Just an hour after leaving the scene of Deanna and King Alerion's death, Victor and Wish had headed straight to the infirmary. Their trip there was not to heal themselves, but to help others who had been hurt and severely injured. It been a very long and tiring night of trying to get people back on their feet. In the scope of all the death, the city was short on healers and those who were providing assistance were working tirelessly with little to no sleep. Only a handful, about twenty or so, were dressed in the uniforms of various Alerian cities and others were dressed in normal robes and clothing. One of them, Wish noticed, a younger looking girl had the most striking violet colored eyes, but that was about the only beautiful thing Wish had taken notice of as the hours, seemingly endless, passed on and on.

Had it not been for Victor, Wish would have certainly passed out and done damage to herself. Though he was no healer, he kept her on her feet or sitting in her chair, bringing her food and water occasionally when she could stomach it. Victor brought her bandages, herbs if she needed to use them and anything else she might have asked for. Truly, being around so many of the dead, sick and wounded was taking a toll on Wish. Naturally, a healer feels death and sadness more so than other people and with so many around her, Wish was nearly in a constant state of chills, feeling as if something icy cold was running up and down along her spine. Thinking about Deanna's death from time to time also did not do anything to help her current state of being.

If there was anything that countered this and made her feel okay, even if just for a little, it was that she was coming to terms with the fact that she really did love Victor Sage. Despite every horrible little thing around them, she could feel Victor right within her reach, as if he was always trying to protect her and watch over her. Wish wanted to say something to him, to tell him how she felt, but her throat constantly felt dry and the words stuck. Perhaps this was because she didn't feel right, not on her feelings for Victor, but because so many had died. However, so frequently in the face of death, was it wrong to tell someone that you loved them?

Wish and Victor were sitting on chairs in the corner of the infirmary when the guard from Bariston came up to them. Wish's head was leaning against Victor's chest, his comforting hand threaded through her messy hair, and she was making an attempt to steal a few winks of sleep. When she heard her name, Wish turned towards the guard and listened, realizing they were being summoned to the palace by Layla Victoire, the ruler of Bariston. Victor was spot on when he told the guard they weren't feeling up to it, but Wish knew it would be better if they did go.

As Victor took her hand making sure she could stand, Wish looked to the guard. "It's okay," Wish said, her weary voice betraying her. "We'll come along to the palace, but... I'm going like this."

Wish gestured to her Grand City soldier's uniform which was stained with blood, dirt and who knew what else. In response, the guard bit his lip, but did not say anything. The infirmary, no matter how many people worked to keep in clean throughout the night, was a constant go to place for everyone in the city. Suffice to say, she needed a good bath but wasn't sure when she would be able to get one. For a few weeks, she would likely be glued to the infirmary.

Using Victor as support, Wish leaned against him, her hand still cupped around his palm, and they headed towards the castle. Wish knew the path that led to the council room was not a long one, but it seemed to take forever. In fact, she was hardly aware that they had made it to the meeting room until she was ushered inside by Victor. She looked up at him, managing a soft smile and then stepped forth into the council chambers. After offering Layla Victoire a bow, Wish realized the two of them were not alone. As they were seated around a large table, one by one people filtered into the room until there were seven, some she knew, and others she did not know. Wish sat up in her chair and tried to keep upright, but it was a constant inner battle not to fall asleep.

The morning of Layla Victoire's meeting of the seven

"Sahar? Lady Victoire wishes to speak to you if you are available." The childlike voice of Neera was followed by a turn of the doorknob and Neera's head poking through the open doorway.

Sahar had just finished taking stock of the herbs she kept in her medicine bag when the girl made her presence noted. "Of course, Neera. I'll be just another moment." The magae glanced up from the assortments of medicinal plants and roots she used in her healing and smiled at the young handmaiden. "Don't loiter in the hallway, Neera. Come inside."

Neera was hesitant as she entered the desert woman's temporary chambers in what used to be Alerion's castle, pausing to peer around the room before entering. It wasn't that she feared Sahar, or the magics she used, and it had nothing to do with Sahar's treatment of her, for always did the woman have a kind smile and word for the young girl. Sadly, her parents had told her stories of the wild desert people who lived in Heruin, those who lived like savages and sacrificed animals and babies for their god Tempesturo. Though Sahar showed no inclination of such a lifestyle, old mentalities died hard.

"Feel free to look under the bed for the dead cats and collection of evil tomes," Sahar chuckled as the girl finally inched her way over. Neera paused in her tracks, unsure at first if the desert woman jest with her, visibly relaxing when Sahar's chuckle grew into a rich, warm laugh. "How did you know what I was thinking, Sahar?" The girl inquired with more than a hint of curiosity in her voice. The magae began packing away smaller leather bags of herbs into much larger, worn satchel. "You think I have not heard the tales of the desert people from the northern folk?" She grinned at Neera, exposing even, white teeth. "Some of what you have heard is true, but only in certain tribes, Neera. Certainly not my people."

Finished with her task, Sahar turned and washed her hands in a basin of water before drying them. "Neera love, would you be a dear and hand me my cloak." She pointed to the gray garment with crimson embroidery, colors of Layla Victoire's house in Bariston. Sahar bathed shortly after her visit to the infirmaries, and wore the same colors in the sand silks that garbed her presently, honoring her Lady and their lands. Later this evening though, she would wear nothing but white, a sign of her mourning and suffering she felt when meeting with those whom Layla summoned. Though the desert woman resided in the northern lands for the past decade, she had not given up her desert ways and traditions of her people, simply modified them.

Sahar covered her hair with the hood of her cloak and placed the strap of her satchel over her shoulder. "Shall we go now? Best not to keep our Lady waiting." Neera nodded and together they made their way past many hallways until they came upon the doors that were guarded by a Bariston soldier. "Lady Sahar, Lady Neera, well met. Lady Victoire waits for you within." Sahar smiled at him and dipped her head as the soldier opened the doors for them. "Thank you, sir."

Both women found Layla Victoire sitting down for a late breakfast, and she indicated for them to join her. "Sahar, Neera, eat. There is plenty of food." Sahar and the young handmaiden sat down and began picking at the fruit and cheeses. "You wished to see me, Lady?" Sahar asked as she nibbled on a date.

Layla sipped her tea before responding. "Indeed. Tell me Sahar, how does Madrin Kir fare?" The ruler of Bariston and presently all of Aleris brushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Madrin Kir fares well, my lady. He burned with fever for quite some time, and his wounds were severe. It took a few hours, but eventually I was able to cool the heat from his body, and tend to his injuries. He healed rather quickly and has made a full recovery." The magae smiled to Layla. "He is a fighter, Layla. Very strong indeed and rather determined to spring from his bead once his eyes fluttered opened. I convinced him to rest a bit, but I guarantee you, once I left, he ran from his bed." Sahar paused for a moment as she bit into a delicious peach. "He was most inquisitive about the Aliscowi, and I might add, rather unhappy about the outcome."

Layla nodded wearily. "I suppose he wanted the foul savages to die, and now has lost his chance, is that it?" Sahar shook her head, honey colored eyes lighting up as she spoke her next words. "Not at all, Lady. He expressed his great displeasure regarding their prior treatment. This is a man who does not believe in cruelty, but a diplomat, Layla. I know you are making a right decision in regards to his status. He will be a valuable asset. There is kindness that belittles the hard exterior, Lady.” Layla looked at Sahar for a beat or two then nodded her agreement. Sahar had the uncanny ability into looking into one's heart to see the truth, and if her friend expressed her opinion regarding someone, Layla took it as gospel.

The Bariston ruler deftly plucked at a slice of melon. “What do we know about the rest? Have they been found and given summons?” Sahar nodded and poured tea for herself and Neera who sat there, surprisingly quiet, happy to eat and be part of the conversation, even if she had absolutely no input at all to offer. “Wish Star and Victor Sage were located in the infirmary and were given notice to appear before you, though from what the guard told me, it was reluctant.”

Layla laughed then, nearly spilling her tea. “Reluctant or not, show up to my meeting or not, it does not matter to me. I wished to acknowledge their part in the Great Battle, that is all, and reward them accordingly.” Sahar smiled at her friend. “They will come, Layla, and I do not believe it is a personal slight against you, just that it would seem the two have had their share of what this City has had to offer and simply want to take time to rest and recover.” Layla murmured her understanding. “I cannot fault them for that, Sahar. Once I have said what needs to be said to them, they are free to leave, though...” The Lady Victoire frowned. “From what I understand, Alerion intimidated and blackmailed the mage to join the army. I suppose it had to do with the crimes Sage was accused of comitting.”

Layla's gray eyes locked with her sister/companion's honeyed ones. “Sahar, I hate to use you as a weapon, but I must ask...”

The magae cut her off abruptly, a warm smile gracing her lips. “You need not ask, for it shall be done, Layla. I will take care of it and let you know if what the King believed to be true, really is.”

Layla offered Sahar a grateful smile. “Thank you, my sister.”

It was then that young Neera asked around a mouthful of food. “What about the dragon? Or the vampire family?” Neera's watery blue eyes were wide with a combination of trepidation and awe. “They coming too?”

Both women had to laugh at the child. “Neera, swallow your food lest you choke,” Layla admonished gently. “I sent Miles to find the drow, Akilara and just recently heard word that he did indeed complete his task and they are on their way back to the City as we speak. As far as the Redmonts,” Another frown touched Layla Victoire's lips. “I have not heard from the Captain yet. Perhaps these Redmonts are no longer in the City, or simply do not wished to be found. Knowing Ambrose though,” she sighed, “he'll not stop until he locates them.”

“The Captain is loyal, my Lady, to you and to our great city of Bariston.”

“I know, Sahar, yet Ambrose and I discussed in great lengths his continuation as Captain. Ambrose is getting up there in years, and I know his greatest desire is to retire to spend more time with his family.” Layla set her plate aside and thanked Sahar for pouring more tea. “I shall miss him, as my Captain and my friend, but I must think of what is better for Ambrose and our people.”

Sahar considered this information before asking. “Have you found a suitable replacement, Layla. One who is worthy of protecting you and our city?”

“Indeed, and you shall both find out in about eight hours.”

Layla smiled and bit into an apple with a self-satisfied crunch.

It was over. The fight was really done before he'd been able to do much of anything. He'd been able to scratch the woman who had killed Deanna, but before he could do much more, Maxim stepped in to take his shot at the killer. One hit again, and she was off. Tracking her, Quinn was about to take off after her when she came to a stop in front of King Alerion. Swords where drawn and both parties were impaled. And just like that, his revenge was taken from him.

Turning from the dead duo, the wolf made his way back to the body of his mate. At some point one of the guards brought him a sheet. He didn't know how long he'd been there but suddenly he realized he'd fallen to his knees in front of Deanna. As he knelled there he became vaguely aware of a set of hands on him. And there was Wish. She'd healed his wounds he'd forgotten about. She said something about Deanna not wanting him to die as well. The Redeemer hadn't even thought about that. He muttered a "Thanks." or at least he thought he had. It may have come out of just a growl.

He looked down at the sheet in his hands. He needed to cover De. His claws tore through the sheet at first, but he shifted back to his human form without a second thought. He needed to wrap De in the sheet. That was what mattered now. Making sure that she was taken care of. Carefully he wrapped the sheet around her body, making sure he got everything covered. Quinn saw that the remains of the clothes he'd been wearing before still lay on the ground around them. He tied them together, using them to tie the sheet around her body.

Quinn was sure that someone else touched him at some point, but he didn't know for sure. All he knew right now was that it was getting bright. The others had left, assuming he needed time he guessed (except for Maxim who couldn't be out in the daylight). Time wouldn't change anything though. Deanna would still be dead, and he'd still be dying inside. For not he settled for pulling Deanna to an overhang that hadn't fallen during the war, and laying next to her. He was naked and she was wrapped in a sheet. Even as a tear slid down his cheek exhaustion took him over, and his eyes closed.

The next thing he remembered was a hand gently tugging on his shoulder. "Excuse me Sir? I don't mean to bother you but are you Quinn Redmont?" Above him stood a guard, in a uniform he didn't recognize. Clearing his throat the man looked a bit uncomfortable Whether it was because he was waking a man from the streets, or because the man he was waking a naked man, who appeared to be sleeping next to a dead body. Either way he could understand his unease. "I'm Captain Pennington of Lady Victoire's royal guard. Lady Victoire has requested your presence."

The Redmont stood. "Do I look like someone who a 'Lady' would wish to see?" he said mildly. "I am Quinn Redmont. You're sure she wished to see me?" When Captain nodded, Quinn bent down and picked up Deanna's body. "Well lets go." At the discouraging look from Pennington frowned, "I'm not leaving my mate." he said simply.

Captain Pennington took the lead, allowing the naked werewolf and his dead mate to follow him to the castle. As they entered the castle proper, several people approached him trying to get the bundle out of his hands. He bared his teeth, which elongated each time he did. Eventually the Captain shook his head warning the attendants off as they got closer."Mister Redmont," he started as he stopped at a door. "I think you at least need some clothes on before going in to see the Lady. If you would step in here..." he held the door open for them.

Quinn stepped in and once there he noticed he wasn't the only person in the room. Before him stood Felix. "Oh well, look at you!" he said with a big smile on his face. "I was hoping to see you again! Tall dark and oh so sexy." Looking him over Felix's eyes widened and so did his smile. "And NAKED!" he let out a squeel and clapped his hands a bit. "So, why are you here to see me? And what happened of that little spitfire you were traveling with? I was hoping you'd come to your senses and come back to me." Then his eyes drifted to the package Quinn was holding. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry. You'd think I had a foot fetish with as much as I love sticking my foot in my mouth." his smile faded quickly. He hadn't noticed it before due to seeing Quinn naked in front of him.

"Just get me something to wear. Apparently I'm not suitable to meet Lady Victoire like this." he said looking down at himself.

"You're absolutely right!" Felix said, his smile a bit forced this time. "Lets see what we can do, and then get you to see the Lady!"

Twenty minutes later they'd finally scraped together enough clothes that would fit Quinn comfortably. None of it matched, but at least his bits were covered. That was something he guessed. The red captain's jacket, over the dirty white sleeveless shirt, soldier boots, and blue pants. It wasn't exactly the outfit he'd have picked out, and oh the laugh Deanna would have had at his experience. That thought brought a brief smile to his face, but it was quickly washed away with the same thought.

"Master Redmont, if you'll please step this way?" Felix, looking quite proud of the outfit he'd put together ushered Quinn and Deanna into the chambers of Layla Victoire.

After the battle had been waged and the living were left to bury their dead Isabella found no reason to stay in this dilapidated town. The fighting had ceased, Isabella's cue that her time had come to an end. Her brother had taken his leave as the morning sun began flooding the city with light, an ailment that did not affect the the Guardian. Now it was her turn to part ways with the 'Grand City'. She arrived at the docks at high noon, having left Quinn and the others to do what they must with the warrior woman's remains. This was not her place.

Statuesque and unmoving, she was leaned back against what remained of a wooden wall that had lead down into the harbor, boards now completely missing in parts, one of her slender legs bent up behind her with the heel of her boot hooked onto a broken post. Her topaz colored eyes focused effortlessly upon her ship as the men loaded the last of the supplies brought over from Heruin onto the carts of the citizens.

Sadly, from her point of view, she was discovered by the Lady Victorie's Captain. The stuffy gentleman stammered up to the Redmont vampire, "Isabella Redmont, I presume?"

The vampire's attention did not waver from her ship and it's crew. Muscles not even offering a twitch of acknowledgment to the intruder of her peaceful moment of reflection.

"Can I bother you for a moment of your time?" The words were hesitant, as they should be when approaching an unknown Redmont.

"No."

Isabella's lips barely moved when she spoke the stern word loudly and left it to drift in the air for a moment. Then in one fluid motion she bounded off of the flood worn wall and long graceful strides carried her towards the water's edge faster than the Captain could keep up.

"The Lady Victorie requests your presence," she could sense the enamoring quickening of his pulse, it had been nearly three days since she had last fed. A quick meal of this one, perhaps, for the long trip home? No, the King would not want to start a war, yet. By this time, Isabella had already boarded the black vessel she had commandeered from Heruin pirate outlaws days after they had first landed in Aleris from Mystra Amor.

"Untie us, Captain! We set sail immediately." The Guardian made no attempt to hide her eagerness to get off this dreadful land, and looped her way around the mast, finding her place behind the oversized helm. Her words were directed towards her own Captain and not the one she considered to be simply the Lady Victorie's messenger boy.

"It is of urgent importance, Lady Redmont!" Mistake.

Isabella came to the edge of the deck, looking over the Captain Ambrose Pennington, "There is, and will only ever be, one Lady Redmont, and it is not me. Now, if you want those words to be your last, then please, attempt to speak another one. Otherwise, I see your only option is walking away." Isabella lifted the titanic sized broadsword using it's blade as an extension of her arm, and pointed back into the city. "Messenger, you can tell your mistress this, Redmonts do not answer to the beck and call of anyone but our King." The voice of the Guardian was always pitch perfect, if the pitch was of 'I don't give a shit'.

As the former Dynasty leader gave her speech to the Captain the ship had began drifting from the dock. Her last words had rang through the air to Ambrose, who was still on dry land, and just as the words 'King' left her pale lips the sails snapped into place. They were gone from these lands.

The battle was over for Aleris and the Grand City, but for Blend the struggle had only just begun.

His ploy had worked perfectly, but pain was his constant companion. He led the Aliscowri out of the gates without the slightest resistance. The Captain's armor served him well, and before long he was leading the nineteen Aliscowri around the side of the city wall, heading east towards the harbor. As they made their way, he liberated the Aliscowri from their bindings and explained his plan. All the while, his shoulder sang a pitiful song with notes of visceral agony.

He didn't know why he saved them. The only excuse he could figure was their association with Djarin, and the Revelations of Ae'Vescra. They were followers of Chaos. That didn't excuse their disturbing qualities. They were cannibals, vicious and deadly and heartless. They were equally poor company, and said little as they fled the city. Regardless, they were his brethren and the closest thing he had to friends.

They found an abandoned house on the fringes of the city. Outside the walls, the building had little protection from the tidal waves that ravaged the countryside, and it stood empty and molding while the wind picked at the newly formed cracks between the oak planks. Despite its damage, the building was remote enough that Blend felt they'd be safe, and his arrow wound was growing more sore by the minute. He needed to clean and dress the wound.

Huddled inside the building, Blend set about doing just that. The arrow had pierced his right shoulder clean through. He'd already broken the shaft earlier when he'd slipped into the armor, but the arrow itself remained embedded in his flesh. A quarter of an inch of obsidian poked through his back, and Blend struggled to reach over his shoulder and grab the tip. Frustrated, Blend cursed angrily as his fingers fumbled blindly for the tip of the arrow.

"Here, let me help." The voice was soft and eerie, and Blend turned his gaze to one of the Aliscowri. She was younger than the others, no older than sixteen, and in the dimness of the house Blend could make out a pair of dark brown orbs staring at him. Such a cold face, he thought. So filled with sacrifice..

It was then he realized she was a Dead Seed. A sorceress. It was likely she was the last of her brethren to survive the war. Birthed through atrocious means, the Dead Seed were known to grow faster than any men, but if it was true that she was such a monster then it was also true she was no older than a month. Ridiculously young, but they said the Dead Seed were imbued with the spirits of their slain fathers, and that they had access to ancient knowledge.

Blend shook his head. "I'd rather not have a cannibal sorceress dress my wound. I already know what herbs you'd use, anyways. Garlic, salt, a pinch of black pepper.. hmm then I'd make a perfect meal, eh? Or is the secret in the lemon?"

The girl giggled, her voice oddly musical. "I'm not hungry, you fool!" She sounded young, but the way her eyes stared at him was unnerving. Blend felt the need to go outside, but he chided himself for being craven. She's not going to hurt me, he thought. I saved her.

"Why not? You lot were ravenous enough, before."

The girl shrugged. "Tempesturo was imprisoned. His revelations were growing tainted. When he was freed the taint was eradicated. Many of us grew sick of flesh the instant the god was released."

"And now?" Blend studied her carefully.

"Tempesturo still remains silent. How I wish I could hear his voice..." The girl stared out the window, her browns eyes flooded with longing. Such beautiful, knowing eyes. The eyes of an old crone, in a young maiden's body. Thick black hair curled around her face like smoke. "Now I live for my god, as I did before. I will do whatever he asks of me. And if he remains silent, I will do what he does not ask. Chaos will be served, either way."

Blend sighed, shaking his head. "You're as crazy as I am, you know that?"

"I find that doubtful." The girl turned her eyes to him, and Blend felt them peering into his soul. "You walked within Chaos. Your flesh reeks of it. The things you must have seen.. You will never be sane again, Jelaephon Delai. But you were never sane to begin with."

"Yeah, yeah.. Okay, maybe I can trust you not to eat me. Here, help me with this arrowhead. I can't reach the blasted thing. And if I see you pull out a clove of garlic, I'll march you right back to the Grand City and give you to the real Captain of the Guard myself."

"Here, bite on this.. This might hurt a little."

Blend's screams of pain could be heard all the way inside the Grand City.

--

"Riders!" One of the Aliscowri burst through the door. "From the Grand City! They must have found out we've escaped."

Blend groaned and sat up. After the painful extraction of the arrow, he had the oppourtunity to enjoy a brief rest. Many Aliscowri had followed his lead, but a few had kept watch. Now he was glad they had, or the riders would have caught them entirely unprepared.

"Quickly, tie yourselves up. Get the rope! Hurry!" Blend shouldered into the armor he'd stolen from the Grand City, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and headed towards the door. The Aliscowri girl stopped him with a touch on his elbow.

"Here, take this." She offered him a roll of parchment. "You'll need it."

Blend had no time to respond. The riders were upon them already. Twenty men at least, a mingled company of Joi and Jade riders. They were led by a guardsman from the Grand City. This can't be good, Blend thought. He assumed his best personification of a Captain and strode out the door.

"Captain?" inquired the Grand City guard. His eyes were a fierce amber and his hair bright red. The other men galloped up, forming a semi-circle around Blend. Their postures were combative, he could tell instantly. Everyone was tensed, prepared for a fight. "Where are your captives?!"

"Captives? Ohh, you mean those rats?" Blend turned into the building and came walking out with the Aliscowri in tow. They were all tied together. He made sure to give an extra solid tug as they went down the steps, and two of the Aliscowri went sprawling into the dirt. One of them began screaming insults at Blend and he went to draw his sword.

"Enough of that. You're commanded to come back to the Grand City."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Blend turned and looked at the guards. The situation was grim: Twenty fully armored men on horse versus twenty worshipers of Chaos. He was running out of options, and he sensed his game was up. They know I'm no guard. His armor was the culprit. "Who did you say you are?"

"Eldric Stormshadow. Squire to Lord Adenus. You will come with me, Captain, or else --"

"Wait, did you say Captain?" Blend chuckled, shaking his head. "This bit of armor? Nah. I'm not the Captain of the City Guard.. I got this peice of armor off my dead friend, the Captain. His dying breath, I swear, was - 'toss that leather bullshit in the furnace and take my armor. I've no use for it where I'm going'."

A moment of silence spread between them, then one of the soldiers grinned. "You think you'll fool us twice, boy?" The others cheered agreement and blades were drawn.

"Wait!!!" Blend fumbled for the letter, then thrust it out. "See! Here!" He didn't know what it said, but he'd rather buy one more moment of distraction with the letter then get brought back to the castle and tossed in a dungeon. The parchment was fresh, and a crimson wax seal locked it in place.

Eldric snatched the letter from Blend's hand and studied the seal. "Lady Victoire. Unbroken." He nodded, broke open the letter and read it. For a moment he was silent. Then he lifted his amber gaze from the sheet and locked his eyes with Blend's. "Very well. Travel light, and forgive us, Sir."

--

As the soldiers rode away, Eldric began to wonder what had just happened. By the time they had traveled two hundred yards, he was in outright confusion. At two hundred and fifty yards, he called a stop.

"We need to go back." Eldric's eyes where furious.

"What's the matter? What did the letter say?"

"That's the problem." Eldric shook his head. "I can't explain it. I... there was something on the paper, I swear it. I read it, and the damn thing made perfect sense. But now I can't remember a word."

"Witchcraft," stated a man from Jade, a burly fortress of flesh and armor with bright blue eyes. "Let's go back and kill them. No talking this time."

"Aye," Eldric responded. "They are playing a foul game here."

The horsemen whipped around and returned to the rotting house at a full gallop, but when they arrived it was abandoned - even of Aliscowri. Only the wind and the worms paid any attention to the molded interior, and a cursory search of the nearby terrain offered no answers to where they had went. Eldric felt his temper growing to a blind rage, but without any proper outlet he simply charged through the night searching for any clues.

By morning they had given up hope. Eldric himself went back to the Grand City to inform Lady Victoire of these recent deceptions, leaving the other men behind to continue their search.

Two women and one travel worn, yet quite composed man sat around the conference table amidst the chambers of the late King. Their discussions centered on the Redmont siblings and their individual response to the summons.

Layla Victoire sat back in her chair and shifted her attention toward the window. From this point, she had an excellent view of the Harbor and noted that the sun was hovering over the horizon. Perhaps an hour or so of daylight remained. Radiant hues of scarlet and lavender spread across the dusky sky in a magnificent display of color for those to admire such beauty. Layla sat in pensive silence long after Captain Ambrose Pennington ended the tale of his findings. Her features were unreadable as she considered the Captain's words.

Finally Layla did speak, her voice soft and devoid of any emotion. "Are the Redmonts truly so arrogant in their nature? Do they believe they transcend any and all of those surrounding them save for their own bloodline?" She sighed then as she faced her small council. "Honestly I did expect a refusal, but not in such a manner to leave one thinking a child of such a noble lineage grew up in a backstreet alley. From what is known, Maxim Redmont, despite all tales told, is honorable and gracious. A gentleman, if you will. It would appear such character traits did not pass over to his sister." Layla sighed again. "A pity."

"Our good Captain is kind to not allow such insult and threats prick at his pride, my Lady," Sahar offered quietly. "Though you did send our loyal Captain as a worthy emissary specifically with the Redmonts in mind. It is sad that they have such little regard for your leadership as well as the protection of our people, Layla, that our Captain was regarded as little more than a messenger boy." The magae lay a hand upon Ambrose Pennington's gauntlet covered forearm. "You are worth more than the disrespect that was shown to you, my Captain."

Ambrose smiled faintly at the desert woman and patted her hand. "It would take more than an crude wench hiding behind noble birth to insult me, dear Sahar, but I thank you for defending my honor nonetheless." The seasoned Captain then turned his attention to Layla. "My pride aside, there is still the matter of the Redmont woman's declaration of her sibling as King, my Lady."

"Did she specifically name Maxim Redmont as King, Captain," Sahar inquired.

"Apparently she speaks for all Redmonts, and considering that Maxim Redmont is the only ruling lord of their family, I understood her to name her brother as their King."

Layla Victoire rose from her chair, slowly and deliberately. Though diminutive in statue, the ruling Lady stood as proud and tall as the most seasoned of warriors, and there was heat in those gray orbs.

"There is but one King and Alerion is dead," she stated flatly. "I rule in his stead and to acknowledge another as such is treason. For all I know, the Redmonts plan to rise against the realm to claim it for their own." The blonde woman clenched her jaw, her features hardened. "Damn that contemptuous woman. If she only realized what she has cost us all." Layla paused then and in a more quieter tone said, "I had hopes for him, Ambrose, I truly did, but that pretentious sister of his has now thrown all of my planning and strategy out the window."

"Perhaps, my Lady," Sahar rose as well from her seat in that graceful manner of hers. "Perhaps the Redmont Lord, excuse me, Commander, is not aware of his sibling's folly?" The gentle voice of reason continued on. "There is one Redmont who awaits in the castle, Layla. He came willingly though in the throes of his own grief. Perhaps Maxim Redmont is on his way here as well."

"She spoke for him, Sahar. Somehow I doubt that," Ambrose uttered gruffly.

The desert woman nodded. "I understand, Captain, but Maxim Redmont is quite capable of speaking for himself. Give him a chance, my Lady. He may surprise you yet."

Layla Victoire regarded them for a beat or two. After a moment's silence and consideration, she found her way over to the window where the brilliant blue of the sky began to darken. "It is not quite sunset, and I did say we would all convene then. I will keep my word. Come sunset, the five that are present and accounted for, will make their way to my chambers."

Her hand brushed against the glass pane of the window that was miraculously spared in the battle. "I only pray a sixth shows as well."

Ambrose Pennington, Captain of Bariston, and presently Alerian guard, stood. "Should I have the decree prepared, my Lady?"

"Not yet, Ambrose," Layla said softly. "He has an hour. I will honor that. If he does not show..." she let her words trail for a bit before turning once more to face her most trusted companions, a sudden coldness to her features.

"...then we will show the Redmonts what their arrogance has bought them."

As soon as Quinn entered the council room, Verial's chair could be heard sliding across the floor as he moved to stand up and face the lycanthrope. Verial's odd colored eyes narrowed questioningly at Quinn studying the package he brought with him. It was undoubtedly a body wrapped up in cloth and if Quinn wasn't aware, blood had soaked a good portion of that white colored sheet. And it smelled. After almost 24 hours and the heat not resolving quite yet around Aleris, Quinn's dead body he carried was not the most pleasant fragrance entering the room. Verial guessed - actually he had no doubt in his mind - that if Quinn was holding onto this little "package" so protectively that it could only mean one thing. After all, people don't just go carrying around dead bodies, unless you were a necromancer which Verial was sure Quinn was not. No, this was Deanna. She had died in battle and now Quinn was latching onto her for some last shred of hope or solitude, possibly praying that she would magically come back to life so he did not feel so alone.

Anger flared inside Verial. Why would Quinn do such a thing... to Deanna, no less? How humiliating.

It was at this time that a darker skinned woman, most likely from Heruin, stepped bravely towards Quinn, though her eyes clearly appeared to be disturbed at the situation. As one of Layla Victoire's hand maidens, Sahar reached out to take the body from Quinn. Verial couldn't hear what she was saying as she whispered soothingly to Quinn. At least her words seemed to convince Quinn to let go of Deanna's corpse. Sahar took the bundle; it was surprising how strong the dainty looking woman was as she left the room with Deanna's body. Verial was glad Sahar had taken Deanna from Quinn, because this gave Verial an opening.

Once Sahar and Deanna were cleared out the door, Verial rushed across the room and tackled Quinn to the ground. The therianthrope's head smacked against the marble tile of the floor as Verial pinned Quinn. Quinn reached for Verial, trying to push him off, but Verial clenched his fingers together and punched Quinn in the face, a hard jab right across the man's jaw. Verial was sure he heard something crack. After which, Verial grabbed the collar of Quinn's shirt, wrapping his fingers around the fabric so tightly that it was nearly choking Quinn. Verial was dimly aware that he was in pain because of his wounds that had not fully healed yet, but somehow he found himself putting that feeling aside for the moment.

"You know why I am doing this, Quinn?" Verial said his voice a growl between clenched teeth. "Because you think you're the only one who will miss her after she's gone. Because if Deanna was here she would do the same thing to you. In fact, she'd probably rip your head off instead. When did you think it was ever a good idea to tote Deanna's body around like an accessory? You leave the dead where they belong - in the grave."

Quinn seized an opening, reached up and hit Verial likewise in the face. Nevertheless, it seemed as if Quinn's counterattack was rather sloppy, almost as if he didn't really care. Verial only ended up with part of his lower lip broken open, a small stream of blood flowing across his chin. Verial punched Quinn in the same spot on his jaw afterwards, hoping to knock some sense into the therianthrope, and would have done it a third time had it not been for some of Layla Victoire's guards - four of them - grabbing onto Verial and pulling him away.

Verial was not ushered from the room, but instead was thrown back into his chair. He steadied himself as he fell against the chair and upon looking up to see what had happened to Quinn, Verial came face to face with four swords pointed in his general direction. Sure, Quinn was bleeding from the back of his head since it had hit against the floor pretty hard, but Verial knew the lycan was fine. Quinn was a big boy and could heal on his own.

"Settle down," one of the guards said. "Remember you will be in front of Lady Victoire soon."

"Do I look like I care?" Verial replied. Indeed his face showed no emotion other than a seething anger for Quinn desecrating Deanna's body by dragging it around with him. Verial knew better that people should not mess with the dead; he had learned that lesson first hand.

Verial turned away from the semi-circle of swords, wiping the blood off his lip and chin with the back of his hand. He searched the long table for Quinn where the lycan was being led to a seat a few places down and across the table from Verial. A guard was helping Quinn along, but the therianthrope shrugged off anyone's touch with a scowl on his face and sat in his seat. Verial stared down Quinn from the other side of the table, uncaring if he still had swords pointed at him.

"You better hope that for some reason that Deanna doesn't come back to life, Quinn," Verial said, his tone changing from an angry one to warning. "She would be disappointed in you right now."

The sun settled for the day, the streams of purples and rose gave way to shades of indigo. Sahar had finished preparing for her lady's meeting, a small adjustment of her white head cloth was performed before making her way to Layla Victoire's quarters. Sahar gave the door a single knock and was rewarded with, “Come,” before she entered the room.

Her lady looked splendid in her gown, the deep shade of crimson contrasting beautifully with Layla's fair skin and the blonde curls that were carefully pinned at the nape of her neck. Lace that was dyed a pale shade of gray to match her eyes trimmed the gown. The colors of Bariston were worn proudly by her Lady, but Sahar could not help noticing the disappointment that flooded her eyes.

“Has there been any word, my Lady?” Sahar asked quietly as she glided over to where Layla stood in front of her looking glass and plucked a stray thread from the regent's sleeve. “No, Sahar. None. Nor has Maxim Redmont, nor his sister, made their presence known in the castle.” Lady Victoire sighed then turned to face the desert woman, her closest friend, her sister who was radiant in all white. “It is obvious he is aware of what has transpired, and has chosen hold true to his sister's words. I cannot fault him for his loyalty, Sahar, it is in fact rather admirable, but...” Layla shook her head.

“But you expected more from him,” Sahar finished for her Lady. The magae smiled to her dearest friend. “We oftentimes expect much of others, foolishly in truth, and cannot seem to come to terms with the disappointment that later occurs as a result.” There was more than great disappointment that troubled Layla Victoire, Sahar saw. Her lady was now second guessing herself, and that, Sahar could not have. Not now. Not ever.

“Layla, heed my words: You sent our good Captain in place of any other soldier to request the Redmonts at your meeting. Only one came, and despite the grief that overcomes him, he still had the presence of mind to accept. You did your best to show them respect, respect that you believed they deserve regardless of whatever ill reputations they have brought upon themselves in the past, and they wiped their feet upon your respect. You summoned them before you, so that you could honor them for their bravery and their part in battle with your humble gratitude and land of their own, and let us not forget your plan to ask their Lord Maxim to honor you with the esteemed position of Lord Commander of your personal guard and army in Bariston.” Sahar could see the look of surprise on Layla's face, for rarely did the healer speak so passionately about any particular subject matter.

“They spat upon your courtesies, your generous offers, your gratitude, and most important, the demanding role of leader of this realm that you stepped into without hesitation. They deserve nothing from you, Layla. Their egotistical ways have blinded them, corrupted them with lust for power and a lacking regard for anyone who they deem lesser beings than they. Simply put, anyone that is not a Redmont is beneath them, and therefore do not deserve their respect.”

The Lady Layla Victoire was silent as she listened to the desert woman's powerful speech, then smiled to her. “Thank you, Sahar. When I find myself burdened with a heavy heart, you always find a way to lighten it and bring it joy.”

“You are most welcome, my Lady,” Sahar's gentle smile was given in turn. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall see to your guests and announce your eventual arrival.”

***

Sahar slipped into Lady Victoire's council chambers as five sets of strange eyes regarded her. She bid the four guardsmen, each stationed at a corner in the room, a good evening before coming to stand at the head of the table where her Lady's honored guests sat.

“On behalf of my lady, Layla Victoire, ruler of Bariston and its surrounding lands, acting ruler of the Grand City and its surrounding lands, and regent of the realm of Aleris, I welcome all of you and thank you for accepting the invitation.” Sahar paused a beat as she offered a smile to all five. “My name is Sahar, Lady Victoire's personal healer and council member.” Her accented words were softly spoken, but Sahar's voice commanded attention in the room.

She turned to acknowledge Wish Star and Victor Sage first, her honey colored eyes lighting up as she focused on Wish first. “Your spirit is kindred to mine, Miss Star,” she said in reference to Wish's healer abilities, then turned to face Victor. For the longest of moments she was silent as she studied him. “I can see through the falsehood that has stained your honor, Mr. Sage, and I assure you, your honor is clean and intact.” She smiled briefly at him before making her way over to Madrin.

“Warrior,” she said warmly as she dipped her head in greeting. “You seem to have made a full recovery. This is good. My lady needs you.” Her smile widened and Sahar seemed to have winked, but it happened so quickly, and she moved onward to Verial before Madrin could be sure of what he saw.

The magae stared at the drow hybrid for some time, fascinated by his oddly colored eyes. “Verial Akilara, well met. You are a man of many talents, good sir, and I for one thank you for them.” The whites of her teeth showed as she smiled brightly at the one who regarded her with cool politeness, almost indifference before she at last faced Quinn Redmont.

When Sahar did stand before Quinn, her honeyed gaze traveled from the broken man, to the sheet wrapped body that lay carefully beside him. Her smile faded and the radiance that once lit her face was replaced by a more somber, serious tone. “Lord Quinn, words cannot express my sincerest condolences of your loss. There is nothing worse than having someone we love taken from us unexpectedly.” Sahar was quiet as she gauged the grieving therianthrope's reaction, hoping to find some sign of life. “I grieve for you, my Lord, and your Lady. I know that does not matter to you right now, but know that my heart weeps tears of sorrow for you.” Then Sahar stepped closer and performed an act that was normally reserved for those she was closest to.

The healer cupped his head within her warm hands as he sat and lay a feather light kiss upon his brow. “My Lord,” she said as softly as possible as she withdrew. “Allow me the honor of taking your beloved to be washed and anointed. Let me prepare her properly for burial. That is the least I can do for you.” When Quinn appeared to hesitate, pain flashing across his face, Sahar knelt before him and took his hands within her own. “Give her to me Quinn. I promise you, nothing will happen to her. Let me honor her for you.” It seemed ages before Quinn finally relented and nodded, giving Sahar permission to take the body of Deanna away.

“May the gods bless and keep you, my Lord. I shall pray your broken soul.” She carefully lifted Deanna's body and cradled it in her arms. “Should you find yourself unable to find your way to the light once more, I am here for you. Always.” With those parting words, Sahar, with Deanna's corpse safely held against her breast, walked to the door where a guard held it opened and departed.

***

Not long after, the door was once more opened and Sahar entered, followed by Captain Ambrose Pennington escorting a petite blonde haired woman gowned in a deep red. All five stood as Layla Victoire entered the room. Sahar noted with a raised brow that both Quinn and Verial appeared disheveled and bloodied, and both had an armed guard hovering at their side. All four guards appeared thoroughly disgusted by both males, and Sahar made a mental note to inquire much later, what exactly had taken place from the time she left to her return. Somehow, she suspected it had something to do with the corpse of Quinn Redmont's mate. If Layla noticed something was amiss, she did not make mention. Sahar carried on with her introduction.

“Honored guests, may I present to you, Lady Layla Victoire.”

She had indeed noticed the guarded Verial and Quinn, battered and bloodied as they sat sullenly in their chairs. She would not touch on whatever subject caused the two to attack each other, but her brows were raised in question. “My trusted guards, there is no need for this. Put away your weapons. I'm sure Mr. Akilara and Mr. Redmont can behave themselves.” The guards bowed stiffly to their lady and retreated back to the corners where they were stationed, keeping watchful eyes upon the two men. One guard, standing closest to the door, whispered in Captain Pennington's ear, who in turn nodded and leaned over to murmur softly in his Lady's ear.

Layla's eyes widened a fraction of an inch as the incident was retold to her, and she regarded Verial with that cool gray gaze of hers. “How very interesting,” she said in a low voice. Her gaze remained upon Verial. “Gentlemen, you will remember that you are in my chambers, and I will not tolerate bloodshed that hasn't been authorized by me personally.” Her lips twitched some in amusement.

Layla Victoire stood at the head of the table. Perhaps she was not what they were expecting from the strange and curious glances she was receiving from all. Perhaps they expected a more statuesque woman, someone grander. A smile touched Layla's lips as she began her meeting.

“First and foremost, I sincerely thank you all for accepting my invitation in joining me tonight. I am sure you all wished to return to your normal lives, or as normal as they can be in these times of trouble, so I will not keep you here long.”

Layla hesitated a beat, taking a deep cleansing breath as Sahar and her Captain stood behind her protectively. “You have all played an important role in this catastrophic crisis that we are only now just beginning to recover from, and as you know, we are a long way from complete recovery. I cannot express enough to each and every one of you the gratitude I have for you and everything you have done for the Grand City and the people of Aleris. Without each of you, certainly, we would not be here tonight sitting here. My personal thanks to you for your bravery, courage, and lack of hesitation to face the evil that found its way to the City, to challenge it, and to eventually overcome it. There are those who fought by your sides, just as bravely, just as heroically, that could not be here with us today. We honor them, the fallen, for their sacrifices to save the people and the land they inhabit. Tonight, however, I can and will honor each of you for your services, for your protection, for your loyalty. The entire realm, as do I, owes you a great deal of gratitude, and you have it.”

She let her words process with the five as she reached for a carafe of water, one of many that was strategically placed around the table with glassware, and poured herself a drink. Her dry throat felt cooler and refreshed as she took a long sip of water before continuing on.

“Wish Star and Victor Sage.” She began as she turned to face the exhausted and battered couple. “For your bravery during times of war, I salute you and offer you each a plot of land of your choosing as reward for your services to Aleris. It is but a small payment, a token of my appreciation, and I humbly ask you accept it.” She glanced at Sahar briefly, who nodded to her lady and turned once more to face the two. “It has come to my attention that our beloved King Alerion, had...hmm, how do I put this delicately? Blackmailed, comes to mind.” She smirked some, but it wasn't cruel or mocking. “Blackmailed both of you, or mostly you, Mr. Sage, into joining the Alerian army as punishment for past crimes committed.” Layla waited a few seconds before speaking. “You, Victor Sage, have been found to be falsely accused of heinous crimes. I hereby pardon you of any wrongdoings, and formally release you of your prior obligation to the Alerian army,” she turned to Wish with a faint smile. “and you as well, Miss Star. The armor doesn't suit you anyway.” Layla informed the two simply to fill out the required paperwork regarding their choice of real estate, and it would be theirs. “I thank you once more for your services to our people. You may chose to leave, or stay if you like.” Layla bowed her head to both of them before turning to Madrin Kir.

“Madrin Kir,” Layla began as the warrior stood to face her. “For your outstanding victories in combat, for the battle prowess you have shown both in the City and on the continent of Arthuran, for your bravery during times of war I salute you and offer to you a plot of land of your choosing as reward for your services to Aleris. It is but a small payment, a token of my appreciation, and I humbly ask that you accept it.” Layla informed Madrin to simply to fill out the required paperwork regarding his choice of real estate, and it would be his.

She offered Madrin a smile before continuing. “I would also like to personally ask you for your services once more, Madrin Kir. I am in need of a new Captain of the Alerian guard. You would honor me, and the people in this Grand City, if you would accept the position.” She held up a hand to Madrin even as he began to speak. “Take a day or so to consider my offer, then return to me with your answer, which I hope and pray is yes.” Layla's gray eyes twinkled as she placed one hand upon the warrior's shoulder. “I am not trying to sway you. You are free to reject my offer, but I ask that you consider it, please.” She then informed Madrin that he may chose to leave to rest, or to stay for the rest of the meeting as she moved on to Quinn Redmont.

The therianthrope's appearance startled Layla, though she wasn't so insensitive to comment. “Lord Quinn,” her words were offered in a softer tone to the man mourning the loss of his mate. “Thank you. For being here, that is. I know this is a difficult time for you, and to honor me with your presence, to accept my invitation, is most gracious of you.” She did not mention her current displeasure with his siblings, deciding there was plenty of time in the future to discuss such matters. “Quinn Redmont, for your outstanding victories in combat, for the battle prowess you have shown both in the City and your uh, rather unorthodox methods in dealing with the Val'nothe, for your bravery during times of war I salute you and offer to you a plot of land of your choosing as reward for your services to Aleris. It is but a small payment, a token of my appreciation, and I humbly ask that you accept it.” Layla then leaned closer to Quinn and whispered. “In honor of your fallen mate whom I know was manager of the Oak Barrel Tavern, I vow to you it shall be rebuilt as soon as possibly. My men are bringing in building materials from other cities as quickly as they can. I cannot bring back the dead, Quinn, but I can give you something worthy of her memory.”

Quinn nodded as he seemed to understand what she was saying, but a fool could see that his thoughts were elsewhere. “Sahar took her to the healers to tend to her, Quinn. She is being bathed and prepared for burial as we speak. Your woman fought well and true. You should be proud of her.” Layla was about to say something else to Quinn, then reconsidered her next words. “You would honor me, when you are able to, when your period of mourning is over, if you would come to see me. I have something I would like to discuss with you in private, but now is not the time.” She patted Quinn's forearm. “You may go to her now, if you like.” She bid Quinn farewell, for now, and turned to the remaining person in the room.

“Verial Akilara,” Her voice rang of laughter as she pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “Undoubtedly, you are the strangest being I have ever met in my life. You put yourself at incredible risk, and potential death, when you attacked the Val'nothe, yet you thought nothing of your own personal safety in doing so.” Layla glanced at Sahar who left the room for a few minutes only to return with a glass bottle containing red wine and two glasses. The magae set one before a confused looking Verial and poured. “It is a rich vintage, sir. I hope you enjoy it,” Sahar stated as she began to pour for her lady.

“You already know of my gratitude in your service to the people, the City. You know I am here to honor you and to offer you a plot of land as a gesture of my thanks.” Layla took a sip of the wine and nodded to Sahar. “Excellent choice, Sahar.” The desert woman offered a flicker of a smile to Layla before retreating the room.

Layla Victoire sat back in her chair. “No doubt you've heard the rumors regarding Maxim and Isabella Redmont and their refusal to attend this meeting to honor them.” When Verial nodded, Layla pressed on. “I'd like your opinion of the matter, Verial. Your absolute honest opinion.” Layla held up a finger before Verial could speak. “I want you to consider your reply before you answer me, Verial, and in doing so, I would like to speak frankly to you.”

Layla settled back in her chair, wine glass in hand as she regarded Verial thoughtfully. “I came here to the Grand City because Alerion was killed by that foul woman, Terra Vale. I am happy to do so, to rule in his stead, but truthfully Verial, Aleris is rather large, and I find myself in a bit of a predicament.” Layla sipped her wine, peering at him over the rim of her glass. “You see, my place is honestly with my people in Bariston. I love them. I take care of them. They work hard, they care for their own, and I am lost without them.” She sighed then. “I know that my place is here, to help rebuild, to restore the City to what is once was. To care for those who have lost their loved ones, their homes, their entire lives, and I do so because I believe in the people. They are the heart and soul of these lands, not the gods, though I honor the gods and pray to them. But...it is the people I cherish most.”

Layla finished her glass of wine and poured another. “I am speaking plainly to you, Verial because you intrigue me. I was informed of your past history, and though you have committed heinous crimes in the past, you have shown, to me at least, that all sins of the past can be washed clean. You, Verial Akilara, are redeemable. You did everything in your power to protect the people from the Val'nothe. You chose them over your own life, and that is admirable and selfless. You possess an intelligence known to very few, and from what I saw of Quinn when I first walked in, are not afraid to stand up for something you believe in.” Layla watched his reaction then and nodded. “It displeased you to see the body of your friend, I assume, being carted around instead of properly seen to. I for one, cannot blame you. I know you fought beside her during the battle with the therianthropes in Tezzra's Gorge. I know you value her as a warrior. I know much about you, Verial Akilara, for I would be a poor ruler indeed, if only a substitute, if I didn't know information regarding those I surround myself with.”

Layla stood then and set her glass aside as she leaned forward, placing her palms on the table. “I'm just going to come out and say what I want to say, and then I would ask you give your opinion regarding the Redmonts, and also a response to what I am about to ask you. Verial, I will rule if I must. It is my duty, and I take my duties seriously. I take the lands seriously. I take the people seriously as well as their needs. I am however, one woman.” Her lips curved into a smile. “A fine woman, if I do say so, a capable woman, but the lands are vast and again, I am but one person to rule over them.”

Layla straightened then, standing straight and proud before Verial Akilara. “I asked you here tonight, not only to honor your bravery and reward you, but...because you are the one I deem most fitting to rule beside me. Verial Akilara, I stand here before you and ask that you rule along side of me. That you rule the Grand City as its King, or Protector Regent, however you choose, whatever title you choose is of no consequence. I need you Verial. Will you help me? Will you help me rule?”

Layla, for the first time this evening, held her breath, her heart thudding in her chest,and said not one word as she waited for Verial to accept or reject such a tremendous proposal.

****OOC Note: As a land parcel was given to Wish Star, Victor Sage, Madrin Kir, Quinn Redmont, and Verial Akilara, all land may be requested in Aleris Realty. As a side note, this free parcel of land for each, does not affect normal land parcel purchases.****