A Message from the Roof of the World

[Yuri Morokoth]

The descent from the Roof of the World was never one taken lightly. The lands to the South were often enough embroiled in their own politics and squabbles that those who dwelt in the uppermost portions of Asga felt no need to entangle themselves in such things. It was frowned upon, to even make an effort in understanding the goings on in the world below them. They were the children of Aza'Ruuhl the Earth-Shaker, one of the Elder Gods. He had existed before Denetion Medivantis, before Igneon Lux, before any other of the Affinity Gods. He had been the one to lift the mountains into the sky and form the lands of Midgard herself.

Simply known as the Greater Northen Clans to those who lived southward, the mountain giants were often depicted as riding atop massive icebears. The armor they wore was thick and heavy, crafted of the finest metals pulled from the mountains they lived upon and richly decorated with talismans and holy incantations to protect them. They towered over all, and it was said that if one were to meet a Northerner in battle, it would be prudent to pray for a quick death.

Not so ancient as the Fian, the Northern clans still held a fair amount of mystery and mysticism about them.


It was with great shock then, that one of the younger mages was chosen to travel southward. His peers had decreed it, and chosen him to make the journey. He was to make his way to Necia. They had sensed the rumbles of discontent from their own god, and had held communion for twenty long days. Dawn of the twenty-first day saw their answer to the growing discontent of Aza'Ruuhl, and they sought to charge one of their own with the task of finding the source of the powerful murmers they'd felt.

Their chosen voice, Yuri Morokoth, traveled with four others, picked by lot to protect the warrior mage despite his already deeply ingrained combat abilities. The five were resplendant in thick armor and well-worn leather, the massive shoulder gaurds enveloped in furred bearskins. Tassles of silver-adorned leather strips hung from metal clasps; each clasp etched with holy incantations to protect them. Standing head and shoulders above the lowlanders, they had made their way down from the high mountains of their homes. They passed through the Jarnvid with little trouble, and as the party grew near to the borders of Necia, they each cast resolute stares upon their intended path.

They did not put their faith in any god but Aza'Ruuhl; those who chose to follow the Affinity gods were thought of not as ignorant, but simply misguided. These notions were buried deep however, as it was more than apparent that decorum was necessary to ascertain the level of danger posed by those who angered any of the gods, no matter their status. Each imposing figure knew the weight of their appointed task.

With the outskirts of Demos now in sight, the five continued onward. The bears they rode growled at the warmer climate, but otherwise obeyed. Like their masters, each animal bore leather and armor, and carried the massive weapons that were only thought of as legend; broadswords that would have taken two men to lift, and spears with shafts as thick as a man's arm.

They were the Children of Aza'Ruuhl.

They were the great Northerners from the Roof of the World.

They were the Aza'Mariuuhl.

[Csephion Draxus]

Csephion Draxus reclined at the head of a triclinium in his villa, taking a midday respite from the dreary mid-summer's heat. He'd hosted a number of other Satraps at his home for a symposium, sampling fruits of the vine and discussing the ever gossip-driven realm of politics.

As it had been for the past month, Ariadne Fyrian had dined at his right hand side. She'd proven herself adept at becoming a lady of society and a figurehead of intrigue. Her mere presence was enough to stimulate interesting conversation and rapport, but she was also there to assist Draxus in peeling away the intentions of his guests like a scalpel, and to get at the heart of the matter. She was a foil that he wielded judiciously to extract the precise lines of conversation that were necessary.

The past week, however, had cast some subtleties to the winds in exchange for fewer, if not darker ones. The League was at war. It was a political move now made sacrosanct. The spearkeeper of Vridex Telamus, the persona of the Metal affinity God who presided over the beginnings and ends of wars, had cast her spear across the Rhaegus river, the symbol of the ancient League's first crossing into war. It was now considered a divine war, shown with favor cast down from the Gods, and could only be revoked if the Gods also willed it.

It was just as well that Draxus made sure to fund renovations to the temple annually. The priest caste knew which generous benefactor oiled their daily bread.

With war cast down against Ankaa, the satraps were free to discuss the peculiarities of waging war. The raising of generals, the intrigue of two missing Imperators, the considerations of taxations to levy and conscription of the allied lands. A fleet already sailed for Peer, with the city now in temporary custody of Necia. It would be a staging point for further expeditions along the southern coast of Asga, probing the wastes and sargassum that enveloped the Sultanate to find a sufficient point to strike from.

There was also another issue quite close to Draxus that he planned to have raised, but that would wait for now. Best to lubricate the reason of men and glaucans alike with the vine.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

In the lull between the countless guests that Draxus consistently entertained, Ariadne found the restful time a much-welcomed thing. She had spent the last month at the Phressian Satrap's side, offering precisely what she knew he desired during the seemingly endless conversations that she attended with him.

But now it was a time of rest, and the Glaucan woman padded her way through the Satrap's villa. She had spent her time in the baths, cooling herself as much as possible from the relentless heat. She was used to such weather, but it had always been an easy thing to simply cast out from the Chiron and spend hours in the water, darting to and fro beneath the ship.

She paused in an open doorway, spying Draxus as he too used the temporary quiet to relax. Pascias was nowhere in sight, and Fyrian briefly retied the almost sheer linen around her waist.

"The Satrap looks to be weary," she purred, moving through the doorway and walking smoothly in his direction on bare feet.

[Yuri Morokoth]

As the five made their way into Demos itself, each one cast cold blue eyes about them. For as much as the people going about their daily activities stared at them, they too studied each passerby. If they were intrigued in any way by their surrounding, the giant northerners did not allow it to show. They remained fixed to the pressing task at hand, and with the knowledge that they had finally arrived at their destination, it would only be a matter of time before their presence became known throughout the city in its' entirety.

Yuri Morokoth knew that it would be soon now. When the Necian leaders showed themselves.

In the summer heat, all five had shed their furs and cloaks, now choosing to ride with the full glory of their armor exposed. Like monoliths they continued onward into the heart of Demos.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Indeed, his body succumbs to the toils of the day, where his mind suffers restlessness."

Disinterested in his wine, and tiring of reading correspondance from Peer, the Satrap pushed both articles away from him to the other side of his desk, and rose.

"What a paradox it is to toil so little, but to suffer the brunt of ill-claimed exertions. Perhaps war is made more taxing when performed from such an elevated height."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"If that is the case, then perhaps you should consider taking upon yourself the mantle of Imperator."

It was a rather blatant tease, and they both knew it.

"I'm sure with both Denix and Mako elsewhere, the people would welcome you back to such a post with healthy cheers and excitement."

A year ago she would have scoffed at the notion that she would be so closely entwined with a Necian Satrap, but with Kariun's death it seemed everything she once knew as fact had been cast to the side. Fyrian did not mind that at all.

She stopped at his desk to look down at what he had been reading.

"But," she continued in a mirthful tone, "I suppose that you have grown beyond such things to feast upon loftier ambitions."

She took up the wine he'd pushed to the side, taking a sip.

[Csephion Draxus]

He shared a mirthful moment as they both contemplated the ludicrous.

"It would seem beneath the expectation of my station, if I were to judge the perception of the people."

He steepled his fingers in thought.

"I think it's time to discuss the allure of expediency, and to gently catch our guests in its thrall. Everyone desires a good war that concludes quickly and with ample compensation to the victor."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian replaced the wine upon his desk, affording him a sideways look.

"Is that so?"

War of such that he spoke of was a new thing to her; she had lived her life as an outsider without the pressing matters of any sort of ruling bodies to dictate words over her head. It was liberating to go about one's existence in so free a manner, but with the ever-changing times crashing down upon them, Fyrian knew it best to embrace her evolution; from wild to partially civilized.

She would never truly allow herself to become so hobbled... so tamed by even Draxus' iron will, and she suspected that the Satrap was pleased by this. If she were to succumb in entirety to the conformity of society, she would lose her soul. At least, the Glaucan woman suspected as much. She was the exotic and wild counterpart to Draxus' more civilized and uniform bearing, and it was an easy thing to detect that what had once begun as rumors of their coupling were now known as fact.

"A war with Ankaa does not strike me as something that can be handled with any amount of 'expediency'."

[Erifa Nimshi]

Her time at the Satrap's villa had been spent carefully at first, but with each passing day Erifa had grown more accustomed to the happenings of her Necian surroundings. She'd even begun to enjoy it. The Glaucan girl came and went as she pleased, and her initial fear of Draxus had ebbed away into a cautious respect. If Ariadne saw fit to stay and take pleasure in their new status, then so did she.

But on this day, all was not as it was supposed to be, as Erifa scrambled her way through the halls and open rooms of the Satrap's villa. She was sopping wet, having so recently come from the sea and her daily communion with her father, Denetion. He had told her much this day, including the arrival of a group of men hailing from the northern mountains. It was this news that had sent the girl into a frenzied race through each room, searching for Ariadne.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Expediency is relative."

Draxus reclined on his couch as he regarded his ever-present companion.

"Necia has always placed high value on the sacred rule of law. It makes ill suited soil for growing tyrants, but at the expense of sharing no such comparable speed in handing down declarations as an autocrat may have."

He held aloft an index finger.

"But, there is an ancient office, reserved for grave situations in which decisive action and a quick hand are vital to ensure the state's survival."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian knew where his mind was - indeed, they had vaguely discussed just this same subject after the day she'd been called to speak before the Satrapy. Moving to sit beside where he reclined, the Glaucan pushed his raised finger back down.

"I know you mean to have yourself become dictator. There is no need to dance about your true intention with me."

[Csephion Draxus]

"I mean to bring order to chaos, and to secure Necia's destiny. My Dictatorship is merely the salve to apply, not the cure itself."

He was still reading her reactions to his revelations, gauging her thoughts.

"You worry that I embark on a self serving mission?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She gave him a slight laugh, finding a small amount of amusement at his question.

"Despite your fine clothing and regal posturing, your ambition is far wilder than even I could hope to be."

Her hand gripped his tightly as her ears caught the sound of approaching footfalls. By the rapid beat, there was no doubt that it was Erifa; come to find her for some reason or another.

"I only worry that there will come a time that I'll be unable to give to you whatever it is you may desire."

[Csephion Draxus]

"It is a curious thought to entertain, isn't it? We stand at the precipice of abundance, each offering the other the world, and the other not quite sure if it is enough."

He laughed a little, appreciating the dark nihilism for a moment.

"And we are as of yet both undeterred. Perhaps our ill suspicions are just phantasms."

[Erifa Nimshi]

A-ha!!

She'd darted past the open doorway almost, but a quick glance inside showed that Fyrian was very much inside. And of course, Draxus was with her. The Glaucan girl was not surprised by this, as seeing the two together had become a normal thing. If they were ever apart for any long amount of time, Erifa knew that ill words and short tempers were soon to follow.

Hair soaked through and dripping upon the floor, the girl stood breathless for a moment before starting forward through the doorway. Her pace was quick, bare feet a fast staccato beat as she approached the two.

"There are men in the city," she finally got out.

A useless-seeming statement to be sure, but being so out of breath made it difficult to elaborate.

[Csephion Draxus]

A cryptic thing for the child to say. Draxus in a way welcomed the interruption. The color of the day's conversation was beginning to darken.

"There are indeed a great many. It is the greatest of the cities in the east."

[Erifa Nimshi]

An impatient look was sent his way, and Erifa waved away his words without thought.

"Of course," she'd regained her breath, and now stood before the two.

"But not men like this. They are Northerners... the giants from the Roof of the World."

She had taken a slightly agitated if not awed tone; one that neither Draxus nor Ariadne had heard from her before. It was enough to make the elder Glaucan stiffen and send a look to the Satrap.

"They ride their bears into the city as we speak."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Northmen."

The notion of it was intriguing to Draxus. The tribes beyond the northern ranges were barbarians even compared to the bands of the Jarnvid and the wild Dalriadans that occupied central Asga. They came from an alien land of desolation, and what Draxus knew of them had come second hand from other barbarians he'd conquered.

He looked to a slave who stood at attention in the doorway. He approached quickly, and Draxus took him aside to whisper a message in confidence, to be passed along the Satrap's chain of command. Just as quickly, the slave was spirited away.

He again looked to Erifa, a smile on his face.

"I feel I should meet these queer strangers."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Through streets that steadily grew more crowded, Yuri led his small group further into the heart of Demos. Each Easterner they passed stopped to stare at the giants, cautious curiosity plain to see in their eyes. Likewise, the Northern giants returned each gaze with their steady and unflinching stares. They knew that their presence was unexpected and possibly worrying to some, but the nature of their visit far outweighed any desire to stop.

Onward they rode, their ursine mounts unflinching in these foreign surroundings.

The group slowed to a stop, and each rider looked up to their final destination; the Necian Oratorium. It was this building that Yuri had been tasked with finding, and once he did, he was to deliver his warning.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo's dwelling lay rather close to the Oratorium. Rather than live in a sprawling villa on a more toothsome property, the conservative Satrap chose an abode more accessible to foot traffic and the beating heart of the city business. It was still a mansion, but one of several degrees more humble than his peers. He sat reclined under a sun shade awning, enjoying a breakfast of sour figs, songbird eggs, cheese, and honeybread when the throng approached.

"Foreign barbarians of a strange look, but of some repute it looks like."

He spoke to no one in particular, as only a slave was in earshot. Finishing a portion of his breakfast, he set aside a knife and wiped his mouth with a napkin as he rose.

"If you are looking for the Satrapy, they are not in session today!"

Varo, clad in his ever-present black toga, strolled purposefully down the thoroughfare leading from his property to the main road that wound all the way up the hill to reach the seat of Necian government.

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yuri looked down from his high vantage at the man approaching them. He had years behind him it seemed, but there was certainly a hardness still within his set features. The Northern mage pulled his mount to a halt, the animal letting out a deep bass growl.

For long moments Yuri said nothing, simply staring down at the Necian. He weighed his option - he and his men had traveled far, resting only when the need arose. They would not be put off by something so simple as this.

The leather of his saddle creaked as he dismounted, and he slowly handed the reins to the companion at his side - a level gaze was shared between the two, and with little ceremony Yuri turned about. He stepped in front of the one who had spoken, towering over the man like some monolith carved in scarred steel and adorned with exotic yet obviously hardy furs. The talismans he wore on his armor seemed to almost radiate power, and the foreign writing etched into the metal plates gave off a faint silvery blue glow.

When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, his accent thick.

"Then call for them."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo's natural scowl seemed to deepen at this. These strange riders were certainly from some far-flung land, and he felt chastisement for their ignorance of Law to be premature.

"It is the Thanes of Idria. Astria Judix consecrates this day. No legal body shall meet in the Capital."

He looked at the riders, having some inkling that these may not merely be passing rabble with a notion to see powerful Satraps as simply a spectacle.

"You have the look of hard-ridden men. The Satrapy convenes on the morrow. If you permit it, my slaves will tend your mounts, and give to you of my food and wine."

[Yuri Morokoth]

The giant seemed to consider this, his chilling blue eyes still upon the Necian before him. A scowl of his own spread across his features. That this day was considered a holy day was something of a setback, as the Northerners had only come to deliver their message and then leave. Aza-Ruuhl it seemed had alternate plans.

A look over his shoulder to his men, and he turned back.

"Very well."

[Csephion Draxus]

By this time, Draxus's litter, bearing not only himself but also Ariadne and Erifa, arrived on the main concourse. The Phressian Satrap gestured for his slaves to halt the vehicle, and looked across at Varo and the spectacle assembled before him.

"Doesn't Regulus Varo entertain some of the most interesting company?"

He asked aloud in a manner quite rhetorical.

[Yuri Morokoth]

By now the entire group had dismounted, and Yuri shared private words with his second. They were quiet murmers as the others hovered about them, occasionally offering their own hushed input.

It was the voice of another however, that cause them to look at the new arrivals, and with a frown, each Northerner swept emotionless glances at the man, woman, and child. Yuri was not so blind as to understand the raised voice of the man who'd spoken, and allowing his eyes to linger for a few more moments, he gave a discontented rumble before turning his attentions back to the one apparently called Regulus Varo.

He had no time for what seemed initially to be petty in-squabbles.

"Take us to your home."

[Regulus Varo]

He put the demand on hold for a while. He would not suffer Draxus to sling barbs from afar.

"I did not fathom Csephion Draxus as a gossip. One wonders were I to invite him as a guest, if he would find the fruits of my table as toothsome as the quality of my company?"

His eyes fixed on Ariadne momentarily to regard her, then, back to Draxus, and again to the Northman.

"If the company of Satraps is what you seek, foreigner, the Gods show you favor."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

From her spot beside Draxus, Ariadne gave Varo a gracious nod. Angling her head to the Phressian Satrap, the Glaucan murmured to him.

"Will your curiosity allow you to endure such company?"

To her it meant little.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus smirked.

"I have built a resistance to this irritant, on account of constant exposure. Suffering Varo is as much reflex as it is chore. You have nothing to worry for."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A pat to his cheek, and Fyrian eased herself to the ground without another word. Erifa was soon to follow, the girl's eyes locked upward at the Northern strangers.

Unlike Draxus' feigned good nature towards Varo, the Glaucan woman favored him with an honest and genial smile.

"If the noble Satrap is willing to open his home, then I can assure you we would be most happy to accept his offer."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo looked to Ariadne, glancing back briefly at Draxus.

"A Satrap represents his people. His door must be open to hear them."

No doubt he expected trouble from his nemesis, but that was to be expected. Better to have an eye on him now than to let Draxus work out of sight.

"You too will be guests."

[Yuri Morokoth]

It was plainly obvious to Yuri that the two Necian men were rivals, but he allowed his meticulous gaze to not rest upon them, but the two Glaucan women. His people knew of their existence, but none had seen any of the water-dwellers before, and the curiosity of it all made him draw himself up higher... if such a thing was possible. Likewise, those in his party also favored the Glaucans with looks of interest.

Whatever the remainder of this day brought them, there was no doubt in his mind that it would be Aza'Ruuhl's will.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Splendid. I look forward to the Satrap's hospitality. We shall all break bread and have interesting conversations."

Draxus' gaze lingered upon the queer foreigners, and their imposing height. Not quite demi-divine if he were to guess, but perhaps some whelp of a demigod who took fancy to a blonde-haired north woman.

The Satrap's entourage was received by Varo's own attendees, and the entire party was ushered into Varo's home.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Mindful of the Northerner's eye upon both herself and Erifa, Ariadne did not stray far from Draxus' side as they were lead inside. Taking Erifa's hand in a firm grip, the elder Glaucan made sure that the girl remained silent for now.

[Regulus Varo]

The triclinia were assembled in the dining room with special care to note the party size. Slaves brought in extra couches and arranged them in a fashion best fitting the occasion. Varo at the head of the procession, the lead Northman to his right hand, then Draxus, the other Northmen, and finally the Glaucan women. His left hand side was populated by guests of lesser note, and on such short notice their number was few.

The meal was begun with wine, figs, melon, and bread, which would no doubt be followed by things more ponderous.

[Yuri Morokoth]

Unlike those more accustomed to such surroundings and normal customs, Yuri only allowed himself to sit. He did not recline, and neither did any of the others in his party. Each one sat up straight, and took of the food they were offered with a casual sort of curiosity mixed with cautious treatment. They had come here simply to speak their warning, and had instead found themselves as guests in a Satrap's home. Not entirely unsatisfactory, but it was still cause enough for hesitation all the same.

Chewing thoughtfully upon a piece of bread, the young mage swallowed as his eyes took in his surroundings, and eventually his gaze fell to the one called Varo.

Again, his deep voice; it cut through whatever idle chatter there was.

"Your generosity is appreciated."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo noted the strange way the foreigners composed themselves at the triclinia but dismissed it as nothing but barbarian ignorance.

"You have traveled a great way, Northman. You and your people will be heard in a venue that respects the hardship you've taken to meet with us."

Varo broke a loaf of bread, dipping it into a wine and honey mixture while glancing upward at the figure towering to his right.

"My hospitality is yours. Make yourselves as guests. It makes good bedfellows with earnest dealings and candor."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus drank of a cup of wine as he glanced to his left at the strange Northman.

"How long a journey has it been from the desolate north? Did you travel by way of the Dalriadan kingdoms, or throught he forests of the Jarnvid?"

[Yuri Morokoth]

"It was long enough," was his only answer for the moment. Eyes going to stare at Draxus, Yuri studied the man's face with a sharp gaze. Desolate north... a curious choice of words, but the mage supposed that these Necians were so content on their shores and temperate lands to consider the high mountains to be anything but an unfortunate place to exist.

One of his men gave a grunt; a hard, weathered warrior with craggy features and eyes of such a pale blue that at first glance they almost appeared white.

"Our lands are just as desolate to you as yours are to us."

A smirk passed over Yuri's features, and he settled the full brunt of his gaze upon Draxus.

"We passed through the Jarnvid. It is much different than from when I was a boy. It is no longer appealing."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Ariadne remained quiet, knowing it best to allow Draxus and Varo to satisfy their own curiosities. While there was no doubt that she too was drawn to the northerners, but there would be time in the future to make conversations of her own.

It was true that she'd sailed north, but where these men were from, even her father had not sailed.

[Regulus Varo]

"No doubt Satrap Draxus is keen to know of your thoughts of the Jarnvid as he too was once a frequent traveller at the head of Necian armies."

Varo smirked as he nibbled a piece of cheese, using his opponent's own bellicose history as a barb against him.

[Yuri Morokoth]

His eyes never leaving Draxus' face, Yuri allowed a cunning grin to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"That is why it is no longer appealing."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Very good."

Draxus grinned at the barbs, himself picking from a selection of melon cubes as they made small talk. He glanced momentarily to Ariadne, knowing she was hanging onto every word as she was known to do.

"I suspect, however, that you did not ride such a ponderous route to protest of the lowered quality of the Jarnvidian wilds. Our curiosity should certainly be evident, we have never entertained Northmen in our company."

[Yuri Morokoth]

His stature allowed him a rather extensive view of those on either side of him, and though Yuri had let himself enjoy a moment of particular needling, it was not to last long. He set his bread down on the ornate table.

"We do not see the necessity of venturing south of the Cos-Briste, therefore we stay where we are. I am aware of the stories told of us however; such things do not escape attentive ears.

"We are here to make sure that others know to stay where they are."

[Regulus Varo]

"My friend, is it wise to begin relationships with such brusque imperatives?"

Varo's brow furrowed as he studied his guest.

"We have not abutted against the northern reaches. As the hardship of your travel suggests, you are yet a great distance from us."

[Yuri Morokoth]

With an even look, Yuri took his gaze back to Varo.

"It is not our wish to pursue any relationship beyond the warning I have been tasked to give. I travel here under the orders and protection of Aza'Ruuhl.

"And we are not... 'friends'."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"At least we can take measures to ensure there is no animosity between Necia and the North."

Ariadne had finally chosen to speak, knowing that it would be wise to deflect the possible oncoming storm brought on by the Northman's words. Her voice was as silk, a gentle change to the harder tones that had dominated the conversation.

"Even if you have no intentions of returning once your duty is fulfilled, allow us to at least give to you our hospitality."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus frowned as he looked ahead, choosing his words carefully.

"Are we to assume you consider us a threat then? It is unusual to begin a relationship on such acrimonious terms."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yuri gave a broad smile then, and even if his own companions laughed, the young mage refrained.

"We do not see you as any such thing. The Cos-Briste protects us from the south, and even if any army tried, they would freeze to death long before reaching our lowland settlements."

His demeanor shifted from its' jovial nature.

"But when Aza'Ruuhl commands us to speak for him, we must do so."

Yuri looked from Draxus to Varo.

"It is not so much unlike your adherence to the laws of your gods; to not convene your ruling body on holy days. Just as you honor the requests of your gods, so to do we aspire to do the will of our god."

[Regulus Varo]

A dreadful start to an evening of promise. Varo sipped from his wine with an obvious look of disappointment on his face.

"Then it seems your god and our gods are at some disagreement. For the sake of all mortals, I would hope for some divine consensus to be reached."

[Yuri Morokoth]

"Aza'Ruuhl will make his desires known on the morrow, but your woman speaks wise words. My men and I will partake of your good graces until then."

Yuri took up a piece of fruit, and his gaze went past Draxus to Ariadne as he gave to her a respectful nod.

"We are most certainly all mortals, and being as such, we are all appreciative of kind hospitality - " he took a bite, chewed, and swallowed, his eyes never leaving the Glaucan.

" - and wise beauty."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Well then,"

Draxus broke a loaf of bread and passed it to Yuri.

"I anticipate hearing more from you tomorrow as well."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Accepting the offering, the Northman eventually pulled his gaze from the Glaucan to regard Draxus.

"What I speak of tomorrow will not be as pleasant as this day's conversations; I will enjoy what I can of your generosity, and I pray that myself and my companions will prove satisfactory guests."

[Regulus Varo]

"Very well. Let us become friends for the evening."

Varo lingered a stern gaze upon Draxus before regarding Yuri with an amicable nod. The slaves were now bringing new courses to be had. Lentils in fermented fish sauce, songbirds braised in grape must, the tongue of a tigraphant upon a skewer.

"Tell us of your homeland. I am afraid we do not entertain more than farce and rumor on account of the Cos Briste."

[Yuri Morokoth]

At that, Yuri leaned back slightly as one of his companions spoke up - the same craggily-featured man who'd spoken before.

"There are blizzards that would freeze whole armies in their tracks, like sculptures carved of ice."

The other Northmen nodded in affirmation as the warrior rose to his feet. He towered over all others in the room, and the slight jingle of the many spell trinkets he wore reverberated softly against the walls as he moved.

"But words are such poor substitutes for explaining these things... " A look was sent to Yuri, who only gave a nod to continue.

"If your holy day does not forbid the act of conjuring images, you may see with your own eyes the lands that cannot be conquered... "

[Csephion Draxus]

"The Thanes of Idria is Astria Judix's day, but that only concerns governance in the Capital."

He grinned at the respect given by his no-doubt future adversary.

"Many gods are respected here, including your own."

[Yuri Morokoth]

With the knowledge that he could proceed without worry, the Northman - Yvin - brought close one of the braziers that had once stood in a corner of the room. It was a simple spell, taught to all of his people; one that would allow them glimpses of their homeland while away. Every man, woman, and child knew the spells necessary for such a thing. It helped ease worrying minds and soothe tired nerves to glimpse their home.

Careful to keep the small fire burning, Yvin passed his bare hand through the flame once, calling to Aza'Ruuhl so that the god would allow him sight beyond sight. He could feel the power in each inscription etched into his armor as it bled its' way down his arm like some viscous, white snake. It poured itself into the burning coals, turning the orange flames a brilliant white. Illuminated, Yvin stood tall and immovable, like a grim statue to rival any other carved in Demos. And still he held his hand within the fire.

Ever silent, the giant uttered a string of words, unintelligable to all but his kinsmen, and without hesitation he closed his hand around one of the white-hot pieces of coal.

The power that he had poured intot he fire blazed its' way back up his arm, and for a brief moment each carved letted in his armor glowed fiercely.

For his own part, Yuri looked on with a level gaze; it would be nice to see home for a short while, after all.

Yvin, still holding tight to the coal, constricted his grip, and with little effort tossed the crumbled and dusty remains into the air before him. The scattered particles grew into a flurry before everyone's eyes, obscuring the wall opposite and painting a living picture of the great mountains of the North. Snowy crags broken by sheer cliff walls became visible, and even though the temperature in the room had not changed at all, it was easy to see that Yvin had not spoken falsely of the Northern region's frigid envirnment.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo watched the spectacle with engaged interest but betrayed no exuberance. He was inwardly impressed by the display of foreign magics. Of course the collegia of the pantheon each held similar talents in their own ways, but it was certain that the god the Northmen followed held a significant amount of power.

"This far sight, it is rooted to your home of ancestry then?"

Seguing into another question before he was given an answer, Varo continued.

"Your dominion extends to the northern shore of Asga, yes? And westward? We know the kingdoms of Dalriada extend vast reaches across the hinterland, but the barbarians themselves speak little of you."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yvin passed a hand through the illusion, causing a ripple to spread outward. The image held despite his touch.

"They speak little of us because it is what Aza'Ruuhl wishes. Few make it to even our lower encampments, and those who do often do not survive their return."

Yuri saw the look on the Glaucan woman's face, and finally spoke up.

"We are not so horrid as to butcher them; nature and the laws of the cold do well enough. It is our security, given by our god."

Rising to his feet, the mage strode to stand beside Yvin, and spreading an arm wide, the image widened to include the breathtaking beauty of the great Cos-Briste.

"We have no need of the sea, therefore we do not venture there. The highlands provide all we require."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She was mesmerized, utterly taken with the stark beauty shown in the Northman's casting, and cautiously Ariadne sat up. She leaned forward, perching on the edge of the couch she'd so leisurely reclined upon only moments before.

These lands were so unlike the seas she had lived all of her life on; so unlike any other place that she had seen in all of her travels. To her it was breathtaking, and a kernel of desire began to bud and grow in the back of her mind.

She wanted to see these lands with her own eyes.

[Csephion Draxus]

"You speak of the harsh icy weather rebuffing advances north, but what of seasons in which Igneon Lux is at his ascent? Seasons change, and snows melt."

It didn't surprise him that the foreigner would speak from a position of strength, but Draxus had dealt with men like this before.

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yuri gave a half-hearted chuckle, his lips curled back in a wry smile.

"Your god holds no sway in the lands of Aza'Ruuhl."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Then the turning of seasons, which dominates all known civilized and barbarian nations, is not met in the northlands?"

Draxus sipped his wine, intrigued by what was either a brazen bluff, or a cryptic truth.

[Yuri Morokoth]

At that, he paused as if in deep contemplation. He waved a dismissive hand at the image casting, and it dissolved away into nothing - revealing once more the familiar contours of the wall behind.

"It does get warmer, yes. But not enough to banish the snow. We are... too close to the heavens to be significantly touched by the hand of summer."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo, fussing with an underripe fig, put it to the side and offered a voice of mediation.

"Then an excercise in relativity. Understandable. Your curious geography would certainly bring you close to the celestial winds."

At last finding a fig that suited his interest, Varo ate, considering the obstacles of the conversation.

"Perhaps there is room for measured cooperation in our mutual benefit. Where you by admission control the pass over the Cos Briste, it is the Necian League alone that can breach the immense expanse of the eastern sea, to the other continent. We both seem to excel in traveling to places others do not reach."

[Yuri Morokoth]

"And why - " Yuri returned to his seat, but refrained from eating.

" - would we wish to do that? We are content and satisfied with the lands that have been given us by our god.

"Are you not capable of the same?"

Yvin, who also once more took his seat, gave a shake of his head.

"We have seen travelers from the other continent; be glad that they no longer sail to Asga."

[Csephion Draxus]

"Perhaps due to an innate and inheirited curiosity, I suppose."

A wry smile as Draxus regarded the guest.

"Our success is divine favor. Were it not, it would then be failure. Necian Gods speak cryptically but act with certainty."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yuri gave a frown at that. While he cared not for the gods Necia followed, he knew that men with faith were nearly impossible to stray from the path that they felt holy.

Likewise, his companions too had grown silent, each pondering Draxus' words and knowing that what this man spoke would no doubt be the final answer from the Satrapy. It was a sobering thought, and did well to pull them from the food and wine before them.

The mage stood.

"This is tiresome. My men and I are weary."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo frowned. Obviously something in Draxus's words had drawn offense.

"You must excuse Satrap Draxus, he interprets the reason of many deities through the crucible of a flawed mortal."

The host Satrap picked at a songbird with a knife as he explained. It would be enough of a rebuke without resorting to airing venom openly between the two Satraps. Draxus had recently ordered one Imperator to his doom, and another had not been heard from in some time. What were the gods to say of these failures then? But alas, one should wear red to a fight to not let his enemy see him bleed.

"It's a temptation few can rise above. To an untrained eye, the world exists as chaos."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Looking down to Varo, the mage gave a respectful nod.

"Indeed. It is foolish for a man to believe that there is no divine hand in anything we do. But for those of us who are able to see the order within, we would be equally as foolish if we did not act on what we saw."

[Regulus Varo]

"Logic, reason, these gifts given to men of quality come from a higher place. Perhaps less should be spent on divining the source and more upon the application of them into worthy pursuit."

Varo broke bread, and passed it to his guest.

<center>* * *</center>

The dinner continued on for hours as such, and the discussion amongst the attendees ranged across a broad spectrum of topics. Some were met with passion, others met analytically. It was a curious forum for the meeting of minds that lasted well into the evening.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Having taken their leave of Varo and the Northemn, Ariadne spoke little on the return journey to Draxus' villa. In sharp contrast, Erifa chattered away incessantly; she had been fascinated by the giants from the North, and once more in the relative privacy of familiar persons, she exhibited the natural curiosity and excitement of a normal child her age. Ariadne found herself thankful that the usual serious demeanor of her young charge had been set to the side.

Even after the younger Glaucan had been sent to bed Ariadne had remained quiet.

She had much to ponder, and judging by the Satrap's own behavior, it seemed that he too was deep in thought over their afternoon and evening spent with Varo.

But now they were alone at long last, having retired to his sleeping chambers. Sitting astride Draxus' back, the Glaucan kneaded the muscles of his naked back, fingers massaging and rubbing the day's exertions away.

"You are quiet," she started softly.

"Thinking on the morrow?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"This Northmen business..."

Draxus shook his head.

"...curious timing, that. It has to be coincidental, but something tells me it isn't. Strange, isn't it?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

For a short while she was silent, lost in her thoughts and the memory of the magic that had been used to show them the lands of the giants. It had held her spellbound, awed at the immense beauty of snow-covered peaks and jagged mountain terrain.

Another few moments passed as she continued her movements; thumbs pressing into the space between his shoulderblades before pushing outward with both palms.

"I doubt it could be coincidence... "

She paused in her motions, then resumed.

"But beyond that, I cannot imagine what they would be here for; or what they wish to address the Satrapy in regards to."

Another quiet spell, and she voiced a small bit of worry.

"Perhaps it is an omen? Northmen, descending from the Roof of the World... "

It did not need to be said that she felt the omen to be a bad one.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus took some relief in Ariadne's deft fingers and sighed.

"Puffery. The Northmen are as any species of barbarian. They certainly carry some bellicose message that we are supposed to be intimidated by."

He shook his head, deep in thought.

"We have influence of our own in the Jarnvid. One thing is certain, while one eye stays on Ankaa, we'll have to keep another fixed north."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her brow knit at that.

"We have no way of knowing exactly what it is they wish to tell us until tomorrow."

She moved to massage his neck, her fingers tracing upwards to rake gently against his scalp.

"Do you really think it wise to dismiss them so easily?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"Assume the worst, and you can then usually be pleasantly surprised. They're obviously not fond of trade, then what can be made of the hardship they endured to reach us?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

There was truth in his words, and Ariadne gave a nod that none could see.

"And would you try to conquer their mountains if given the chance?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"Beyond the mountains, what I saw was only beauty and desolation. Leave them to it."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Ariadne gave a sigh, leaning her weight to the side and sliding from his back.

"I don't think it's desolate," she replied in a wistful tone.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus smiled.

"You would want such a forbidding place? It doesn't suit you."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

His smile broke her from her reverie, and Ariadne reached over to gently push at his shoulder. She gave a grin of her own at his confident tone.

"Oh? Then what do you, oh noble and great Necian Satrap, think suits me?"

[Csephion Draxus]

"Some place where the seas are bountiful and don't turn into an armor of forbidding ice, perhaps?"

The Satrap smiled at her challenge.

"You're taken of this place?"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

A shrug as she inspected the intricate patterns of the raven tattoo's wings which curved over her shoulders.

"Not entirely. I certainly don't have a mind to venture that far north any time soon."

Pursing her lips in thought, the Glaucan conceded to him.

"Perhaps you're right."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus toyed with an entirely self-serving notion, but tucked it away.

"Perhaps these flights of fancy can wait until tomorrow. As you said, our guests have been more than cryptic."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Making herself comfortable, she flicked at his ear.

"Thankfully their hosts remained marginally civil with one another and kept themselves from descending into useless back and forth fussing.

"The two of you... you are like nattering old women."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus stifled a laugh.

"Nattering?

Varo has taken a dangerous position to appear as the arbiter for the Northmen. If he isn't careful, he will alienate himself within the Satrapy."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Let the man do as he pleases."

Ariadne pulled him close, wrapping one arm beneath his neck as his head rested on her chest.

"At the end of it all, whatever he may do matters little."

[Csephion Draxus]

He rested his hand at the crook of her elbow.

"It matters. He's my opponent, and I won't let him stand in my way. We may be able to enjoy a meal together and exist under the guise of civility, but the time of reconciliation between us has long since passed."

[Yuri Morokoth]

* * *

The early morning brought with it a sense of ponderous weight, made doubly heavy by the burden of the warning he was tasked to deliver. Yuri remained steadfast however, and secure in the knowledge that no matter the direction and action, his being here - in Necia - was a necessary thing. One outcome would lead to continued quiet; a peace that was largely nothing but a matter of separation.

The other... would lead to war. Would bring the Northern clans from their cliffs and mountains to descend upon the Necian League like a blizzard.

Standing alone in the courtyard of Varo's home, Yuri stood before a casting of the Northern highlands, his arms crossed over his chest. He brooded in silence, lost in the image of home and the thought of fresh snow beneath his boots. Of the hearth fire and his young wife, still with child. She was nearing the time of birth, and it had torn him to leave, but the council of mages and the Matriarch herself - Denmarie - had given their word. It was not to be disobeyed.

The giant breathed in deeply of the air around him, and reaching out, he ran a finger through the illusion, causing ripples to stretch outward as his lips uttered a silent order. The image shifted to one closer to home... to the great stone citadels carved into a sheer mountain face, to the spires that reached up into the sky, the great monuments built to Aza/Ruuhl. This was the city he called home.

Nostok.

[Regulus Varo]

Varo rose early, and was quick to greet the morning light, stepping out with a slave entourage to see the fleeting illusion conjured by the northern mage.

"Morning salutations, friend."

Varo watched again as the view of a faraway place disintegrated into the air.

"Am I intruding?"

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yuri gave a shake of his head as he turned to look down at Varo.

"It has been a morning habit since leaving the Cos-Briste. You do not intrude."

His eyes went over the entourage for a brief moment, then to the Satrap once more as he addressed the matter of his arrival and current presence in Necia.

"Your government - it will meet today, yes?"

[Regulus Varo]

A slave brought a chair with an inclined back forward, and Varo sat, unfurling his toga top as oil was applied to his face and neck.

"We will convene. I have already sent word to make preparations to receive you."

A slave worked with a razor, running it along a strip of hide to hone it to its final effectiveness.

"You couldn't humor my curiosity of what they will be hearing, I don't suppose? It would make matters easier I think."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Seeming to consider this for for a moment, Yuri gave an eventual nod as he observed this curious morning ritual taking place before him.

"Aza'Ruuhl the Earth Shaker stirs. His unrest is always marked by periods of illegitimate war. He does not condone the fruitless spilling of blood upon his skin, and would sooner tear himself open to swallow us all should that happen."

Without the benefit of his armor the mage seemed somewhat less intimidating, and in the relative privacy offered with the Satrap, Yuri allowed his dominating presence from the previous evening to slip ever so slightly. He did not want war between any of Asga's peoples, but the matter was not for him to decide.

"I am merely the messenger of the Matriarch. From her I bring a warning. Whatever is happening here in your great city; whatever is about to happen - it is in no way blessed."

[Regulus Varo]

Varo let the words sink in heavily. The indirect accusation of illegitimate war was understood well enough. Varo had protested the opening of hostilities with Ankaa, but that die was now cast. They were at war, and it had to conclude.

"The Satrapy will not receive this news well."

He thoughtfully considered the message as his slave began to shave him in preparation for the day's events.

[Yuri Morokoth]

"I do not expect them to."

He frowned, looking up to the sky.

"I do not war between us, Satrap Varo, but if your people refuse the warning my Matriarch sends with me, the great Northern Clans will flow down from the Roof like the greatest of storms to set right the balance."

The mage inhaled deeply before looking back down to Varo. His voice held no threat, rather it carried an almost pleading undertone. It was a strange thing to hear in his normal bass.

"Your people are great, but can you truly wage war against two enemies?"

[Regulus Varo]

"Necia has a talent for war, Northlander."

The razor ran smoothly along Varo's contours as he sat back, looking at the morning sky.

"The man you met last evening was once an Imperator of the League. He is no doubt hoping for the precise message you wish to convey today. I would ask you to reconsider, but as it is, you have come such a great distance."

[Yuri Morokoth]

"I have a duty to perform. Despite whatever the outcome may be I must not shy from it."

Yuri gave a shake of his head.

"When you have given me your answer, I will take it to the Matriarch. She will act accordingly."

[Regulus Varo]

Soon, the barber's work was done, and a towel was brought to dry Varo's face.

"Then we should be off. I don't wish to delay your response or to tease with hypotheticals and expectations."

Re-wrapping his toga, Varo looked for a moment somewhat older and somber.

"Under some other circumstance, I would have wished your company as a friend. I fear something larger than us both steals from us gravely this opportunity."

[Yuri Morokoth]

Yvin stepped out into the light, carrying Yuri's armor. He gave no more than a grunt in greeting to Varo as he passed the Necian to stop at the mage's side. A brief nod in thanks, and Yuri set to the task of pulling on each piece of proctective metal.

"You have offered us your home and hospitality in the face of whatever our two futures hold," he started, cinching down leather straps to secure the bindings, "It is the sort of kindness that my people do not forget."

[Regulus Varo]

"I pray we all have long memories then."

Varo extended a hand to his guest in farewell, and the two departed the villa, headed for the Oratorium. Already, the throng of Satraps and their hundreds of retainers was thick, and the air was electric with conversations and gossips of the day. Soon, the proceedings of the day's government would begin in earnest.

"Captain, Captain!"

Varo flagged down a man in red tunic, who detatched from a similarly-clad group of soldiers assigned to be the escorts in the capital.

"Escort our guest to the lower assembly. He is to be called on to testify at the Satrapy's request."

[Yuri Morokoth]

In the midst of it all, Yuri stood tall, head and shoulders above the rest. His armor and the heavy furred cloak he wore making him seem all the more immense. He could feel eyes upon him from every direction, but ignored all save the man Varo had called for.

A respectful nod was given to the soldier, and Yuri parted ways with his Satrap host without a word.

[Regulus Varo]

The Satrapy was assembled in due time, and the meeting was gaveled into order by the rollkeeper on the floor of the Oratorium. What had been a mild roar of open conversation was now a dull sound of the occasional whisper as the rollkeeper began the assembly.

"What new business is brought before the Satrapy on this day?" The overweight man with a booming voice dominated the floor.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

It was not often that Ariadne accompanied Draxus to the Oratorium. The last time that she had, had been to name Ankaa as an aggressor to Necia. Since that day, she had kept largely out of the public eye. She had left that aspect to Draxus, and only made her presence known when he entertained fellow Satraps at his villa. Of course, it did not quell the rumors already growing that the Phressian Satrap had taken the daughter of Kariun Fyrian into his home.

Sitting beside Draxus, Ariadne had chosen to wear freshly tailored leathers beneath a crimson cloak that fell to her feet. A serene and capable figure to compliment Draxus and his own commanding presence.

Head held high, the Glaucan looked down to the dias and the man who had spoken.

The time had come to hear what the Northerner had come to say, and with the call for new dealings given, she knew that Draxus would act quickly to get to the heart of the matter.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Let's be done of this, shall we."

Draxus rose to his feet above his constituency around him.

"I call for Yuri Morokoth to speak to the assembly!"

At last he'd be able to hear what this man had traveled so far to say, and he'd hear it openly and without innuendo. If he had any notion of what it would entail, he would soon have due cause to open a second front of war.

[Yuri Morokoth]

Was it any surprise to him that the man, Draxus, struck so immediately? That the man Varo had warned would crave to hear a second blow from the great horn of war? No, Yuri supposed that indeed it was unsurprising to listen as Draxus' voice rang out in the quiet of the great Necian Oratorium. He gave a grunt, pulling himself up to his full height as he took a step forward from the shadows he stood in.

Flanked by two soldiers, the Northman took long strides to the dais. Far removed from the man Varo had spoken with earlier in the morning, Yuri Morokoth was like a wholly separate man. His scowl was deepset, yet his eyes took on a tranquil gaze that swept up to those sitting above him.

Resplendant in armor and fur, adorned with holy charms and tassels of leather and precious metals, he stood tall on the dais.

"Men of Necia," he began in a thunderous voice.

"I have come from the Roof of the World to deliver a message from the Matriarch of the Northern Clans."

[Csephion Draxus]

Hands clasped before him, Draxus peered down at the Northman and replied.

"And what message do you bring from such a great distance?"

[Yuri Morokoth]

The Northern mage allowed a pause before answering.

"I bring you a warning.

"This war you have set yourselves to... it has no blessing from any god, and Aza'Ruuhl the Earth Shaker now stirs in his slumber because of it. You sound your drums and gather your men for something that is illegitimate and cast in the dreadful shadow of the Dark God."

[Csephion Draxus]

The throng of Satraps rose to a din of protests at the foreigner's words.

"Blasphemy!" one voice rang out.

"What insult is this?" rang out a long-locked Glaucan as he shook his fist.

Draxus and Varo alone seemed immune from outrage. Calmly, the Phressian Satrap rose a hand in the air, the weight of his gesture bringing the voices back to a low simmer.

"You speak with great presumption, Yuri Morokoth. The four collegia of the pantheon are with us. Our fight is consecrated. Rest assured, however, we have no quarrel with you or your people."

[Yuri Morokoth]

"There is no presumption on my part, Satrap Draxus.

"Aza'Ruuhl only stirs when such misplaced endeavors begin, and he will not rest until he has opened his body and swallowed us all down into his depths. You place the whole of Asga on the brink of annihilation with what you are about to do, and the Matriarch cannot allow that. There may be no quarrel between us now, but rest assured that there will be; what you aim to accomplish in your war with the Southern peoples will affect us all, and the lands will cave and destroy every man, woman, and child on this continent."

There was a sudden shift in the timbre of his voice, and his next words rang out powerfully.

"If you continue on this path, the Matriarch will gather the Northern Clans and we will descend down from the Roof of the World to stop you."

[Regulus Varo]

It was inevitable now. War would come. Varo now had to consider consolidating his position in the Satrapy. If he did not condemn Yuri's words then he would be marginalized and nobody would be able to openly oppose Draxus's faction.

He rose.

"Necia will not be threatened. Coercion under pain of violence is a tool applied to animals and criminals. You've traveled a great distance, and I should hope you do not call us either."

A fleeting glance to Draxus. He could stomach not a moment longer on the man.

"Obey your God, and we shall too obey ours."

Varo slowly sat down as the sound of cheering Satraps filled the Oratorium, emboldened by his own forced words.

Out of view amongst the standing throng, Varo shook his head.

"The fools. All of them."

[Yuri Morokoth]

A slow fury began to build in his eyes, but the mage continued to conduct himself carefully and to choose his words with caution.

"I'll not argue pointless matters of opinion with the lot of you," he rumbled loudly.

"Your answer has been given. I will take it to the Matriarch."

One final look was given to the assembled mass before him.

"The Northern Clans will gather to safeguard the lives that Necia chooses to endanger - " he raised an arm, leveling a finger at Draxus. " - and there will be no peace... as long as you blindly misinterpret the will of your gods."

And without another word the giant spun about on his heel, stepping down from the dais with heavy footfalls.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus barely supressed a smile as the barbarian left. He'd given him every bit of casus belli he needed.

Again, his hand rose to generate calm amongst his peers.

"Fellow Satraps, in light of the grave seriousness of these developments, I move a proposal forward that we schedule a vote, today, to raise one Satrap to the emergency office of Dictator, to confront the ongoing war against the Sultanate of Ankaa, and to meet the threat delivered by the Northern barbarians beyond the Cos Briste."

Again, the oratorium exploded into a storm of shouting, and even in some circles, fist fights. The maelstrom threatened to spill out of control, and as the officer on the floor yelled for order, Draxus looked to Ariadne knowingly.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She had been struck speechless at the events which unfolded, and Ariadne sat stunned; to fight a war on two fronts?! Were these Necians mad?! Surely they would be torn asunder and left to rot on the shores of their lands but armies on either side of them! It made no sense, and for a fleeting moment the Glaucan felt panic at the thought of it all.

She looked up, meeting Draxus' gaze. He would see support in her eyes, but so too was there worry and concern. Jaw setting, Ariadne pulled in a long breath, exhaling through her nose.

What he did next was the very thing that would place him above all others, and would allow him to wage any and all wars that his heart so desired.

[Regulus Varo]

"A vote for Dictator? A vote for a tyrant king more like!"

Varo roared over the fray, a bloodied nose suffered in reaching the pulpit.

"A dictator to keep the sanctity of the state intact through the crisis, but how many enemies will we have to fight before it is abated?"

He glowered at Draxus.

"My faction will not vote. Without the votes, you will never pass this illegal measure!"

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Fyrian rose swiftly to her feet to stand beside the Phressian Satrap.

"It has to be done, you know as well as even I. Your nation is beset upon from all sides; action must be taken."

[Regulus Varo]

"And he has pirate queens to speak in defense of his madness as well."

He frowned at the pair of them, still standing serenely amid the chaos.

"If we run toward a direction with only expediency and without thought, it will be off a precipice!"

[Yuri Morokoth]

His men awaited him at the front steps leading into the Oratorium, astride their mounts and ready for the return trip to the Roof. They were no fools, and knew the outcome of their young mage's words without having to set eyes on the grimace he wore while descending the stairs.

Yuri pulled himself up into the saddle, his bear letting out a grunt as he did so.

"Dietre."

One of his party turned to regard him.

"Remain here."

"Sir?"

"I do not expect good things to leave that building. Watch for the Satrap, Varo. If his situation turns grave, you are to bring him and follow us. If not, stay by his side."

The Northman gave a nod, watching as his companions turned their animals from the Oratorium, taking the first steps in their long return journey.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

"Look around you," she bit back, " the precious sanctity of your state is falling into disarray before your very eyes, and your leaders are unable to act with the civility they so passionately laud!"

Her voice lowered so that only Draxus could hear.

"Call them to order, now; show them that you are the only man capable of guiding them. Those who have Necia in their hearts and souls will listen and follow."

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus rested a hand on Ariadne's shoulder. It would do them no real benefit having her lecture Varo openly over governance. Her best talents were in discretion, and he would soon need plenty of it.

"Tell your party what you wish."

Draxus addressed his nemesis with a smirk.

"As it is, you boast of ballots not yet counted. Leave it to the numbers."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Sufficiently quieted by the hand on her shoulder, Ariadne satisfied herself with simply standing at his side. She once more collected herself, giving off an air of steadfast loyalty and resolve. The Glaucan, in spite of Varo and his venomous words toward her, refused to be deterred. What Draxus desired, she was determined to be the one to place it in his grasp.

In truth she was shocked at the reaction to the vote Draxus had called for. To see Necian Satraps openly assault each other - to see even Regulus Varo in the state that he now was - she would not forget this moment for a very long time.

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus looked to Ariadne as the fracas died down around them.

"There's too much high drama for it to be this early. I think we should retire, and consider the coming vote."

He glanced back at the throng of milling Satraps.

"Some are due more consideration than others."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She returned the gaze he sent down at her, and stood to the side so that he could lead the way from the Oratorium. Whatever he had planned after this she could only guess, but one thing was for certain; the utter chaos that had followed in the wake of the Northman's words had been nothing short of what Draxus needed. It further cemented his hold, and Ariadne had to wonder if that too had been a part of the Satraps plan.

"And how long will that take... ?"

[Dietre]

Dietre had dismounted to stand patiently beside the hulking warbear that belonged to him. However long he would be waiting was immaterial - Yuri had given him a command, and it would be obeyed. The Northerner cast disinterested stares at those who showed interest in his presence, but beyond a simple glare, he stood as immovable as on of the many statues that surrounded the Oratorium.

He was to wait for Regulus Varo, and from the tone in Yuri's voice, he was to act as his protector.

[Parsideon Denix]

A figure in tattered clothing and armor limped up the road to the Oratorium. He was covered in mud, blood, and various amounts of grime, and looked gaunt as he shuffled inexorably toward the enormous dome that dominated the cityscape. Passers-by stared at him, but gave him a wide berth when they saw an Imperial Aquilae brooch holding his tattered cape around his shoulder.

It was an Imperator's brooch.

[Dietre]

Now this was a curious site, and gave the Northman cause to shift his stance as this limping, travel-worn husk of a man approached. That none chose to help him along was enough to cause a frown to cross Dietre's already constantly brooding features.

[Parsideon Denix]

Denix paused at threshold of the Oratorium's steps, slowly unfastening his armor and sword belt. He could not enter the building under arms. As he unfastened his gear, his eyes fixed on Dietre, who was himself donned in heavy northern armor.

"You come from the Jarnvid?"

[Dietre]

A grunt, and the giant looked down at the Necian. He watched as the man stripped his armor and weapons, head angling to the side to take in this - what seemed to him - strange behavior. His reply was simple and concise.

"The Roof of the World."

[Parsideon Denix]

In other times, the admission would have elicited disbelief from Denix. Such a lonely place was beyond the Cos Briste, and any journey would be nearly impossible. But Denix had frequently found fate to be whimsical of late.

He nodded to the barbarian, and trudged the difficult path up to the front door. The honor guard, seeing exactly who was approaching, rushed forward to take his armor and weapons, and escorted him to the door, where it was opened to allow him passage.

The furor of the bickering Satrapy seemed to diminish somewhat as Denix entered the building.

[Ariadne Fyrian]

At Draxus' side, the Glaucan turned to look at the form of a man. He looked haggard, worn to the bone from travel... but it was his face that struck a chord in her. She recognized instantly the man who now entered the Oratorium, and out of pure instinct Ariadne took a half-step back, her features betraying the shock she now felt washing over her.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Parsideon Denix."

Draxus's surprise was genuine. Ever since naming Mako as Imperator, he'd naturally considered the former Imperator dead. Fortune was with his old friend, however.

He noted with some distant amusement the reaction that Denix's appearance elicited in Ariadne.

"Introductions then would appear to be unnecessary."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Her recovery was swift.

Head held high, Ariadne regarded Denix with a keen gaze.

"We... have met before."

[Parsideon Denix]

"My name is Denix of the Parsidei, Imperator of the Necian League."

He paused, his words heavy on his tongue, and exhaustion clearly taking its toll.

"My mission to recover the Golden Lantern, and to bring Kairun Fyrian into account...has failed."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Ariadne made a pained face, lacing her fingers together before her while angling a sideways look to Draxus.

"Shall I leave... ?"

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus shook his head slightly and smiled.

"Imperator, you have not failed. You have endured, and victory has come in respect for your perseverance."

Now, the quarreling Satraps had quieted down and were milling around the latest curiosity.

"Kairun Fyrian is dead, and the Lantern is returned to us. Indeed it was your efforts in confounding the pirate villainy that helped speed us to this amicable conclusion."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

She was to stay then. The Glaucan had to wonder however, whether Denix would recognize her. Her new standing would negate any previous wrongdoing on her part, no matter big or small; Draxus had seen to that almost immediately after her return. But, men had long memories.

[Parsideon Denix]

Denix flicked his eyes over to the familiar face of his enemy, but returned them quickly to his patron. Weary as he was, he maintained his martial discipline and stood at the ready, prepared to be debriefed.

"Then my mission as Imperator is ended?"

[Csephion Draxus]

Draxus smiled thinly at the question.

"Your mission is ended, though I think you may soon have other duties to attend to as Imperator."

He embraced the weary soldier and gave him a kiss to each cheek.

"But we mustn't talk of these things so soon. Necia welcomes you back to her as a prodigal son. You must be tired and hungry from your travels. Please accept my hospitality for the evening, and allow me the honor of returning your person to the niceties of civilization."

[Ariadne Fyrian]

Ariadne kept a small amount of distance from the two, knowing it best to allow them their own moment. There would be time in the future for other matters to come to light - or at the very least reemerge. Hands still clasped before her, the Glaucan turned her eyes to the side, gaze settling on Varo.

Surely Denix's return was seen as a good omen, and the message brought from the Northmen little more than hollow words?

[Parsideon Denix]

It wasn't what he had wanted to hear. If he was relieved of his mission, he wanted liberty to return to his family, or to Vatis. It was not to be, or at least not immediately. He could not refuse Csephion Draxus.

"I would be honored, sir."

He dipped his head slightly to the Satrap in gratitude. When he rose, he noted the disturbed state of the Oratorium, and the general feel of agitated men. It would do no good to ask of such things amongst his betters, and he made no comment of it.

[Csephion Draxus]

"Very good then."

Draxus reached forward and gave Denix's shoulder a squeeze.

"I'll have my people see to you. You must excuse me for being short, however. There is much work I must attend to."