#[The Duchess & The Justicar]

[mudaship39]

Character Bio of the Afro Asian Native Human with Fae Elvish, Goblinoid, Giant kin ancestry Adventurer who is a Spellcaster, Gunslinger, & Sword Master Part 6

Companions:

Allies: 

Rose Winfield is a Magical human squire.

Nicholas Kaylock is a Magical human initiate.

Lillian Colfield is a Magical human aspirant.

Tobias Jenkings is a Magical human pageboy.

Adelaide Camden is a Magical human page girl. 

Zachary Leighton is a Magical human courtier. 

Helena Dixon is a Magical human apprentice.

Asher Covington is a Magical human esquire.

Phoebe Mast is a Magical human lady knight.

Preston Kahler is a Magical human knight.

Pierre Barnes is a Magical human lancer knight.

Josephina Lytton is a Magical human knight sergeant.

Liam Morgan is a Magical human knight lieutenant.

Henrietta O' Keefe is a Magical human knight captain.

Reginald Marple is a magical human knight templar.

Royce Harvey is a Magical human knight commander.

Cynthia Barrington is a Magical human paladin.

Joel Bradford is a Magical human high paladin.

Phillipa Belleville is a Magical human grand paladin.

Noah Marfont is a Magical human star paladin.

Daniella Blackwood is a Magical human paladin justicar.

Ian Asquith is a Magical human paladin commander.

Cornelius La-Minnings is a Magical human knight and paladin guild chapter master.

Harper Weston is a Magical human elder. She is the subordinate of High Elder Lysander/Luciana. She is Lysander’s/Luciana’s protege.

Peerage of Lysander/Luciana Norwood:

Genevieve Slater is a Magical human lady in waiting. Attends Lysander/Luciana when she/they is Luciana Norwood.

Luca Merriweather is a Magical human diplomat.

Tiffany Fitzgerald is a Magical human chancellor.

Jacob Weston is a Magical human minister. 

Vivienne Ashdown is a Magical human orator. 

Theodore Lynch is a Magical human baronet. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Diane Carlyle is a Magical human baronetess. She is part of the peerage of Lysander/Luciana. 

Oscar Richfield is a Magical human baron. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Charlene Haganis is a Magical human baroness. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Michael Whitely is a Magical human viscount. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Eleanora Ashbridge is a Magical human viscountess. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Walter Beaumont is a Magical human count. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Lily Bexley is a Magical human countess. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Victor Herington is a Magical human marquess. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Carolina Brighton is a Magical human marchioness. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Clark Mavis is a Magical human duke. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Gabriella Gainsborough is a Magical human duchess. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana.

Darby Rutherford is a Magical human archduke. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana. 

Viola Pierpont is a Magical human archduchess. Peerage of Lysander/Luciana. 

Harrison Tate is a Magical human vizier. He is the advisor of High King/High Queen Lysander/Luciana.

Margaretta Pierson is a Magical human grand vizier. She is the advisor of High King/High Queen Lysander/Luciana.

Members of Luciana/Lysander Norwood’s Court:

Courts are a web of conspiracies. It is a place of scheming, power plays, intrigue, & machinations. This was a decadent court.

Chika Nakagawa. Female Ambassador.

Artist. Sponsored artists. The monarch’s favorite artists. A group of the finest actors, cooks, dancers, directors, fashion designers, models, musicians, painters, photographers, playwrights, poets, sculptures, singers, theater thespians, & writers, etc in the empire, confederacy, & federation. They weren’t there for their own ambition. The monarchy and the upper class are inclined to support the arts. They wanted to show off their investments. So these artists are their accessories to show off. Though being in the court of a monarch is a good way for artists to increase their patrons.   

Bodyguards. Cadre of foreign bodyguards. An elite group of highly trained, disciplined, & competent male, female, & two spirit hobgoblin, orc, troll, oni, goliath, & giant mercenaries. Mercenaries who distinguished themselves on the battlefield stood a good chance of being hired for a bodyguard job as a permanent exclusive contract. They are now a group of a praetorian guard to the monarch.   

Ahmose Idogbe. A male butler. The chief supervisor of all male manservants of a house.

Katlego Mba. A male castellan. The Castellan oversees the defense of a stronghold.

Andromeda Farmakis. A female chamberlain. Chamberlain makes decisions for the royal household in the monarch’s absence.

Liona Keawe a female chancellor. An officer of an order of knighthood who seals commissions.

Albus Ovius a male chapelmaster. A person in charge of music-making.

Nicholas Dupont a male chaplain. A member of the clergy attached to a private chapel, institution, ship, regiment, etc.

Phillippe Leclerc a male offerer of the Household. The holder who paid the wages of some of the servants above and below stairs.

Concubines. Full of male, female, & nonbinary members of more humanoid species such as aasimar, draenei, dwarves, elves, giants, gnomes, halflings, humans, ogre, oni, orcs, teiflings, & trolls.  

Alexander Seidel is a male confessor. A priest who hears confessions and gives absolution and spiritual counsel.

Anna Wolf is a female constable. A person holding a particular office, most commonly in criminal law enforcement.

Courtiers. Important not because of their inheritance or offices but because the regent has an affection for them. There is a certain charm, boldness, cleverness, honesty, strength, & beauty that caught the monarch’s eye. Their influence on the leader is not easily measured. 

Mira Benes is the Court Jester or Royal Fool. A professional joker or fool at a medieval court. They are typically wearing a cap with bells on it. They are usually carrying a mock scepter. A member of the household of a nobleman or a monarch employed to entertain guests. Jesters were also performers who entertained the common folk at fairs, carnivals, and town markets. Jesters are often thought to have worn brightly colored clothes and eccentric hats in a motley pattern. Jesters entertained with a wide variety of skills such as song, dance, playing musical instruments (a lute or a harp), spoken word poetry, storytelling, acrobatics, juggling, telling jokes, and performing magic tricks. Much of the entertainment was performed in a comic style. Many jesters made contemporary jokes in words or songs about people or events well known to their audiences. A halfling bard who was a former member of the king/queen’s guild party. They were a court wizard and spymaster for the sovereign in secret. They have the king’s ear and can speak freely using truth to power as an honest advisor under the guise of silliness. They are a power behind the throne. They are a very dangerous bard who spies on people for the king in other nations.  

Cup-bearer. A person who serves wine, especially in a royal or noble household.

Court Mage. The Court Mage has access to knowledge and cosmic powers none of the others understand and may be critical on the battlefield. The court mage was an arch mage. The court mage was a magic user for a sovereign to provide mystical advice and give magical services. This court mage was an alchemist, wizard, & sorcerer. They have high standing with other mages and the king/queen. Has a bad relationship with other court members. 

The Chaplain. The Chaplain is the religious leader of the noble household.

Dapifer. An official who is appointed by the legal ruling monarch to represent them in a country, and may have a mandate to govern it in their name.

Doorward. A person given the responsibility of being warden of the king’s door: protecting the king’s property.

Falconer. A person involved in falconry and hunting.

General. The General is the highest military commander.

Gentleman of the Bedchamber. A person involved in waiting on the King when he ate in private, helping him to dress, guarding the bedchamber and water closet, and providing companionship.

Gentleman Usher. A person or people responsible for overseeing the work of the servants “above stairs”, particularly those who cooked and waited upon the nobleman at meals, and saw to it the great chamber was kept clean by the lesser servants. This person was also responsible for overseeing other miscellaneous services such as the care of the nobleman’s chapel and bed-chambers.

Grand Master/Grand Mistress. The supreme head of various orders, including chivalric orders such as military orders and dynastic orders of knighthood.

General. The General is the highest military commander.

Great Officers of the Crown. A person or head of a religious order or order of knighthood often conferring with the King and other members of the royal court.

Guard Captain. The Guard Captain is the commander of the house guard.

Harem. There is intense competition between them to carry the monarch’s favor. There is a tense relationship between them and the high queen of the magical humans and them and the empress of the Homo magi. Guarded by eunuchs. Ruthless and power hungry courtiers who had amassed a lot of power. 

Head of the Church. High Priest or Archbishop. 

Herald. An official employed to oversee state ceremonial, precedence, and the use of armorial bearings. Employed to make proclamations, carry official messages, and oversee tournaments. The Herald is an expert on nobles, heraldry, and etiquette.

Horsemaster. The Horsemaster oversees and tends to the domain’s horses, alicorns, unicorns, & pegasi.

Intendant. A title given to a high-ranking official or administrator.

Keeper of the Seals. A person entitled to keep and authorize use of the Great Seal of a given country.

King of Arms. An Officer of the King. A king of arms is the senior rank of an officer of arms. Only a king of arms has the authority to grant armorial bearings and sometimes certify genealogies and noble titles.

Knights are soldiers with noble rank. Former knights and paladins of knight and paladin orders. A knight is a person granted an honorary title of knighthood by a head of state or representative for service to the monarch, the church, or the country, especially in a military capacity.

The Ladies-in-waiting are noble daughters who act as servants for the royals while they look for husbands. A lady-in-waiting or court lady is a female personal assistant at a court attending to a royal woman or a high-ranking noblewoman. A lady-in-waiting was often a noblewoman but of lower rank than the woman to whom she attended. She received compensation for the service she rendered. A lady-in-waiting was considered more of a secretary, courtier, and or companion to her mistress than a servant. She functions as companion and secretary to her mistress. In courts where polygamy was practiced, a court lady was formally available to the monarch for sexual services. She could become his wife, consort, courtesan, or concubine.  A royal woman in the magical human kingdoms was free to select her ladies. The decision was not chosen by the sovereign, her parents, her husband, or the sovereign's ministers. 

Maid: The chief supervisor of all female manservants of a house.

Maid of honor. An unmarried noblewoman attending a queen or princessA Maid of honor is a junior attendant of a queen in royal households. The position is junior to the lady-in-waiting.  

Majordomo. A person who speaks, makes arrangements, or takes charge for another. Typically, the term refers to the highest major person of a household staff. They are a head servant who acts on behalf of the owner of a large or significant residence. A majordomo is a person who speaks, makes arrangements, or takes charge for another. Typically, this is the highest major person of a household staff. They are a head servant who acts on behalf of the owner of a large or significant residence. A majordomo is also someone who oversees the day-to-day responsibilities of a business enterprise. They were usually also in charge of finances.

Marshall. Grand Marshall. The Marshall oversees the training of the troops.

Master Assassin. The Master Assassin deals with threats in the most permanent fashion.

Master of Ceremonies. Official host or organizer of staged events. Sometimes the one to give speeches or present performers. 

Master of Coin. Chief financial advisor charged with managing the crown’s money. Advised the monarch on commerce, trade, & economy. Oversaw all regions affecting transactions.

Master of the Horse. A person connected to all matters with the horses and formerly also the hounds of the King, as well as the stables and coach houses, the stud, mews and previously the kennels.

Master of the Hunt. Grand Master/Grand Mistress of the Hunt. A person responsible for the royal hunt. Often overseeing the care of the king’s hunting dogs and other animals cared for under the King.

Master of Robe. Officer in charge of the monarch's wardrobe. Especially for important events like coronations or annual celebrations. 

Page boy or page girl. A person of low rank who works as a servant to the King. A page girl or page boy is traditionally a young male or female attendant or servant of a noble. They also have been used as a messenger at the service of a nobleman.

Pantler. A servant or officer in charge of the bread and the pantry in a great family. In charge of pantry and food supplies. They are also responsible for serving the royal table.

Pursuivant of Arms. An officer of ranking below a herald. A pursuivant is a junior officer of arms. Most pursuivants are attached to official heraldic authorities.  These pursuivants of arms look after matters of heraldic and genealogical importance.

Royal Quartermaster. The Royal Quartermaster oversees the funding and the gear of the agents including poisons and magic items.

Royal Secretary. A person responsible for communicating the sovereign’s wishes to the other members of government.

Sage. The Sage is an expert on history and all kinds of lore. The sage may double as a tutor, herald, and court mage.

Secretary. Secretaries are generally responsible for communicating the sovereign's wishes to the other members of government. At times and places it may have a number of other duties. In most cases the royal secretary is a close adviser of the monarch.

Senescal. Administrator or supervisor. A senescal was in charge of domestic arrangements and the administration of servants which meant the seneschal might oversee hundreds of laborers, servants and their associated responsibilities. They would have a great deal of power in the community when much of the local economy was often based on the wealth and responsibilities of such a household.

Spymaster. The Spymaster keeps everybody informed about the state of the realm and any threats. The head of clandestine intelligence. This person handles the more delicate affairs of the court and country. They gather information not meant for their regent’s ears. They find blackmail is such a dirty word. They make minor and great nuisances to the king quietly disappear. A former rogue assassin and double age

nt. Was a member of the king’s adventuring party as a rogue. Their loyalty to the king is always questioned by other members of the court.  

Squire. Squires are knights-in-training who work as servants of knights.

Standard-bearer. A person who bears an emblem called an ensign or standard which is either a type of flag or an inflexible but mobile image, which is used as a formal, visual symbol of a state, prince, military unit, etc.

Steward. A steward is an official who is appointed by the legal ruling monarch to represent them in a country. They may have a mandate to govern it in their name. It is synonymous with the position of regent, viceroy, governor, or deputy. 

Stolnik. A person responsible for serving the royal table, then an honorary court title and a district office.

Treasurer. The Treasurer oversees the domain’s finances and sometimes literally its gold, silver, copper, & platinum coin reserves.

Viceroy. The Viceroy has the authority to rule in the monarch’s place. The chief advisor of the monarchy. They are the mentor of the high king/high queen. 

Warden. The Warden oversees a specific area of the domain like a forest or a village.

Former Companions:

Squire that he/she/they are training as a knight and paladin. Left his/her/their tutelage as a knight corporal. Promoted to knight commander and paladin commander. Is now chapter master of a knight order and paladin order. 

Apprentice that he/she/they are training as a magic user. Is now Senator of the Magical Government. 

Current Companions:

They all have a mark of life. They have attained the understanding of magic and they crafted a mark of life on the forehead of their warforged companions. This allows them to follow more complex commands of the user without direct input, allows them to speak, and allows them to remember things. 

Blade. Warforged Automaton. Envoy. Rogue. Assassin. Spy. Light Armor. Created by a goblin artificer. 

Church. Warforged Automaton. Envoy. Cleric. Druid. Combat Medic. Healer. Unarmored. Created by a draenei artificer. 

Book. Warforged Automaton. Envoy. Entertainer. Bard. Trained actor, cook, dancer, musician, painter, photographer, playwright, poet, sculpture, singer, theatre thespian, & writer. Is with them to catalog their memoir. Created by a gnome artificer. 

Scout. Warforged Automaton. Skirmisher. Scout. Gunslinger. Ranger. Sniper. Sharpshooter. Archer. Recon. Composite plating. Medium Armor. Created by a gnome artificer. 

Commander. Warforged Automaton. Heavy Assault. Paladin. Cleric. Shock Trooper. Juggernaut. Heavy Plating. Heavy Armor. 8 foot tall. 500 pounds. Created by a dwarf artificer. 

Enforcer. Warforged. Automaton. Fighter. Bodyguard. Heavy Plating. Heavy Armor. 7 feet tall. 450 pounds. Created by a draenei artificer.

Clockwork Assassin. 

Clockwork Servant. 

Clockwork Soldier.

Clockwork Guardian

[iron-and-flesh]

Valerie,

     I shan't lie, a part of me did not expect a response to my letter, let alone to be graced with such a reply. It surprised me enough that I walked away mid-training session to read it, much to the bafflement of the others there.

Worry. That is a word I don't often hear these days, at least not in reference to myself that is. I may not seem like a man that requires such things, but I shall admit to your eyes only that at times I do miss it. To have something...someone to come home to, to worry after me, well, that is a soldiers dream.

Pain I find, especially that of the heart, makes the days stretch beyond measure, but it is that time and pain that allows us to grow strong and heal from such things if we allow it to, and of course as you said,"There are lessons we learn in life through luck and those we learn through pain."

I don't find that question to be odd at all, believe it or not but I get asked that almost as much as I get asked if I’m real or a statue. 

The girl I remember from then, I..I admit that I do not remember her fully. Afterwards, when I walked away I lost myself and that only became worse as the days turned into weeks and beyond. As Reinhardt closed its doors and dismissed those in its ranks, the work that I had chosen to hide in no longer existed and I.. Apologies, these are words meant for another time perhaps, not a letter that will surely turn into a small novel should I continue

. The point was that I know time changes all, but there are parts that I remember. The depth of your brown eyes, the sharpness of your wit, the smell of your perfume, the taste of your lips, your duty to style and how I must have been the largest burden upon such a thing. It is not an easy thing to dress me up, but you always succeed.

<There is a shift in the color of the ink showing a break or a changing of location had happened>

It eases my heart to know that you hold no ill feelings towards me, even more so to hear you use such words to describe me. I would be more than happy to continue such correspondence to help bridge the gap between then and now, perhaps even to where I could look upon your face with my own eyes again and we could once again share philosophical words back behind the Cathedral. A soldier can dream, no?

Forever, Jago

                 (( @valerie-shadebrook ))

[valerie-shadebrook]

Jago, 

  I find myself chuckling a bit at your expense. The fact the thought to inquire about personal issues after only recounting to me the memory of my lips-- I admit it strikes me as very amusing. A man of single sight you are. That aside I can assure you, I’m not married. I haven’t had thoughts regarding such a thing since... well since you. Nor have I had thoughts of relationships in general. I learned a lot back then. That I open up too quickly. That I fall to hard. Of course then I had a brother, trained and poised to become Duke and a strong, well father residing handily over my life. I had time, I had the fancy to dream about those sorts of little girl dreams. 

  Now I have neither, and a Duchy filled with good, strong, hard-working people. There is a lumber industry I have to learn, of course farming communities that need to know their crop expectations. There’s horses to be bred for soldiers who need to trained. Merchants to be taxed, schools to be funded-- and should I endeavour the thought of romance, well. I find it’s been a slow moving creature. Or perhaps I’m just a colder one.

  Regarding the layers of your armor and what lays beneath, I think you know very well I wouldn't have runaway. I think that is really the reason you chose to do so yourself. Forgive me if I speak out of turn, Jago, but I’ve had a long time to reflect, to try to understand. To build my own walls higher and to wonder what caused the first set to come crashing down. It wasn’t your fear of my reaction, it was your fear, period. I had faced many scars unflinchingly and in the end, I think... you walked away, unable to stand in front of someone who accepted you as you are, instead of the monster, the enigma you longed to remain.

  I hated you for that, for a long time. For letting me love you and then leaving when you didn’t want to love me back. I don’t say this to wound you, of course. It was another time and I have long since forgiven you for it. I had to really. There was no other option. I understand now that I gave you all of myself and you didn’t yet have all of yourself, to give. That’s not your fault and I don’t harbor the anger it once caused. I got over zealous at the progress, I began to forget the pace. I lost myself in you and you in the process. Perhaps it’s just the unpleasant side effect of two flawed creatures clinging to each other.

  Perhaps that wasn’t quite what you wished to hear but, I thought perhaps in ink we could grow a bit bold. I worry that if I were to stand before you, in person your eyes would steal my words. For that I hope you pardon them, giving them life via pen if only to get them out of my mind and allow them to the universe finally. 

  That brings me to the question, what of you? What gorgeous creature adorns your plated arm these days? Not to sound boastful but I think I recall you favor dark hair. Someone classy and elegant, who can still put up with the brutish nature of a soldier. Perhaps even keep up with you at times? A man such as you doesn’t need to look far for someone willing and lovely. That said I do wish you well. I like to think of you happy. That slight smirk allowed, even if hidden behind the mask of a helm. 

  Fondly,    Valerie

 - @iron-and-flesh -

[queenmarytudor]

Finished the section on Henry II:

- loved him for the Constitutions of Clarendon, which just goes to show how the Church has expected special (minimised) punishment for centuries, as if they deserve it 👀

- I have to laugh that he pushed Thomas Becket into a position he didn’t want and then it backfired spectacularly

- there’s such a fine balance between not having enough sons and then having too many

- I didn’t know they were all so young when they rebelled against him! Richard was 15 and Geoffrey only 14

- When they [Henry II’s messengers] asked him [Henry the Young King] to return to his father, Louis VII interjected: “Who asks?”. “The king of England.” came the reply. “Not so,” retorted Louis, looking at the younger Henry. “The king of England is here.”

- really though what did Henry expect not letting his sons have any actual power and experience in ruling? It’s no wonder the Young King turned out how he did. He was crowned as king and given all these titles and land only he wasn’t allowed to actually do anything with them. He weren’t even taught how to; at least Richard was tutored by Eleanor in Aquitaine.

- Dan Jones’s theory that Eleanor’s lack of power in Aquaitaine was the motive to raise/join a rebellion against her husband makes more sense than jealously over a mistress

- “The Earl of Leicester and another rebel baron, Hugh Bigod, hired bands of Flemish weavers-turned-mercenaries and attempted to ravage England. They landed in Framlingham and attempted to move north-west through East Anglia [...] Henry’s justicar Richard de Lucy gathered a great deal of support from the English magnates, though it was said they were still outnumbered four to one when battle was joined in the marshland at Fornham, near Bury St Edmunds.” Mary’s accession has echoes of this in 1553; the same towns, the fear that foreign support could easily be brought over, the loyal forces outnumbered but prevailing.

- though Henry’s reluctance to give the Young King power was sort of retroactively justified with how he acted later, robbing and attacking diplomats and shrines

- I love the image of an elderly Henry II and Louis VII just tottering around this magnificent castle, having a little gossip about their ex and estranged wife respectively

- It was rude how Henry treated Louis’s sister, Alys of France. If he knew he wasn’t going to marry his son to her, he could have sent her back to her brother so she could marry someone else. Maybe she was happy in England but I doubt it considering the rumours she’d born Henry II a bastard

- Typical of the time, but also cruel how Henry only released Eleanor from prison to make Richard give up his claim to Aquitaine - which he did, but as her husband it reverted to Henry anyway and not the woman who was actually the duchess 

- I didn’t realise he died so quickly. Sad that his last days were filled with family tragedy, but he kind of created it himself by being greedy

Bought The Plantagenets by Dan Jones recently, and I’m loving reading about Henry II falling out with Thomas Becket because he wanted criminals in the church to actually be punished instead of getting a slap on the wrist!

[bladesurgence]

hollowed ground.

You might treat this as a response, or a continuity to this drabble by @masteredshadows​.

     “This is the place,” Dessen tells Irelia, and their horses brush past the rigid branches of a few juniper trees into the open clearing. And Irelia, veteran to death she may be, gasps at the sight nevertheless.

     Scores of bodies litter the grass, resting upon the ground as lightly as the leaves that lie all around them.

     Irelia pulls the reins back and dismounts, running to the nearest body. She kneels over it, grasping at blades of grass. A young woman with her face upturned and a slit throat, dried blood slathered along her neck and staining the white chemise underneath a light green cloak. How she would have liked to take these cold hands in hers, to bring them comfort even in death, but she keeps her hands away. She knows better than to endanger herself should Death not be satisfied with its first victims.

     She can hear Dessen’s footsteps approaching from behind her, pausing briefly before walking past her. He remains standing, the normally lustrous armor of the Justicars a faint goldenrod in the shade of the clearing. He examines the other bodies, his eyes lingering on them for only a few seconds before moving on the next.

     “Not all were murdered in the same way,” he comments. “In the same period of time, yes, but there were different kinds of wounds. Thin gashes through the neck for some, others suffering deeper, and more numerous, wounds.” Dessen returns back to Irelia, kneeling beside her on the opposite of the body. “This one in particular must not have lived long. Efficient cuts, from a thin blade.”

     Irelia closes her eyes. As his testimony comes forth, she can imagine how the events happened, the systematic elimination of the Order. Her hands shake, her blade quivering. A life that had drawn breath less than twenty-four hours ago, a life that had woken up just like her at the previous day’s sunrise, had been extinguished to fuel another’s wicked aspirations.

     “Zed must have killed her himself.”

     Dessen meets her eyes, but they must hold excruciating pain, for he cannot will himself to meet her gaze for long. “I will enter the temple. Perhaps there is more to find there.”

     “I’m going with you.”

     He raises an eyebrow, and Irelia nods, already taking the first step. “I mourn for all our countrymen, but before our duty to the dead comes our duty to the living.” The words bring a heavy weight with them, as if voicing them slowly saps her energy. “If you uncover anything that can help us prevent another catastrophe like this, I must be with you. That is our duty as Ionia’s protectors.”

     “Of course,” Dessen answers her, falling into line with her steps. “I am shocked, as you are, but moreso because we did not expect this attack. The Justicars cannot patrol every inch of Ionia, of course, but the Order of Absolution is known for their pacifism. They do not participate in conflict. Why would the Order of Shadows want them gone?”

     “To send a message.” It haunts Irelia further, and she raises a hand to her chest, tracing over phantom wounds. These brothers and sisters only wished to serve Ionia, the country that shelters them all. How could a noble wish become their condemnation?

     "Anyone who does not stand with him is against him.”

     They enter the nave, a sculpture dedicated to the goddess Reikara placed in the center. Irelia walks forward and places two fingers on her sandal-strapped feet.

     “May our brothers and sisters find peace in your arms,” she murmurs, as she hears Dessen call for her from a side room.

     “Look at this,” he says, a piece of paper, worn and faded from numerous times crumpled, in his hand. His eyes skim over the penned letters, his mouth curling downwards as he reads.

     “He did send them a message, literally. A warning towards his arrival.” He hands it over for Irelia to look at for herself. Once she finishes, she folds it into three sections, as if handling a missive for the Duchess, and places it in a pocket of her coat.

     “But no motive as to why he singled them out.”

     “I do not think he intends to explain his actions,” Dessen muses. He is angry, too, Irelia thinks. Despite his composure, much steadier than hers, she can sense his agitation. His magic pools into the brass candelabrum on the mantle on the other side of the room, and it shakes lightly.

     “This message cannot have been sent recently, judging by how old the ink is. So they must have been given ample time to prepare. But why? Why keep your silence, when there are so many in Ionia working towards defeating him?”

     Irelia reflects on the words they read, the tone in Zed’s voice. He did not seem infuriated by their presence, nor seek personal vengeance. It just seemed like... a duty he knew he would carry out. As if their destruction was inevitable.

     She remembers the state of the bodies lying in the clearing outside. None of them had carried any sort of heavy weaponry on them. Pacifist to their end.

     “I don’t think they wanted to reach out for help.”

     Dessen tilts his head, and Irelia steps forward, exhaling.

     “These people died for a cause they believed in. We might work towards enforcing justice and stopping enemies of the state like Zed, but they had made a pledge towards only serving Ionia. All of this politicking, uniting the people, preparing for war - this was not how nature intended for humans to live when they first came to Ionia. It was all for upholding the natural order.”

     Could I have made a stand for my ideals like that?

     The Justicar remains silent, pacing back and forth along the stone floor.

     “You may glorify these martyrs, but the deaths of innocents are still a threat to national security.”

     “Of course, I didn’t mean to presume otherwise—”

     “And if such an out-of-the-way order like this can be threatened, then no one is safe.” Dessen heads towards the door, making long strides for the exit. “Come. We must spread the word and warn every group, every following, every fellowship. The Justicars will not stand for such a horrid plague to desecrate the land. Not while our minds are still sharp and our lights still shine.”

     “He will surely come for you next, if you prop you and the Justicars up as the ones to stand in his way.”

     “Good.” A flash of steel runs through Dessen’s eyes, and the rings around his wrists shine. “We shall bring him down, for the sake of Ionia’s future. By the honor of our order, we shall eradicate this scourge from the land.”

     Irelia steps in front of him, grabbing his arm. “You don’t — you needn’t make another enemy of him. He already has his sights on the Council and me. We should be the ones to face him. There’s no need for other parties—” she gestures to the fallen bodies in the clearing, “—to risk their lives for our battle.”

     “This is my battle as much as it is yours, Irelia. You are not the only one out there with a zeal for protecting your country and your people. And I am sure that plenty of Ionia’s people will want to take a stand for themselves. You need not stand between them and their enemies. Let them stand with you.”

     Irelia takes his hand in hers, placing her other hand over both. “Then, promise me that we’ll stay together. The Justicars and the Council must be completely united in our effort. We must be many and one. I cannot let more lives be lost to his evil deeds.”

     And I cannot let the ones I have sworn to protect perish in my stead.

     Dessen nods, and she releases her grip. “I promise this to you. I shall not let even the darkest shadow blacken my resolve.”

[karrista]

Report to the Embassy.

TO: Justicar Alituari Sunvein FROM: Netherlady Karrista Felstorm DATE: March 14, 33. SUBJECT: Meditech Update Report; Rusty.

     Justicar Sunvein, Rusty’s condition is currently severe but improving.  Samples of the damaged titansteel exoskeleton are being delivered by messenger to the Embassy. Initial estimates by my engineers suggest a weapon of magical enchantment or imbued corruption inflicted the injures sustained by Rusty.  Please notify the Duchess Kiden that Rusty is requesting her assistance in his treatment.

     Due to both safety and health reasons, I am not comfortable allowing Rusty to return to the Duchy at this time.  Specific details are available upon request, as well as disclosed to Her Grace upon her arrival.  In lieu of transporting Rusty to Fenris Isle, I am offering an invitation to the Duchess Kiden to come to the Dreadscar Rift, and to bring any needed equipment and materials that she requires to aid in Rusty’s repairs.  I believe Her Grace will find the workshop I can provide is more than adequate.

     Regards, Netherlady Karrista Felstorm, Mistress of the Dreadscar Rift; Independent Contractor, Dalaran JSOC.

@rusty-its @arrelwarburn @alituari-sunvein @lochlynkiden

[jsyndra]

"Justicar---focus, please." typically composed even addressing the other might have shown the duchess's flustered state. Eyes averted, her focus remained on the correspondence she'd been intent on getting the other's input on.

Syndra's own gaze shifted to Karma's features upon hearing her respond, mischief clear in lavender hues; even if Karma would not see with how she refused to meet Syndra's gaze. "I am focused." Syndra's voice was lowered, ensuring only Karma would hear her response. "On you, mostly. But I can focus on two things if it is that important to you." She added, leaning a touch closer.

[iron-and-flesh]

     Valerie,

     If you find yourself laughing at my expense that is quite alright, the sound of your laughter, as I recall was always one to raise ones heart no matter how low it was. As a soldier you're taught to be situationally aware at all times, yet also to be able to focus solely on what you want and need to do. So now that I know the situation, I am free to focus intently upon..well. It seemed that we both learned a lot back then, though for myself it would seem many of them sat upon the opposite side of the bench from your own.

   Power, death and responsibility makes one grow hard to that which would break us down. so I offer you this advice, my dearest Valerie, do not fully close yourself off from such things, do not make the same mistakes I made, fore in the end all it will do is bring you pain and makes you realize that you've lost the one you love. Or the chance at happiness. That is the one thing that I wish for you above all else, is to be happy and smile again...and I mean truly smile. None of that Noble smile nonsense. A genuine, melt my heart and make your cheeks hurt kind of smile.

   This analogy may not make the best of sense, but perhaps you can still glean a bit of advice from it. I imagine a Duchy to run much like a a military barracks, many different parts all moving and relying on one another..its like a beautiful chaotic dance. Yet at its core, those that live, breath, work and bleed within it are all creatures of habit, they know what is expected of them and the routine of such is what keeps it going, keeps the wheels turning. So until you are able to learn all there is to learn, just keep the wheels turning and it will all fall into place for you..and I've no doubt you'll have an earful of advisers and their like giving you far better advice than I. That is why I know your lands, businesses and people are in capable hands; you've a sharp and creative mind, Valerie..and It should serve you well in the years to come.

   Your words seem to echo my own thoughts and a similar revelation I had the other evening. Often as of late after the night-training drills, I take a swim in a lake a few miles away from here, and there as I float in the dark waters basked in the light of the moon it struck me that I haven opened up more to you through these letters than I ever have anyone else, including yourself while in person. I don't know if it is the separation that causes the ease, the lack of proximity to your intoxicating presence. Perhaps I have grown as a person, or perhaps I’m just delusional from two many blows to the head in war. Either way, you needent ask for pardon or apologize for speaking your mind...fore that I will never fault you for that, especially when such words ring true.

   While your recollection that I favor dark hair is quite correct, I am afraid I must disappoint you yet again on everything else. No gorgeous creature has adorned my plated arm since you were last upon it. I did not make the time, nor did I want another after you, though I am sure there are those out there that secretly wish I would turn my gaze upon them. No, after you my heart would not allow another to even look at it, it encased itself in armor thicker than my own, and drown itself in blood, sweat and war to avoid the truth.

   I sound like a greenhorn spilling my feelings out upon parchment like some love lost pup. If you're not careful I'll start writing you poetry like some fancy to-do Knight who thinks far too highly of himself. I wonder, despite all your new responsibilities, do you still run your dress shop in Stormwind? still bringing beauty and color to its drab streets? I admit I’ve not been back to the city since my dismissal from the services of Lady Reinhardt, so I’ve not had the chance to check for myself.

I'll give a smirk behind my helm, just for you tonight.

Forever, Jago

(( @valerie-shadebrook ))

[iron-and-flesh]

     Valerie,

     For all that it is worth, I am glad that you decided against wisdom and good sense once again, in choosing to speak with me. It seems even now after what feels like so long apart, that I am still a terrible influence upon you. I take a secret pleasure in that. You are more than welcome to join and watch some time, though the real thing is never quite what we imagine it to be. Try not to be baffled too much though; that which drives me to train also has the power to forever pull me from it.

  Before I continue, I feel I must apologize fore in my last letter I spoke so brazenly about what I remembered and yet I did not take into account your life. I've no idea where you are in life, if you've become married or have a serious suitor. I know how I would feel if you were mine and I found out an ex was writing to you as I had, that being said though I find that I cannot stop myself from doing so in the future. So I will live with that and eternally apologize in the process.

  I've sat here staring at this parchment for some time now trying to find the words, at least in written form, to talk of that which you mentioned. I almost spoke to you about it once before, in that little cabin we stayed at. I think that scared me more than anything I faced in Icecrown. You fast became more to me than I ever imagined possible, you saw through the armor to the man underneath and you peeled back my defenses that had long withstood the tests of time, like they were nothing but paper. That is why, Valerie, you will always be more than just a name in my past, my present.. Perhaps it would have been better if I had let you in, let you see all that I hide under the surface of plate and iron, but at the same time I wonder if what is there would have only made you flee. I think that would break me more than it did when I walked away.

I wait with baited breath for your next letter, perhaps I even wont be so melancholy in my next reply.

Forever, Jago

P.S. I'll admit that I was always rather fond of the dresses you wore, so refined in choice, and they added a brightness about you that only made me lose myself even more within the depths of your eyes.

(( @valerie-shadebrook ))

[valerie-shadebrook]

★ - Jago

I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you / I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me / You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me / I’m scared of losing you / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you /  You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in hospital / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt me more than anyone else

  @iron-and-flesh

[valerie-shadebrook]

  You Silly Plated Man,

  I honestly don’t know how I’d endure poetry from you. The thought so ricochettes in the mind as an illogical impossibility. I will admit a pride and more over a gratefulness that you have allowed me this look at you. Through your written words and honest feelings it's almost as if I’ve been able to reclaim some pieces of myself as well. Perhaps it’s what we always needed. A mending. A purge. To shed in someway the weight or the words. It’s done as much for me as you, I wager. 

  Though I am also glad it came after the anger and the hurt. From this place of introspection I feel far more ready to be honest because I know my words come from a place that means well. Not to harm.

  Your analogy is fitting and apt. You’re right of course, it’s a worry I must have-- for the people of Direwood. Still, I know too that they are capable and they are living their lives according to patterns and habits long established with or without me they would thrive as is their way. It’s nice, honestly. To make myself a lesser feature in the whole system. One of the many gears instead of a gear of note. That without me progress would still be made and with me, perhaps it will aid if only a bit.

  I’m stuck now wondering about this new, open, honest Jago. This open book bound in metal. Do you dance through fields of wildflowers? Attend poetry nights in Darnassus? Tell me, do you find yourself donning flowy shirts and on bended knee lament to the moon of it’s untouchable beauty? If you don’t, but begin to feel the urge I would be very interested in that information. For completely non-mocking related purposes. Of course. 

  I’ll admit some shock that you’ve not, shall I delicately put, at least tasted of many fruits? I learned a long time ago a man is a man, nonetheless. But then again, you were always a beast in other ways. On the battlefield, in conviction. In duty and honor you were ferocious. In the right from the wrong. The work before the play. That’s of course not to say you didn’t take play seriously. Mentions of sparring and sweat from previous letters spring to mind. I blame that on mentions of late night bathing in cool lakes, no doubt hidden away from prying eyes. 

  Once I dressed you up in a suit and lost you in the softness of that fabric. You function best wrapped in metal, hidden behind plate. In a suit you felt smaller, invisible. You weren’t a statue but a man and I dripped in gold and thought perhaps it would be enough to offer you confidence. The pride on me. The presumption. I wanted to be as good as a sword in your hand when I was on your arm but I never paused, not a single second to ask you what you wanted in that way. What you needed. So I tore you out of armor and put you in satin and watched you shrink. It’s a great regret of mine... that night, that mountain top.

  There is no more shoppe. When my father got sick, I tried to keep it open by hiring help but at the end of the day, it was other people, doing their work and no longer the dream I had. I went home, to be with my father, to be in my father’s house. I let it go. I had to. It was the only responsible thing to do. Now, there’s no time to sew dresses, to even design them. The shoppe was the passion project of a girl who had all the time in the world. I’m a Duchess with little of it. Perhaps one day, but I dont hold on to much hope. 

  I still try to take pictures of lovely things. I find inspiration everywhere and try to capture it. It becomes a pile of what I may have done but I can’t seem to help myself from from the habit. It’s bittersweet. 

  So much in life is. However that can change. I didn’t quite realize that until recently, that the bitterness can fade if you put effort into it. I’ve found it true with these letters though. With the memory of you. It shifts to something sweeter, with every letter, every confession. I think of you and my smile is more content than sad and it’s a blessing I gladly take. 

  Thank you for my smirk. I greedily request another. 

    Yours,         Valerie

  @iron-and-flesh

[bladesurgence]

syndrelia! syndrelia! syndrelia!!!

     “Why did you come back?”

     Irelia moves her hand away from her chest. The pain erupts, acute and merciless. She grunts, craning her head down to examine the wound. Another wince.

     “Lie down,” Syndra orders, a hand pushing Irelia’s shoulder to the floor. Irelia exhales, her chest rising and falling in jagged motions. The gash is deep. She can feel blood pour out along her side. Irelia’s endured stab wounds before, but this is different. It feels like something is pulling a blade out of her, ripping the skin apart.

     But Syndra sees something else. “Your tissue looks intact on the surface. The layers underneath are a different story.” She brings a hand up to the back of her head, spheres orbiting her in agitated revolutions. “How could you be so stupid?”

     “I said I wouldn’t abandon my duty,” Irelia says. Her voice is hoarse and her throat aches when she speaks. Syndra frowns, her magic seemingly at a loss at what to do when force isn’t the answer.

     “You serve Ionia and its Council, not… someone like me.” Her fingers curl into a fist, but then they soon extend, a soft green aura emitting from them. “You’re lucky I studied the properties of healing magic the other week.”

     The tearing coursing through Irelia, underneath her skin, begins to abate. She can still feel the invasive presence, though it’s become several times more manageable. Attempting to push herself up onto her elbow, Irelia summons her strength and looks up at Syndra. The wrinkles across her forehead look more worried than infuriated, despite her tone.

     “I serve the people. Last time I checked, you were a person, were you not?”

     Syndra turns away, reaching out with her hand to call forth a roll of bandages. She had carried the wounded Irelia up to the celestial fortress, leaving her in the courtyard as she looked for as many medical supplies as she could find lying around.

     “Because you are not a mage, this isn’t as painful as it would be. An antimagic leyline that strong…” She refuses to complete the sentence, though Irelia can fill in the blanks.

      “That mage from the Glyphall. You know them, yes? Tell me their name.” Her spheres seem to grow darker in color.

     Irelia sits up, and Syndra instinctively places a hand on her arm, steadying her. They lock eyes, and she can see a vortex swirling in Syndra’s irises. Irelia focuses on the hollow pupils, centers of minuscule calm among the tempest. Syndra’s shoulders drop by a slight margin.

     “I didn’t come all this way for you to add more names to your enmity.”

     “I still don’t know why you came this way to take an antimagic blast to the chest,” Syndra retorts.

     “I couldn’t let him do that to you,” Irelia insists. “The Glyphall thinks one thing, but the Justicars, the Council, the Duchess - everyone else has different opinions. I wasn’t about to let the extremists get what they want.”

     Syndra sighs, reaching around Irelia’s torso to bandage the wound. It stings, but not as much as before. She lets her arms stretch a little, like a bird’s wings, to allow room for the bandages to do their work. Two layers. It reminds Irelia of the last time she put on a corset.

     “And you? What do you think of the infamous Dark Sovereign of Ionia?”

     Irelia reaches out to place a hand on Syndra’s leg, gauging her reaction. Syndra narrows a brow, but doesn’t move.

     “You will always be my friend, Syndra, and friends stick up for each other no matter what.”

     “I am not your friend, Captain,” Syndra protests. “Whatever you thought about me from your childhood has completely changed now. My only company is the threshold of power that I will soon ascend through. You would do well to understand that, you, and all the other organizations keeping an eye on me.”

     “The Glyphall isn’t going to leave you alone even if we do.”

     “Let them come. I grow stronger by the second.”

     “So strong that you can just absorb a blast of antimagic?”

     Syndra drops silent, her fingers bristling.

     “Even the Great Heron Empress had allies.”

     “This isn’t a history lesson.” Syndra draws back, her magic returning to its usual purple aura, dismissing the roll of bandages back inside the fortress.

     “I’m just saying-”

     “That you wish to join forces?” She scoffs, her laugh a staccato that pierces through the courtyard.

     “That I am at your side,” Irelia says. “They will come again, and that was not even the greatest of their mages. There is a reason why they are one of the strongest guilds in Ionia.”

     Syndra’s confidence begins to falter, the hue of her magic less evident in her eyes. “While that is true…” She turns away, getting to her feet. Then, as if remembering her magic, she floats above the ground, moving away from Irelia.

     “Even if you do not agree with me,” Irelia calls out, attempting to stand up. It doesn’t go well. “I cannot just leave here. We are hundreds of feet off the ground.”

     Syndra stops, appearing to have some kind of internal battle in her head before turning around. A hand raises Irelia into the air, and she brings her up to eye level.

     “You…” Then, instead of another snapping remark, she sighs. When she next speaks, her voice has lost some of the echo surrounding it. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

     “Always,” Irelia responds quickly.

     “You’re hopeless.” Syndra leads her into the foyer. “Very well. Welcome to my palace, Irelia. My house, my rules.”