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fanesavin · 5 years ago

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High Raj Avitej Sharma, First of his Name is laid to rest but the people’s voice rings out across the city. A new Raj must be found, and quickly before the city falls to chaos.

@thisbrutalbelle / @imviapassmeabeer / @faye-andrews / @ianncardero / @scarlettxruby / @mayaparker / @rydenbolt

THE ROYAL FUNERAL.

Even with the Queen of the Dead Woods injured after the assassination attempt in the Lower City, the Royal Funeral still had to proceed as planned. If anything, the incidents in the past few days almost demanded some distraction, and a big distraction full of gravitas and extravagance.

Where the first days of mourning had been silent murmurs among the people trying to pay respect for their beloved dead High Raj, by now the rumours, accusations, and paranoia flew around like paper in a windstorm. Some said that House Kesley was the only House that stood behind High Raj, and the other Houses were all behind his murder. Other’s say the Red Priestess tried to light the Castle on fire, and supported the Kesleys to rule. Some said all the Kesleys had been killed by the Inquisitor, and good riddance. Others said the High Inquisitor was consorting with witches - both in and out of bed. Some say he bribed the Knight Commander, others say the Forty Isles Heir Apparent and Ward Danian are in a plot to usurp the throne and send the High Inquisitor packing. The assassination attempt on the Queen of the Dark Woods factioned people in the Lower City. The damage to the buildings and to some of the commonfolk made the area of the attack a hotspot of fear. Some said it was cursed now, and burned any sight of plants in the area, causing an even larger fire to rage for a few hours. Some said they have seen the Darkness and now try to worship it too, and considered the werewolf soldiers their Holy Protectors. Others considered the attack well-founded, and beg for guidance from the Red Priestess and her god of Light.

But despite all these fractured beliefs and rumours, one shout is unified from the outside: A new High Raj.

The people needed order and discipline. They had hoped for it when the High Raj was first appointed. Their mids were still fixed fast on the necessity for someone, somehow, to guide them. An Inquisition was not there to rule, and the people had waited long enough for peace.

Despite their limited resources while stuck in the Keep, with the Forty Isles money and the Queen of the Dark Woods’ sense of ~aesthetic~, the day of the funeral was as ceremonial and grandiose as Prince Iann had urged it to be. It started in the Core City of course, through the Upper City, down the largest main street of the Lower City and down onto the Waytried Docks. The people gathered in droves. The Cloverry was in full presence, coin showering the streets of the Upper and Lower Cities in the wake of the large casket.

The call, as the Master of Whispers found out later, actually started in the Core City. It happened once the High Raj’s pyre was lit, and set to float on the calm ocean waves. As it floated away to the horizon, and the musical procession faded in sombre silence:

“A new High Raj. We need a new High Raj!” The call was picked up, spread across the entire Capital, shortened. “High Raj! HIGH RAJ! HIGH RAJ!!!” Bells tolled then, drowning them out: but the message was clear. The people were tired of waiting. They wanted - needed - a new High Raj, now.~

The priestess stood in her dark robes, a silent spectator to the funeral of the would be High Raj. While she did not share in the faith of most of the other mourners, the waste of life snd the violence in which it ended were proof that there was one god they would all meet: the god of death. Yet her lord had called her here for a reason: to bring the Unnamed Blade to The One. But she had not been told who they were. Not yet. But it would come. The Lord of Light always showed his presence. When the time was right.

Bella could not walk by any means, her body weak from the incident prior and her legs bound in bandages rather than their usual jewels, so another member of the families in the Keep loaned the Queen a horse to ride alongside the casket, the new aged wolf not departing her side, seeming to eye everything as the High Raj's body was removed from the keep to begin the funeral procession at the Core City and head outward. Bella was resistant to go but with so many guards and Royals this time she assumed her family would not be so confident.

The affair was certainly...strange. Bella was not aware of all the customs that the High Raj's people, or those of Bluesprings, and while she had tried her best to learn them a great did did not make sense. So when all waited for the body to come from the keep to begin the process, they were likely not expecting what came, the High Raj's coffin a hollowed out tree, carved along it's trunk with limericks in a foreign tongue of a song once sung about the High Raj before he had been appointed, jewels dug into it in many places. The branches of the tree had been manipulated and shaped into a crown, while where the Raj laid was made of moss, sprinkled with ground diamond so he seemed to shine beneath the evenings light. Of course it had to be done in the evening, for the true show to begin.

Iann stood by the Red Priestess. For once it wasn't a strategic or political placement. He merely needed a place to stand, and the Red Priestess happened to be at a good vantage point. If only so she knew she was noticed by at least one person in the crowd...so alright maybe Iann's choice was a little strategic. He couldn't help it; he was a Prince. Playing the Game was second nature to him. He nodded at her, then watched the Queen Bellamy assembled with the coffin. "Are you still here alone, Priestess?" Iann asked, quietly. "I see no other of your ilk here in the courtyard."

Maya slipped in among the nobles as the funeral procession was about to begin. Bellamy sat atop a horse near where the front of the procession would be. Among the crowd, Maya spotting Iann and the Red Priestess. Her expression tightened at the sight of the woman who had exposed her. But Maya knew better than to start an altercation at a funeral, especially with a priestess. Instead she made her way through the crowd, listening for any useful tidbits.

Ephram attended the gathering in the courtyard, standing a decent ways away from the actual bier created from the hollow tree. He'd attended a fair share of funerals in his own holding, most of House Pettaline having been decimated by war or the wasting sickness that had swept the East, but this was an entirely foreign entity. The state funeral of the High Raj, presented by the apparent Queen of the Dark Woods in her own style. It seemed like it would be prudent to be present, but not ... involved.

The Red Priestess didn’t look at the prince as he spoke to her. Her eyes were on the body of the Raj, so resplendent in the grip of death. She seemed slightly troubled, though she did not speak of it if she was. “I am never alone, Your Grace,” she said quietly.

Bella was not near the coffin by any means, as it was carried out of the building by guards and members of the Clovvery, placing it onto the carriage that would pull it Bella was merely observing with the rest of the royalty that would eventually open the gates and allow everyone through. She had no intention of being near the High Raj's body after last night. It was evident how the commonfolk saw her.

"Ah yes, your Lord of Light." He looked over at the funeral assembled in the courtyard, then thought about what happened to the Queen of the Dark Woods recently. An assassination, apparently who 'shone light like an angel' according to the accounts of the guards and commonfolk. He looked sidelong at the Priestess, wondering if that 'angel of light' belonged to her Lord. "I wish I had your faith, sometimes," he murmured. He spotted that no-longer-a-servant servant girl, and he thought about how people disparaged the Priestess for her actions at the Quiver of Houses regarding the girl. "Possessing lack of regret in one's choices, it would be refreshing."

“If they were my choices, perhaps I would regret them, Your Grace.” She had heard of the person that had attacked the dark woods queen. Heard the rumors. This was no act of her lord, however. Though no one had asked her opinion. “And why can’t you?” She looked at the prince. “Have faith, that is?”

"The sea is her own faith, Priestess. She's the only goddess I know how to worship. And she is unforgiving and fickle. I suppose I have a type," Iann said with a slight smile. A funeral might not be the best place to say bawdy things; but on the other hand a funeral was the perfect time. Seeing one's mortality in the stark reality, in the body within the coffin within that strange hollowed-out tree.

Maya stopped next to Lord Pettaline. She curtsied out of habit, "Good evening sir. If it can be called that." As far as she knew he had made himself rather scarce in the last few days.

"That she is. Though I hear her beauty is unmatched. Strange what men will do for such a creature that possesses both.” Wars had been fought for less, she knew. “Yet among all of us, all our gods and all our respective faiths... the god of death is the only one that comes right when you call on him.”

Ephram inclined his head to acknowledge the Lost Lady, mildly surprised that she'd approached him. "A good evening for at least some faction," he said, with a slight squint. "Unless the current rumour is that the killer acted alone. Seems unlikely to me."

"I always believed Death was a goddess," Iann countered, but gently and conversationally. He looked over to the Queen of the Dark Woods and nodded at Bellamy. "And the Death Goddess looks a little like her Highness over there."

Bella felt her wolf's gaze remain on the Prince and her own shifted to catch his nod. His hearing was better than her own but it was not safe for them to speak with one another here. The King, always in his wolf form, had intended to remain in the Dead Woods to keep it protected but when she had summoned forces he had grown nervous and hid among their numbers. To announce who he was would allow people to be aware the Dead Woods were relatively unguarded and they did not know who would be able to understand his words beyond her. Gently nudging the horse she moved over to the Priestess of Light, maybe others suspected her of what happened but Bella knew better at smiled at the two of them. "Thank you for your physicians yesterday, your Royal Highness," Bella offered, the wolf nudging Iann's palm as though to shake it.

Maya shook her head, "I think you're right. It's too complex to have acted alone." She looked around the crowd again, analyzing the expressions around them. "As for a good evening for some faction, I'm not sure I can agree with you there. I don't foresee peace even if the culprit is caught," she said. Of course, she never foresaw peace, at least not for long. Even if someone was appointed High Raj and smoothly assumed the position before long someone else would to take it.

The Red Priestess looked at the dark woods queen. She certainly could see how one might think of the women as something to be feared. And perhaps they should. “Perhaps Death /is/ a goddess. Or perhaps Death merely comes as what we perceive it to be. A thing of our own creation. Perhaps the sea is /your/ death, Your Grace. One day.” The Red Priestess dipped her head as the queen acknowledged her. “Your Grace.”

Iann drew in a long breath, a surge of pleasure washing over him like a wave. Not just at the way the Red Priestess turned his words so deftly and brought it back to the sea, but also at the idea of an honourable death at sea. "One can hope," he agreed, and he almost sounded warm, reverent. The Queen's horse came closer, and Iann was about to reply when he was genuinely startled by the feel of the grey wolf's nudge. He took a step back, staring at it as if to remind himself that it...was no mere wild beast. "How are you healing, your Highness? I'm appalled that assassin got so close to you to do such severe damage to your legs." Of course he didn't know the details of what happened, only that it happened.

Ephram angled his shoulder back, enough so he could regard Maya properly as they spoke. "I didn't think you'd have so definite an opinion about the politics of the thing," he said, a little coolly. "Aren't you dead set on remaining nothing more than a servant? Advisor to Lord Savin, is it?" With the close quarters and high tension of the past few days, the gentry hadn't had much else to do other than watch their backs, talk about their speculations, and share news of fresh developments. Ephram hadn't met Maya until now, but after the public display of her birthright, he along with everybody else knew who she was.

Maya shrugged, "Even servants have opinions, particularly when recent events might trigger another war." Most royalty she'd known never had any idea how much servants truly knew and heard. They rarely thought of them. Although so far the nobles around these parts paid a bit more attention. Or perhaps that was only due to the events of the last few days. "What of you Lord Pettaline? Do you see peace in our future?" she asked.

Bella looked over the Priestess, aware her King could not be so kind to her. Even if she didn't intend it her religion was the opposite and drawing near could drop his appearance when he was not capable of being shown now. "Fine Lady," Bella said, unsure how to address the Priestess. "The assassin did this," Bella lifted her jaw, showing the jarring and deep burn that cut across her neck. "I harmed my legs to summon my darkness, and my wolves came," she reasoned, aware the prince might find that idiotic. "I'm not a fighter, if no one came to my aid I'd have lost my head. I did not intend the destruction that came. I've heard from some of the staff that things are even worse now."

Ephram wasn't so easily shunted from his point once he got going, though. "Of course servants have opinions, and welcome to them," he said. "Everyone can and should think what they will." His blue eyes bored into her. "Not everyone has the opportunity -- the duty and responsibility -- to act on those opinions in a way that affects matters. And people. And the running of the Bluesprings, keeping us aimed towards peace in our future."

Maya turned more properly to face Lord Pettaline. She weighed his words, sensing perhaps there was something behind. She'd heard words like duty and responsibility before. Her parents used to talk of them often. "I want peace as much as anyone else here, but I am not so naive to not see war on the horizon," she replied, "But if you have something you'd like to say, sir, you may as well say it outright. There are enough secrets in this castle already."

Iann blinked, and looked back over at the coffin. "I've heard things are getting even worse, yes. But I've also heard that things are getting better." Depending on how one looked at it, of course. And Iann had a knack for turning bad into opportunity. And as a Prince, he sought opportunity for the good of many, not just himself. "Fear can engender belief, and an urge to hope towards something better. Perhaps this assassin of yours did us all a favour, your Highness." He motioned towards the gathering. "Shall we be proceeding soon? I believe the people are eager to see their lost High Raj for the last time, and to mourn him."

The Red Priestess smiled softly at the prince before turning to the darkwoods queen. She frowned slightly at the mark on the woman’s neck, and that she had had to harm herself in order to save her own life. Though she knew some things required blood and pain. “I’m glad to see that the coward did not succeed.” Though she did glance at the large wolf pressing into the princes palm.

"Don't call me sir. It's demeaning to both of us." Ephram's voice was flat, mirroring the look he fixed Maya with. "You're highborn, no matter how much you want to lay claim to being the voice of the smallfolk. It's shameful. The way you derelict your duty as the ruler to your people, it's cowardice. When you know very well that they'd welcome you back as their own, their Lost Lady." He jerked his chin in the direction of the High Raj's bizarre coffin. "In the presence of a man slain for taking up a responsibility that would have saved us all, your refusal to shoulder your birthright is unconscionable." Ephram's words had nothing to do with Maya personally, seeing as he didn't know her; but as a born noble himself, one who was scrabbling tooth and nail to hang on to enough power to do his best by his people, Maya's continued chosen servitude seemed base and self-serving.

Did not really want to leave the castle's protection, even if she suspected that nothing would happen it was the feeling that it could happen that made her wish to remain inside, evident on her face as she swallowed. "I suppose we must," she reasoned, looking over to the High Raj's form placed atop the carriage. He wore the finest of clothes, perhaps more grand than was appropriate for such an event but people outside the Dead Woods seemed to really enjoy the restrictions to their body so he had many. "I know, Priestess," Bella said, offering her own hand to the woman because her wolf could not. "What we worship are not lords that envision enemies in one another, we're two sides of a good, two times of day, perhaps we'll wander until morning and your Lord can join us," Bella smiled to her with assurances.

Maya's surprise at his command not to call him sir showed only briefly in her expression. It returned quickly to its stoicism though as he continued. "I would never claim to speak for all common folk," she said first. Chin still raised and expression calm, she took a moment to compose her next words. "If I am a coward then I am not fit to serve my people. What they want, what they've spun me into in legend is not who I am. I have never been cut out for power or the games required to maintain it. The best I can serve my people is to stay as far away from them as possible," she said, "Returning now would only result in bloodshed. I would not put them in danger again for my own pride."

“Perhaps we shall, Your Grace.” The priestess gave the deadwood queens hand a small squeeze. “One cannot exist without the other, as you say.”

The hard set of Ephram's mouth eased some as he listened to Maya's response. "Bloodshed, why?" he asked. "What danger do they face that wouldn't be helped by the return of the Lady who they thought taken from them?"

"You've done well arranging the details of this Royal procession, despite the stress you've had to deal with," Iann said, noticing the way the Queen looked over at the carriage. "It will generate the proper awe and reverence befitting our fallen ruler. Shall we, Queen Bellamy of the Dark Woods?"

"My homeland is not without a ruler in my absence," Maya replied, "A ruler who has already shown a willingness to murder for his own gain. And not everyone wants the Lost Lady back after all these years. I am better as a hopeful story than I ever would be as a ruler."

Faye wasn’t sure how she felt being among so many mourners. She didn’t know the Raj, yet his death was tragic enough that it bothered her greatly. Whoever had murdered him had done it purposely. In front of nearly everyone with even a modicum in the surrounding lands. The atmosphere was subdued, yet there was a tremor of something else underneath. Something Faye didn’t like. Not one bit.

Bella nodded her head firmly, swallowing as the carriage sat at the front of the closed gate, others lining up behind it and Bella nudging her horse to do the same. "I don't really understand how he looks so...put together," she spoke to the Prince as she moved, unsure if he knew. "I heard there was so much blood but when I was adorning him with herbs and ointments in preparation he looked perfect." He looked perfect now really, crown on his head, skin only slightly darker than he once was. Finally in line Bella rose her hand high and the guards opened the gate to begin their walk through the city and outward.

Ephram leaned back slightly, his lips parting in an expression of perplexed distaste. "You know that your people are ruled by a ruthless murderer, and you're content to leave them to his mercies instead of chancing being unwelcome by some? Gods above and below." He shook his head, directing his attention back to the funeral proceedings. "It seems to me, Lady Maya, that your story isn't one of hope at all, not to anybody involved. Not your people living in subjugation to a tyrant, and not to you, finding excuses to avoid returning home and attempting to be the sort of ruler who doesn't need to rely on murder and games."

Fane was late to arrive to the gathering, having had need to change and return to his typical appearance as those around the city knew him. He slipped through the crowds quietly so as not to draw attention to himself eyes relatively downcast. Solemn and lost inside his own head. He didn't have time to be here with everything presently afoot, but making an appearance was necessary nonetheless.

"I'm not sure, myself," Iann replied, walking alongside Bellamy's horse. "We on the Isles intern our dead to the sea." The Forty Isles, naturally did things differently when it came to their funerary procedures. No burying, no burning; only sinking. Sometimes it was as if the Forty Isles did things differently on purpose, just to show that they could do whatever they wanted. But Iann didn't like looking at the dead High Raj. Iann could stand drowned bodies, dead bodies, even those who die peacefully in their sleep. A body dressed so prettily was disconcerting, but not unfamiliar to Iann. "But he will be a sight to behold for the commonfolk; and this is more for them than it is for us."

Maya shook her head. The man sitting on her father's throne would not give up his power easily nor would anyone who had benefitted from from his rule. There would be a civil war. Of that much she was absolutely certain. "No one in my home land would let go of their power without a war," she replied, "Think me a coward all you like Lord Pettaline. The legend isn't about me anyway, it never was. I would not ruin it by returning." She curtsied again, "If you'll excuse me Lord Pettaline, I believe the procession is leaving without us."

"We let nature do what it does, we hold something but generally it has no body," Bella reasoned, supposing neither of them would know if he really did look strange then and allowed the peculiarities of his lack of injuries to move on. The High Inquisitor, she decided to trust, had done his job but the only people she actually felt anything akin to trust to were for the Prince and the Priestess, the Priestess had nothing to gain and if the Prince was the cause of the crime he seemed like he'd do a fine job running the Kingdom, everything he'd done to her so far had been very helpful. "I'm not sure if anything will calm them. Cruel things," she scowled, still hurt by the fact no one had even attempted to aid her.

Iann disagreed with her assessment of the commonfolk, but then he didn't see himself at their mercy nor was he interested in what they could do for him personally. They weren't cruel, nor were they kind. They were just people. And people could be manipulated and guided, like a school of fish. And from his privileged vantage point, he knew they moved en masse depending on the currents, the food, and the predators around them. Safety in numbers, stragglers and outliers beware. And their safety all depended on what Iann, the Heir Apparent of the Forty Isles, chose to provide them: currents, food, or predators. So he gently pat her horse's neck. "They are calmed for now," he said, as the sombre music started, and the gates finally opened. People were everywhere, crowded close; yet to Iann there was a sense of freedom. The Gates of the Keep were finally open and the Inquisition was finally giving the people something under their control. The power and effect of the grand, solemn sight of their dead High Raj was palpable. People gasped, murmured prayers, burned their papers, bowed, cried....it was magnificent.

Fane lifted his head as the music indicated the beginning of the procession, the pace was slow considering the weight of the casket being pulled and number of people following behind it. He found himself looking to the people as he passed them by. He owed them his service and his duty. The reminder was humbling, and Fane let his head dip once more. He heard Iann's words, and while he didn't respond outright found himself wondering calmed, perhaps, but for how long?

The gates opened and even though Faye was near the back of the procession, and knew that no one would like spare her a glance with the Raj and deadwood queen far ahead of her, she still felt a wave of fear. The masses pressed in on all sides, and Faye slowly pulled up the hood of her cloak, eyes cast downwards as she followed.

Bella frowned at the Prince, she still considered him the most logical heir to the throne but only because she felt ruling a Kingdom like this was not the same as ruling her forest. She had people who admired her, who supported her, who she supported in turn. No commonfolk here knew anything of royals so why would they help them. Her horse moving forward she decided she would ask the only person she knew would answer about the body, greying wolf following her horse as she did. "Inquisitor," Bella called to gain his attention upon her horse. She looked ridiculous, and felt it, with everyone else walking, but her legs were too damaged to walk. "May I ask you something?"

Fane was a world away. So many things brewing in his head, plots and conspiracies and what felt like a thousand and one expectations. One wrong word could be the difference between peace and all out warfare. Yet who could he trust to speak with on the matters weighing on his mind? When everyone was still a suspect despite his rapidly narrowing list. So he was a touch startled to hear himself being called, lifting his head he noted the Queen of the Deadwoods and he inclined his head in polite deference to her rank. "Your majesty," he moved a little to the side so that her horse might have a little more room to walk unimpeded. "You may," he was unsure what she might have to ask of him but he would answer to the best of his ability.

"I haven't seen a funeral since I was a girl," Bella offered as reason for her question, wondering what the Inquisitor assumed of her, especially after being attacked. She knew rumours were it was the Prietess' people, stupid rumours really, none assumed her family because of their high standing - at least not commonfolk, perhaps Royals who had interacted with them knew better. Aware of there puritanical reign alongside their own church Bella had been cast out from because of her sinful perversions. "How was the High Raj able to be returned to such a pleasant state. I heard there was a great deal of blood."

Fane had trained in the Guard, and had fought many battles against darkness and creatures that tainted everything they touched. Infected and infested, he had seen and survived evil and the young Queen who rode nearby was nothing like the evil he'd faced to the fringes of his lands. He was equally aware of the rumours, but as had been proven recently, they weren't always quite what they were cracked up to be. The question caused him to look ahead to the body, thoughtful in his consideration of the question he didn't know the full process but he knew aspects, "no one knows the entire ritual but I know you wouldn't wish to leave blood in a body regardless. They use a particular resin from what I'm led to believe it prevents the body from... hm... decomposing." He answered quietly, enough to be heard but not enough to disrupt the procession.

Bella frowned a little, "but shouldn't you still see his injuries?" she asked, not aware of anything beyond 'poison' being involved. So much blood and for it to be poison was strange but Bella was not aware of anything else. The procession moved slower as it seemed a collective on horses was trying to move about, causing people to step in the way of the High Raj's funeral. It merely slowed pace though, nothing was going to stop this. "I just don't understand how he looks so fine," she shrugged, becoming acutely aware this was only suspicious to her.

Fane looked aside to the Queen, "the injuries were only around his head nowhere else..." He didn't particularly think the funeral procession was the time to go into the full details of the excess blood being that from the cranial cavity and brain being punctured by the spikes when they emerged from the pressure-activated device built into the crown. Fane also didn't particularly wish to draw too much attention to the crown at present, considering the information he'd learned earlier today concerning it. "What isn't masqueraded by his hair was likely filled by wax to take the appearance of skin... But... When it happened his face was hm... sheeted with it. A relatively even distribution all the way around... Which would give the impression of there being more than there was." Plus, in the time he'd been collapsed on the throne there was enough time for it to pool out of the countless puncture wounds.

Bella became aware she was only irritating the High Inquisitor as he answered her question in line with practices rather than what she had meant. "I suppose I imagined so much blood would have affected him more," she said, dropping the topic, looking ahead of them to see if the fuss being caused would end soon and yet it only seemed to grow worse, not necessarily from the men but from the commonfolk. They were growing rowdier the further they got from the City's core. "You would know what was strange and what wasn't, I'm sure," Bella conceded, trying to remain calm as the flustering crowd made her nervous.

Octavia made her way through the bustling crowd. She needed to find her Queen- especially with everything that's happened the last few days. It took her only twenty minuted to find her, but Bellamy seemed nervous; even if it didn't show on her face. "My Queen, I am sorry it took so long for me to find you." She said giving Bellamy a quick bow.

Faye still walked with her head bowed and covered. The growing ruckus ahead wasn’t lost on her, and she wished she were back in the walls of the keep. But she kept moving ahead, hoping the guards and the somberness of the day would prevent any more bloodshed.

Bella Immediately the wolf at Bella's feet snapped aggressively at Octavia, not biting her but the strange stoic calm that the wolf had since it had entered the castle the previous night was gone. It seemed to even enrage some of the commoners, who unbeknownst to Bella had decided the wolves were somehow protectors. "It's fine, Octavia," Bellamy spoke calmly. She was not upset, she had left the castle knowing Octavia was asleep and had not woken her, by no means was it the Knights fault but if she showed too much kindness her husband would show more ferocity. "Stride the horse with me, things are getting frightful," she requested.

Fane was hardly irritated by the questioning, he had simply answered it to the best of his understanding of the question that she had asked. "I'm not sure I quite understand, you mean to ask why he looks as peaceful as he does despite losing that amount of blood? If that was your question... Then they tend to paint the skin some, so it appears more natural." But equally, he was distracted by the group of men ahead that seemed to be intruding on the procession. Fane glanced at a few of the crowds as they passed, dropping back to fall in along the outer side with a few of his men trailing his movements. A small act to create a barrier at least between them and the Queen.

Octavia: didn't flinch at the wolfs bark, she knew her mistress wouldn't allow her to be harmed. "Yes, M'lady." She said looking into the eyes of the wolf, willing them to understand that she is there only to protect. She took the reigns of the horse and climbed up, allowing to see the entire crowd from her place above. She had opted to wear her full armor that day, just in case anything were to happen.

Bella It was innocent of Octavia to imagine that Bella would protect her from the King, a kind thought but not true. He was her King and Octavia didn't even consider herself a member of the Dead Woods, if her husband wanted to harm her there was little she could do. Others? Yes, she would intervene but not her people. "Perhaps I just don't understand death as it is here, I was attempting, ungracefully apparently, to say, without saying in front of commoners, that he does not look himself at all, is that even him?" she asked more directly.

The commoners surged slightly towards the procession, crowding some of those walking. Faye stumbled slightly, catching herself on the side of the horse walking in front of her. The animal barey flinched, used to the commotion. But Faye was startled, and tried to push through the procession to get ahead to where someone she knew was walking.

Fane was visibly puzzled by the question at hand. Perhaps death worked differently in the Queen's realm he couldn't very rightly say. "Aye, that's the man... Doubt they'd put the wrong body for all to see." He turned a little to see Faye stumbling along looking more than a little bit shaken, "Lady Lacroy? Come, walk over here." There was a little more space around the horse at least, enough that you weren't being completely buffeted by people.

"I did not know the High Raj very well, I think I had only seen him a couple of times in person; but he does not look like the pictures they painted of him, at least." She said in thought. Octavia kept the pace of the horse with the procession, making sure to keep an eye on the rowdy crowd. Octavia nodded at Lord Savin, agreeing with his statement.

Seeing Lord Savin walking next to the Queen of Deadwood and her knight, Faye came over as quickly as decorum and nerves would allow. “Thank you...” she muttered, glancing at the Inquisitor and then the two on the horse. “I fear I might be crushed.”’

Octavia nodded at Faye, greeting her. "Lady Lacroy, I recon you'll be much safer over here." She said with a polite smile

Bella shrugged, they had made it very clear that they knew more than what Bellamy did when it came to this and that was fine, investigations would be left to the Savin man who had become focused on a woman Bella had seen once or twice but barely spoken with. "We can't stop the procession," she insisted of the funeral. Prince Iann had insisted this was what the town needed but the further out they pushed the more thngs became strange. Nature had begun to take over the area she had been attacked the previous day and fires were burning. The more they moved the louder their chanting became. "WE NEED A NEW HIGH RAJ!"

Octavia placed her hand on her sword, keeping it at the ready in case she would need to use it. "I am not sure they care much about the procession anymore, Lady Bellamy." She studied the crowds angry faces and watched as they pushed against the knights protecting the procession.

As they moved, Bella's eyes darted to the man who had cause the funeral slowed down. The darkness that surrounded Ryden called to her, immediately aware of what he was, finding it strange he was in human form. All the wolves she knew remained in their wolf form, perhaps the man even noticing the one wandering at her side, much older than himself. "We need to complete this," she insisted to her knight. They weren't hurting anyone, they were upset, they wanted a ruler, someone to make things calm again. "I can't summon my wolves, Inquisitor Savin," she noted, sure they would upset people. "Perhaps we should have the guards move people back as best they can without violence?"

Faye did her best to stay out of the way. She merely wanted not to get lost in the crowd of people if they surged to join the procession. But they were chanting now. So loudly that Faye could barely hear what anyone else was saying. She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, and it took eveuosje had to put one foot after another and continue to follow the Raj’s body.

Fane was a tad concerned by the chant going up from the crowd, it didn't bode well. His features tightened a little and he glanced back at the others in their small band. "Stay together," with this said he stepped out a little to the side moving to walk with the guards patrolling the perimeter of the procession. Moving to one of his commanders he instructed quickly, "lock formation and draw out on my command, give us some space but do so slowly, we don't wish to start a riot." He moved his way through to several different men in the group instructing the same and once he was sure they all understood. With their eyes in his direction he gave the signal, and they took up the call to their men who drew a tighter formation locking their shields to form an effective barrier and slowly create some more space in the street so the procession may continue.

Bella felt a tremendous level of relief as Fane gave out direct commands that she would have no idea how to give. Usually she was working with a different assortment of soldiers. Not this kind. "Thank you, Inquisitor," Bella said with relief. The crowds were still there but there was some distance between them now. "Did any of you notice that many with his horse?" she asked, "Has he been here since the coronation?" To have so many men with horses he could not have been a commoner, not even Bella had horses, the one beneath her loaned.

Fane returned back to the side of the Queen and the entourage with whom he was a little more familiar. The Queen's question had him looking back over his shoulder but by now the man's back was turned and Fane couldn't rightly make out any visible house sigil. "I don't think so, but then again there are countless people in the castle..." it wouldn't have been hard to overlook one. That being said he turned his attention back ahead, "I don't think it's much farther to go," he said equally thankful for the fact they wouldn't have to be out in the crowds for very much longer, they had a little more room to breathe now. Regardless he kept a vigilant eye on the crowds.

"What shall we do to return however?" Bellamy asked, realising she had rather back them into an awkward spot trying to get her sole job for the day done. "I did not think this through," she let out a heavy breath, eyes turning to the man. he had done well enough to make them through, turning seemed dangerous. The commoners would not harm the Raj, the guards doing there duty. "Do you know a way back to the castle that might not be so awful?" she asked him.

Fane considered the question at hand, going back the way they had come would be the easiest answer. The roads were open and afforded them the ability to maintain guard. "With the amount of people filling the streets and what occurred yesterday... I'm not sure it would be wise to chance short-cuts," Fane cautioned warily, "there are some routes but with you astride it would be difficult to navigate. Let us see the Raj's body delivered for his rites of passage. Without the body we should be able to make a quicker journey back than we did on our way down."

"Without the body I worry they won't be so kind," Bella admitted. The body was already being set off for it's final passage, the collective of people in the march beginning to turn. "I would not usually ask this but will you please join me?" Bella asked, meaning upon the back of her horse. The fire about the place and the hordes of commonfolk who yesterday had ignored her attack was making her fearful and if they had to turn back Bella did not want to feel as helpless as she had.

Fane looked up at the queen as she made her request, it didn't seem proper considering her rank but he would never outright decline the request equally not wishing to leave Faye behind. So, Fane did what he tended to do rather well in times like this and thought on his feet, glancing back over his shoulder to where a couple of the horses that had been pulling the Raj's casket were now being walked back an idea coming to him. "One moment your highness," Fane backtracked to secure the reins of one of the now spare horses before mounting the horse, he was rather lightly armoured by comparison to his typical dress so it wasn't as hard as it might otherwise have been. Trotting back he fell in on the outside of Bella's horse slowing he held a hand down for Lady Lacroy to help her up. The guards pulled in tighter, a more secure formation around them. He glanced over at Bella to ensure she was well enough "a slight faster pace then? If that suits?"

Faye wasn't sure what was about to happen. But the smoke and the growing chaos was not helping the situation. People were growing bolder as they walked, throwing things from afar that hit the shields of the guards that had spread out to ease the passage of things. When the Deadwood Queen called for Lord Savin to join her on her horse to help navigate the crowd, Faye felt a flare of her own fear. But it wasn't but a moment or two before it seemed the Inquisitor had another plan in mind that would hopefully alleviate the Queen's own fear and get them to all to safety faster. As Fane held out his arm for her, Faye hesitated only a moment before clasping his forearm with her own and letting the horse's own momentum swing her up behind Fane. Her arm wrapped his waist and she slid forward securely so she wouldn't be jostled.

The Red Priestess had folded into the procession with the others, walking without fear or judgement. The people were hurt and angry and fearful. Of course they would feel the need to show their frustrations to the lords and ladies meant to protect them. The unease bothered her not. And when the Raj's body had been delivered and the last rites begun, the priestess said her own silent prayer to the Lord of Light, and stood until it was proper to leave.

Fane's action were far more appropriate and gave Bella the same comfort that she was needed, even more relieved when Lady Lacroy joined. The more of them the less daunting it all felt. "Thank you both," Bella said to them, looking to the Priestess as she made her prayer. They could made it back now, she was sure of it, picking up pace on her horse.

Fane helped Faye up, it didn't take too much for her to be settled behind him nor did it impede them much. The Inquisitor didn't feel much need to be thanked for only doing the action that seemed both most appropriate and correct in the given situation. He was sworn by a binding oath - unrelenting and unending as the day it was first crafted and while he no longer served among the ranks as a footsoldier. He was bound to it regardless. Still, he dipped his head a fraction in acknowledgement to the Queen's thanks, "welcome majesty," with that said the group and guard set off at a faster pace. The crowds parted at the sight of the nobles and their escort as they made the return journey to the castle occasionally he would glance over at the Queen keenly aware that she was still injured and not wishing anything to happen to her. As the castle rose into sight he exhaled, "almost there m'ladies," he said addressing both women in his company.

Entering the castles courtyard the gates were quickly closed behind all those entering, Bella's wolf running beside her horse. Relief washed over her, a strange feeling since buildings had rarely given her that sort of feeling before. "What are we to do?" Bella asked them as a guard helped her off the horse and into some crutches. "They are calling for a King, the houses need to be called," she decided, looking to see if they agreed.

A guard approached Lord Savin as soon as the gates had shut behind the quartet. "Pardon me, milord, but Maya asked for your presence straight away in the Great Hall. There are men here to see you."

Fane circled his horse the gates shutting but not silencing the calls from outside, drawing his mount to a halt he remained seated for a moment. "Before a Raj is chosen I have need of speaking with the Prelate... There are still too many loose tethers..." And Fane worried that in not having them all gathered would prove to a far worse outcome than not. He was just dismounting when the guard approached, and Fane looked at him with a weary gaze. "I'm sorry, you'll have to inform her I'm indisposed with business concerning the welfare of the Capital..." Even with the gates shut the chants echoed.

"Perhaps Lady Lacroy and I can help them?" Bellamy suggested, looking to Faye. They had standing, maybe they could be of help to the woman. Bella not aware yet that the once servant girl was now more than that.

Faye looked at Fane as the Queen suggested that the two of them assist the men calling for him. Faye didn't know how much help she would but, but if the Inquisitor asked if of her, she would do her best.

Fane gave a slight nod to them both hoping whoever needed to speak with him wouldn't mind a delay. Unfortunately, there were matters more important that a wayward individual wishing to speak with him.

-----

Ryden had not seen this many people congregating in... well, never. Dyrerow was a small piece of land, with first neighbors far apart by acres of frozen earth. Whenever the lording house he was now the heir of held any gathering, people came only if the weather didn't stop them. Which meant that the halls of Balcaster castle were half-empty at best, at any given time. He'd thought that more than twenty in the same dining hall were a throng and it came as a surprise that the world had THIS many people in it. Everyone and their grandmother had come. And apparently, all of them had ten grandmothers each and they brought them all.

Very few of his men had followed Ryden on this journey - only the bravest and most daring. One man he had lost on the way, but that was considered lucky. Strong and enduring as the people of the far North were, the journey had been perilous and the road did not spare them. Yet here he was nevertheless, trying his hardest not to gape at all the wonders of the capitol. And also trying not to melt. The fur cloaks they wore were now a hindrance, if not at least a peculiarity in their obvious unkempt state that added to these newcomers' savage appearance. They guided their horses down the maze of cobbled streets, breaking out and right into what seemed like an even larger clusterfuck of people, moving in some sort of endless procession, like a caterpillar of humans just wiggling through forever. Ryden reigned his horse, who'd be more spooked if it wasn't practically dying of heat, and signaled his men to come to a halt. By their faces, he noticed they had even less of a clue on what was going on...

Maya followed the procession in silence after leaving Lord Pettaline. She listened mostly to the whispers and murmurs among the gathered crowds. Her attention was drawn therefore to a sudden group of newcomers in heavy coats. There weren't many of them, but they did look weatherworn and a bit dogged. They were from the North, no doubt. She made her way easily through the crowd to stand in front of the leader's horse. "Pardon, sir," she said, "I'm going to have to ask you to dismount."

A voice drew Ryden's attention, speaking in the common tongue Ryden was very familiar with but chose not to use this time. Accent heavy, the peculiar dialect of the far North could be very difficult to decipher, unless spoken slowly. "Eh? What's it sound to me is yer askin' ta be trampled o'er. I wound nae recommend it. It 'urts a lot." His men behind him had given a little chuckle to that - their lord, although unfitting, his ways questionable, was most definitely of the entertaining, funny sort sometimes.

Maya was lucky enough, if one could call it that, in her travels that she could make out the man's words through his accent. Although not without some difficulty. She raised an eyebrow when she did work it out. There were a lot of witnesses about to actually injure her, so she didn't feel any of the fear that she might've. "I've had worse," she replied, "And I think, this many witnesses, you'd find yourself clapped in iron, which wouldn't be comfortable either." After a brief pause, she added a very subtly sarcastic, "Sir."

"Pfff, I ain't no sir." Seeing that she'd understood him perfectly, which was quite a surprise if he were honest, though not enough to take him aback, he dropped the dialect of his homeland to something easier to follow. "And by sayin' that, obviously ya ain't no lady either, so since we're kinna equal on that I don't see why I shoulda listen to ya." His face darkened then, casual tone evening into a deep, emotionless baritone. "Git, I have no interest in you." He turned the horse around, guiding it past the procession, to the High Raj's castle. After all, this was what he was here for. Not to walk in line with a bunch of rude folks who liked their strolls more than manners.

Maya It was not the first time today that someone had told her not to call them sir or claimed that she was their equal. It didn't feel quite as strange this time though, seeing as the newcomer clearly thought she was just a servant. It didn't escape her notice either that he'd dropped his accent, for the most part. Interesting. She huffed a laugh though when he told her to 'git.' He then turned his horse around. "If you're looking for the High Raj you're going the wrong way," she called after him, "I would've told you if you'd dismounted, but you just nearly walked your horse into his funeral procession."

That had given the northman pause. Turning his horse back around, he returned to the woman and dismounted. "What did ya say? He's dead? What sort of a lord dies so soon after becoming one? Ya'll picked a sick lord to rule the world?" He was visibly puzzled.

That seemed to get the newcomer's attention. He turned the horse back around, walked it over and finally dismounted. "No, he was..." Maya glanced behind herself to see if any of the commonfolk had followed her down the alley, "Perhaps we should find somewhere to speak privately. You've missed a great deal," she was about to call him sir again, but decided against it, "I'm sorry. I don't actually know who you are, other than that you're from the North." She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. There was only one House from the North that no one had seen in years. It seemed a silly guess, but she made it anyway. "Unless, has House Balcaster finally decided to open its doors to the outside world again?" she asked.

Ryden frowned at the woman, confused by her request. Speak privately? She was either a whore then or a thief, looking to take the opportunity to drag him to a dark alley to earn a bit of coin. He had been warned of the likes in the capitol, where there were many dead ends to corner a person in and rob them of their belongings. He was about to turn away again, engage any of the commonfolk to give him the same piece of information with a lot less fuss, but then she'd actually recognized who they were. "Are ye of the North as well?" He answered her question with one of his own, because it added up. She'd understood him earlier and now recognized his banner.

Maya certainly wasn't thinking of robbing or sleeping with him. Her concern was maintaining the secrets she'd been sworn to in the castle. "I'm a s..." she paused. She was no longer merely a kitchen girl in Lord Savin's house. She wasn't entirely sure if she would still be in his employ when all this was over, but for the moment she was a bit more than a mere servant. "I'm an advisor to Lord Savin of Blackspire," she said.

Finally something that rang a bloody bell in this gloomy silence. "Take me to yer lord, then." He asked, eager to speak to another northerner, a person he was more likely to trust in this strange, new world.

Maya turned over her shoulder to see Lord Savin passing with Bellamy, the knight Octavia and Lady Lacroy in the middle of the funeral procession. "I'm afraid that's him, quite in the middle of something," she replied, "We can make our way to the castle and I can explain everything there. Away from prying ears. Once he's returned to the castle I'll be happy to get you an audience with him." She wasn't entirely sure Lord Savin would be able to make time consider all that was happening. Of course the appearance of House Balcaster after all these years was no small matter.

"Nay, now." Was what he'd simply declared, leaving his horse with his men and walking in the direction of the man this woman had pointed out.

Well, there went any sense of discretion. Maya could hear people start to chant. Hoping to at least lessen what she was sure would be the ensuing chaos, she grabbed the man by the arm, "The High Raj was murdered sir. And I really don't think it wise for you to walk into the funeral now to learn about it from the man serving as High Inquisitor."

She'd grabbed his gloved had, effectively catching him by surprise and stopping him for long enough to listen to her words. Frown never leaving his expression, he glanced back over to the man she'd pointed out before he lost him to the crowd, noticing who he walked with. It made a shiver run down his spine despite the sweat under his winter clothing. The crowd around them was getting rowdy, their chanting intimidating when done in such numbers.

The High Raj was murdered... No wonder unrest was brewing. Irked, he spat on the ground, backing off. The moment passed anyway - the man was gone down the procession. "City folk and yer titles. Whatever they're good fer." He shook her hand off, returning back to his men. "I will slit yer throat should ya mislead me." He warned in a low, blood-chilling whisper and left her to mount his horse so they may go where she would be more willing to talk.

Maya breathed a sigh of relief when the man didn't insist on marching out into the middle of the procession. "It's a force of habit," she admitted taking her hand back, "I was a kitchen girl until about twelve hours ago. In addition to the fact, I don't actually know your name. Unless you'd prefer Lord Balcaster?" She showed and felt no fear at his threat. "Good thing I'm telling the truth then," she said as she mounted his horse with a little help. Once he was on as well, she guided them all the short way to the castle

Gods this woman was talkative... If everyone on these streets talked as much as she did, how did anyone get anywhere on time? "... Ryden." He muttered out, because he hated being called Lord Balcaster the most. "Ryden Bolt." The last name one given to bastards of the region, fatherless sons with no one to claim them. He was still reluctant to change it. Because his father died before he could even think of acknowledging him. He was also pretty sure he didn't even know about him while he was alive. He followed her instructions and got them to where they were supposed to go.

Maya nodded when he gave his name. "Maya," she replied. Soon enough they were within the walls of the castle. She dismounted in the courtyard, knowing that it would be the best place to intercept Lord Savin and introduce Ryden. "The High Raj was murdered in the middle of his coronation. By his own crown no less. Venom from some snake. Lord Savin has been named High Inquisitor and, well, we're still not sure who's responsible. But that he was murdered is a fact that hasn't left the walls of this castle, which is why the secrecy. Hope for peace and all."

He didn't care for her name but he supposed it was better than hey, you. He dismounted after her and left his men at the entrance to the courtyard to wait on him. The information she had to provide had him listening with a quiet focus. If what she'd said was true, it sounded like witchcraft to him. "Who disagreed to his becomin' the High Raj the most?" Not that a name or a house would mean much to Ryden. He'd barely gotten half of them memorized.

Maya considered his question for a moment. It was the very question that they were trying to answer. "Several houses and I'm not sure I'm at liberty to mention them by name," she said, "That'll be a question for Lord Savin when he returns. It shouldn't be long now." She also didn't feel like she had enough information to accuse anyone. It wasn't her place. "Would you all like something to eat while you wait? It's a long journey from Dyrerow."

Ryden crossed his hands, looking away in thought. What did all of this mean, especially for him? What was he supposed to make of this? How to proceed from here on? They've journeyed for so long only to find the High Raj dead and on his way to whatever afterlife his religion had him believe in. Coming out here was supposed to give him more answers, not confuse him further. When she'd offered food and rest, he glanced over his shoulder to see his men shift awkwardly on their feet. They surely needed some rest desperately... Not only was the road from Dyrerow long, but also terribly dangerous. "Fine." He agreed, motioning his men over. "Where are the stables?"

Maya waited for his answer. She stood as she always did, chin up and back perfectly straight. After a moment, he agreed. "Daniel," she said to one of the servants who'd come out, expecting them to be the funeral procession, "Please ensure the men's horses are seen to and if you could ask Annabella to send something up from the kitchen for these men?" Daniel nodded, "Yes miss." She made a face, causing Daniel to laugh before saying, "Yes Maya." She turned again to Ryden, "This is probably the best place to wait if you wish to speak to Lord Savin directly." She hesitated and almost turned away. But stopped herself and gathered the courage to ask, "Why now? Lord...Ryden, why rejoin the Quiver of Houses after all these years? If I may ask."

Ryden glanced at the woman... Maya, that is, raising an eyebrow. Why was a curious question to ask. "Why not and what's it to ya to know?" He waved one of his men over to see that the horses were taken after, the rest following him after the servants and Maya herself, to where they may eat the promised bite.

Maya shrugged, "Only curious." She walked with them to the Great Hall for food, leaving word with one of the door guards to send Lord Savin to them when he arrived.

It was hard to not let his marvel be noticed on his expression as he walked into the Great Hall of the palace, big enough to fit three great halls of Dyrerow. The long table could probably fit an army for a light snack. Must be very hard to warm up such a large open space but then again, Ryden couldn't imagine snow falling here. Right now, he was missing the chill. It was too hot to breathe even inside. Him and his men took the seats at the far end of the table, waiting for the food to be brought to them, all glancing about curiously except for their lord, who did a very good job of acting indifferent.

Maya wasn't exactly sure what to do once they'd entered the Great Hall. Up until yesterday she would've stood politely at the side while they ate. But today was not yesterday. Luckily Annabella arrived shortly after they did with food enough for all of them. Maya thanked her before sitting, although several seats from Ryden and his men. She opened her mouth to say something about the lack of a proper welcome, but shut it again. For one she didn't think he would be much impressed by a proper welcome. For another it wasn't even her sort of master's fault there wasn't one. Instead, she lapsed into silence. At least for a moment she could relax. None of these men could be responsible for the High Raj's death, meaning she didn't need to watch them carefully. For a moment the careful stoic mask slipped off her face revealing her exhaustion.

The moment the food arrived, all four men were just sitting baffled, looking at the plates they were offered. They exchanged looks between each other. Seemed like they hadn't expected... food this unusual. Not that any at the capitol would find it unusual. But when you mostly survived on wild game and hardly anything else, it was odd to see things like strawberries in cream and boiled vegetables. Ryden was overjoyed at the mere smell of beetroot broth and rabbit stew. Those were delicacies. These things were... suspicious. One of his men braved to take some straight off the plates they were served in, bot bothering with eating utensils. After a tentative bite, he nodded his approval and others followed suit. They didn't look hungry. But when they have started eating, it became apparent that they were famished. They ate with no table manners. Even their lord didn't care for a fork, although he seemed less interested in food and more in eating just to have something to do while he waited.

The Red Priestess found a way back the great hall eventually, looking sombre as ever but almost relieved that it was over. Now that the Raj had been laid to rest, the choosing of another could continue. Entering the hall, she saw that she was not the first to return. The Lady Parker and a host of men she did not immediately recognize were already seated. The priestess knew that the girl most likely had not appreciated her lineage being outed, but it had not been up to her. Perhaps with time Lady Parker would come to see that hiding what you were only caused more sorrow and grief in the end. As she came closer, the priestess' expression became more curious. The men were northerners, that much was certain from their dress. There weren't many Lords that lived in the ice and snow, and Lord Savin was already here. "What brings the Lord of the Frozen Wild this far south after so long?"

Maya didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at the men's lack of table manners. She was long since used to eating with servants who usually couldn't be bothered with manners by the time they got to eating. For her part she did use a fork. Still it was nice to be silent and unconcerned about how she appeared for at least a little while. After a sip of wine she breathed a sigh of relief and sagged her shoulders. The moment the doors swung open though her entire demeanor went rigid again. She stood, but was surprised by the Red Priestess instead of Lord Savin. A quiet fire lit behind her eyes. "I take it you know Lord...Ryden of House Balcaster already. Naming people does seem to be your area of expertise," she said.

Ryden and his men looked up at the approaching figure, too oddly dressed to be a noblewoman, with a grace of someone mysterious and holy. He was introduced before he could do so himself. Leaving their food for a moment, they regarded the priestess in quiet, neither's gaze less suspicious than the other. "Yeah, there's this prophecy, yanno, when the Lord of the Frozen Wild comes, skies will rain shit. I'm here to see the spectacle." The bastard lord spoke, no small amount of sarcasm in his tone. It was odd, everyone here was a curious midwife, wanting to know all the gossip.

"I give no one a name they do not already possess, child." The priestess gave Maya a soft smile, though her eyes searched the younger woman's face, not missing the flicker of something in her eyes. "And yes. I know of House Balcaster." She gave the Lord Ryden a bow, the side of her mouth rising in an amused smirk. "I shall remain indoors then, m'lord."

Whatever the case Bella followed the door guard to the Great Hall, wolf at her side, when she entered she saw Maya, the Priestess and the werewolf in his human skin at the table. The woman's eyes moved over him, up and down she tried to recognise him but could not. There were few ways to become a wolf, entering the Dead Woods one, but if that were the case she'd have known him. "Inquisitor Savin needs to speak with the Prelate, I came instead," Bella announced.

"Possessing a name and wishing others to call it are not the same thing," Maya replied in a tense tone. She glanced back at Ryden when he mentioned a prophecy. She didn't think he was entirely serious about the contents of it. But there were enough legends and stories around his lands that she didn't doubt the existence of a prophecy. Before she could comment on it though Bellamy walked through the doors as well. "This is Queen Bellamy of the Dead Woods," she made introductions as she would've if she were a servant still, "Ryden from the North."

Ryden grunted out inarticulately, going back to his plate for now. From a corner of his eye, he was glancing at the woman in red. He'd heard stories of women like that. Witchcraft, all of it. When another had walked in, Maya introducing her, Ryden's entire body froze. He stared at his plate for one long, tense moment before looking up. Steel-colored eyes locked on the queen as she walked in, and he slowly rose, along with his men, seemingly to pay respect.

"The North," she nodded, knowing of a few ways a man in the North could become what she could feel vibrating off his skin. The wolf at her side seeming to sneer at the man. The wolf by her did not know as much as Bella could run through her mind but it did smell it's own wearing human flesh and felt betrayed. Fortunately Bella's fingers came to the wolf's snout and ran over it gently. "Very very far North I would imagine," she mused, looking to Maya, grateful for the respect his men showed. "What was it you needed Inquisitor Savin for?" Bella asked Maya. "Or did you need him?" she turned to Ryden, golden eyes meeting his own that contrasted with hard steel.

Maya glanced over at the sound of scraping chairs. Ryden and his men had stood up to apparently pay respect to Queen Bellamy. Something they hadn't exactly done for the Red Priestess or one might argue for her. After all a threat to slit a women's throat wasn't exactly respectful. She sat again, nodding towards Ryden. He was the one who had wished to speak to someone with more authority than her and evidently he considered Queen Bellamy one of those people.

"Aye, I needed him." He walked around the table, his men exchanging questioning glances but not following. When he was close enough to the Queen, he gave a surprisingly graceful bow for one clothed in fur and travel-strained leather armor. He'd offered to take the queen's hand to kiss it, the formality done with much care.

Bella looked over Maya and the Priestess, wondering if they were still upset with one another. The last she recalled they were upset about something but Bella did not quite hear or understand what. Injured still from the evening before she extended her hand easily but the weight on her damaged legs felt unbearable as she did, the gesture was the most respectful she had received so far however, and she did not want to ruin it by showing her pain. "Help me to a chair, Ryden," she requested, feeling as though his title had been lost in his introduction. "Is there a reason none of us here can help?" she asked, the Priestess certainly had some skills and Maya was close enough to the Savin man that she surely knew some.

Maya sat back down. She did cast one last look at the Red Priestess, wondering if she, like Lord Pettaline, would implore her to take up her supposed birthright. Unlike when she was alone with Ryden and his men, she sat up perfectly straight again with a perfectly stoic expression. "I filled him in on the basics of what has happened," she mentioned. She didn't say that he had desired to speak to another man of the North. That was his to say if he desired to.

He'd helped her to the table readily, a strong support to her light weight. When she was seated, he spoke, words more tempered than usual. "The dead can't be brought back so there is no helping that. But I've heard many things about the Queen of Deadwoods. I am hopeful now that some light might be shed on the happenings I've encountered 'ere. I'd rather hear it frem yer mouth, now that I see yer attendin'."

There was an odd cunning to his eyes, not quite scheming but nevertheless intense. He was being careful in addressing the queen, for reasons that surpassed politeness.

Bella looked to Maya when he said he'd rather hear it from her, she assumed both of them knew that it really was Fane, at least currently, who had the most information about what was happening and Bella didn't doubt Maya had said all she knew. When she finally looked back to him he held a gaze she didn't quite understand, rarely encountering people with motives beyond their words. "Even so far in the North, I suppose my wolves roam further than I was aware," she smiled, her own eyes searching for whatever was in him that made him part of the darkness she worshipped. "We're not completely sure, the Inquisitor and the Prelate are speaking now, so perhaps something has developed. So far as we know the King was...assassinated," she stated plainly, knowledge not shared with those outside the castle. "There was talk of witches being involved and the Kesley family but I'm unsure of what that came to, perhaps Lord Savin's ward knew more," she offered, her hand reaching out for his, intent to feel whatever was running through him and place it's origin. "Did you come here to pledge some allegiance or -" but she was cut off because the moment her fingers grazed his skin she felt the curse running through him. It was a perversion of her darkness that grazed his flesh, something she had not felt but had heard rumour of. Her fingers withdrew immediately, eyes moving to the Priestess, wondering if she felt anything strange about him. "Or - or," she stuttered out. "Or to me?" he joke finally came but it fell flat having taken so long to be voiced.

#// and another one xD #got scene

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thunderbolt-n-lightning · 7 years ago

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Walk from the Darkness | Thor & Fandral, ft. Loki & the Bloodwraith

March 10th, 2017

Thor was standing in the countryside of the British Isles. A broken castle sat before him, and he had been staring at it for some time. His fingers absently ran across his neck, where he could feel a bruise forming. His body was still covered in blood - though most of it was an illusion, some of it was real. Whatever being took hold of Fandral was eating him alive from the inside.

“This gloomy old thing is where that beast wants to rule?” A voice asked, breaking Thor’s gaze. He looked to the ground, staring at Loki’s boots.

“The true castle is in a pocket dimension. This is merely a façade.”

Thor had scoped out the area already when he arrived. The entrance to the next dimension was hidden well within the fake tomb of someone named King Arthur. An hour had passed, he didn’t know what took his brother so long, but he still had the Chitauri staff with him. He must’ve been speaking with Odin, but he didn’t want to ask. He stared straight ahead again.

Both began walking into the ruins, neither one speaking. Thor thought about the twins and how their birthday was in two days, and how upset Jane would be if he missed that. After everything he expressed to her…it would shatter her heart.

Over the past eight months, he had been scraping to find himself. He lost himself somewhere. Perhaps it was the day Fandral went off the deep end and no longer having his oldest confidant available to him. Or maybe it was when he cried the night Jane was arrested, and the twins were crying for him. Maybe - just maybe - it was the day he came to Midgard years ago, before anything begun to happen; when Stark Tower still stood and Shield was whole.

These thoughts pressed against his skull as they traversed into the crypt beneath a small church. There were two lines of tombs running along the wall. It was almost pitch black, and Loki created a light with his magic. They walked along until they found a solid wood door, untouched by time. There was a lock on the door, but the lock had been broken. Upon looking down, he finally noticed the streaks of blood on the floor. He went for the handle, and Loki placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Isn’t this what he’s been looking for?”

Thor paused. He remembered the seconds where Fandral was separated from the Wraith. He had pain and desperation in his eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t seen daylight in centuries. Nobody deserved that fate.

Over his shoulder, he replied, “I can’t leave him like this.”

He pushed the door open to reveal a room that felt as if it were a door passing through reality. The air around them swelled with energy and magic. The walls were like waves, flowing between universes. On one side of the wave, the room was stone and dark; on the other, torches illuminated the area brightly. In the center was a coffin, presumably the placeholder for the previous King. Across the room, another door faded in and out of existence.

As they walked from one side to the other, the lighted room was the dominant illusion. The door that once moved with the room solidified, while the one they walked through faded. The two looked at each other, seeing the same streaks of blood as before. Without hesitation, Thor took the handle and pushed the door open.

Thor blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the new room. It looked to be the same tomb they walked through before, but this one was brightly colored and well lit. The stairs at the end of the hall glowed with the luminance of daylight.

Strange how the two worlds were connected, yet their time was off-sync. He wondered how long this place had been sitting dormant - it must’ve been created within the last thousand years. The stonework and decor was pristine, save for the blood marks left by the intruder. Even the air around them felt cleaner than the world they had just left.

Thor led the way up the stone steps, which had a red carpet lining them perfectly. The castle, despite its preservation, was completely abandoned. Perhaps it was an effect of the original spell. He was curious as to the conditions under which this castle was separated from the main reality, but the history would have to wait. They walked through the church and into a hallway. The streaks went to the left, which they followed down until they saw a grand archway. It must’ve been the throne room. The creature could be heard now; its loud breathing echoed through the halls.

Loki walked ahead now, quietly stepping along the carpet towards the arch. Thor followed closely behind, and the two peered inside. The dark red smoke was billowing out from the back end of the room, though the tendrils didn’t quite reach the exit. Fandral was sitting on a red throne, and the red shadowy monster was looming behind. The wraith leaked blood, the crimson color overtaking the bright red of the decor.

“I think I can get Fandral for a few more seconds with my scepter. I could feel his presence was weak,” Loki whispered.

Thor nodded. “See if you can find another way around. I shall distract him.”

Loki nodded in return, and without another word headed back towards the church. Once he was out of sight, Thor looked back to the throne room. Worst case scenario, the wraith engages immediately. He straightened himself, gripping Mjolnir tightly. With heavy steps, he turned the corner and through the archway.

– –

“I was wondering when you would find me,” Fandral’s voice filled the room. “I was beginning to wonder if there was anyone left in this world to kill.”

Thor stopped at the foot of the throne, where the smoke went halfway up his calves. “Only one of us here needs to die today.”

Fandral laughed. “You wouldn’t kill me, would you? I am your Fandral, after all…am I not?”

“You are not Fandral,” Thor snarled. “You have possessed him - you, Wraith, whatever you call yourself, are nothing like him. He would never slaughter thousands of innocent people!”

“Oh, but he has. The bloodwraith can only be awakened by the killing of thousands. You see, the ebony blade collects souls of the dead. It craves death because that was how Merlin enchanted it centuries ago. The most powerful sword in existence comes with the most deadly cost. It was carelessly given to a warrior who had served in hundreds of wars over thousands of years. Fandral is not revered as the best swordsman for nothing.”

One of the pieces Thor couldn’t put together was why it reacted to Fandral so much differently than the Black Knight. He realised that it was a cumulative total, much like Mjolnir. His good deeds compounded were the reason he could lift the hammer. He was overtaken by the sword so quickly, and Thor was too busy planning his wedding to see how much his friend was hurting…

…but the sword must have a failsafe of some sort. Enchanted weapons of this magnitude needed something for rebalance. He remembered Fandral’s warning. If there was anywhere in the universes that sword could be ‘cleansed’, it would have to be in Camelot.

Fandral stood and stepped to the edge of the stairs. Thor had counted fifteen stairs - fifteen steps between him and the wraith.

“You know how I can tell Fandral is still alive?” He asked.

Thor didn’t respond. Instead, he locked eyes with Loki, who was standing on a balcony above the throne.

“I can hear his thoughts. I know everything he knows. For some blasted reason, he is holding onto this life. I can hear him screaming somewhere in my head. He calls for you more than anyone. He thinks of you as his savior, even though you sat dormant for months. It wasn’t until I attacked Asgard that you finally decided to care about the worlds I destroyed.”

The last statement hit Thor harder than he would have liked. His hammer crackled with lightning. He leapt - landing on the third step, and jumping into the air. He brung the hammer up over his head and it crashed down hard on Fandral. It hit him between the head and shoulder, when he leaned to cover his face. The force knocked the imposter to the ground, meanwhile a large red hand swung at Thor. A green and gold blur appeared in front of him as he was knocked backwards and halfway back down the stairs. He saw a blue glow and once again the wraith dropped out of sight.

Thor quickly got to his feet again and ran up the steps again.

“Brazier of Truth - inside the church,” he heard Fandral sputter. Thor made it to the top of the steps before he could hear everything. He locked eyes with Fandral. “It can only be lit by someone worthy.”

The green shimmer in Fandral’s eyes dulled as they clouded over. At the same time the effect wore off, Loki scrambled over to Thor.

“To the church - now!” Loki directed. Thor lingered for a moment, watching as Fandral transformed. Nothing physically changed…but the aura around him made him look like a complete stranger. As the wraith rose from the ground, Thor ran down the steps, following Loki.

“What did he say?” Thor asked.

“The sword must be cleansed. We have to get it away from him and cast it into the fire of the Brazier of Truth.”

“Which can only be lit by someone worthy?”

Loki nodded. “Precisely.”

The two turned into the church and looked around. There was a podium in the center, and off in the corner sat a metal fire pit. Not seeing anything else, Thor assumed that was the Brazier. Some logs sat inside already, pristine and perfectly cut. He could hear the echoes of the creature coming towards them. He ran to the wall and picked up a torch. He stood over the brazier for a moment, glancing at Mjolnir. He didn’t have time to wonder if ‘worthy’ transcended time and space. He dipped the torch into the logs.

A heavy blaze shot out of the brazier just as the wraith made it to the church. It snarled back in fear. He heard Fandral shouting No! as the echoing footsteps shifted to a sprint. While Thor was figuring out the flame, Loki had been preparing something of his own. Six blasts of energy shot through the room, all landing directly on Fandral, who yelped in pain.

Thor stepped around the flame and readied his hammer. “Give up the sword,” He demanded.

“Never.” Fandral looked up. He leapt forward, pulling the sword from its sheath. The sword slashed horizontally through the air, and Thor jumped backwards, but he was barely too slow. The blade had cut straight through his armor, and a razor thin wound showed through.

Thor didn’t hesitate to swing the hammer once more. He swung four times, knocking Fandral back a ways. He waited a few seconds for Loki to let off another blast from him and his clones. The wraith itself was still at the entrance, staring in fear that the brilliant flame.

The Fandral imposter wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The battle continued, and at no point did the wraith budge from the door. This made Fandral easier to take down. Thor and Loki both fought.

Fandral tried to hop over the pews to directly get to the fire. Thor threw Mjolnir, breaking the wood and he crashed to the ground. He recalled Mjolnir quickly, only to place it back down on the imposter’s back. He wriggled around a bit, trying to break himself free, but it was no use. Thor stepped down on his right wrist - the one holding the ebony blade.

“If you take this sword, you will be cursed as well,” Fandral said, struggling for air. “The moment you take the sword, you will be forced to kill me. Within minutes, the Wraith will mold to your entire being.”

It took months before Fandral’s corruption took hold. But, since the wraith was already manifested, perhaps he was telling the truth. He did remember Fandral killing the Black Knight immediately…

Thor looked at the blade and then to the fire, still gleaming ten feet away. While he was caught in the moral dilemma of whether or not to take the sword himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll do it.”

Thor inhaled sharply. “Loki…don’t be foolish.”

“My mind is stronger than yours. Should I falter, you’re strong enough to overpower me. Drag me, push me, or even throw me in. Whatever you have to…just don’t touch the sword.”

“The two of you will both be connected until the sword is cleansed. If this fails…”

“It won’t,” Loki said.

Thor finally turned to Loki. The scepter was sitting on the pew behind him, and his eyes were glowing yellow. He used his scepter on himself…why?

Loki stepped past Thor and knelt down. He watched his brother, who hesitated for a moment before wresting the hilt from Fandral’s hand. He groaned and staggered backwards. A dark aura started to manifest at his feet - the shadow of the wraith was spreading. Loki’s hand was shaking, and Thor lurched forward and grabbed his brother by the waist. He was resisting and the glowing of his eyes began to dull.

The blaze grew bigger and sputtered about as the blade drew closer. Thor firmly planted himself behind Loki, who appeared to be at war with himself. The shadow was growing bigger in the room, and the wraith was getting stronger.

“Loki! Now!”

A hot white flash overtook the room.

Thor threw his hands in front of his face and stepped backwards.

When he opened his eyes again, Loki was lying on the ground, and the sword was sticking out of the extinguished brazier. The entire room was filled with thousands of pale orbs, floating up into the rafters and out into the hallway. Two of the orbs in front of him molded and grew until they took a humanoid form in front of him. One looked like an ancient knight, while the other he vaguely recognized from Midgard.

“My name is Sir Percy of Scandia. This is Dane Whitman. We are the two former wielders of the ebony blade. Thank you for setting all of us free.”

Thor squinted. “Are you the souls that were trapped?”

“Indeed,” Dane replied. “Thanks to you, we are now able to pass on into the afterlife.”

“I am glad to have helped you.” He turned to see Fandral lying still on the ground. He recalled Mjolnir before turning to the ghosts again. “Will he be alright?”

“He was trapped for a long time. He will regain consciousness soon, but he may not be the same right away. Your companion, I am not sure. His mind was shielded from the blade’s curse. Whatever allowed him to do that must have required a lot of energy,” Percy said.

Thor frowned. “And what shall I do with the sword?”

“Your companions should be able to touch it without issue. Their death toll can no longer count against the sword now that the souls have been freed. You, however, will restart this chain reaction again.”

“Be well, son of Odin.”

Thor bowed his head. He was confused, but at least he knew not to touch the sword. Perhaps someone would be able to break the curse. He placed Mjolnir on the ground next to Loki and rolled him onto his back and watched him for a moment. He was still breathing and he groaned as he was moved. He had a lot of questions for Loki, but for the time being he was satisfied.

He went over to Fandral and gently rolled him onto his back. He couldn’t see his chest rising or falling. Thor then let his hand hover over his friend’s mouth, and he could feel faint breaths.

“Fandral…please wake up…”

TO BE CONCLUDED

#walk from the darkness #finestswordsmanfandral #*doesnt proofread*#*slams post button*#blood cw #horror cw #violence cw #this one isnt nearly as bad as other stuff ive written

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