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The sign up thread that may be useful....

Prologue
Myths and Legends are present in every age of every society. Even in today’s times. There is an intriguing modern myth of a secret society, present worldwide, at all levels of government. They are in the armed forces, they are in the city guard, they are in Parliaments, they are rulers of nations, all puppets to a grand master. Each myth invariably refers to this cult by many names: Sons of Lunaria, The Illuminated, The Shining Ones, or simply, The Sect. The leader’s are called The Priests Of whatever deity the cult is alleged to serve, or The Circle, or The Star Kin, or many other names. But there are often claims of a leader, or a deity they worship. Most popular of these is Razpos.

Razpos, for instance, in Silverian legend, was god of the night, of war and of death. His followers used a sign of the delta, at each point, a representation of their gods aspects. A star, a sword, and a skull. The number held sacred by these cultists was the number three, but special significance was held over the number 27: 3 times 3 times 3. The temple of the Delta had sacrifices to the god: a sacrificial chamber of three pits at the point of the triangular temple, where a victim would be thrown in.

The Night pit contained creatures of the shadows, and sacrifices were made at the dead of night, every night. It is said it's shadowed depths were lit by coverable mirrors in the daytime, in order for the priests to clean away the bodies of the dead, whatever state they were in (still human or otherwise) and that the dead would scream from the walls if you entered in Daylight with the mirrors covered.

The War pit was a simple pit: the victim would face a soldier-guard of the temple, and if he won, would be granted freedom. In the event of war, prisoners were sacrificed, and if they won, were executed by archers. These sacrifices occurred daily during war, or at the end of the month in peacetime.

The Death Pit was in fact a maze, laden with deadly traps. In the middle, was an exit. Once a year, at the new year, 100 criminals, prisoners of war, or volunteers would enter. If one of the former exited first, he won his freedom. If the latter exited, he won a grand prize of gold. Either way, the exit would be sealed, and various monsters unleashed in the maze. 99 died each year in this, without fail: if 2 exited together, they had to fight to the death to decide the winner.

In addition, there are further myths about Razpos. Claims of a living avatar of him, created by the sacrifice of a 27 year old born on the 3rd day of the 3rd month every 27 years. The sacrifice would become the avatar, for the next 27 years. Gender was irrelevant: to Razpos and his followers, male and female were nothing more than a means of reproduction. It is claimed this avatar had the powers expected of a living god: able to kill with a glance, change any substance into another, create things from the air, perform the most devastating magic's. And able to incite war and conflict whenever it wished, bring nightfall whenever it wished.

It is believed a knight called Alexander stopped the Avatar of Razpos. The knight, a Paladin, managed to get his army to the temple on an island south of Silveria, and fought their way in. In combat, Alexander destroyed the Avatar, and prevented his re-summoning for nine hundred and ninety nine years by sacrificing his own soul to keep the god re-manifesting.

If there is indeed a cult worshipping this blood-drenched god, its activities are lessened. However, every new years eve, people disappear. Without fail, in the past 10 years, scholars have found reports of at least 100 people going missing worldwide every new years eve. And most curiously, during the later half of the coronation year of King Cecil and Queen Rosa , on the 5th day after new year, a Baronian naval vessel reported an unidentified ship via carrier pigeon. The ship was lost contact with after that, and a search found it floating off the coast of Baron, its crew dead by Baronian blades, all but nine men, missing. The captain had the sign of a triangle cut in his forehead.

It is a curious myth. This conspiracy is naturally denied by those in power. King Cecil says he has seen no evidence for anything like a secret society. Many conspiracy theorists think he a part of it.
The truth is, he is as clueless as those not a part of the cult. They remain hidden, unless they wish to reveal themselves to you. Any who find out of them die. If you do not stay silent about them, you and all you told will die. They have eyes everywhere, ears everywhere. The cult is rumoured to be organised upon the number 3, in honour of their god, and operate in 3's or multiples of. A Coven is a sub-unit of 3, a cabal 3 covens, 3 cabals a sect, and an order 3 sects. It is claimed there are 27 orders.

Their Eyes infiltrate even the eyes of Baron’s Border Gaurd.
Five years after the defeat of Zemus
Baron-Damcyan border at Rook‘s Pass
Border Guard Captain Ronald Haines had received his regular military orders, but today, had also received something special. He burnt the second letter, under the watching eyes of his Lieutenant , Jack Fletcher, and a Sergeant, Cedric Smith.
“Well, Brothers, we have the order. The games are to commence.” said Haines.
“Indeed, Brother Haines. Brother-High Priest Otwalar is setting off to free the Forbearers?” Smith said.
“Indeed, Brother Smith. We must keep the unilluminated blind. We shall do this on tonight’s patrol with Damcyan’s border.” Fletcher said. He knew the coven across the Border had similar orders.
****
The patrol's marched their route's, unaware that Smith and his squad had worked their way across the border to Damcyan soil. The Sergeant , and one of three Warlocks in the coven, had tricked his own men into believing they were still in Baron. And their route had them encounter one of the Damcyan patrols in a forest. With the stars hidden, none of the Baronians truly knew if they were in Baron. But their sergeant said they were.
"A Damcyan patrol! On OUR soil!" hissed Smith.
"Sir, perhaps they're lost?" said the Corporal.
"Aye, lost! Going to be 'lost' to life if they don't leave our nation!"
"Sir, we should address them..." the Corporal continued, staring at the sky to try to see through the canopy above for some star. Meaning that he failed to see the sergeant twist his sword to catch the thin streams of moonlight three times, and failed to note the enemy sergeant's identical actions. But he did hear the yell of the Damcyan, did hear the report of bowstrings being released a hundred or so yards away , snapped his head towards the Damcyan's, saw the shapes ahead moving and felt the impact of the arrow's in his chest. The sergeant stared , seemingly shocked at the fletching sticking from his man's chest. The screams of other men pierced the corporal's fading vision, and the noise of further firing , from his side , was the last he heard as the forest canopy above turned totally black...

The Baronians had lost few men to the panicked arrow fire after the Damcyan warlock/sergeant had cried fire. The sergeant was now himself fleeing the area, leaving his men to fight the remaining Baronians, his brother-warlock leading them. The return fired from the Baronian army had been more accurate, dropping at least five of his men. the quartet of survivors were set upon by the Baronians, outnumbered almost two to one.

The sergeant turned to the senior Private, and screamed his orders:
"You and three others: signal arrows! Under Attack, and Wounded Men signals! Repeat every minute for ten minutes!"

Seeing the Signals, the Captain ordered his Platoon's to go forth, and secure the borders, whilst a messenger made haste to the nearest city. Pikemen, Bowmen, and Light Cavalry, leaving the three cannon crews at the barracks with some local Militiamen. Ten minutes after the skirmish, Baronian troops were surging around the border, attacking the Damcyan's en mass, three to one at least. The Damcyan patrols were mainly young rookies, and never stood a chance against Baronian counterparts, who, whilst of similar age and experience, had the element of surprise in their favour initially. But the skirmishes were heading for full battle, as Damcyan signal arrows flew up...

By morning, the battle had halted, men on both sides having killed their "enemy", and in the confusion of the battle, friendly casualties had occurred, but the fact remained: neither border guard regiment was able to fight, and had to withdraw to their own barracks , preparing to defend against the other sides reinforcements, who, neither side doubted, had not participated in the earlier battles in order to confuse their defensive efforts. They knew the enemy's entire army was hiding just behind the border, at the barracks of the other border guard, probably.

The Baronian Border Guard reported the Damcyan attack upon their men, citing that reason for the border seizure. Damcyan denied it had attacked, claiming Baron had sent its troops over the border without provocation. As the armies of both sides began fortifying the borders, mainly upon the wide valley area where the skrimish had occurred, Ambassadors from Damcyan were sent to Baron via Mist, by the order's of the Damcyan Minister of State. The talks were also to be held in the Town, its isolation ensuring the publics of both sides would not realise what was ocurring.

The Minister of State told his followers the exact route of the Damcyan’s. The talks would lead to more trouble. No matter thier outcome, for no Damcyan delegate was regarded as valuable by the order... And unvaluable things could be spent to produce the war.

Writers Order
Karasuman 1
Mr Thou 2
Narratorway (has choice of chapter)
Zero_Hawk 3
MogMaster 4
Zephir 5

Note: Due to Narratorway having no Internet access for the forseeable future (as far as I know) he is in actual fact either writing the seventh chapter instead of the second, or whatever chapter is next when he gets back and is ready to write. This means Mr Thou is actually next.

This post has been edited by Del S on 16th July 2004 07:42

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"Only the dead have seen the end of their quotes being misattributed to Plato."
-George Santayana

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here..."
-Abraham Lincoln, prior to the discovery of Irony.

Castle Baron

It was barely eleven o'clock in the morning, and Nepenthe Orville, Chief Minister of Foreign Relations under King Cecil of Baron, already had a headache.

Once it became common knowledge that the magical seal placed on the Serpent Road years ago had been lifted, people from both Baron and Mysidia--traders, the curious, mischevous children--had instantly begun to avail themselves of its transportational powers. Mishaps due to these circumstances were at the heart of her career as minister; she had been appointed shortly after a Mysidian youth had disappeared on a trip to Baron, and the Mysidians' call for justice, and for vengeance, had been so clearly rooted in a prejudice against all things Baronian that King Cecil had seen the need to appoint someone specifically to handle the problem. The boy had been found in Myst, trying to learn the secrets of the summoned monsters, but not until Nepenthe had spent more than a week of sleepless nights and twice her initial monetary allottment scouring the countryside.

Despite similar problems and the ever-present threat of invasion from both city-states, King Cecil and the elder of Mysidia had concurred: the Serpent Road was to remain open as an important channel of trade, travel, and communication. Since then, Nepenthe's office had been in charge of regulating economic trade across it, maintaining the magic sustaining it, and approving applications of ordinary citizens, Mysidian and Baronian alike, who desired to emigrate or visit their neighbors. With this responsibility came a great deal of headache, such as the one she had this morning after receiving seven consecutive messages in half an hour from a very wealthy Baronian widow who desired to be reassigned a more expeditious place in the queue for transport, and who threatened all manner of dire punishments for Nepenthe if her wishes were not heeded immediately.

A knock sounded on the door of Nepenthe's office, as it had done seven times previously. She sighed and closed her eyes, removing from view the most recent angry epistle, to which she had not yet replied. "Enter," she moaned at last.

The door swung open, admitting Julian Kent, a sandy-haired boy of fifteen who was to be the successor of the post she threatened to leave every six months. He grinned sheepishly as he caught Nepenthe's gaze. The thirty-five-year-old woman was not particularly strong or gifted with magic, and her appearance was in all respects ordinary--silvering mahogany hair prone to curl in the humid summer, a frame that was average for a woman and small for a man--but he who had felt the lash of her sharp tongue and seen hellfire erupting in iron-grey eyes knew to tread softly as he produced the eighth missive of the hour.

"I haven't even responded to her last unreasonable demand," Nepenthe spoke abruptly. "Hand the next one back to the courier who brings it; this has wasted enough of my time."

"Actually, Madam Orville," Julian interrupted tentatively. "This one isn't from Lady Harrington." He held a folded sheet of parchment forward, extending his arm to its full length to avoid approaching any nearer than necessary.

Frowning, Nepenthe accepted the missive. The fine, white sheet of parchment was folded into thirds and sealed in the gold-flecked wax of the royal house. She opened it with a grim smile and read silently.

"The king wishes to further explain my duties in person, but this note informs me that a crisis of state is brewing in the village of Myst," she said at last, in response to Julian's respectfully cleared throat. "There will be no reply. I am to meet him in the grand hall to be formally charged with my mission."

Nepenthe's voice had been neutral, but the tempest brewing in her eyes spoke in tones of mutiny. Julian chose his word carefully. "Will you be gone long, ma'am?" he queried.

"It's a three day ride to Myst under perfect conditions. With the sort of delegation I'm sure King Cecil intends to send, we won't arrive for at least five. I'll be gone for two weeks if things go smoothly. If things go as they usually do, you won't see me before the end of the month. And you'll have to deal with all of the Lady Harrington's of the world alone," she added darkly.

Julian smiled brightly. "Oh, I'll just tell them that you're away, and that I don't have the authority to alter the queue on my own or read any messages intended for the minister. I'll just leave them on your desk for when you get back."

"Perfect," muttered Nepenthe. She dropped King Cecil's note onto the pile of papers covering her desk and rose. The sooner she began, the sooner she would finish.


Countryside

The thunderclouds, which had loomed threateningly over the horizon since Nepenthe's delegation had departed from Baron, broke on the third day. They were barely a mile from the Cave of Myst; Nepenthe had chosen the traditional land route to Myst, rather than risking a short sea voyage and trek across the desert. The weather showed no mercy for her wisdom. Every member of her delegation, including Nepenthe herself, was thoroughly drenched and muddy by the time they reached the shelter of the cavern. Even the chocobos were unhappy; their bright yellow feathers wilted wetly under the saddles and had now attained the color of sandy mud.

A particularly angry chocobo road up beside her, bleating plaintively every time thunder rumbled overhead. Its rider, a man two or three years her junior with now-sodden black hair tied at the neck with a mud-flecked crimson ribbon, spoke once his mount had quieted. "Excellent idea, this," he muttered. "Send us all traipsing off to Myst to meet the delegation from a country that started this whole mess." His green eyes flickered, irritated, in her direction when she failed to answer. "Remind me again--why are we the ones swimming through mud when they're the ones who bungled into an attack?"

Nepenthe smiled humorlessly. The curve of her lips was barely visible beneath the heavy hood she wore to shelter from the rain. "King Cecil thinks that we can keep an international incident from turning into war if we make it clear that we want to resolve everything peacefully."

The man snorted. "Then let him ride out to some backward village in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he likes mud."

"Personally," Nepenthe replied in low tones, "I agree with you, Gaston." She paused, making certain that none of the riders were close enough to hear. "From all reports, the Damcyan border patrol led a completely unprovoked attack upon our forces in our territory. The fact that Edward of Damcyan has chosen to stand with his military commander and insist that we were in his territory is unfortunate. If he simply punished the offending unit as a band of renegades, all of this could have been avoided. This shouldn't be our job."

"It surprises me, really. I'd always heard that Edward was a bit of a coward. After the War of Bab'il, I didn't think anyone would dare stand so boldly against our liege," Gaston remarked idly.

Nepenthe shrugged, the weight of her sodden cloak heavy on her shoulders. "We're in a unique situation with all of that, actually," she murmured. "Never before in the history of our land have four of the five major nations been ruled by leaders with ties of friendship to each other. We've even maintained peace with the Mysidians, and the subterraneans are no threat to us. King Edward and King Cecil are friends; naturally, as responsible rulers, they seek to avoid unnecessary war, but as comrades, they yearn for peace between them even more. It is the same with the kings of Fabul and Eblan."

"As lovely as that may be, it also means that if a war does start, it's going to involve the entire world," he muttered. "Everyone else is automatically involved."

Nepenthe grinned. "And you say you don't like politics."

"I don't!" protested Gaston. "Maybe the gods know why you dragged me along to this tea party, but I certainly don't."

"King Cecil wants this to go smoothly. He asked me to select those individuals who I thought would be productive to that end. Just as there are those who have everything to gain from peace, there are those who would sabotage our efforts in hopes of creating war. The last thing we need is for anyone from either side to suffer a mysterious accident that could be taken for assassination."

"Then why not take the captain of the dragoons or the chief of palace security?"

"Because you, Gaston, are a personal advisor to his majesty and the most paranoid and pessimistic person I've ever met. We're going to need that."

"Right," he muttered. "I still wish you'd taken a dragoon."


The Village of Myst

It was nearing sundown on the fifth day when they emerged from the cavern. Despite the inclement weather, they had made good time, and only a few hours of mild countryside stood between the delegation and warm beds. Even Gaston, unused to the saddle and weary from riding, concurred; they would press on and reach Myst tonight.

They passed a small encampment of Damcyanese soldiers who had been sent with the delegation; wishing to avoid any potential conflicts with angry citizenry, many of whom felt loyalty toward Baron, the town mayor had wisely requested that only civilians take lodging in the local inns. From these straggling few Nepenthe learned that their ambassadors were impatiently awaiting the delegation from Baron in the Thorn and Splinter Inn at the center of town.

A guard met them at the gate. "Identify yourselves," he demanded gruffly.

Nepenthe reached into her cloak and produced an unblemished sheet of parchment featuring the royal seal of Baron. "I am Nepenthe Orville, Minister of Foreign Relations, appointed by King Cecil of Baron to meet the delegation from Damcyan and to investigate the cause of an attack on Baronian forces that occurred last week," she replied cooly. "Please step aside and allow myself and my companions to enter your village."

The guard shook his head. "With all respect, ma'am, I've been told only to let the diplomats in. Soldiers can camp outside the wall."

Nepenthe considered. She was certain that a discussion with the town's mayor would gain her men entry to the village, but might it not be better to leave them outside and demonstrate that Baron was approaching this matter as an equal partner?

Gaston leaned forward. "My lady," he murmured quietly, "I would like to point out that our men have been grumbling against the Damcyanese for the duration of this journey. If they do not leave our company, they cannot act without our consent."

Nepenthe nodded. "My men were sent specifically by the King of Baron, to whom you owe allegiance, and they will remain with us in the city," she continued, addressing the guard. "If you review your orders, perhaps you will see that the pertain only to foreigners entering this territory, and not to your close allies." She waited while the guard considered, eyeing her warily. The man nodded at last.

"Very well. Enter." He stepped aside and motioned for the gate to be opened, allowed the Baronians to pass.

The fourteen mounts that Nepenthe's party had brought with them were something of a problem for the innkeepers; eventually, they were forced to ask a nearby rival to house six of them, as their stables were full. Nepenthe, Gaston, and Wrena, the notary, were shown to private rooms while the soldiers occupied the floor of a seldom-used banquet hall at the rear of the building.

Nepenthe had only just begun to unpack some of her personal effects, ringing for a maid to remove and clean the muddy clothes, when a sharp knock on the door interrupted her. She opened it curiously, wondering if the maid had returned.

Before her stood a stooped old man with wispy white hair and warm brown eyes. He wore the red and gold insignia of Damcyan on his chest, and held out a frail and trembling hand in her direction. "Greetings, lady," the man said in a wheezing voice. "I am Tyler, sent by King Edward of Damcyan to treat with you."

Nepenthe grasped the hand briefly. "I am Nepenthe Orville, sent by King Cecil of Baron to do the same," she replied. "Please, come in."

Tyler tottered into the room and sank with a sigh of relief into one of the chairs near the desk. He smiled amiably. "These old bones, you know... Well, Nepenthe, it seems we are at a bit of an impasse. You see, my king swears that your soldiers attacked his, and your king vows that it was the reverse."

Nepenthe blinked, surprised that he had gotten so quickly to the point. "I had hoped to have a night of rest before beginning these talks."

The old man waved a dismissive hand. "We'll have days and days to dicker back and forth, I'm sure. The important thing is that we both go into this knowing that the other side is as helpless and deprived of proof as one's own side is."

Nepenthe's eyes flashed. "Deprived of proof? Captain Ronald Haines, one of the only survivors of the attack, was a direct witness to the atrocities committed upon Baron's soldiers! He is not the only one, either! We have the testimony of half a dozen men--"

"And we have our own soldiers, my lady," Tyler cut in gently. "All of them equally as valiant as your Captain Haines, and equally as certain that not only did your men provoke the attack, but that they did so while on Damcyan soil. That is why I think that it is best if we approach this situation as though we were trying to sort out a very confusing blunder rather than as if we were demanding retribution for an act of war."

"Naturally, none of us wants war," Nepenthe muttered, chagrined. "That's why we're here."

Tyler nodded. "King Edward was alarmed by reports of a border skirmish with Baron. The last thing he wants is to upset the friendship that Damcyan and Baron have managed to sustain in recent years."

"King Cecil feels likewise. But the fact remains that one side had to have attacked the other. Regardless of how difficult it may be to identify, there does exist an objective truth in this situation," she argued.

"And, of course, it is our goal to uncover the truth. That is why I thought you might be interested in speaking with me tonight, so you'll have time to mull over what I have to say before we begin more formal negotiations."

"What do you mean?"

"We arrived here three days hence, my lady. On the way, I sent a small patrol to the west, to find the place where the battle had occurred. They returned earlier this evening, and what they found was most interesting. Based on descriptions of the landscape and on the burial mounds of soldiers of both Damcyan and Baron, I am satisfied that they have correctly located the battlesite. The surveyor with them has positively confirmed that the entire region lies well within Damcyan territory--more than a league from the border, in fact."

Nepenthe frowned. "This is still only your word against--"

"Then send your own team to investigate," he interrupted smoothly. "I assure you, we did not dig up the bodies of solders and transport them for your benefit. Send along one of the men who was present at the battle to confirm the location."

She remained silent for a moment, thinking. "Let us suppose that some blunder on the part of Baron's soldiers led them into Damcyan territory when they believed it to be Baron. In such a circumstance, both parties would have believed that they were in the right if they attacked."

Tyler nodded. "Presicely. Ideally, one would be able to identify the source of the confusion, but I believe that such a scenario would allow us to maintain peace. A few days of discussing the particulars, an official assignment of mutually shared blame--"

"And war will be averted," Nepenthe sighed. "It would be better to obtain our own confirmation of your explanation, of course."

"Naturally. And, in the mean time, we can preach to our men about the values of peaceful resolution of conflict and enjoy some of this inn's excellent wine." Tyler smiled broadly, revealing impeccable white teeth. He stood. "I believe I shall take my leave of you now. Good night."

Nepenthe nodded good night and closed the door after him. Despite the good news she had just received, something about the situation didn't feel right. A league was quite a distance. The average footsoldier might not notice their dangerous course, but the leader of the patrol had to have known that something was amiss. Furthermore, the swift reenforcement of the border made sense only if Baron's men had remained in Baron's territory; how had the forces gotten there so quickly? It had been years since she studied military strategy as part of her training, but she recalled enough of the basics to know that one's border guard generally remained on one's own side of the border.

No matter, Nepenthe told herself. There will be plenty of time to sort out details in the morning. For now, I'm exhausted, and I think I've earned my bed. She undressed quickly and crawled into bed without extinguishing the candle on her dresser. Within seconds, she was asleep.

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Veni, vidi, dormivi.

Um... Is this going to be continued someday?

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Veni, vidi, dormivi.

Ask that to NP or Mr. Thou. It's not my job to continue this for another gazillion chapters. :-/

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~Status Report~

* Completed... Dragon's Head
* Completed... Soldiers of the Empire: Disciples (release pending)
* In Progress/Undecided... Of Love and Betrayal
* Planning/Assembly... Where it all Began

Okay, since Del is out of touch, I'm taking over this. Otherwise, it's going to die.

When Del and I were talking about it, he said that he figured that about 2 or 3 weeks was the max he'd allow before passing the chapter on to the next person in the list. That's passed.

People who are still actually willing to participate in this fic, send me a PM. Unless Mr Thou has a significant portion of his chapter underway, we'll go in a new order: that of interest. First person to express a desire to actually contribute writes the next chapter.

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Veni, vidi, dormivi.

Sorry it took me so long to post my chapter. I just finished it, so here it is. Hope you'll like it.

Chapter 3

Village of Myst

Nepenthe got up early the next morning, with a lot on her mind. After a good night of sleep, the visit of the old counselor from Damcyan seemed like a relief : perhaps she wouldn't have to spend so much time away from Baron. She couldn't help but thinking that the Tyler's behavior last night was somehow due to the friendship between King Cecil and King Edward, but it suited her well. If only this situation could be resolved quickly, her last six months on the job would pass in a breeze.

Determined to end the matter as soon as possible, Nepenthe called for Gaston. He arrived a while after, as she was ending her breakfast. And he didn't seem in the greatest of mood.
"Is there a good reason for this far too early wake-up call, Nepenthe?"
Sipping her herbal decoction, used to diminish her headaches, Nepenthe got up and went beside him to close the door.
"There is. I had a visit last night from the ambassador of Damcyan, a man called Tyler. Do you happen to know him?"
"An old man with a brown glance? I know him. He's a very good advisor to Edward, with a good sense of politics and a cunning mind. Some say that Damcyan wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for him. He was an advisor to Edward's father as well, and helped in the education of the young prince back in the days."
Nepenthe finished her cup, and put it down on the table.
"So he's an intelligent man. But would you described him as trustworthy?"
"It depends," replied Gaston. "He's loyal to the Damcyan crown, and Edward loves him very much, but I can only guess how he feels about Edward in return. You know about the reputation of the young king…but why did he want to meet you so early after we arrived?"
Seizing her sword, Nepenthe approached the window.
"I'll let you know on the way. We're going for a trip in the woods."
She grabbed her thick coat, and put it around her shoulders. As she was opening the door, Gaston took a glance out the window.
"Great! More raining…"


West of Myst, near Rook's pass

Taking only three guards with them, Gaston and Nepenthe rode with their chocobos towards the place where the skirmish had occurred. Completely wet, they searched for the mounds the old counselor had mentioned for some time. One of the guards finally stumbled on them, and called for Nepenthe.
When all were gathered, she asked Gaston :
"So, were are we? Damcyan, or Baron?"
Pushing away his thick black hair driven out of his ribbon by the constant rain, Gaston looked around, then asked one of the guard to shield him from the pouring water with his cape. Taking a very precise map, he looked at it for what seemed like an interminable time, and then looked up to Nepenthe.
"No doubt about it. We're on Damcyan soil. Tyler was right."
"And the mounds seem old enough : if they the corpses had been removed and relocated here, the rain would have stripped the freshly built mounds into mud. I doubt that any would have been able to build a mound with this weather anyway…"
"We have our answer now," said Gaston, while folding back his map. "Now can we please rush back to Myst? I'm in dire need for hot drink and wet clothes…"

***

In the meantime, at Myst, Tyler was getting busy preparing the first meeting with the Chief Minister Orville. Already, he had leaked to his close guards about how she seemed to be a reasonable person, determined to set things up peacefully. He knew the news would be all around the Damcyan delegation by nightfall, and that it would lift up the spirits a little. After all, Damcyan wasn't ready to go to war against Baron, and most soldiers knew that if a war occurred, Baron was almost sure to win it : its airship fleet and dragoon knights squadrons were two of the most powerful force in all the continent, and a lot of people still looked at King Cecil as an undefeatable opponent, the savior of the entire world.

As he was almost finished with preparations, Tyler received a small note from his aid : apparently, the Damcyan Captain, along with the other two survivors of the skirmish, was nowhere to be found. The last time he had news of him, Captain Harmel was resting in this very inn, still wounded : now, the room where he and the other two had laid was empty, and their gear was missing. Tyler was still thinking about this matter, when a soldier got in and said that the Baron emissary was returning from the burial mounds. Folding the little piece of paper and putting it in his pocket, he moved slowly with little steps towards the common room.


Thorn and Splinter Inn

The first meeting went on rather roughly. There was a lot of tension from the soldiers present, most of it coming from the baronian soldiers. Ever since the return of Nepenthe and Gaston, the story was spreading that the skirmish originated from a baronian mistake. In response to that, soldiers started claiming that the evidences gathered had been created by damcyanese forces, and that they were deliberately trying to create a casus belli.

Nevertheless, the two emissaries managed to keep the order, and by the end of the evening they had sorted out a few things. The whole matter was slowly headed they way Tyler and Nepenthe had briefly discussed it the night before : they had both agreed that the attack had in fact occurred on Damcyan soil, and they had both used on multiple occasions the expression "mutual share".

One thing were troubling Nepenthe though. At some point during the talks, she had asked Gaston to bring Captain Haines, one of the few survivors of the Baronian forces engaged in the skirmish, in order to discuss the reasons of the . However, no trace of him could be find. Making a mental note to investigate this matter in the morning, Nepenthe went to sleep, without her usual headache for a change.

***

She woke up in the middle of the night, by a piercing scream. Still in her nightgown, she hurled herself out of her chamber, her sword already unsheathed. Catching a movement on her left, she raised her sword on a reflex to parry an attack, and fenced back at the moving shadow who had just attacked her, hitting the man in the arm. Hearing loud steps behind her, Nepenthe hesitated for just a second on how to react. This left enough time for her opponent to mutter a spell. While Nepenthe jumped back in her room looking for protection, she heard the final word of the incantation : the man had just left, using a Warp spell. Cursing herself for her choice, Nepenthe hurried toward Gaston's room, and slammed the door open.
"Someone just left using a Warp spell! Send guards to each exits of the town, quickly! We may be able to catch him on time…"

Without spending a second more in the room to check if Gaston had understood, she ran once more, this time heading in the direction of the screams. She arrived at Tyler's room, where a couple of damcyanese soldiers stood at the door, in shock. Slowing down her step, she approached and took a glance in the room.

Tyler was lying on the floor, in a pool of his own blood. One man was lying beside him, wearing a baronian uniform, with a sword in his chest. Finally, another soldier wearing a damcyanese uniform was leaning against a wall, clutching his ribs.
"Captain Harmel! What are you doing here? What just happened?", asked one of the two guards at the door.
The damcyanese soldier looked back at them, then at Nepenthe.
"This soldier murdered Counselor Tyler! I killed him, but his accomplice stabbed me in the back and left."
Nepenthe put her sword against a wall, and approached the body of the baronian soldier. Gaston arrived when she was trying to turn the man over.
"Do you know him?", asked nepenthe.
"Yes. He's the captain of the patrol who engaged Damcyan. His name is Haines."
Meanwhile, Captain Harmel was looking paler and paler with every second. Noticing a stained dagger on the floor, Gaston grabbed it and smelled its blade. He looked back at Nepenthe, and said in a cold voice : "Poison." Harmel gave out a moan, and uttered :
"This settles it. No more peace talks. If it's war that King Cecil wants, he'll have it…"
And with that last word, he fell to the ground.


Baron Castle, a week later

Queen Rosa was worried. For a change, it wasn't because of her dear husband facing a war against one of his closest friend. She had just received a visit, from someone unexpected. Someone she hadn't seen in years now. And she was left with no choice but to go find her husband, and add some more to his worries.

The war had started suddenly, only six days ago. The murder of the damcyanese counselor had forced King Edward to declare war against Baron : the new counselor to Edward had no trouble convincing the weakened king to go march against his old friend. The delegation sent to settle the matter had not returned : Damcyan was keeping them as hostages, and threatened to execute them if Baron didn't surrender.

Rosa entered in the room where Cecil was having a meeting with his generals. Slowly approaching him, she waited for one of the generals to finish his report, then gently touched Cecil on the shoulder.
"There's someone here to see you."
"Can't you see that I'm busy? I have no time for small matters…"
Rosa clutched his hand and squeezed it, looking him straight in the eye.
"It's important. You must see this person immediately"
Seeing how worried his wife looked, Cecil calmed down a little.
"The meeting is adjourned. I'll see you all late."
Following Rosa to their apartments, Cecil began to feel nervous.
"Who is it? Why is it so urgent?"
"You'll see for yourself. But I wouldn't have disturbed your meeting if it wasn't important. You know that."
Feeling even more nervous, Cecil lost track of time. After what seemed only a couple of seconds later, he bumped into his wife, and realized that he had already reach his destination. Rosa raised her hand to push the door open, then stopped and faced Cecil with a worried look.
"I think it's best if I leave you two alone."
Wondering who was in there, Cecil put his hands on the doors, ready to open them, when Rosa said :
"Please, be nice to him. It's been years now…"
Suddenly understanding who was behind the doors, Cecil began to shake. With a last cold glance at his wife, he slammed the doors open.

A tall man was standing, looking through a window, all clad in a shining blue armor. A glittering spear in his left arm, he turned over. With a murderous look in his eyes, Cecil took a few steps, and then stopped.
"Kain."
The dragoon knight took out his helmet, revealing his blond hairs. With a determined look on his face, he took a few steps too towards Cecil, and stopped, just out of reach of the paladin's sword.
"We need to talk, Cecil."

This post has been edited by Mr Thou on 29th July 2004 12:53

Quote (karasuman @ 29th July 2004 04:54)

Okay, since Del is out of touch, I'm taking over this. Otherwise, it's going to die.

Just confirming that: Karasuman's in charge of it now so everything that applied to me in the rules applies to her now: even though i may be able to get on the internet in a webcafe in Yorkshire (England), i still have this deathtrap PC in Scotland...

BTW, nice chapter Thou. Glad to see my comp didn't kill this story . Now its Narratorway's turn.

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"Only the dead have seen the end of their quotes being misattributed to Plato."
-George Santayana

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here..."
-Abraham Lincoln, prior to the discovery of Irony.

Quote (Del S @ 29th July 2004 14:22)

Just confirming that: Karasuman's in charge of it now so everything that applied to me in the rules applies to her now: even though i may be able to get on the internet in a webcafe in Yorkshire (England), i still have this deathtrap PC in Scotland...

BTW, nice chapter Thou. Glad to see my comp didn't kill this story . Now its Narratorway's turn.

Naturally, you're in charge again when your computer starts functioning properly.

And NP has opted out of this all-together, from what I gather from his PM, so that means that this is Zero_Hawk's turn.

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Veni, vidi, dormivi.