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[Dwarmin]

After the taste goes away, Zeddrous looks to one of the guards nearby and asks:
"Guard, where might one find a place to sleep?   And do you think the King would mind if I borrowed a..Pretty slave for a night?"

The bored (yet cold sober) looking young Guard with a short red beard, holding a shiny halberd responds. He checks a scroll unrolled from his belt.

"Lord Zeddrous, correct? The King has appropriated the Western Upper Guest Quarters for you, overlooking the ballroom. You'll have the apartment all to yourself. Mind the reading room though-it's still being renovated for quests, from what I recall.

As for women, we serve no slaves here, only...heh, paid professionals. While we cover their costs, it is expected of a a Noble personage to tip them for their work. If you would like one sent to your room, right down your specifications on a scroll, and our courier will deliver it-and your entertainment will arrive shortly."

[Ardas]

Edgard smailed and let he man walk away to his chambers. Not long after that, king called for an end to the festivities.

Edgard headed to his appointed quarters, and laid to rest there.
As a duc, one of more opulent chambers was given to him, although the keep was old and rather short oo space. In the end, the room served its purpose- it was warm, had a bed and was sufficient for a duc with its rich furnishings, ornaments and thick tapestries.

No doubt first signs of intrigue were sprouting all over the place, with each noble trying to advance their interests, finding allies or patrons, probing for information and weaknesses, and Edgard in the middle of it all, looking after the gold of his liege. No doubt he was to rise to one of the most powerful men of the kingdom, with Albert looking to him for advice, just as many kings before looked for advice of their coin masters. If he were younger by few years, Edgard would be giddy with anticipation, unable to sleep.

His family, even though had one remining male heir, had still some ways of making itself known. With his two sisters, Elise and Eleanor, it was possible to arrange marriages and powerful alliances. They were at home in Arborvent, but Edgard knew that they will have a chance to come and visit their brrother, and perhaps help him advance their family...

[filiusenox]

"Oh...just dealing with captains, village elders and whatever person happens to control a band of raiders up on the Haegar coast...To see if we resolve problems with less bloodshed than needed.

The revealed portion of Rusty's lips curled into a grin.
"Well I'm sure I could help there...or at the least die an interesting way for your money's worth."

"Where and when are we leaving at? That is of course if you wish me and my partner to come along."

[Deep Waters]

Kylila speaks not a word as Rust and the Comte Osport continue to negotiate. Ampyrians take a dim view of the slave trade, mostly because many of the slave traders of the north prize the 'exotic' appearance of their southern counterparts and would pay ludicrous amounts of money for them. Every year hundreds of young Ampyrians go missing- often, traitorously enough, at the hands of the more unscrupulous amongst their brothers and sisters. Raiding, on the other hand, is nearly unknown amongst them- the closest thing within their experience would be stealing, and the dusky-skinned southerners are known far and wide for their harsh treatment of thieves.

Normally, a woman such as Kylila, who strove to be the epitome of the honorable, dignified Ampyrian knightess for all that she's exiled far from home, wouldn't stand for sullying her hands with such acts, even for someone she was dutybound to serve and obey. However, the former knightess had been forced to commit acts just as unsavory, if not more so, in her time as a mercenary before coming into the service of Rust's family. 'Even that last escort mission...' She thinks darkly, pursing her lips, 'Perhaps it was dishonorable of me, but by the just hands of Alaziz, I could not bear it anymore.'

Kylila shakes her head. 'This is no time for such thoughts. Now, as always, I must remain vigilant.' She listens intently for a moment, before speaking up, her voice calm and mildly inquisitive, "And in the event that we do indeed prove to be more useful than the average sellsword, you are certain that you can afford such a... generous salary? Two ducats a raid is quite the sum."

[Yoink]

"Well. Here I am, at last."
Habarre was alone at a desk in his newly-furnished office, constructed so recently that the smell of sawdust, paint and resin still hung in the air.
It was a dingy little place, but despite his poor surroundings, Habarre was quite pleased.
He could hardly have timed this venture better, the doors of the newly-renovated, brightly-painted 'Drifting Chemise' brothel swinging open for the first time just as throngs of revellers were crowding the city's streets in celebration of the new king's appointment. With a decent enough bar and club/restaurant happening on the ground floor of the building, along with the more 'standard' brothel services hidden away on the rickety upper floors, business was most certainly booming.

Indeed, right at this moment, judging by the sounds a patron was 'celebrating' in the room just below his flimsily-built office, causing the entire room to shake. Habarre's dark eyes followed the progress of his inkwell, wobbling its way across the desk, catching it just before it smashed on the floor.
'I must remember, once I have some capital, to build a seperate building for my office...' He thought to himself with a grimace, holding the inkwell safely in one hand until at last the racket from downstairs reached a crescendo and ended. He set it back on his desk with a sigh.
'Yes, a new, sturdier office will certainly be on the cards.' So thinking, he stood, grabbed up his coat and headed out. Everything was in order here, it was time to explore this strange new city in more detail.

>Explore the City.
Whilst looking around, make casual enquiries as to a source of narcotic plants, as well as some sort of security force for my fine establishment. Also keep an eye out for any "local talent", since a bunch of budget-range slaves aren't exactly going to attract any higher-class clientele.

[Araph]

It was warmer here than up north. Still colder than the Ralkarian Isles, but warmer than the bleak mountains of the Haegar lands. Strangely, the temperature was somehow familiar, almost nostalgia inducing. After a moment, Koios realized that the climate was nearly the same as that of Eldanic lands across the sea to the east.

Have I really been traveling so long that I identify places I've only visited as home?

No matter. He had more important things to deal with than the past. Winding his way through the dark streets, the wayward pilgrim made his way to the upper class section of the city, intent on finding an inn. He was down to the last of his funds, but this city looked promising. A new king, a new reign, and new government; the perfect setting for him to work in. Tomorrow he would head up to the castle to mingle with the nobles and functionaries, but tonight he just needed sleep.

The next day...
Trawl the denizens of the castle for information on the current batch of nobility running the kingdom.

[knightedskull]

A room, here at the castle?   Splendid.  And here I thought I'd have to spend the night in a dingy inn with the only comforts being a women.   

The guest rooms here would surely have comfortable beds without the need of additional "pillows".

With a slight surprise on on his face, Zeddrous thanked the guard:
"Ahh thank you very much for informing me of the King's gift.   I would have been out in the night for some time looking for a room.   Most would surely be packed what with the celebrations and people coming from all over.   As for a women though I'd have to decline if I'm staying in the guest room."

A grin begins to form on his face.

" I once knew a fellow that accepted a very familiar offer at a high noble-man's estate.   When the women came through the door he immediately set upon her.   The next day he awoke with a VERY angry man with guards surrounding him.   Turns out it was the noble-man's daughter trying to offer a meal!"
Zeddrous let out a merry laughter  and left the guard in good spirit.

No idea where my room is exactly but shouldn't be hard to find. Maybe take a peek at the reading room on the way.
There's only one thing that could ruin this mood and I have not seen him since his foolish but audacious tale.


>Go find my room and along the way take a peek at the reading room.   If I can find them.

[Dwarmin]

The Guard smiles politely, but it doesn't seem he finds that very amusing.

...

After some aimless wandering, Zedderous more or less bumps into one of the young couriers assigned to lead Nobles to their rooms. The castle is indeed, famous for it's cramped and windy corridors-constructing a castle on an island, and transporting the heavy stone here across the water was an expensive task, and money and space was saved on walking space to make room for the apartments. It gives the entire castle the feeling of a labyrinth-and is something those who wish to not be heard or seen some degree of safety...

He's lead through the paths ably, though-young men and women, mostly squires in training, make money hand over fist leading people through them, from generous tips.

As this one does now, having lead Zedderous to the ballroom and up the spiral staircase. His room is one of ten overlooking the massive, yet empty white marble dance floor-ostensibly for keeping large numbers of guests or nobles and their extended families. Or just for those that need the space and quiet to themselves. Unlike most of the rest of castle, this place is dead silent.

...

His room itself shows few signs of recent habitation, and little fine details or accoutrements. It has all the look of a place that was just dusted and washed, and in the process of being completed. Much like the rest of the castle, there's been a flurry of recent activity to make the rooms more habitable for guests. The Iron Queen wasn't fond of visitors.

The furnishings are excellent, where they are-more bird motifs here-but, a bit old styled. The floor is actually hardwood-finely aged, recently polished, not a creak to be heard. There's no fireplace here-but a brass coal brazier in the sitting room (the ornate craftsmanship suggests it was imported from Ampyria) provides a good deal of warmth for less fuel.

There's three other rooms here-the bedroom with a double bed and dressers (the slightly ruffled red silk sheets and the very faint scent of sweet perfume imply a woman might have slept here last, and recently), a dining room-four plush chairs around a round table-with a currently closed skylight operated by fancy brass crank in the shape of a tree branch (Another Ampyrian fixture, it seems), and the aforementioned reading room.

Little more than a small library, it seems to have a collection of tomes and books in stacks and piles, boxes and crates-alongside a throne like chair. The shelves are still being constructed, apparently, their empty husks being shaped and perfected by carpenters in the day. As long as one doesn't disturb the books stacked so precariously, reading is certainly possible here.

[knightedskull]

This will do very well.   I wonder how long the King will allow my stay here or if it will be just the night.
Zeddrous looks to the young courier and gives him a couple of wolves, not knowing how much tips go for here, and leaves the courier outside the door.
After the door is shut Zeddrous takes a good long look at the grand staircase.
"I got a long day ahead of me." he says to himself.
A gurgling bellow comes forth from his stomach.
"Damn the stuff again."

>Take off armour and cloths and get to sleep.

[micelus]

The revealed portion of Rusty's lips curled into a grin.
"Well I'm sure I could help there...or at the least die an interesting way for your money's worth."

"Where and when are we leaving at? That is of course if you wish me and my partner to come along."

"Not for a while...there is still very much preparing to be done. Not like I can just poof some raiders outta air, after all."

Osir smiled at that for a little and then heard the bladeswoman speak. Now that he looked around a bit, she was the only warrior-woman in the tavern...These Adranics preferred their woman more docile, after all.

Osir laughed a little as he spoke, finding that the girl had missed an important detail. "You be forgetting something girl, I said every successful raid. If we somehow don't break even on a little raid, then you get the usual rate. Only when you be doing something better than most and we get enough loot to make the raid worthwhile will ya and your friend here be getting them ducats."

[Skyrunner]

Rasgar watched as the little—in rank more than stature—man walked away, perhaps cooking up half a dozen more schemes to claw his way to the top. He did not like that kind. Years and years of honest work, through generations of faithful guarding of the seas had brought forth the prosperity of Dechire, at least, and the fact that his family, the Rasgar family, was a duc. Rasgar was a man that did not like the hidden backstabbing rampant in most courts, and the man—was he Osir? A minor noble—was obviously trying to use him for his own profit. However much he did not like being used, it was for the good of the nation and the navy, and if it did not work it was that man's responsibility. The only concern was of the matter of politics: would the Haegar state, whichever one it was, and the surrounding nations appreciate the raid?

He would consult someone soon. As of right now, it was not important.

>Sleep.

[Tiruin]

Renart returned to his seat after thanking the newly-crowned King, his thoughts set on his home and the borderwatch, would the Haegar attempt an attack in this state -did they even know of the coronation, or have spies amongst the Aldranic ranks?

He took a sip of the wine -made from a mix of the finest grapes in the vineyards, and kneaded his forehead in thought. The jovial atmosphere helped his mood, with the talk of the people and the music and words of the minstrels blending into a sonorous background pitch, he wondered how many would be at the meeting tomorrow, and on what it focused about. There was also the case on if he could import some of the local grapes to the Northwatch, such exquisite taste they had, more importantly if set into a foreign business.

Wait, he had forgotten to ask about- ah!

Renart stood up with a jolt, the plans in his head clearing up, and saw that most of the merriment was already leaving for the night, most with evident signs of the celebration forming red on their cheeks and in their walk. He excused himself to the nearest servant and moved to the door, talking to a guard and asking him the direction to his personal quarters.

>Head off to sleep.

Looking out the nearest window, he saw a multitude of stars in the sky, as if the eyes of the Gods were focused straight down on the Noble keep of Stormstead. It was a beautiful night, one that seemed to him as a good omen of the future rule of King Albert.

[Dwarmin]

The next day...

The afternoon sun seems almost ridiculously bright and cheerful. The King has called his courtiers to the Round Table Aerie-the highest and central tower of Castle Windheath-to discuss strategy. He's expecting reports on...well, everything. Needless to say, he'll also be handing out official appointments today.

The room is large enough to seat at least 20 people at the table comfortably-silken banners of the Royal colors are festooned around the edges, while large crystal glass windows give an amazing 360 degree panorama view of Windheath and the countryside surrounding. Popular rumors say the Iron Queen used to enjoy tossing traitors from the tower, and seeing if she could steer them into the spiked fence posts below. No one puts any stock in rumors, though!

While comfortable enough a room, it's certainly a Hell of climb up a spiral staircase to get here. Most of the guards on 'Aerie' duty are the Elite of the Bravos*

...

Albert yawned, looking idly out the window at his kingdom. He suppose it was time to start being a real king...he motioned for the door to be opened.

"Let them in, Aveline." He said.

The female attending him-a striking blonde woman with the air of a prowling cat, and supposedly one of the best fencers in Windheath-grinned confidently, bowing at the waist, hands on her twin blades in case she needed to draw instantly. A Bravo is never caught off guard...

--
*Bravos: A term for a highly skilled Swordsman, especially in dueling and fencing. Windheaths few Elite guards tend to be light on their feet, eschewing heavy armor for mobility and acrobatics-and are usually shorter and slighter than might be expected of a guard. At odds with statistics, at least half of them are women.

Such is their skill with the long and short blades they carry in conjunction-their combat style might be called Florentine in another time and place-they are quite deadly in the castles narrow confines, and have extensive knowledge of the places twists, turns and secret passages. The Iron Queen's assassins-as infrequent as they were-usually didn't get far once detected, their bodies gutted and thrown into the river.

[filiusenox]

Osir laughed a little as he spoke, finding that the girl had missed an important detail. "You be forgetting something girl, I said every successful raid. If we somehow don't break even on a little raid, then you get the usual rate. Only when you be doing something better than most and we get enough loot to make the raid worthwhile will ya and your friend here be getting them ducats."

Rusty's fingers began to tap on the table, his eye taking in the other man for a second, before he speaks, tone still calm and polite, but there's the barest hint of a threat in it. He shifts under the brown, coarse cloak, which covers any frame he may have.

"Please refrain from calling my associate 'girl', Sir Comte. She's saved my life as many times or as more times as I saved hers. I will be forced to take it a personal insult if you do so again."

He pauses, glancing over at the woman, grinning.

"And I'm sure she'll take it even moreso as one."

[Shootandrun]

Richard was the first to enter. He did not suffer from last night's feast, for he had been careful with the wine. He greeted the guard politely (and shot a few looks to Aveline, but never too long, for he knew the reputation of bravos) before taking his seat, next to the king. His beard was, as usual, well trimmed, but he did not wear the formal clothes he had had during the coronation. Instead, military boots and navy clothes - with silver decoration - was all he had. He did not have a weapon, either, unless you counted his skinning knife which he usually kept in his boot (when bored, he would sometimes take it out and sharpen it, but usually it remained there). It was not a tool designed to kill, and while it could probably cut a throat he would be hopeless against someone armed with a sword.

He turned towards his brother and greeted him politely.

"Good afternoon, brother. We shall wait for the others before we start, I suppose. I am certain some of them have news to share, but I do not."

>Explore the City.
Whilst looking around, make casual enquiries as to a source of narcotic plants, as well as some sort of security force for my fine establishment. Also keep an eye out for any "local talent", since a bunch of budget-range slaves aren't exactly going to attract any higher-class clientele.

You explore the city and become familiar with its main locations.

[2-6]You find no sources of narcotic plants, but you do fall upon a slave auction. The girls inside are all of high quality, but their cost is quite high. It's up to you to decide if you want to buy a set.

Trawl the denizens of the castle for information on the current batch of nobility running the kingdom.

[1] People don't want to talk to you about the kingdom's nobility. Some even insinuate that only a spy could ask such questions.