as he keeps his back turned to his assailant.  Suddenly the sound of foot steps ends, and for a few seconds all is quiet before there is a light thud against his back.

  "Die O-grer!" shouted the small child, as he picked up the blunted arrow from the ground and tries to notch it again before Cyril can react.
  "Me crush puny knight!" Cyril grumbles as he picks up his son and flips him onto his shoulder playfully.  He screeches loudly only to switch to loud giggling.

  A groan comes from the bed, "Must you two be so noisy?  It is so early now."
  "YES" they bother respond raucously.
  "Leave" he groans as she rolls over placing her face deeply into a down filled pillow.  Cyril turns to look at his son, then back at his wife, then back to his son.  "We better leave this cavern before we rouse the ogre queen from her slumber."
  "I am not ogre queen, there is no such thing." she yells into her pillow.  Cyril drops down onto one knee and hushly says into his sons ear,"The ogre queen awakens, hear her say ancient ogre incantations."  A pillow flies by his head.
  "Let me sleep!"
  "As you wish, my ogress"

*Do ogre's exist? Maybe.
** and in other not talking to myself posts, which this one should be alright since I control all three of these people (unlike me talking to guards in yak2) an action.

Open my court allowing common folk to voice their opinions and allow them to share any problems.

[Kestrel_6]

As Karas entered the Palace, watching his step, he swept back the cloak, and pulled the hood to reveal black hair, and blue eyes. The rest of his features were average, perfect for someone of his profession. This was to reveal that he had nothing to hide from the king.

As he walked up to the throne, making sure to avoid the paint or painters. He walked up to the king, and did the greeting as he was taught, taking a bow, as if from apprentice to master, and spoke

"I seek employment with you, my liege, as an Assassin, your knife in the dark, so to speak. I would silence the voices and people that dare threaten you."

[Dwarmin]

The King nodded.

The 'Painters' put away their own hidden blades. It was all a ploy, to keep the throne room quiet and free of interlopers.

"...Well, I see you don't waste time. I've heard of a certain assassins reputation...he did good work, but a few of the bandits he happened to end up killing had rich friends and family, who profited from their crimes, and would wish the King to take revenge on their behalf...as King, I would have to do justice upon him if he dared walk into my halls.

Unfortunately...the Assassin whose real name was perhaps 'Karas Sirenna' is dead.

My guards took a man matcthing description unawares in the docks district, and after a short fight, he was slain, and his body was lost to the river-beyond recovery. A pity, for he had potential I could have used.

...So, tell me, what's your name?"

[Kestrel_6]

Karas considered names... This king is good...

"I don't see why I should have a name... the best terror to a traitor is a force they don't know the name of..."

This King is very sharp... But how did he know it was me? No survivors, no witnesses... Apart from those prisoners I freed... Damnit

[Dwarmin]

"Indeed...but, still-what should I call you?

You seem to a smart man. Surely, you can think of something. Perhaps a new name, for your new life..."

[Kestrel_6]

Karas began to think...

"Lee Blackstar. Sounds like an appropriate name..."

[Dwarmin]

"A fine name...a respectable name.

Sir Blackstar, I name you....Claw of Conricht. My mothers title, really-to men who did dark works for good reasons.

Your first mission, I already have for you. It's personal, so consider it a favor for me.

There is a Man, he came to my coronation-not Nobilty...a Businessman, so he fashions himself. He was fancily dressed. He mocked me, in silence. Were I a harsher man, I would have been goaded into something drastic...but, like my Mother, I am very patient.

He deals in slaves. That's not quite illegal, no. I am no fan, but Slavery isn't against the Law.

But, I'll tell you a story...some years ago...before I was King...The sister of my Mistress and one love, Ria, was found strangled to death in her bedroom, the day before she planned to move in with her at my Mansion. The killer was never caught. But the women of the Docks knew it was him, and they told me. They knew they would only have justice if I took it for them.

...He was even seen wearing a piece of her jewlery a few days after the fact, but his money and connections kept him from suspiscion. He feared no retribution. After all, who would care for the life of a mere working woman?

And, there were others. Perhaps many others...his reputation is a fell one."

The King grips his arm rest tightly.

"If taken to Court, he would no doubt harm my Reign, and his resources to delay and defeat any attempt at prosecution, not to mention many Witnesses we could call would disappear..,and, a King has to be...above these things. If he strikes with all his power, he cannot hesitate or appear weak. This is a battle pure force cannot hope to win.

That's why I want you to take justice, that's been denied to those without the power to pursue it-a subtle arm, for a subtle task.

If you accept, my guard will give you a name. You'll find the name, and end the man. There will also be a name of your control. He will know who you are, but he won't know your mission unless you trust him enough to tell him. He will help you, as much as he can.

No trace must be left, any connection from you to me. Understood? Do you accept this task, for me?"