From 'The Shadowlands -- Chapter 12 -- Affairs of State'

When chance agendas collided, as they did on those salt flats which glowed blue in the dispersed light of the fingernail moon; hectic mistakes were apt to occur. When Corwyn seized Yorek's mare by the reins she spooked and balked to rear up. Because the animal was so winded, she twisted around and foundered to come crashing down to the ground, throwing Yorek onto the hard packed salt as well. It was as he fell that the demon cloaked unseen in the shadows lunged out of the darkness into view, albeit he was hard to see in the black form he manifested. Cirgoth glimped Wyrvaust nevertheless and his right hand thrust out to unleash a powerful bolt of damaging light which lit up the area briefly and revealed Wyrvaust unrecognizably as an eight foot tall, jet black demon with flared horns; capran facial features; a serpent tail and massive wings; which moved towards Yorek in a blur of speed. When the bolt struck him it stopped him short to expose his visage vividly before the blinding light faded. Before Wyrvaust could recover from the stunning effects of the attack on him, Cirgoth seized him with a holding force. The angel had no idea that he was attacking Wyrvaust. Because Yorek was also spooked; he rolled to his feet and drew his curved scimitar from his sheath and swept the weapon at his attacker. The moment the blade struck Wyrvaust to slash into his side, the holding spell was broken. Meanwhile; those who had been chasing Yorek came thundering down on Yorek even as he wounded the demon. Wyvaust dove out of the path of the charging horses to save himself from being trampled and Cirgoth threw up a wall of force between the riders and Yorek. When the horses collided with the invisible wall it refracted in ripples whereof animals and riders alike piled on one another in a train wreck of horses and men. Rafee barely escaped being crushed as he frantically rolled out from under the steeds which crashed into his own. When he tumbled to his feet he was facing Corwyn with the wall between them.

"You are in Hassim territory and I am king here! Stand down and allow us to seize my brother or declare yourself our enemy!" he demanded. He stomped a foot in anger and frustration as Corwyn grabbed Yorek and pulled him through the gateway he had standing ready to receive he and his comrade. Corwyn was answering to the king of all An Morendor, his father; whose authority in Morashtar superseded the command of all other kings; a fact Maelmorda had made known to Corwyn when he was a child, just as he had told Corwyn he intended to remind the people of the Shadowlands of that fact. Maelmorda had no idea that he was rivaling Sammael's plans. That is what happened when there was a failure of communication. Wyrvaust meanwhile dove back into the shadows from whence he came as he failed in his first attempt to capture Yorek, who he immediately tracked. The Raven found himself standing in Maelmorda and Marsol's company, albeit he was cloaked, as he followed Yorek's presence to the site Corwyn had taken him.

The moment Corwyn, Yorek and Wyrvaust vanished; Rafee turned his rage and new kingship on Cirgoth to spear a finger at him. "You are under arrest, angel! Bring down this wall so that we may take you into custody. Cooperate and you may live, defy me and you too shall be marked as an enemy!"

Cirgoth laughed. "I answer to only one King, and he shall hear of this attack on the true king of Hassim!" That said, he took wing, the wall of force dismantling the moment his feathers caught the desert night thermals high in the star lit sky; hence he continued on his mission of wanderlust, heading south, the arrows which followed him falling short of his range. The men who were standing then ducked down as they felt a great wind on their heads which nearly knocked them off their feet as Gilriael rose into the air in his shadowy dragon form to beat the air with his great wings to follow after Cirgoth. The angel's other trackers retreated deeper into the plane of fire where they had remained hidden to watch everything that had occurred through a curtain of flames which had never been revealed inasmuch as they had not breached the elemental plane of fire to carry its inferno into the desert.

Gilriael reported all which had come to pass to Marsol as he trailed Cirgoth unseen through the sky. Thirty minutes later; when Cirgoth crossed over into Marsol's territory again at day break, forty miles southwest of Hassim; he landed by a small oasis where he climbed beneath a shrub between some palms and slept on the sand. Gilriael camped not far away with his comrades, two of whom hid from sight and kept watch over Cirgoth while the others rested. Gilriael was exhausted and could use some sleep.

When Yorek stumbled out of the gate with Corwyn, his arm caught around Corwyn's waist to steady himself as his horse came trotting out after them to brush by him. The usurped desert Prince straightened and fixed his bewildered gaze on the dear man who had come unexpectedly to his aid. "I have lost my kingdom...and I barely know how. I believe I would have lost my life along with it had you not come to my aid. You have all my thanks, Corwyn."

Maelmorda smiled and an arm swept out with a palm extended open juxtaposed to the right of Yorek. "Take a seat by the fire and clear your thoughts then tell us your confusing tale. Perhaps I can help make sense of it." Pulling his hand back as if tugging on something, Wyrvaust came stumbling out of the shadows which Maelmorda had intercepted and seized the demon from. Wyrvaust had yet noticed Marsol there where he lolled back against the sandy canyon face, flagon in hand by Maelmorda, whose shadow eclipsed him from the fire light.

Yorek startled slightly then thinned his gaze on Wyrvaust. "That demon attempted to seize me," he had them know, a fact Corwyn was already aware of.

Maelmorda leaned his jade green eyes on Wyrvaust and pursed his lips slyly. "Is that so? Why, Wyrvaust, would you wish to capture Yorek? Surely you are not so hungry that you would eat a Prince," he mused.

Wyrvaust sighed deeply. "The Raven would not have harmed him. He was so commanded to deliver the Eastern Prince to the Prince of Demons."

Maelmorda arched a brow. "I see. Well, it appears we have claimed him first." His gaze fixed on his son hence. "Corwyn, bond him immediately," he commanded his son. "You have seen me do it many times, and been bonded by me yourself. Just follow in my example," he instructed. "Just be quick about it."

"I am willing," Yorek stated emphatically, sure that Corwyn would not bond him without his consent. Yorek then seated himself by the fire, his gaze riveted on Maelmorda. He looked so familiar. Where had he seen him? He had never met Corwyn's father before, or at least did not recall his face clearly as the one who had attacked him and sired him by force. He had barely got a glimpse of him, but seeing him now, he wondered.

Maelmorda expressed a cool smile. "Tell me how you misplaced your kingdom, Yorek, while Corwyn tastes of your savory blood," he solicited.

"Who are you, Sir?"

"I am Corwyn's father, Maelmorda Arghyle Kilcanoragh, High King of An Morendor," he introduced himself. He elbowed Marsol as the dragon lord laughed at his introduction, high as the southern star which shone over his desert by now. Maelmorda took a turn at laughing when his dear Marsol grabbed Wyrvaust by the ankle and jerked his cloven hoofed feet out from under him to land him on his ass beside himself, thus announcing his presence to the Raven, who stared at him dumbfounded.

"M-my Lord...Forgive your servant. He-he did not see you there," the demon blubbered where he lay on his back facing his master with his ankle still in Marsol's grip.

"Seems to me like you forget who it is you serve, Wyrvaust," Maelmorda reprimanded him.

"Never," Wyrvaust swore.

Maelmorda scoffed. "Why don't you remind him, Marsol, while I give ear to Yorek's tale." Hence he pinned Yorek with his gaze.

Yorek sucked in a deep breath. "I had gathered the people and tribes which had escaped the attack by Lord Marsol's dragons." He glanced at Marsol as he said this then met Maelmorda's equally unnerving gaze. Between the two of them; he felt like he was being secretly devoured by their eyes through no fault of their own. "We had rebuilt many of our homes, and were still restoring the palace when they came. It was late and I was asleep. All was peace one moment, and havoc the next. A horn sounded to wake me and I rushed out of my chamber to a balcony which was only partially intact. I saw in the streets many demons...and more being belched up from fiery gates and shadowy fissures. Some rode on the backs of young dragons, others on spectral steeds, elephants, even great dire wolves and lions. Doors were being broken down and people were being dragged from their houses. Those who resisted were murdered, those who relented were chained and taken away towards our own dungeon."

"Four of my own men rushed into the room and grabbed me to escort me through the palace to the very dungeon those demons made headway for. I trusted these four men. They had been my guards before my father died, and had always served me loyally as my knights. They showed me to a tunnel which led out of the palace and to the streets on the outskirts of Inaaksu. I told them I would not leave without my sister and my brothers. They bade me away, and to wait by the end of the tunnel for my siblings. Two of them left to find them, while the other two stood to guard the tunnel which they closed to leave me in darkness. I made my way through the tunnel and two hours later came to the edge of the city, where all of the buildings but a spare few were still in ruins. It was deserted, had been since I returned."

"I waited...I waited for seven days. I saw things...Spirits...wraiths, phantoms, demons, undead warriors; a veritable legion of hellish things led by demons. A demon, or maybe a lich, grey and gaunt as death, clawed and horned, his face like a hyena, bat wings carries by furred shoulders, wearing a crown who carried my very own scepter, which is in the shape of a snake, led a company through the streets. He was dressed richly, in the very clothes my father was buried in I swear. Dead knights followed him, and behind them came se'irim, goat demons, red and black, and came after them, one of them carrying Hassim's snake banner, wraith warriors. What most shocked me was that my own brother Rafee rode beside the demon king, he also wearing a crown on his head and dressed in the royal fineries of an eastern king. I could not leave Valkar and Safiel, my brother and sister. I searched for them, hid in every crack, crevice and shadow I could find, and combed the city for them. That hidden tunnel became my home for a month, and it was only when I reentered the palace through that tunnel that I found my brother and sister, and my missing comrades. When I pushed open the door at the end of the tunnel, which appeared like the wall, I saw the men who had stayed behind to guard the door." Yorek paused to cover his face then continued as his hands dropped into his lap. "In the cell which could be seen from the tunnel; I found them chained to the walls. They were no longer themselves, but changing into some kind of monsters. In another cell I found Valkar and Safiel. I could see that they too had been tortured...My sister...barely a child herself, was heavy with what could only be a demon's spawn. I tried to free them. Valkar turned on me. He too was changed, into some kind of vampire who they had starved into a blood lust. He could not see me but for the blood my flesh promised. I...I killed him...to put him out of his misery, and because it was the only way I could get to Safiel. Only as I touched her, I triggered something and was set upon by a pack of wolf demons that were used to guard the prisoners. I fled...I had no other choice. I closed the door on the hounds of hell and raced blindly through the dark tunnel. I see well in the darkness now but not when there is a total absence of light. When I reached the end of the tunnel, I was met by my two guards. They had three horses with them, one of them my own mare. She is the swiftest horse in Hassim. They told me Valkar and Safiel were dead to spare me the pain of the truth I had seen with my own eyes. I told them I knew and we mounted up and rode like the wind. We were followed soon after. Gargoyles had been posted as sentries all over the city and they alerted those who had taken control of the palace, including my own brother who had thrown in with those who took my city and people so cruelly. They cried out as they pursued that they wanted me alive, but I knew...I knew they would change me into whatever monster they needed to suit their goals. The two men with me fell to spells and arrows, but me they wanted alive. I would rather die than become one of them...than do the things they did to my people...The horrors, my gods...It was as if they had brought Hell into Inaaksu." Yorek leaned forward and drew his legs up against his chest, his hands covering his face. "Is all of An Morendor to become like this?" he wished to know.

Maelmorda frowned. "Not if I can help it!" He barked. Sammael had thrown the gauntlet down and Maelmorda intended to pick it up and throw it right back at him. He understood now what was happening. Sammael intended to take An Morendor. Worse yet, it was obvious to Maelmorda that Mordrieg had unsealed Acheron. Sammael had his legions now to call on and had done just that. Well, Maelmorda had his own legions to call on if Sammael refused to back down. An Morendor, Morashtar was the Morning Star's, and he had every intention of fighting for it! Things didn't go...exactly as Corwyn had envisioned they would. Such were the hazards of having to make rash decisions in so little time. He hadn't even considered how the horse would react in its frightened state, so when the horse (and its rider) came crashing down, Corwyn was inwardly kicking himself. With as much as he had been around horses, he rather thought he should have anticipated a reaction like that. He would have looked startled, of course, by the sudden appearence (or rather, the revealing) of Wyvraust...but didn't remain startled long enough to hinder his movement towards Yorek, his gaze swiftly moving towards the riders bearing down on them. Where Wyvraust was smart enough to dive out of the way of the oncoming mob, Corwyn seemed to be intent on getting to Yorek. It was lucky for him that the wall was thrown up when it was!


He would pause only a moment to glance at Rafee with a single raised brow. He wasn't used to being given commands like that. Granted, he was in their territory. But he knew that being under Maelmorda's orders at the moment, those orders outclassed the ones given by this particular king. He didn't bother speaking to Rafee...he would have dearly loved to taunt him a little, but he didn't have the luxury of the time to do so at the moment. So, he would stoop to help Yorek to his feet, an arm coiled around him to help support him, and lead him towards the waiting gateway.


Corwyn actually looked startled at the words of thanks that came from Yorek the moment they had stepped out of the gate. "Your thanks is appreciated, Yorek, but I could have certainly blundered fatally there...what if the horse had fallen on you, directly? Or trampled you in its fear?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Being the delivery boy was basically the one thing that managed to go right." He'd flash a smile at him. "Still, though, I'd risk all that again, if there was even a chance you'd be safe." He confided...and then immediately looked a little flustered. Surely there was a better time for conveying such sentiments.


He would move to help Yorek sit by the fire, lowering himself to sit down next to him. He'd look a little surprised to see Wyvraust come stumbling out of the shadows...he hadn't considered that they would be followed so quickly. Still, he remained seated, just watching as his father questioned the man's motives behind his attempted abduction of Yorek. He'd snap to attention when the order came to bond Yorek. That was something new...he'd certainly been bonded, and seen his father bond others, but he'd never actually bonded anybody else. He'd look almost comically flabbergasted at how quickly Yorek would consent to that! He did appreciate the consent...while in the end, he would feel obligated to do as his father said, he certainly would have hesitated over the act. As it was, with the consent so freely given, he would nod and move in the moment Yorek made himself comfortable to begin the process.


As he tasted of that "savory blood" (and it was...Corwyn hadn't thought he'd be able to handle the taste, all those times watching others go through the process, but he didn't find himself repulsed by the act) he would listen intently to Yorek's story. It pained him to think of all Yorek had gone through, and hurt to think of that sweet younger brother and sister, tormented and changed. Their deaths truly were a release, and though he wished they could have been saved, remembering them as they were the last time he had laid eyes on them, he wouldn't have wished them to live on in their current states either. Maelmorda pinned Marsol with his gaze as his son drained Yorek to a swoon (which took awhile owed to his immortal physique and regeneration) and then figured out how to administer his own blood to the fainted man. “Feed him until your mark manifests on his throat,” Maelmorda instructed him before addressing the desert chieftain. Yes, Corwyn had a bonding mark which his father apprised him of albeit Maelmorda did not know yet what his mark was. It was a phoenix swallowing a snake. It was symbolic of his spirit’s true disposition. “I wish to know, Anwarr, if you shall align yourself with me, Sammael, or remain neutral in any opposition which may arise between he and I and those legions we command. I will meet with Sammael of course and try to talk him out of rivaling me, but he may refuse to back down. If you vow your allegiance to me I will expect you to honor your loyalty and obedience to me. You have my word that I shall not force you to commit any acts which are in opposition to your principles and honor.” Though Marsol had a very dark side, he also adhered to his own strict code of ethics. Everyone who was close to him was proof of that.

If Marsol pledged himself to support Maelmorda as a loyal ally: Maelmorda was very pleased that Marsol resolved to support him. He clasped his hand and squeezed down with firm affection. "Thank you for your fealty, Marsol. Do not hesitate to call on me if you and yours come under attack." The Morning Star then informed him of where he would be residing. "Do you remember Sarku, the shapeshifter who found you wounded and took you into his home to heal you all those years ago after you conquered the dragon lord of Castle Rock Island? Well, though you probably would not recognize him now owed to a fusion of animal mutations which are always changing, he still dwells in the same castle south of Hawker's Fort which hugs the Wind Shorn Cliffs and its beach. It is in Castle Vilfior with him that I, my clan, and those dark angels and devils I plan to summon as my knights shall reside. You and those who serve you loyally shall be welcome in my home and on my territory at any given time. Indeed we shall withdraw there as soon as Corwyn is done bonding Yorek. Sarku, because he is so distrustful of people, has the place warded like a high security prison," he chuckled. "Wards I shall improve and add my own flair to," he added with a cavalier smile.

If Marsol informed him that he preferred to remain neutral: Maelmorda would sigh. “I am sorry to hear that. I would have been honored to have you on my side. I wish you well regardless, my old friend.”

When Corwyn fulfilled the process of bonding Yorek, and Maelmorda and Marsol had wrapped up their conversation to whatever conclusion; Maelmorda took his leave with Corwyn and Yorek. The desert sand on the canyon floor defied gravity to gather and pour in streams upward to form an archway of flowing sand particles which would dissipate and shower down on the ground after they had lapsed through the refracted plane between the sandy arch of the earth gate and the canyon floor.

In the two days which followed; Maelmorda went to retrieve his wife and twin sons and relocate them to Castle Vilifior. He told Kael to thank Lavoy for everything he had done and to keep in touch, inasmuch as Lavoy was not available when he arrived at Black Lion Manor. He assigned impressive albeit dusty quarters to Corwyn and York which were adjacent to one another. The place was dismal with layers of dust, drawn curtains of heavy material which shut out the sunlight, cobwebs and clutter. Sarku had not bothered to keep the place up for ages living in isolation as he had. The outside walls of the Castle’s high ramparts were clean however as a result of the wind against the cliffs and the absence of plant life. Ivy covered the walls of the keep on the other hand, and the gardens were a wild tangle of weeds and cultivated plants gone feral. Run away roses, greenbrier and grape vines rambled to weave in and out of overgrown boxwoods to create a snarled bramble which had covered the hexagonal cuts stones which had once defined the paths. Maelmorda intended to see the place was restored to its former magnificence.

Though Sarku was shy and detached of Maelmorda’s family, his knights and the handful of servants which invaded his home with his consent, he would come to be fond of Galaxy and the twins. Indeed, with exception to Maelmorda, she would be the first the ever changing shapeshifter would speak and warm to. Though his appearance never remained the same for longer than a couple of days, he was easily recognizable by his transitional animal and somewhat humanoid features nevertheless. He could be hideous, fascinating, or even appealing, depending on the combination of creatures which shaped him. His voice remained constant unless he manifested a purely animal form. Corwyn and Yorek he would treat with reserved respect but remain aloof of for some time, simply studying them on the sly as he tried to form an opinion of them. The presence of the knights and servants he simply tolerated with apathetic disinterest. Galaxy would find him very odd, even daft at times, but amiable and intelligent despite his lapses of peculiar gibberish and animal-like behavior. He was harmless to the castle residents, but a feral menace to enemies.

Maelmorda was thrilled to share a bed with Galaxy again and made up for lost time with her, but had business to take care of three days after they arrived. He kept busy those first days at their new haven as well, reinforcing the wards and adding select powers to them until the castle was an impenetrable fortress against all but those who could match or best his power and cleverness. Before he embarked to the citadel, he sat down with her on a comfortable bench, in an atrium where a variety of ancient fruit trees grew that were tolerant to partial shade. The native fruit they bore off and on all year round were delicious and their flowers colorful and delightfully fragrant. Maelmorda was dressed in elegant but rugged clothing; a black tunic with bone toggles which covered a suit of blued chain mail, a knee length vest of dark brown leather, a black cloak, dark green leggings and knee high, black boots with steel buckles up the sides. At his hip was a sword with a black hilt and blue and black marbled star sapphire lapped into a large cabochon set in the pommel.

“Galaxy, things are sure to get hectic in the days to come. Sammael is attempting to take An Morendor and I intend to oppose him. Mordreig has unsealed Acheron and he has his legions now to call upon. I have received word that I am needed in Hawker’s Fort and must leave immediately after we speak. After I have seen to affairs there I am going to arrange a meeting with Sammael and attempt to persuade him to abandon his plans. If I am unable to convince him to stand down, we shall declare our terms of war. If it comes to that, it means something that has never before happened in Acheron, a civil war shall take place which pits his legions against mine in battles which shall be waged on this planet, hopefully reaching no further than An Morendor. I cannot stress the dangers of such a war. It shall extend beyond the physical into the minds and souls of people. Sammael shall add to his legions, he already is, by recreating chosen victims as he sees fit and controlling their actions through domination and mind control practices. He is killing those who oppose him and enslaving the rest. Everything that is happening indicates that he intends for the immortals of Acheron to rule this country under his reign, making slaves and monsters of any mortals that relent, and allies of those immortals who join his side. He may not stop if he seizes An Morendor but endeavor to create an empire of the world. As I obey him in Acheron, this is my world he is trying to seize and I shall do everything in my power to stop him. It is my right to do so as the creator and High King of this world. If he refuses to renounce his objective he too shall do whatever it takes to accomplish his goals. Do you understand what that means? You must be very careful, for he will be sure to use those who are closest to me against me. I will not surrender this world to him, Galaxy, no matter the cost to me, so do not let him get his hands on you or our twins. I love you and would die for you, but I would not condemn an entire world to save you. Please keep safe. You are my goodness.” He embraced her and kissed her deeply then smiled as they parted. “I would be ever grateful if you would get started in the chore of getting this place in order. The knights are at your disposal to help you. Like you, some of them have an elemental knack which would be beneficial in the gardens and courtyards, as well as assisting in cleaning the place. I will help when I return, if you have not already accomplished the task to surprise me with a beautiful home when I advent,” he grinned. Galaxy would find that Sarku would be very willing to help her in restoring the place to its former splendor as well. He was also enthusiastic about playing with the twins. Surprisingly, he was very good with children, though at times he gazed at them sadly, and the twins took to him like he was a kitten. Now and again he would change into a lion cub, puppy, snake, fox kit, or other small animal for them to play with. He played them with gently but as an animal might, and the twins loved it. At the same time they learned how to behave around different kinds of animals. The castle was magnificent; all the stone and wood molding, arches, frames, cornices, crowns, pedestals, braziers, pillars and more in the place was beautifully decorated or carved; it was just neglected. Creatures of all kinds lurked around every corner and from above as statues and friezes that were part of the predominantly stone architecture. Maelmorda embraced his beloved wife again then embarked for Hawker’s Fort through a gate of ether as the sun dipped into the western ocean. Marsol had this ghost of a smile on his face when those words selfish and possessive came out of Maelmorda’s mouth. It was an unusual feeling when one was told again just whom they did and would always belong to, no matter their side. A slightly son-to-father pride didn't quite seem to grasp just what it was that Marsol thought about in that head of his.

As was the norm for him, he said, "Some would tell me to act indifferent to his... charms." On the last word the dragon chieftain’s eyes narrowed into a small glare at his wooden cup.

It hadn't been all of that long since they had started talking and drinking around the fire that he got a most unsettling feeling in his gut. Like a cold knot. And he wasn't all that fond of things cold. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Whatever it was though, he felt that the little bit of lead way he had given by the one he was reserving all his hatred for was being pushed. While he enjoyed the Morning Star’s company and they awaited his angelic son's return with his beloved neighboring Prince, he mulled over the news that Gilriael relayed to him. Some of it was amusing. Some of it not was so amusing. He didn't think Cirgoth's wanderlust was as strange as others might have. Even though Maelmorda had said it, did Marsol not go walk aimlessly? At random? The smile that played over his face was hidden as he put his arm up over his eyes when he caught the bit about Cirgoth helping Corwyn and Yorek escape their pursuers; Even as the gateway Corwyn had made burped the young ones out and then shortly after the very impressive demonic frame belonging to Wyrvaust appeared to be yanked out. It might have gone unnoticed to the Morning Star's son and the young Prince, but not to him. Time had taught Marsol to pay attention to even the smallest of details; Maelmorda's time, of course.

He remained quiet as possible, what with being two sheets to the wind, until the Morning Star introduced himself. Oh how that got the laughter out of the dragon lord despite being elbowed which nearly caused him to sit up. It was just so funny to him, but maybe that was on account of how much he had drank before the trio had arrived to their little camp fire. Or maybe he naturally found it comical of the Morning Star to say such things; no matter their importance or relativity to the current situation. Although his laughter was short lived the instant those cloven hoofed ankles grew close enough, he would be of the grabby nature to bring his fellow clansman down to their level. The bronzed frame in the black loose fitting breeches, dense of cotton, bent as he rose up onto a knee with a leg bent under him. The terms for Wyrvaust’s punishment, no matter how shallow or deep they may have run; would now be thrown out the window with this latest predicament. To put the Raven in harm’s way, which he was sure would have been done, was one thing, but to send him hounding after the young Prince? For what? He would shake his head at that thought and let it pass. Yorek was more valuable then first thought, and not just to Corwyn and Maelmorda, whom no doubt had grand plans for the desert prince.

And surely because Arilwen still held that most magical orb in her hands, or maybe she set it down, she would see how hard an eye he was casting on Wyrvaust before he let go of the demon’s ankle and then sat back on his haunches. He knew Wyrvaust only did as he was told because, at the time, he really had no alternative. None that would let him come out in one piece anyway. His anger wasn't directed at his friend, it was just that direction it was currently turned to. Now seeing as how he was two sheets to the wind, he couldn't hold that hardened gaze very long before a small smile broke out and he patted the goat-like demon’s shoulder. A bit hard, but it was all in good fun. He would have lowered back onto his keister but with the smell of blood in the air, those fine tuned instincts of his sparked. Even though it was a bonding act, it didn't lessen the fact that this was testament to the changes coming. He wanted to ask the Raven why, but he kept silent for now. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, because it would just make his hatred of Sammael all that more vibrant in its intensity. However, that didn't mean Wyrvaust would get away from this scene unscratched. Wyrvaust would know in the tight hold Marsol’s hands took on random places over his ankles and wrists that the dragon lord would rather the Raven was dead then serve Satan. Anyone but him; It wasn't just about honor or code anymore.

"Since when has it been okay to look and go for another?" he asked, getting hot under the collar now all thanks to that tasty drink possibly, "Who so ever can command the Raven? Who else can spur you into movement than I?"

He would not have any words Wyrvaust may or may not have said. He put up a hand if Wyrvaust tried to speak. Cutting him off with, "Be it pain or death, you would do his bidding; you, my clansman, my brother, my friend? You would do what all he asks of you? Catch Yorek and bring him back? Back to a hell of an existence surely awaiting him, if he isn’t living one already! Never again, Wyrvaust. Whatever business you had with Sammael, it is finished. Consider your ties with that miscreant burned."

He was seven different kinds of pissed off by the time Corwyn had finished bonding Yorek, and Maelmorda was posing to him that age old question of just whom he was aligned with. His cup he had dropped in the whole jostling of Wyrvaust’s shoulders and then hauling the demonic man to his feet. He released his hold on the Raven’s shoulders and half turned away from him, taking a few steps around Maelmorda and to the edge of the fire light. He was pacing, because it was all he could do not to just go find Sammael and kick his teeth in.

"To side with you have I always," he asked Maelmorda, which was his own version of an answer. "Your breath is wasted if you think you can reason with him. It has been in the works for a long time, but it surprises me that no one has noticed until now. There'll be war, but you already knew this. Didn't you?"

From where he stood his eyes burned on Maelmorda, as his maker’s greens pinned him. They were old enough to know a catastrophe in the making when they smelled one. Marsol was just too tired to be more polite with his words about it. He had heard the rumors; of people doing strange things. Things they would never normally do in their right mind; humans attacking humans and their immortal neighbors alike. Some of the villages bordering his territories had had such ruining. When questioned, the culprits were all in bouts of either insanity or a calm calculating that shocked their questioners. He had most of the men executed without a second thought for killing the innocent villagers, but a few he had imprisoned for further interrogating. Not that it ever did any good. Some babbled about horrible things they knew these killed people would have done. While others simply babbled. What was happening? He was sure it was Sammael’s doing, even though he had no real proof of it. It was just a gut feeling at the time. Now Maelmorda just confirmed the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. An all out war? Between two he never would have thought to. Maybe he was being callous with his verbatim but he didn’t really give a hoot anymore. The Morning Star asked him a question, and he answered; to the best of his ability.

"I remember that one whose shape was more confusing then his words," he said.

Although it would have been amusing how his brows furrowed and it could have been considered mockery on Sarku’s part because Marsol himself became confusing in his own hellish way.

"Give my regards to Sarku," he said as he turned back to the fire to give his farewells to the Morning Star and watch him and the two young ones depart from the desert.

He knew that smile the Morning Star made and that he would perfect the safety of Sarku’s castle in no time at all. Good thing too. After Maelmorda, Corwyn and Yorek were gone, his gaze thinned on Wyrvaust wherever it was the clansman was. If he was still near. At first he wanted to ring his neck but, that was just from frustration and from him playing into Sammael’s hands. He reminded himself it could have been worse, much, much worse.

"Go home," was all he said as he came over to the fire and crouched down by it.

He seemed not to have anything further to say. Or maybe he was just keeping silent because he had nothing good to say? If Wyrvaust tried to talk to him he would bark the words go home again, and the fire in front of him would burn three times brighter then normal. The flames reflected in the amber of his eyes as well as the agitation there in. He may have been overly harsh but it couldn't be helped. The world was on the verge of something unspeakable, and he did not like the nagging sensation in the back of his mind that there was something he was missing. Something he should have done, but hadn't. It annoyed him. Toying at the edge of his consciousness like that. Part of his mind was splintered between the desert and the Morning Star’s news, and the green eyed angel flying to wherever it was he did out there in the sands. If Wyrvaust turned his back for even an instant and then decided to try one last time to talk to the desert creature, he would find his friend was no longer there. His outline could be seen up high on the sand dune running east and west just barely within sight of the canyon they had all gathered in. He was walking, but he was walking alone. There was nothing in the direction he was heading, nothing for miles; but he wasn't seeking anything, so that served its purpose. He would walk for hours until the sun peaked and the desert glowed with the early morning light. He walked until the heat rose to unbearable heights and his own high wore off. Or so he thought. While he moved though the desert he spoke to those red scales wryms. He related the ominous truth of what he now knew and what they needed to prepare for. Word was sent and in just a few days time the desert was in an uproar. The people that had made towns and small quiet villages there in the harsh terrain were all informed of what was what. Being the people of these lands, they had a right to know. They were offered refuge in way of being whisked out of the desert to safer and greener parts but to some of the messengers and mages surprise, most declined. They would be told that there were many cities in the world, some wondrous and rich like Hawkers Fort for instance, but that too was turned down.

Few actually did leave the desert when the officials of their reigning Lord came with their scrolls of parchment and talismans, and those that did were the young and old; those that could not fight and those that their families didn’t wish to. There was a pride in them, and it was upheld by them staying. It was the only way they could show that this was their home. They couldn’t just simply leave it, no matter how dire the circumstances. It made it all the more easy for the people to arm themselves, not just with swords or shovels, but with knowledge. Although dismaying as it was, knowledge was power too. As the desert and her people tried to work out just how to handle the danger they faced; he returned to his hot caves within the depths of those lively fissures and spewing mouths of the volcanoes to enhance the protection of his home. All those under his command Marsol bid them to various meetings he conducted to give quick but brief instructions.

Scouts were sent on an unofficial looking convoy to Hawker’s Fort. They were of the highest ranking demonic divisions as well as their overseeing leader, which could be considered their general. This chief was old and battle hardened. He was missing his left eye and had a nasty scar that ran from the right corner of his mouth all the way to the side of his neck. The squad of eight plus the old one were on the move to Hawker’s Fort to meet with the authorities there and to find if any new situations had arisen. Most of all though, they had been sent baring gifts as was rare custom to the supreme governing bodies and to inform them that they had the support of Ríosh es Aerseoi and all her people. The desert dwellers all clothed themselves in simple dark grey clothes that wrapped their forms loosely as well as the coverings for their heads. Red sashes tied at their waists and draped over their right shoulders and hooked underneath their arms. If asked of Prince Yorek’s domain, they would not hesitate or give pause to telling the horrid fate that had befallen the young promising one’s home lands. That is, if someone asked them. If the convoy remained in Hawker’s Fort longer then two days they would ask one of the governing bodies available if they had heard news of Yorek’s home. One way or another they made sure that this city knew that the atrocities were not just secluded here but were happening everywhere probably. The gifts they brought were naturally of the finest jewels mined from the caverns running within the deserts belly. Since the city would have more use of them then they would, the jewels splendor was hardly given a second glance when the obsidian chests were opened to reveal their contents. A long rack of fine weapons ranging from sword to spear to halberd alike were also brought in on that caravan that came out of the crackling gateway of flames at the edge of the city. These weapons were reserved for only the select few of Hawker’s Fort that were even remotely familiar with Marsol’s lands; that being all those important folks and you know who they were. Especially crafted and made in just a few days time, each piece of lethalness given out to their designated possessor. The small squad of eight came to bring news and take it. Sharing and lending no sympathy if terrible truths were revealed. It wasn’t that they were ordered to be so flat or unreadable in their expressions and movements. They just had no time to be so flimflam. As they gathered, if they were able to, the leader and oldest of the bunch conveyed all he heard and saw to Marsol.

The desert creature left Anna not in Wyrvaust’s care, but as company for the Raven’s beauteous Swan. He knew the human was quite fond of the new mother and she had spent every waking moment with her for the short time they had been in the desert before she had died at the claws of the shadow fiend. He could see it plain as day through the human’s movements when she fussed over the Ravens son, and how she wouldn’t really let Arilwen do any of the wife duties. She insisted on helping to clean if there was any of it to be done. However, he fetched Wyrvaust as well as Anna for something he had to tell them face to face. He related, just as Gilriel did over Cirgoth and the convoy in Hawker’s Fort, by way of telepathy that he wished to bond he and Anna. And as soon as Cirgoth had had enough of his fluttering about, him too. He said to Wyrvaust that he could refuse it, and he wouldn’t think any lesser of him, although he wouldn’t be as understanding with Anna. She had no real choice in the matter. As soon as the Raven came, along with the human he had taken into his home to raise all those years ago, he would find the dragon chieftain sitting in one of his personal chambers he reserved for when he was in his dragon form. Why? He wanted not only to bond the both of them, but to show the little tuff of a human who he really was. Just in case this war that was coming really was as bad as he felt it was going to be. He wanted Anna to see that not all things big and small were terrible, despite how they appeared on the outside, and he wanted to offer her the choice of having abilities far beyond those of a mere human. To better arm herself in the future. Maelmorda had really struck a cord in him when he talked about those close to him. Even mentioning the human could and very well would fall into the hands of something most vile again, he would rather not think about that right now. Those brownish golden pools looked up from where he sat on the edge of a wide and long slab of stone positioned in the center of the enormous space he had called the Raven to. It looked like the inside of a cave; and yet there was a giant hole somewhere above that let the soft glow of fire filter in and illuminate the room. He had a bit of a soft spot for the humans. Did it show now as the young lady with the fiery red head of unruly curls rushed over to greet him with a bear hug and two kisses to his cheek? He smiled as a hand was placed on top of her head where she slid downwards to sit on her knees to his right. Where he wore a deep green suit over a dark brown tunic and breeches, he wasn’t hindered where he drew up his right leg to lay its ankle on top of his left knee. He was bare foot though, even though he was wearing that suit of leather and bits of over metal as if he was about to head out for war.

"Have you thought of your answer to what I have asked of you," Marsol asked Wyrvaust, that is if the Raven had not answered him already... Wyrvaust was caught unawares, for he had barely arrived to see whose company he had joined, when he was yanked forcibly from the shadows to hear Maelmorda's scathing words. He had barely registered that Maelmorda was there when he was promptly spilled off his feet by Marsol's quick jerk on his ankles to land with a thud, his wings folding up beneath him. Only as his gaze leapt forward did he realize Marsol was there as well. As he was pulled this way and that by his fetlock ankles and wrists until he seated by his master, he felt the dragon chief's fiercely possessive disposition through the hardness of his grip on him, which did not relent when his thigh and arm were held in a way which told him just where he belonged. He bowed his head deeply to his king in a submissive posture of respect. "My Lord...Forgive your servant," his voice wavered as he asked forgiveness for numerous reasons.

The silence which followed held Wyrvaust captive to his shame. Despite the tempting scent of blood and the presence of the Morning Star himself, the only presence he was held in arrest by was Marsol's. When the Lord of Red Dragons addressed him to ask why and how he could possibly allow his loyalties to stray shame bit so deeply at Wyrvaust that he felt feverish and as if his chest was caving in to engulf his heart. Shaming himself in the eyes of Marsol was worse than death to the Raven. "Went the Raven to..." Marsol silenced him and Wyrvaust tensed to listen to the demands which followed. Marsol's words both stung at his heart and uplifted him. He wished only to be commanded by Marsol, and resolved he would defy Sammael against any risks rather than serve him again.

Wyrvaust swung around to settle on bent legs, his posture bowed over with his head pressed against Marsol's legs, his wings spread and curved inward in worshipful reverence to his lord. "Went your friend to the snake of sins to uphold the standard of possession to protect what he loves. Retaliated the serpent to lift up his right as the Prince of Demons to command your faithful servant. Said he that if the Raven defied him, the standard of possession would be forfeit to the Raven, and knowing the standards and practices of Acheron as his sire taught them to him, the Raven knew his words to be terribly true. No wish had your loyal servant to yield to his command, but no choice could his mind grasp. Still, the Raven refused against any threat the demon god could make to ever act against the Lord of the desert he loves with all his heart. Never shall the Raven submit to Sammael's command or beck again, on his life he vows. I beg your forgiveness, for without it, life has no meaning to the Raven."

If Marsol tried to stop him from speaking his shrift, Maelmorda would encourage Marsol to hear him out. He wanted to know what kind of tactic Sammael had used to woo Wyrvaust's cooperation. When Wyrvaust was done spilling his heart to the only man he loved; Maelmorda's jade-green eyes thinned into slits. "You caved to bogus claims, Wyrvaust. Sammael was trying to swindle you. Marsol had claim over you long before the Desert Wind knew you existed."

"He...unaware was he of that...or never would the Raven have..." He gasped as Marsol grabbed him and pulled him down beside him roughly to silence him once again. Wyvaust shut his trap. He could see that Marsol had head enough.

As Marsol sat swilling on that tasty mixture and churned in his own violent thoughts, Wyrvaust curled against him to nuzzle and paw at him with desperate affection. The demon was like some huge winged kitten with eyes only for the dragon he loved. Despite all of Wyrvaust's strengths his mind was a fragile piece of machinery which could easily be cracked wide open when his place with Marsol was threatened. Maelmorda knew that when push came to shove, there was no one Wyrvaust could love more deeply than Marsol. He loved Arilwen and his child with the rest of his heart but Marsol owned his soul. It was simply the way it was, no devices necessary. Devices in their case were to protect their genuine bond.

When Marsol jarred him by his shoulders he straightened and had barely done so when he was dragged to his feet. He looked stoned the way he stood loose in posture and expression. His eyes traveled between Marsol and Maelmorda as loyalties were declared. Maelmorda rose with them and shrugged when Marsol made his opinions of trying to make peace with Sammael known and alleged that the Morning Star already knew the war at hand was coming. "Oh I noticed, trust me, but until now I had nothing substantial enough to call him on it. Sammael is damn clever and we had better not forget that. Now that it is known, and Acheron is unsealed, he shall no doubt desist in being sneaky about it and charge in. Many thousands shall die and worse before it is done. How many people were in Inaaksu, five thousand or more? And Yorek is the only true survivor. Those who still live are already either slaves or monsters he controls." There was no use in dabbling with maybes when the facts were as lucid as the dunes under a cobalt-blue sky.

Maelmorda chuckled when Marsol related how he remembered Sarku. "Well, his guise is as motley as it can possibly get and permit him to still walk now. Whatever jumbled form he takes, and despite how bizarre his behavior can be, he is awesomely powerful and on our side. He is a good friend to have." Maelmorda smiled when Marsol said to send the ancient shapeshifter his regards. "He will be pleased that you are thinking of him." The morning star then embraced his beloved Anwarr and kissed both his cheeks before he embarked with his son and Yorek via that earth gate.

Wyrvaust was standing right beside Marsol when his gaze met those amber slits. The Raven said nothing when Marsol commanded him to go home. No, he embraced Marsol instead and kissed him with a fierce passion. The spicy flavors of their tongues joined in that kiss which Wyrvaust stole which was brief but deep and raw with love and devotion. The moment Wyrvaust released him; the Raven vanished into the shadows which his silky black flesh partnered with so perfectly. Wyrvaust was determined never to disobey Marsol. Never. When Marsol's divisions arrived at Hawker's Fort; the walls and towers of the citadel were well manned with archers, crossbow-men, mages, and spear men, while standing inside the city at eight points were catapults, trebuchets, and ballistae for firing large spears. Amunition dumps were beside each war machine and they were all manned. It was King Aurelius Emrys, the black dragon lord of Noct'maire and acting steward of the citadel, who met Marsol's men at the gate with a slew of mages. Aurelius greeted them to introduce himself to the standing leader, then explained that no one could enter the city until they had been scanned for possession and domination. He reported that it was a necessary precaution owed to the denizens of Hawker's Fort being preyed upon internally and the turned against each other. Hence he encouraged them to state their business while those who intended to enter the city were being probed efficiently by the mages at hand.

Once those who were fit to enter through the gates had received a clean scan, the massive gates were spared and Aurelius led them to the palace on horseback. The tribute of jewels and weapons were received with thanks and assurances that the treasure and arms would go far to equip An Morendor's people against the scourge which threatened to corrupt and lay ruin to their country. It would be used with their own wealth to build up stock piles of food and weapons and to pay the brave souls who joined the fight. Four knights of the Castellarn carried the treasure off to the palace vault, which was a well secured chamber where wealth was stored for safe keeping until it was distributed. The weapons were placed in the armory by Aurelius' Black Dragon Knights.

Marsol's men were hence led to a huge hall with a massive table at the center. There the leaders would sit. Food and wine was offered to the allies who had come to their aid, and any who remained outside of the city walls would also be served a banquet which would satisfy all races. Food was imperative to an army. As Aurelius was informed once more of the attack on Hassim, its villages, and its city of Inaaksu, he gleaned any new information that he could. He was not surprised to hear of the spiderweb of assaults on the villages scattered throughout the desert and stressed that the same kind of conflicts were widespread in An Morendor. He gave examples and also informed them of those who had not been touched and had a large map at hand which covered one end of the table, marked where the attacks had taken place and where the powers were. There were those whose power was too daunting to risk just yet; those whom the enemy had either not gotten around to or had overlooked, those whom could be aligned with Sammael; and those whom Sammael might attempt to ally with him. He had also marked where people who could not, or would not fight, could hide. Shrines were also marked, for they were often targeted for the powerful priests who resided in them. Aurelius informed them of those Lords who would stand to protect the people within their domains, such as Valis Urik and Mernaph Morash who had armies of their own. Large Divisions of elves were also marching from the northeast and south to vulnerable areas to protect the people there, while other divisions were marching to the Citadel and Cliff City. Each elven territory also kept a standing army on hand of their own. Blockades were being set up at passes through the mountains, at bridges and on roads. Between Marsol and Aurelius whose men were as unequaled in battle and tactics as their leaders, the country's defenses would quickly and masterfully be raised. The Nether and Maelvanor elves seemed to be building their own defenses but not bothering to lend support. "Valis is trying to convince the Nether of Gothhelm in the Lonely Cavern Mountains to join us," the king reported. He had a friend there, the King of Gothhelm, Dunngoth. "The bad news is, Goblins and dragonkin, who belief they have been untreated unfairly by humans, have united with other creatures and are marching in force to join up with Sammael's legions. There is no telling what he has offered those kinds. I have also heard that they took the Ghazi Clan fortress and that the vampires have allied with Sammael to save themselves. Their fortress is being used as a base, a very well fortified and easily defended base. The Ghazi vampires were just absurdly overwhelmed." That moved Sammael's divisions all too close to Aurelius's territory in the north. The moment Wyrvaust got home he stalked into the nursery where Arilwen and Anna were doting over Anwarr II and there embraced his wife ardently to lift her off her feet and kiss her with a passion that was almost ravenous. The taste of Marsol's desert spice still lingered on his tongue and lips. As he held her; his form shifted. Wings withdrew into the long slits torn in his robes and the shoulder blades and sides beneath, claws retracted, his face and body gradually melting into his handsomely browned and far leaner human features again. When he set her down he lowered himself with her until he was on his knees, his hands firmly cupped around the womanly curves of her hips which he worshipped. "The Raven has done his Lord a great injustice and shall make amends. A shamed man kneels before his beateous swan. He shall not rest until he has regained his honor." And this was the man Sammael wanted for what reason? He could only want to amuse himself by watching the Neffari Demon Priest's mind and heart crumble and his shame grow so intense that he would go to any lengths to take his own life. If he believed he could win Wyrvaust's loyalty, he was mistaken, and since he was rarely mistaken, the former scenario would be the only truth. It was a stroke of merciful fate that Sammael was unable to keep him tied to his deception long enough to claim that the Raven was his. Wyrvaust picked up his son and tossed him lightly in the air to catch him gingerly. The boy gurgled with happy laughter. The demon's arm then swept around Arilwen and after bowing his head to Anna in a belated greeting, he ushered his wife to a bench in the chamber and sat down with she and their child. Wyrvaust did not know what Marianna had or had not seen of his mishaps. He was not even thinking about that. The demon who had come to be so many things; ranger, scout, spy, priest, demon, husband, father and above all things Marsol's friend and servant; played with Anwarr and doted on his wife until Marsol's command came to call him his presence with Anna. His gaze drifted briefly as Marsol's voice infiltrated his senses with an offer to bond him and made it clear that the choice was his. The fiery gateway which roared to life to beckon them thereafter did not have to stand long in his son's nursery to mesmerize the child. Wyrvaust rose, kissed Anwarr on the cheek then handed him to his mother and kissed her deeply. He brushed his fingers briefly through her hair and then Anwarr's then linked his arm with Anna's and strode through the flaming fissure.

When Wyrvaust met his Lord; he released Anna's arm and dropped down on one knee with his other bare foot planted against the stone floor as his back bowed over in a deep kneel of respect within easy reach of Marsol. He remained bowed with his eyes lowered while Anna embraced Marsol and would not rise until Marsol beckoned him to do so. When Marsol asked Wyrvaust if he had arrived at an answer, the Desert Raven's head lifted to level his dark brown eyes with Marsol's amber ones. "There is nothing to think about, My Lord. The Raven is thy man until he dies," he pledged with his heart. "He would be honored to receive thy bond." If Marsol had not been sure if Wyrvaust was unaware that he had bonded by him before all those ages ago, he knew now. Wyrvaust did not remember. He had been out of his mind and very ill when Marsol had bonded him. It was a bond which required strengthening, for Marsol had not laid his everlasting mark on him when he had forced his blood into him as a result of the clan demon being too frail to drink it himself. Indeed his simple blood bond might have faded by now altogether. Wyrvaust had been with Marsol for over six hundred years, for what might as well have been all his life. A terribly pained look then knitted his facial features and darkened his eyes. "My Lord...The Raven suffers so for disappointing the Lord he loves. How can he rectify his terrible errors?" Gilriael emerged out of the darkness eclipsing the desert to approach Cirgoth in elven form as the angel threw some more sun dried branches on the fire. It was the second night of the angel's scouting venture. Three demon scouts had spotted Cirgoth shortly after noon and taken wing to engage the angel in an aerial assault. Gilriael and the others had not even had to defend him. Cirgoth slew all three of them with nothing other than his sword, his arcane endowments never ever called on. "Cirgoth, may I speak to thee?" The angel regarded him a moment then nodded his head whereof Gilriael sat down across from him by the fire. Cirgoth made a good fire, something desert and native people appreciated. "Do you trust in my wisdom?" he began by asking the Malezar.

"You have proven yourself wise to me, Gilriael the Bard," Cirgoth replied honestly.

"Then take my words to heart. From thy Lord hold thyself not apart. What came of Cirgoth was the fault of his enemy. His broken faith in himself is gravely empty. His hand at the sword is that of legend. His will to protect proves his heart a godsend. He loves so violently that where there is no blame in him, he sees the failures his enemies forced on him as his own demons. Repudiate the demons within thy soul, and return home where thou art cherished as a whole. Fear not love and forgiveness, where thou hast the courage to be so magnanimous. Too proud is he to admit aloud that he needs thee as the desert needs the sun's flame, but we that know him see that without thee he is not the same. Thou and only one other have ever been able to tame him, thou and the morning star alone have ever taken his shame from him."

Cirgoth's gaze thinned on him. "What reason has he to carry any shame?"

"What reason hast thou to carry any blame?" Gilriael riddled.

"I...I have failed everyone..."

Gilriael shook his head and cut his hand across the air. "No, they failed themselves. Marcania rejected thee because ye loved what he perceived as a monster. Alone he challenged powers he could not possibly conquer. He chose to meddle in affairs, he had no business taking a share of. Thane chose his path as well, to serve the master of hell. Did Wyrvaust relent, did Marsol, did thee despite being dominated and violated? Did Cirgoth permit himself to subvert his true loyalty and offer the lord of demons his fealty?"

Cirgoth shook his head. "I very nearly did..." He whispered.

"Very nearly but thou resisted a god few can oppose, when in the clutches of the mighty will he imposes. Instead of feeling guilt and disgrace, thou shouldst rejoice in pride thy escape."

"I am not sure I did escaped," Cirgoth confessed quietly.

"What do you mean?" Gilriael searched.

"I was weakening...and he let me go. He showed me mercy."

"What is thy opinion of that?" Gilriael asked.

"I remember him from Haman. We were like brothers once. I fought at his side during the first rebellion, when Lucifer led his host against Haman. When Sammael led the second rebellion, I refused to fight against my fallen brothers. I am not sure, but I think he let me go because he remembered that he once loved me as a comrade."

Gilriael stared at him. "That is a dangerous assumption, one he may be hoping thou wilt make. If he finds thee alone in this desert thou mayst find that his mercy has a limited life. He might decide Marsol is taking poor care of thee. Ye know not yet how the ancients think!" he warned.

Cirgoth's eyes fell away into the fire and as he stared off into the flames Gilriael's eyes hardened on him. "I can see what thou art thinking, Cirgoth. Dare not test the Prince of Demons! He is no friend to thee! If ye believe can protect Marsol by offering thy friendship to him, thou art saddly mistaken!"

Cirgoth pinned the elf with his verdant green eyes. "How can you presume to know Sammael's mind. Perhaps he is not as evil as everyone believes. Maybe all he needs is someone to place their faith in him to steer him the right way. I must know if it is possible."

"And that is why ye patrol the desert? In hopes of proving or disproving this insane and preposterously dangerous theory of thine?" he saw right through Cirgoth.

"In part, yes. In the meantime, I can do what I can to gather information and defend innocents."

"And what if ye disprove thy hopes in the worst way? What then?"

"Then I shall prove my true courage and loyalty to Marsol by resisting him if he wants my soul," Cirgoth told him flat.

"Go home, Cirgoth and let Marsol bond thee. Ye implored him to bond thee and he wishes to do so now. Go to him immediately, Cirgoth. Sammael could be watching us from afar as we speak!"

Cirgoth scowled. "Think me a fool if you wish, wise bard, but I shall not return to Marsol and my sons until I can prove to myself than I am worthy of Marsol!" At that the angel sprang up and beat his wings furiously against the air to launch himself into rapid flight. Before Gilrial could begin to shift back into dragon form, the sky lit up in a rippling vortex around the angel and Cirgoth vanished in a quantum leap.

"Marsol!" Gilriael cried to his Lord telepathically. Hence he explained everything that had passed between him and Cirgoth to his great dragon lord. It aggravated Halen that Argal was so calm; so hard to shake. He could not recall ever having seen the cabalist lose his temper. Not that Argal was a stranger to anger; it was just that few ever actually witnessed it. Once again the mage left Halen standing in a puddle of his own frustration unable to offer further protest. It did occur to the magistrate that the mage achieved his satisfaction in that way. Argal was a professional and it showed when it mattered most. His screwy habits never interfered in his duties. Halen both respected the man and was wary of him; as he was most immortals. "Cold fish," he hissed after him beneath his breath.

The man sat down to work the moment Argal withdrew. His case against the spies was already prepared so he unlocked the top drawer in his desk and pulled out his maps, which he then unrolled on his desktop. One was of the citadel, another of the kingdom itself. Red marks signified the residences and properties of dangerous (powerful) immortals. Blue marks distinguished all other immortals, those that were known anyway. He added one more red mark on an isolated tract south of the citadel in the Wild Horse Grasslands by the sea. It was owned by an ancient shapeshifter turned hermit ages ago. Little did Halen know that it was now the shared property of Maelmorda Kilcanoragh. The last two blues marks were added to the homes of a long time resident, and an angel's home he had been hesitant to include in his plans. The first blue spot marked an angel named Gehennor who had been very helpful as a seer, advisor and enchanter for some twenty years. He was an independent but he worked very well with Argal. The last blue mark he added dotted Argal's tower. The location of every last known immortal was now specified.

A knock fell on his door and he quickly rolled up the maps and locked them in the drawer then told the officer to enter; whereof a letter was delivered to him by Kedrek. He nodded to the man who waited to be dismissed while Halen read the dispatch. A frown darkened his facial features. A demon legion had sacked Prince Yorek Kassim's kingdom. It was all the fuel Halen needed to pursue his convictions with avid determination. The immortals had to be segregated from the Western Kingdom. "Take this dispatch to Argal Mortiari and the Castellarn Knights immediately. Tell them they are to meet with me in the palace counsel hall directly after affairs of courte have been settled." Argal would receive the dispatch with Halen's message inside half of an hour. The expression on Maximus's face drew a blank as Marianna gave him another noncommittal answer. "If that is the way it must be; I must guard myself then," he said frankly and he sounded a little pissed off. Hence he sat up to relieve her lap of the weight of his head. His eyes lit on her with cool self-possession as he cut himself off emotionally to her and himself. "I have been cautious for a long time, but I never allow fear to command my heart. Fear will make a slave of you as no creature can," he had her know. Indeed if anything, fear released him. "But I do not believe it is fear. I believe it is more simple than that. You do not love me. I would know it by now if you did unless you lie so well to yourself that even I am convinced by it. I can live with you being unable to return my affections, Marianna. I do not fall apart so easily." The man regarded her speculatively for a moment then continued to speak plain to her. "Do not mistake me when I reform my demeanor to its prior state of droll conviction towards duty. It is for the best for both of us with your disposition as it is." The sudden apathy which dominated him was a direct result of the defenses he raised so efficiently. He could not afford to let his heart get in the way of his head and his obligations, including those to her. Just like that he was the old Maximus who had been so familiar to her; steady, reliable, a rock of constitution which seemed unbreakable. "I sense that the thought of being enslaved disturbs you. Do not concern yourself it if it comes to the Castellarn claiming us as servants. These men are honorable and shall treat us with respect. If you have not noticed, they have gone out of their way to protect us, and to stand on our side. I must believe that it is because they know we are innocent. If they have some other agenda for doing so; we shall deal with that when it becomes clear to us. Now, have you any questions or concerns about our trial tomorrow? Is there anything you do not understand?" He was perfectly amiable now but his heart was caged. Maximus was not a man who let a woman screw with his heart and his mind, no matter how devoted he was to her or deeply he loved her. The man would answer all of her questions but dismiss any apologies she might make as a concern that was no longer on the table to be discussed. It was early morning the day before the trial and Argal had just returned from the magistrate's office and received the dispatch and message from the courte officer Kedrek. Marco entered the tower as Kedrek left, stepping aside to pull the youth he had in hand with him as the officer vacated the tower. When the doorway was clear; Marco entered dragging a very feeble young demon (by his looks at least) with him. Marco had been up all night trying to heal the fellow who had been in a coma-like sleep for two years. Felix was pale as a high moon, extremely thin, and obviously barely recovered. Lavoy was supposed to have been informed of Felix's state two months after he had been wounded but it had never come to pass. His clan brother Nic had been thrown in prison for killing a man and wounding another, both of whom, with three others had ambushed Nic for being blood to Mekkor. As a result, Felix had been laid up for two years and a month in his bed with injuries a wounding splinter prohibited from healing, injuries his sire had ordered no one in the clan to heal. It was supposed to bait Lavoy by preying on the fact that he cared for the attractive young demon that was smitten by him. Marco had a devil of a time detecting and identifying the necromantic splinter which made Felix impervious to healing powers, including his own powers of regeneration. Marco had found the splinter nevertheless and healed Felix of as much of the damage as possible given the time limit they had. The rest of his health Felix would have to recover over a span of time on his own.

Felix was too sick, depressed, and tired to be afraid when he was taken before Argal. He looked like Hell frozen over. When he was offered a seat he took it and looked around the room vacantly while Marco addressed Argal.

"The kid has been laid up in his bed for over two years with wounds no one bothered to heal or have healed. His guards would not let me enter the manor until I told them I had a writ which would allow me to bring down their wards and take him by force." Marco held the writ he had forged up for Argal to see then tossed it into the fireplace. "Gehennor and I broke down the mark and seal on a necromantic splinter which held him in stasis of near death. They bore Mekkor's signature. He own sire enchanted whatever weapon left the splinter inside of him, and I have no doubt Mekkor ordered that no one touch him. For two years he has been haunted and tormented by the spirits of the dead realm as his spirit was held on the very edge of their domain. I cannot imagine the damage done to his psyche. Indeed he feels so betrayed that he is ready to talk." His gaze trained on the boy immortal. "Isn't that right, Felix?"

Felix nodded, his body trembling as he did. He no longer cared if he lived or died, or whether he betrayed the demon who had ordained that he suffer such horrors. He had always been loyal, done everything he was asked, no matter how terrible, and what was his reward? Mekkor used him without a thought of how much and what terror he agonized. He had already lived his own Hell, and could care less if Hell gave him its worst.

Marco was not without compassion for the boy and crouched down in front of him to peer up at him with empathy. "Tell us everything you know about the troubles in Hawker's Fort," he urged.

Felix met his gaze then glanced at Argal. He swallowed a dry knot in his throat and his gaze drifted off as Marco stood and backed away to stand beside Argal. "It is not just Hawker's Forte. It is An Morendor." A fact Argal could now verify. "But because this city is so strategically and economically important, the conflicts are concentrated here." His gaze then pierced Argal's eyes with a wounded look. "What you must understand is that the immortals are as much the victims here as the humans. A demon named Aze came to me and I was told by my sire to obey him. I could not tell that he was a demon. He seemed human by every sense I own but I was told that he was a demon. He said that they would lead an attack on my home, that it had already been arranged. He told me to do nothing to prepare for it other than maintain our routine defenses. He said that when the attack came, I was to go to the Palace and seek the aid of the Castellarn Knights. Aze said he and his men would do the rest when the knights came. The attack came unexpectedly a month later. They caught us off guard to make it look real. There were so many. I could not say which of them was controlled and which were not, but not all of them were. I gated to the palace as told to retain the knights and rode back with them. By the time I returned with the knights the conflict had risen into a chaotic riot. They came with torches, pitch forks, swords, axes, whatever weapons they had gotten their hands on, throwing the torches at warded windows which they bounced off of. The stables and trees caught fire however, and they cried out; 'Death to the fiends! Death to the spawn of Mekkor the foul, Mekkor the infamous! Death to their iniquity!' I dominated as many people as possible, reserving enough stamina for myself as I drew more stamina from our attackers. The attackers who used magic I rived to dismantle their power. I took up a position with the knights to defend them against those who had attacked my home. I got separated, crowded away from the knights by a mob of human warriors which all assailed me at once. I imagine some of them were dominated or possessed as well, I cannot say. I was only told what I needed to be told." Felix paused and drew in a dragging breath which made his lungs tremble.

"They almost decapitated me, almost dismembered me of every limb, gut me, cut me to ribbons until I was left hanging on the last thread of my life. The last thing I remember thinking as I was butchered alive; was how many of these men trying to kill me was I helping? Had I helped in their secret agenda? I was aware of only one phucking thing after that; I was so near dead that my spirit drifted in and out of the dead realm. They wanted me...but could not take me, so they tormented and tortured my soul in an attempt to weaken me."

He shut his eyes. "I took a part in it. I was a willing party to a plan that was never revealed to me but which needs no explanation! I am as guilty as they so perhaps I deserved what I got and what shall come of my guilt. I turned humans against immortals so that the immortals would have no choice but to fight back. As I myself had to fight off such attacks before I even knew what was happening. I cannot say how many demons did the same thing. Six came to my house and gave me those orders I obeyed like a god damn sheep. I was attacked at least three times by people their influence had touched before they ever came to me. Still I obeyed them. I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway, to prove my loyalty and love to my sire, whose execution meant nothing. His voice, his presence, his will reached me still." These things he spoke bitterly, tears escaping his dark brown eyes to roll down his cheeks. His tear glazed eyes then pierced Argal's intense green mirrors. "Acheron is rising up against An Morendor. That is what is happening here. If it is not stopped soon, it will be too phucking late. Do you understand? There is no telling who they turned to their side, or how many they have possessed, dominated, or influenced. Their attack is an internal one, a recondite assault on the very integrity of the people!" The youth slumped into his chair and covered his face with his hands. "I was supposed to bring the Black Lion Clan to Sammael's side...I couldn't...I just couldn't. Tell Lavoy not to give in to him...Beg him not to give in!" he sobbed.

Marco blew a long shaky breath as the demon confessed everything he knew. The bastards were clever. They had drawn him in without exposing who the hell they were. They still had no names but one; Aze, and it was very likely an alias. His eyes trained grimly on Argal. "If this gets out it will cause a panic. We must call all of An Morendor's long standing chiefs and lords to a meeting immediately and come up with a plan of action. Distrust and prejudice must be set aside if anything is to be accomplished. In the meantime, we must place Felix in protective custody here. I can think of no place he would be safer than your tower. His testimony will aid in convincing the others that we must unite against the nemesis we are up against, or fall to the Prince of Acheron." His eyes thinned when Argal informed him of the take over of Inaaksu and Hassim by demons. "It has begun already then. They shall use many of those they capture or assault to make more legions of, dead warriors and the like. Every hour we delay the more their legions shall spread. We must act quickly. I must go now and inform Aurelius and Maelmorda of these tidings. I trust you to inform those who you place your faith in." The demon-angel eyed Argal a moment; sure the mention of Maelmorda had to made him edgy, hence he took his leave without further word, abandoning Felix to Argal's guardianship. The arch-mage had several chambers in his tower for detaining prisoners, two of them very comfortable, the others bare for those who might prove dangerous to others, or even themselves.

Even as Marco stepped outside of the Palace gate; he sent a sending of Felix's confession to his sire and Maelmorda and informed them telepathically that a demon legion had sacked Inaaksu and the eastern kingdom. Aurelius was still in An Morendor presently and if anyone could find a resolution to the attack their country was under, Aurelius could. Had Marco known that Maelmorda was in An Morendor as well, he would have felt even more confident. Much as Maelmorda made those who understood who and what he was nervous, he protected An Morendor and Morashtar with fierce cunning and devotion. Morashtar was his favorite child. As Marco walked down the street, making a mental list of the Lords which needed to be contacted; he wondered if it would all come to a head as a war between Acheron's legions and the people of An Morendor.

An entire day had been wasted in the trial; meanwhile Sammael's legions were spreading their poison by making monsters and slaves of their targets. Black Camelot would be under siege by morning, as another legion emerged from Acheron through gateways to surround the castle. The Ghazi clan would either have to fight and risk perishing, or join forces with Sammael's legions. Maximus retired to his bed early and suggested that Marianna do the same. If she showed signs of being unable to sleep because of nerves, she would be administered a mild sedative on the sly in a glass of wine by Vesh to help her sleep. Had Maximus known of the meeting which took place with Marco and Argal, he would never have been able to sleep himself. Knowing that an infernal war was taking place would not be of any benefit to him or Marianna until they were clean of their present situation.

Morning came quickly as did the trial. It was held in the City Park just west of Tyr Cadarn Palace. A stage had been set up which resembled a courte room. There were two heavy chairs for the defendants, a large table across from them for the magistrate on one side, and on the other side a chair where each witness would sit while testifying. Guards and Knights surrounded the prisoners on three sides, including those who would be called to testify. On the grass below the platform, every last citizen of the citadel that was available had turned out to judge the spies, immortals and mortals alike, and the mortal population far exceeded the immortal one.

Halen had done his homework, whether through questioning the right people, or divination factors, their lives were layed bare before the courte and citizens who filled the park around the stage. Two jury booths were set up to the right and left of the stage, where each citizen would cast his or her vote for judgment on each charge; guilty or not guilty on four counts of murder, each count on a separate ticket (Max), or of espionage (Max and Marianna); and the sentence; execution, acquittal, or imprisonment. Among those who showed up for the trial were Aurelius and Maelmorda. Maelmorda was well dressed, a nobleman by all appearances, and had slipped right past the city's guards unnoticed. Aurelius on the other hand rode in with an impressive escort, flying his dragon banners. He made no secret that he was coming to witness his progeny, and future progeny's trial.

All of the Castellarn Knights testified on behalf of the accused. They had gathered as much evidence to acquit both of them as time allowed. They proved Maximus a reliable ally with an exemplary record of service for his kingdom and their allies alike. They proclaimed that he had been targeted for no other reason than being a vampire, pointing out that his attackers had no way of knowing that Max and Marianna had posed as Dimtri and Naomi as independent investigators sent by their king to aid Hawker's Fort in a time of need. When asked what the need was, Morgrym stated that the conflicts in the citadel and surrounding areas had led to many concerns that their kingdom was in danger of a disastrous civil war. A war between mortals and immortals which would pit neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend, and brother against brother. He cited several examples of mortal family members attacking sired brothers, sisters, or sons, sometimes in an attempt to kill. Two young vampires had lost their lives to a mortal family member over the past year, and several mortals had been killed by the related demon, werewolf, or vampire they had attacked. Both the Castellarn Knights and Argal presented cases of human races attacking immortals for no apparent cause other than fear, prejudice and hatred, while immortal attacks on humans had not risen but as a direct result of the persecution they had suffered over the past five years. The escalation of those conflicts was also pointed out. It was made apparent that Max had attacked no one, but defended himself from violent aggression.

Those who testified against Maximus pointed out that the vampire had killed all of the men who had threatened him. They claimed he had used unnecessary force, particularly in the case of the guards and mages which had entered his house, not to harm, but to seize him. Their claims could not be disproved, but it was stressed by those defending Maximus, that he was wounded and poisoned when the three he had killed at his house tried to take him into custody. The details of that incident were related by the Knights, who pointed out that the guards had no business being at the vampire's home in the first place. The guards and Qojo then testified that they had every right to be there, inasmuch as someone had reported that Maximus was dangerous. A neighbor who lived next door to 'Dimitri and Naomi' took the stand to give evidence that she was the one who reported seeing the vampire in a raving state of madness and reported it to the guards, afraid the vampire would hurt or kill someone. Because it could not proven that the guards had anything to do with poisoning Maximus, and because they had a witness to excuse their presence at the house, the guards could not be held suspect as being responsible for Maximus' condition or for being where they were not supposed to be. On the other hand; when Morgrym took the stand and stated under pledge that the men who had entered the home to seize Maximus had acted irresponsibly, he did cast the guards in a poor light. He pointed out that they had been trained to approach blood crazed vampires with extreme caution, and in methods of disabling vampires in that state without harm to the vampire, themselves or others.

"They acted recklessly," he said. "They should have also known the risks going in. It is not the fault of Maximus Caerellius that he was very poorly handled while he was delirious with a blood rage brought on by a poison which threatened to bleed him out and caused him no small amount of agony. This man has murdered no one. He simply defended himself. He did not kill the elf Druvas either. His body was examined with other evidence, and it was exactly as Matthew Marcus claimed; he poisoned himself when he was captured. These are very strange circumstances which we all must question. It becomes all too obvious that someone, or a group of people, wanted to persecute this man, and perhaps even make him appear guilty of murder, when in fact, he is innocent. Look at the evidence people. I would not defend this man if I was not positive that he was innocent."

The knights played the Independent Investigators card hard when the charges of espionage were addressed. Their card was trumped by the king of spades which Halen played. Had Maximus and Marianna, or Lord Aurelius informed the king or magistrate of their intentions, then they could have proven themselves innocent of espionage. Because they had acted independently and covertly, Max so much as disguising his true identity from the very authorities, while Marianna took an alias, they could not prove they meant to gather information against the Western Kingdom. He pushed hard for the charge of espionage to stand and won the people's vote. Morgrym had advised Max, Argal, Marianna and his knights not to bring up the fact that the two did not reveal themselves to the king or magistrate, because they suspected outside influences might be controlling authorities on high levels. Morgrym stressed that it would only be taken as an accusation against the city's most beloved leaders and pit the people against them. He was right about that. The people would have wanted to see them both executed if they smeared their leaders reputations with unproven suspicions they would have taken as accusations to undermine their kingdom.

When Maximus took the stand he claimed that he had forced Marianna to act as his partner by domination factors without either his Sire's or Marianna's consent or knowledge. It was the only lie he had told in taking the stand, in all else he was blatantly honest. When Argal, shocked by the revelation and suspecting it was a fabrication asked why, Maximus told him straight faced that it was because of personal reasons.

"I am in love with her and had no wish to be parted from her. I felt I might woo her from the father of her children if we worked together on a mission of intrigue. I wanted her to see that I was confident in her, and believed in her. I want her for my wife. I never intended for her to face prison or such accusations as face us both now. I never imagined that by attempting to help this kingdom, either of us would be accused of being spies."

While Maximus spoke, Marcav leaned over to whisper in Marianna's ear. "Do not dare disclaim him, it will only make him look like a liar," he warned for her ears alone.

"Why did you not just force her affections as you forced her to go along with your task, rather than risking her as you claim you have?" Halen asked suspiciously.

"Love has no value if it is not honest. I knew she would never leave her children to take part in an investigation without a little push from me. And as I mentioned, I was blinded by selfish desires and failed to see the dangers I placed her in."

When all was said and done; and all the votes had been accounted for and recorded, Maximus was acquitted of all charges of murder but both he and Marianna were found guilty of espionage. Because they served Noct'maire, charges of treason had been thrown out immediately. Espionage carried an incontestable sentence in Hawker's Fort of either execution (if intention to harm a kingdom or its leaders was proven) or twenty years imprisonment in the Citadel Dungeon, twice that for an immortal. The claims Maximus made of having forced Marianna to take part in the mission were thrown out because he could not prove his influence over her. As such, Marianna was sentenced to twenty-five years imprisonment, and Maximus a term of fifty years. Halen made it known to Marianna however, that if it could be proven at a later time that she had been dominated; she could appeal her sentence. Maximus had taken a shot in the dark to get Marianna off and it had failed. One thing alone stopped the people from imposing the execution penalty on Maximus by finding him guilty of murder; The presence of Aurelius and his well armed escort. They feared the dragon lord of the north and would not dare risk signing an order to execute his eldest progeny in his presence, where he could see the faces of those responsible. Maximus and Marianna were clapped in irons and led away by the guards and several knights to the dungeon; where Maximus was locked up in the high security level of the prison, the bottom level, while Marianna was taken to the first level where human females were immured. It was nightfall by then.

"Everything will be alright, Marianna," Maximus promised her with a smile just before they were separated and taken to their cell blocks.

Morgrym approached Aurelius when Marcav, Callum, Penduyn and Kemen of the Castellarn escorted the prisoners to the penitentiary with a handful of guards. "Lord Emrys," he greeted him with a bow. "I am Morgrym, First Knight of the Castellarn Eagles. I regret that Sir Maximus and the lady have been so unfairly imprisoned. I have no doubt of their innocence. The judgments were taken out of our hands when Magistrate Halen Dreward ordered a public trial and jury. I and my knighthood have plans to remove them from their prison terms with the Prisoner Slave Act. By our authority, and with thy consent, we, the Castellarn Knights, shall claim them as our servants and hold ourselves responsible for their actions thereafter. The act demands that they serve their self-appointed masters as slaves for a duration equal to the term they would have served as prisoners. When a claim is made, the prisoners have the right to refuse enslavement. Both of them shall receive duties that are equal to their talents while serving under us. I am confident however that this situation shall be resolved long before their term is up," he assured. "There is a matter we are now called to address, and I request that you join us. It concerns the Kingdom of Hassim, the territory that was until recently ruled by Yorek Kassim."

Maelmorda had watched the trial with interest while standing in the shadow of Aurelius and his tall war horse. When Morgrym approached, and with him Argal who stood quietly listening to the man as he spoke to An Morendor's most powerful King, his gaze shifted to lock on Argal. The devil who was known in An Morendor as Maelmorda Kilcanoragh, a powerful immortal of unknown kind, who some recognized as the sorcerer which ruled the continent itself as an elusive high king, dipped his head in a silent greeting to Argal and smiled. Only Acheron's own knew he was the Morning Star and the father of Acheron and its first generation legions. At the moment, half of those legions and all the rest were loyal to Sammael. "I am acquainted with the situation in Inaaksu the desert region of Hassim. Prince Kassim is currently under my protection."

Morgrym leaned his gaze on the man who spoke with crisp tones. "And who are you, Sir?" Though Ikael, the formless one possessing the knight, was quite aware of whom Lucifer was, Morgrym had never met him. Everyone in Morashtar, unless they were totally isolated, had heard of him. If Ikael was unnerved by Maelmorda's presence, Morgrym did not show it. Maelmorda, Sammael, Behemoth, and Raziel were the only beings who could identify their presence. The beqidum had nothing to worry about though. Maelmorda did not expose his own to outlanders of Acheron. No, he would make use of the positions they had taken, seek them all out, and if they defied him, he would send them back to Hell's Pit.

Maelmorda's lips curled as he met the man's gaze with unnerving acuity. "I am Lord Maelmorda Arghyle Kilcanoragh, and I expect to be asked to attend this meeting you have invited my best man to," he had the knight know.

Morgrym paled as he would be expected to do in the presence of An Morendor's high king. The knight bowed deeply to him. "Please, Sir, your wisdom in the matter would be greatly appreciated." At that, the knight led the way to the hitching posts which had been set up in the park for the trial, the remainder of his knights following after Aurelius, Argal, Maelmorda, Morgrym and Aurelius' escort. After mounting their horses (Maelmorda rode double with Aurelius) the knights escorted the two kings and their envoy to the Palace and the council hall on the first floor. On the way to the hall; Aurelius was told politely that his escort could wait for him in the banquet hall or palace court yard as they pleased. The council chamber was a large hall, well lit, and at the center was a large, rectangular table which could seat up to fourty people. Halen was already seated there with his Internal Affairs officers, Denfel and Broden. When everyone was seated; they were attended by servants who brought wine and food, whereof the serfs were dismissed. Only after the knights who had escorted Maximus and Marianna to the prison had arrived and also taken their seats, were the doors locked from the inside so that the private meeting could commence.

Halen's eyes immediately settled on Aurelius and Maelmorda who sat together; hence his gaze pinned Marcav. "What business has King Emrys and this other man being here? Who is this other man?"

"They have every business being here. We are in trouble, Lord Dreward, terrible trouble, and these two kings may be the only two men who can help us," he related gravely. "I give you Lord Kilcanoragh, Sir, High King of An Morendor," he introduced hence with a sweep of his hand towards the devil in their midst.

Halen's lips and cheek twitched noticeably and his gaze shifted nervously on Maelmorda. "What proof that he is who he claims to be?" he asked, his voice weaker than he would have liked.

"I would say your instincts are telling you it is the truth," Maelmorda voiced with a scoff. He grinned when Aurelius vouched for his identity. "There you have it, from the mouth of a king who never lies. He is too fearless to lie." He clapped Aurelius on the back and took a sip of his wine.

Halen shifted in his seat, tugged on his collar, then got on with it. "The Kingdom of Hassim has been seized by Acheron's infernal host." He glanced at Maelmorda as he cackled amusedly. Halen blew a breath. "They may target this city next..." he began only to be interrupted by Marcav.

"Argal has a report I believe you should listen to before you go any further, Sir," he advised.

Halen looked to Argal expectantly for him to explain. The magistrate was extremely unhappy about the presence of the two arch-beings and doing his best to pretend that they were simply kings who had come to offer their aid. He dared not allow himself to think too much in their company. Mariana felt a muscle in her jaw tick as Maximus sat up, his tone turning to quite a different note as he prepared to make it plainly seen that he was fed up and finished with her short run of confusion and uncertainty about the situation. Her dark eyes remained on him as he spoke, out of respect for him as an individual, but she had to look away ever so quietly as he told her that he doubted anything bad would come of slavery for them. Well, wasn't he ever the optimist? It was true, the knights HAD been kind, but men changed when power and ownership was laid in their hands. She could not be blamed for not being on the same page as him regarding the possibility of being owned by the knights. He easily told her not to concern herself regarding that matter. It took everything inside of her not to lash out at him. Pushed and then dismissed. She felt a large lump form in her throat and chest that didn't seem to budge when she swallowed, so she simply didn't answer until he asked if she had any questions about the trial. "None." It was one word, given in a dead voice before she rose and disappeared into the small back bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Mariana moved quietly to the window, looking out into the darkness over the garden. Her entire life, she had been rushed, pushed, ordered... her life and future in the hands of everyone but herself. After she ran from her life of slavery, her days and survival depended on others. She had been caught stealing at the convenience store and it depended on the kindness of the old owner to keep her free and give her a life, what little it was. After that, it was Tiber forcing a pregnancy on her. Then Seth. They were leaving. Now. After that, his decisions caused her to be shipped off to live at Noct'maire. She had been happy, raising her children and being taught things.... things she had never experienced before. So much so that she agreed to this mission. And now, a man that not only claimed to love her, but know quite certainly she was feeling, had pushed for the last few days in a flurry of emotions, expecting her to jump into his arms, carefree of anything they were facing. And when she tried to explain to him what she was feeling... her confusion and the strange new feelings he had give her... he had become fed up and dropped it completely. And now, her life was to be handed over to the mercy of the courts, and possibly after, the knights of the city. The knot in her throat tightened as she gazed blankly out the window, her arms wrapping around herself. She rarely received concern about how she was feeling, and had no guidance, save from Aurelius and Melissant. And here, the man stating his love for her, his need for her, had dumped quite a load in her lap and given her a few days before snatching it away. Mariana was quite certain, especially now, that love was something imagined, and that Maximus, among others, was still blind to that fact.

Stripping down to her undershift, Mariana lowered to sit on the edge of her bed, the only sound in the room being her quiet breathing. She barely remembered Vesh coming in to check on her and coaxing her to drink a bit of wine. After that, she curled up on top of the made bed and was out within minutes, later being thankful for a dreamless sleep. Argal was thrilled when Felix was delivered to his messy study, but immediately was concerned at the man's state. Marco had to explain how it happened and what had occurred when he went to pick him up, causing Argal to glance at the writ before it was burned. Marco really was an irreplaceable ally.

Felix looked like he had been run over by a gang of horses... over and over and over... and starved in the desert for decades. Argal immediately ordered him some weak wine, to be gentle on his stomach, and thanked him sincerely for coming. The story that followed was as shocking as it could get. It wasn't just Hawkers Forte. It was An Morendor in general. Acheron was rising against An Morendor. If it got out, everyone and their mother would have an absolute meltdown. Authority would not longer matter. While Felix spoke, Argal scribbled notes like a madman, making a messy transcript of what was revealed. When Felix began sobbing about Lavoy, Argal took a separate sheet of paper and scribbled out a note to Lavoy, which he would rewrite in awhile and have messengered to him.

Once Felix was done, Marco immediately played the task keeper, explaining what they must do. And Argal completely agreed. "Of course. Felix, you can remain here. No one is getting in without my allowance. It will give you a chance to heal... to recover from what you have been put through. Thank you for all of this. You may be helping thousands." He would have the servants immediately make up one of the comfortable rooms for him, and would order that he be brought whatever he wish to eat or drink every three hours. Once Felix was settled and Marco and Argal spoke privately, Argal got to work, remaining at his desk for the day, preparing all of the information he needed. The trial was upon them, much more swiftly than he expected, but he was prepared. The morning of the trial, Mariana woke early and slipped into the bathing chamber to take a warm bath. Who knew when or where she would get the next one? After that, she disappeared back into her room to dry, brush and neatly braid her long, dark hair, then dress in a dark blue gown and sturdy slippers for the trial. She had to dress carefully, as her breasts were growing sore and tender from no longer feeding her daughter. She knew it would pass within a week, but it didn't make it less painful. After she was ready, she sat on the edge of her bed and waited until she would be fetched for the trial.

When she and Maximus were brought to the area for the trial, Mariana stepped carefully up onto the stage, glancing out at the crowd that had turned out for them. This was much more massive than court in America. Then again, the charges were more serious. She went without a struggle and settled into the large chair where she would remain for questioning, her fingers folding meekly on her lap once she was still. Her back remained ramrod straight, her gaze not meeting anyone's. They especially distanced themselves when Aurelius showed up to watch the trial. She felt as if she had failed something very important and knew Max probably felt the same.

Since Mariana knew she didn't have the freedom to argue with anyone testifying or giving their opinion, she remained quiet, listening to anyone who took the stand. Halen annoyed her the most, but she knew that nothing she did could sway them for the better. Any time she was questioned she spoke honestly. What else was there to hide? It was Maximus' statement that he had lured Mariana into the mission that shocked her, but she knew she could not argue otherwise. Besides, how would she know it wasn't true?

Relief was given in a warm dose to her as Maximus was declared free of any murder charge, but the cold boulder returned to her stomach as they both were found guilty of espionage. And when the sentence was given, Mariana forced herself to take in a trembling breath. Her hands were shaking. Every PART of her was shaking. Twenty-five years. Fifty for Maximus. She remembered her legs feeling numb as she was pulled from her seat, heavy irons clamped onto her wrists. They were so heavy she couldn't lift her arms without a struggle, so she let them hang limply in front of her as she was led away behind Maximus. When they reached dungeon, Mariana looked at Maximus with a deadpan expression as he tried to encourage her, then she was turned and taken to her own cell, had her irons removed, and was locked inside. Once the guards were gone, Mariana went to the hard bench bolted to the wall and sat down on it, staring at the dim room. She felt dead. She was thankful for the feeling of shock, because it numbed everything else that she had been feeling prior to the last twenty-four hours. After the trial, as Maelmorda and Aurelius met up and retired to the meeting room with the rest of the bunch, Argal was shuffling together all of his documents, graphs and written accounts and rushing to catch up. The man was NEVER on time, and it was amazing he had made it to court on time. Luckily, he slipped into the door last before it was bolted, his arms spilling over with things that he had to juggle to keep in his grasp. He grinned at Halen (oh gods, how he LOVED to tick Halen off), as he passed, shooting out a hand to pat him on the arm, then moving to dump his things at an empty spot on the table. There was no way Argal was going to sit during the meeting, unless asked, and he began shuffling his things out before greeting all of them and thanking them for their time.

The report that unfolded was a drastic, but obviously well-prepared one. Acheron was making the moves to take An Morendor over as a whole. He read Felix's confession very carefully, then began pulling out graphs he had neatly constructed (yes, he COULD be neat, when he had to be), showing the rise of attacks (strange ones at that) in the city against immortals, as well as reports they had from other areas. He also explained about when he had probed the knights and guards of the city and found Sorrek's little 'visitor', who had fled upon being detected. Argal had been a busy boy over the last few days, and it paid off to have that type of information. It would have paid off MORE if he had those damn maps Halen had locked in his desk!

"As you can see," He finalized. "This began as an investigation on the city. It has since been discovered that this is much more widespread and is placing thousands at risk. Nothing has been spoken beyond my study and this room, for obvious reasons." Maximus wished he could express what he truly felt to Marianna in a way she could understand, but love was a foreign thing to him which flummoxed his sensibilities. What he felt for her was so powerful that if he did not shut it off until she knew her own heart and mind; he would truly drown in his need to be loved by her. He had grown impatient over the months because his heart ached constantly and it was not a feeling he was accustomed to. He did not allow himself to be threatened by his own emotions; he detached himself from them. He had to, because his heart surged with a fierce and passionate force which the kind of love he felt for Marianna only aggravated. It was the same passion which drove his convictions so ardently and even his ferocity in battle.

He had loved Rome and watched the greatest empire ever there was fall apart from dissipation, decadence, and torn heirs which had made the empire vulnerable to enemies. He had seen the people and culture he had given his heart and soul to massacred by enemies that poor leadership had opened the gates to. In essence he had seen a kingdom he had dedicated his entire life to fall owed to the mistakes of a few men. Rome had broken his heart until he met Aurelius. He had loved only one women in his life before Marianna and his mortal wife had betrayed him because she could not tolerate competing with his devotion to his duties. She never saw that when he was with her; he was hers completely. He had loved a man who promised to be the greatest king Britain had ever known only to see him poisoned by friends he had trusted and esteemed. He had killed men who had once been as brothers to him and been hunted by them. Aurelius had been his only constant; the only reliable being he had every devoted himself to who had not betrayed his trust, faith, and love. Despite all his struggles he had the courage to love Marianna. He was wary of love, even feared it, but he had defied those fears and exposed his heart to Marianna.

It was his instinct to survive and to protect others, and if uncertainty and longing plagued him; he could not perform at his best. He had not rejected Marianna by any means, he had backed off because he believed that is what she wanted. He was stepping back during troubled times to protect her and protect anyone else who relied on him. Marianna believed he was finished with her when he had only just begun to love her. Maximus had never expected her to jump into his arms. He had only hoped that she could tell him whether or not she loved him. He would understand if she was not ready to submit to any feelings she owned. It was that simple to him. She either loved him or she did not. He believed he had given her plenty of time to think about it. He had first professed his feelings to her many months ago; he had not pressured her for months afterward but patiently waited only to receive no response whatsoever. He had expressed his love to her at Noctmaire a second time, and still no response. He had confided what he felt for her a third time, when Seth had returned, and still she wavered to give him any kind of answer he could place his hopes in. Now she rejected him out of fear of the future, of what tomorrow may or may not hold and he backed off. He thought that is what she wanted, but her expression seemed to reflect resentment.

Maximus realized that he saw things differently. He was a hard man with a cold heart and had spent enough time with Marianna to know that he loved her. If he; who was so closed to emotion could fall in love, surely she would know by now if she loved him or not. What she was or was not ready to embrace had nothing to do with it in his opinion. He could wait a hundred years for her if he only knew that she loved him. It was the uncertainty he now protected himself from in order to keep a clear head.

Maximus could only be insensitive to her fears of slavery because he was unaware of her past experiences and the dark period in her life when she was a child who had been sold into slavery by traffickers. When she answered his question to say 'none' with that flat lined voice, his eyes thinned on her. When she stood; he stood with her, but as she began to retreat he seized her upper arm with his hand to squeeze down tightly enough to stop her without causing her pain and pulled her square with himself. He well knew his own strength. She was not the only one who was tense about the trial tomorrow and wondering what the future held, only his tension came through like static through his temper. "You know, Marianna; if I am wrong about something, you could just point it out to me. I thought you wanted me to back off and yet I sense you resent me for something. Why...what is it?" He did not want to be locked in a cell with nothing but time to think and unanswered concerns. It was a bad combination. Felix knew that his memories of his tortures would fade all too quickly to leave him with the guilt and regrets of all he had done. He had betrayed Mekkor, and by betraying him he had betrayed Sammael. No one could protect him from the Prince of Demons. He did not kid himself. Hell would have him sooner or later and he saw no sense in delaying the inevitable agony, if not eternal agony which he was sure waited with arms open for him. "I do not expect you to understand, but I have no wish to remain here. So either arrest me, or permit me to leave. I know you think I am on your side now, but I am not. I only told you the truth. I do not have a choice in who I serve. I never did, do you understand?" An executioner's axe or turning himself over to Sammael, either way Hell would have him. If Argal released him he would contact Sammael immediately after he had left and confess himself to him, which could possibly result in the Desert Wind unleashing his legions on the city. He left Argal little choice but to arrest him, and the mage would have to impose formal charges on the demon to do so. His only other option was to hold him in custody as his own prisoner and attempt to reform him. Felix was the progeny of one of the most corrupt, evil and depraved demons in Hell and had been claimed by Mekkor as a baby. He was totally mind phucked, had been for a very long time, and he had truly never had a choice. It would have pained Maximus to know that Marianna doubted whether his story about dominating her was a lie. He would hope she knew him better than that. Aurelius certainly knew he was not capable of a such an act nor would he dare. Aurelius had known Maximus for most of his life though. The dragon lord was pissed that they were sentenced at all based on the evidence he heard. He was also furious that a public trial had been called. He knew when people were being railroaded. It also angered him that his progeny's upstanding reputation was being damaged, as was Marianna's reputation before she could even establish herself. Like Maximus he controlled his emotions when necessary and his expression was stone cold throughout the trial.

When Maximus was locked in his cell he just stood at the steel door, peering out of the small, rectangular, barred window which gave air to the bare stone walls in the corridor without. Marianna's cell had two bunks with thin matresses stuffed with sawdust, a bench against the wall, and a toilet. She also had a cell mate. The girl was in her mid-twenties, cute as a button, and a helpless thief. Her kleptomania had been forgiven for as many as ten petty counts, but then she stole a valuable horse, whose beauty she could not resist, and finally got a term of five years. Maximus had a bare floor and a bucket and no cell mate. Immortals were always held in isolation because some of them could combine power. "I am sorry, Marianna...So very sorry," he whispered, his voice echoing against the naked walls. At length he turned to examine his cell. It was spacious enough to exercise in. He was glad for that because exercise would be the only thing to release him of his thoughts. With a deep sigh he retreated to the far left corner and sat down to lean against the wall. He had never imagined how painful it would be to be tried in the presence of his sire. Maximus shut his eyes. "Aurelius will get us out of this. It should have been me though...I should have been able to disprove their weak ass evidence." Aurelius sat relaxed in his chair as Argal read Felix's confession then showed them the charts. Maelmorda meanwhile was laid back in his seat, legs stretched beneath the table while he trifled with his curling locks of brunette hair and stared at the table as he soaked in the Annwn demon's words. Maelmorda knew Argal was a demon yes, but a nether demon of Anwnn after Maelmorda's own heart. His jade green eyes locked on each graph he held up to absorb the details. "Chaotically Systematic," he uttered as Argal concluded. His gaze was then drawn on Halen as he spoke up.

"That demon, Felix, he must be placed under arrest and stand trial for treason, conspiracy, murder, and domination practices immediately," he spoke sharply.

Maelmorda scoffed. "You don't want to do that."

Halen's eyes pinned Maelmorda. "And why not? He has confessed to all these crimes."

"Exactly, which means his sire shall come for him if he is at all threatened by you. His progeny is his to punish as and when he sees it. Hold him privately, but dare not draw attention to him by placing him on trial or sentencing him."

"His sire is dead," Halen pointed out.

"That's what you think," Maelmorda had him know.

"Well, we can handle him," Halen assured.

"There you go, thinking again. Did I say he would come alone for his child?"

Halen turned red with anger. He did not appreciate being insulted by this elusive arch-sorcerer who showed up when he pleased to remind people that he ruled over An Morendor if not Morashtar. "We shall cut him loose then, banish him from the city," Halen decided.

Maelmorda shook his head and trained his attention on Argal. "You want to explain the dangers of that to the man?" he asked.

After Argal had set the magistrate straight, Aurelius had some matters of his own to lay on the table. "I demand that you release Maximus and Marianna and give them quarters either at the palace or in the knight's keep. And before you make the mistake of saying they were found guilty, you know damn well that the charges against them are bogus and that they have been tried unfairly. Let this courte say otherwise here and now."

Knowing he would be outvoted by everyone else there, Halen did not protest their release. Everyone else expressed their agreement with the northern king. "I shall release them but you must take them back to your kingdom with you. They have no business being here, much less at the palace," the magistrate negated.

Aurelius pierced the man's eyes with a seething eye. "Marianna is registered as a resident and Maximus is registered as a provisional resident. They have every right to be here. Marianna shall serve this kingdom as an ambassadors of Noct'maire, and Maximus shall act as her guard and advisor. As such you are required by custom to provide them both with quarters within the palace walls. In return, I shall aid this city against any and all aggression. Now where is King Heldras, I wish to inform him personally of my plans to safeguard this city."

It was Marcav who answered the king. "He sailed to Sea-eagle Roost Island to lend support to Chieftain Nundor against an uprising."

Aurelius nodded. "That explains where the rest of your knighthood is."

Yes," Marcav confirmed.

Aurelius contemplated for a moment then locked his pendragon eyes on Halen. "Under the Act of Temporary Stewardship I am taking control of this city until he returns."

"What?!" Halen barked, at what time Maelmorda refreshed his memory concerning the act.

"Under the terms of the Act of Temporary Stewardship, an allied king, in times of extreme upheaval or threat, and in absence of a king, may claim temporary stewardship over a kingdom he supports in order to quell said uprisings and threats. Unless at least two of the available chapter members of said kingdom refute his authority, he may then occupy the territory he controls for the protection of the kingdom and its people, until the king returns. Yada, yada, yada."

Aurelius chuckled. Maelmorda's oddities often amused him. "Lord Kilcanoragh knows this country's laws and customs well."

Halen's attention flew on the knights. The chapter members included the knights and Dumarc (regent). Callum was both knight and Dumarc, thus the entire available chapter was seated at that table. "You men cannot allow this! Protest it, I implore you! What if he means to usurp us?"

Aurelius trained a cool eye on the man. "If I wished to usurp this city, I would have no trouble doing so with the arms I now have available. Nor would I go to the trouble of declaring myself obligated to the Act of Temporary Stewardship. I would simply take the city. The legions which threaten you might as easily claim this city, only not as a friend, but a very dangerous foe. Acheron is rising against you, do you not grasp what that means?"

"I understand what it means," Marcav growled. "You have my consent."

"And mine," Morgrym voiced.

Halen interrupted before Callum could cast his vote. "And under that act, the part Lord Kilcanoragh did not cite, are you not obliged to uphold the king's convictions as Steward in his absence?" he asked.

"I am," Aurelius attested.

Halen smiled. "Then you have my vote as well," he consented to the knights' amazement and no small amount of suspicion on the parts of some at the table.

"Heh, he is up to something," Maelmorda recognized scornfully.

"Yes," Aurelius agreed speculatively and his eyes lanced the man. "What are you up to? Why the sudden change of heart?"

"I simply intend to insure that you uphold your duties as steward is all, and as I have no vote, it does not really matter if I offer it or not, does it?" Halen assured.

Aurelius gazed at the man. He was obviously avoiding a truthful answer. "You will find me more cunning than yourself, Dreward, I warn you. If you have a trick up your sleeve, I shall rip your shirt off. My conviction stands, gentlemen, do conclude with your decision." Hence his gaze turned away from Halen and locked on Callum. If Callum voted against the act, despite all the persuasion against him doing so by his comrades, who would beg him to reconsider and cite all the reasons for doing so, then Aurelius would be denied Temporary Stewardship, because Hughveld voted against the act. Hughveld just could not bring himself to let an outsider take control of the city, no matter how well trusted he was by his fellowship. He was not sure it was not a plot by their enemy to seize the kingdom. If Callum agreed with the majority and voted for the act, Hughveld would fly solo as the one man who voted against, and Aurelius would seize control and command of the city as acting Steward.

The Beqidum were backed into a corner. On one hand, Sammael had commanded them to take the city from inside, and they were close, closer than even they knew, for Semmet had possessed Heldras two hours ago unknown to his formless brothers. On the other hand, Maelmorda and Aurelius of all creatures were interfering in their plans. A change of strategy was therefore in order for the Beqidum. They would either have to throw in with Maelmorda, or Argal would have to be possessed in place of Halen. Through Argal, they could control his powers and the city wards with them.

The beqidum felt indebted to Sammael because he had cut them loose of the pit and allowed them the opportunity to live again in the bodies they possessed. Maelmorda had not freed them for a very long time; thanks to Mog. Mog was an incessant trouble maker. He thrived on corrupting those he possessed, laying their souls to ruin to prime them for Acheron, and because he enjoyed it. Good people turned into cold blooded killers, rapists and other evil doers, tended to draw attention. Mog drew attention to himself, while the others were far more elusive and careful. They liked to keep their bodies, whereas Mog liked to go through as many as he possibly could. The formless ones tended to grow resentful if only one or two of them was released to claim a form, thus they were typically all released at once, or not at all. Usually they spread themselves far and wide, were commanded to do so, despite their tight sense of unity. This was the first time they were commanded to unite in the flesh, and they cherished it. Mog was the only one who could care less. He was too damn evil to even love his own brothers. He served himself.

Three minutes after abandoning Sorrek, Mog had possessed a horse. He had then possessed the secretary of Community Affairs, Jaemus. Jaemus was a kind, intelligent, amiable, light hearted young man whom everyone loved. Mog as Jaemus had murdered three people in cold blood already; an eight year old boy, whose limbs he had cut off; a pretty young woman whose face and breasts he had mutilated; and the kind shop keeper Marianna had bought the chocolate from. He had drowned him in a vat of chocolate liqueur. The bodies had just not been found yet, but they would be soon enough. Mog also left subtle evidence behind like puzzle pieces which led to the killer. The moment Jaemus was caught, Mog would vacate his body and possess another. Jaemus' loss of memory might make Argal suspect that he had been possessed, but it proved nothing, whereas there would be plenty of proof that Jaemus was a serial killer. Who knew how many bodies would accumulate by the time Jaemus was nailed as the killer.

If Aurelius was elected as Steward until the return of the king, Halen would immediately make the convictions of King Argrym Heldras known to the dragon king, and he had orders written, signed and sealed by the king as proof. "So you will support Argrym's agendas now, Lord Emrys?"

Aurelius eyed the man hard and nodded his head, still staring at him.

"It is my King's wish to route all of the immortals in the city and to relocate them to villages outside of the citadel, and within a deadline of two years, to remove them from the western kingdom altogether. It is in our plans to restore this kingdom to its prior state of human and mortal cultures."

"When did Argrym lose his mind?" Aurelius asked the man. "How did you manage to influence your intelligent young king to be so foolishly rash and stupid?"

Halen's eyes burned on the man with contempt, despite his fear of him. "He is none of those things!" he snapped. "I have been collecting data for twenty years. Argal is not the only one who can make graphs and charts. I have researched violence in all races, divided those acts into subdivisions of unprovoked brutality, defensive actions, quarrels gone wrong, and domestic disputes. Immortals are dangerous as a whole, barring the exceptions, which in the case of certain races are rare. Vampires, demons, werewolves, devils, and infernal angels, among others prove statistically to be cold blooded killers and predators who cannot fight their nature. They belong among their own kind or among other immortals. Those who feed on raw flesh and drink blood can feed on many other immortal kinds without doing permenant damage to them. Not so when they target a human out of hunger, anger or even to defend themselves. Those who feed on livestock or wild game are the exception. Mortals fear dark kinds and with good reason. Look at what they have done to this city and what they are still doing without being seen. They are not the first to have stolen the wills, the hearts, the very flesh of our people either. There has always been tension between the ancients who are so difficult to kill and control and the ageless but still vulnerable and short lived humans. We should not have to live in eternal fear. One man and the king who supported him once opened this city to trade with and inhabitance by the immortals, why shouldn't one man and those who support him make this city a safe place for mortals to dwell by closing those same doors? We can ward this citadel by paying powerful mages for their talents. We can conduct trade with the immortals at our borders and by our ports, where their economy and ours shall not suffer for the change. You are a good man, Aurelius Ambrosius, but you are the exception, one we are grateful to and for, but an exception nonetheless," he delivered his testimony with the passion of a man who believed deeply in his convictions. It took him years to finally persuade Argrym to believe as he did, and the king was now only twenty-six years of age.

"And this is how you influenced Argrym?" Aurelius asked him.

"With the truth, yes," Halen confirmed.

"And when did you first introduce these ideals to the king? Was it before all of these conflicts arose?"

"Yes, I have spoken to him of these matters since he was a youth. The knights always persuaded him against me, but he has finally come to accept the hard facts. People and immortals cannot live together in harmony."

"That is such garbage!!" Marcav barked. "You have poisoned the ideals of my grandson by scores with your fears, paranoia and prejudice! If your concepts are so righteous why then is this the first we have heard of this? I vow you are treacherous and I would charge you with treason if I could find a way to make it stick! If you had not the love of the public on your side to protect you! Have you envenomed their minds behind our backs as well? How did you get away with this without us knowing?" he fumed.

Maelmorda waved a hand to both gainsay their attention and dismiss their argument. "Men, this quarrel only stands in the way of actually accomplishing something. All that can be settled when the threat to your kingdom is erradicated."

"Aurelius, you must stand by my king's conviction!" Halen insisted.

Aurelius shook his head. "I must support his convictions while I stand in his stead, not carry them out for him. I will not oppose his standards in his absence, but I shall confront him about it face to face when he returns. If you believed I was obligated to do your king's dirty work for him and for you, you are mistaken, Dreward. I am constrained by duty only to protect this kingdom, its throne, and its people, and that is what I shall do. At what time your king returns and wishes to doom his kingdom by putting your plans in action, I shall either take Castleguard or abandon you all to suffer Hell's reproof for your terrible errors." Aurelius stood at that and trained his gaze on Argal. "Argal, see if you can talk this man down from his beliefs and into reason. I advise you to persuade the king against this insane folly when he disembarks as well. Argrym always looked up to you, his immortal friend. Oh, and one more thing; open the wards to allow the telepathy guards to bypass me, my knights, Halen, yourself, the Castellarn Knights, Vakus Urik, and Marianna."

Halen paled. "Not Valis! He must not be allowed to breech the wards. He is dangerous...unpredictable, a monster!"

Aurelius shot his gaze on the man, he felt for the last time before he killed him. "Speak ill of Valis Urik again and I am liable to rip your head off and stuff it down your throat," he warned in cool tones. "You cannot even spit in his shadow."

The Noct'maire king grabbed a quill from the table and wrote the names of all his knights on the back of one of Argal's graphs. In order of rank they were; Maximus Caerellius, Roary Connemara, Senen MacKennagh, Vaeren Ruindor, Mickey Muldoon, Kent Cavannagh (who was still in Mephais but he wanted him included anyway), Matthew Marcus, Luecrota Amduscias, Cavan MacKennagh, Gormath Aelbah, Haleth Torandor, Domath Galgar, Elemon Kassmor, Mascen Kilcanoragh, Mekkan Gothhelam and Trent Kilcanoragh. Every last one of his knights was an immortal; demons, vampires, elves, fallen angels, werebeasts, and Vaeren was an elwion.

His gaze then locked on Callum. "Dumarc Maheren, will you write the pardon and order for Maximus and Marianna's release right away and do the honor of liberating them and bringing them to me? My men and I will be at Young Blood's Tavern." Halen would sign and seal the documents as promised when Callum drew them up and sealed them with his ring.

Maelmorda then stood as well. "You will see enforcement at its best when the army of King Ambrosious occupies this city, which should be in about an hour," he grinned and then pivoted to follow Aurelius out.

The moment Aurelius was outside of the palace with his escort, Maelmorda riding with him double again, who had clearly come to the city horseless, he contacted his men and told them to muster half of their arms and gate en-mass to Hawker's Fort then set up patrols. The Castellarn Knights would divide and assign the city guards to the Noct’maire ranks and patrol the city as usual themselves; three at a time on shifts. Half of the city guards were already posted on the walls and watch towers as ordered two days ago by Marcav. Aurelius intended to post some of his best mages on the walls, north, south, east, and west, and one at each point in between. Mariana whipped around to face Maximus as his hand clamped down on her arm and her dark eyes lanced him with a searing look. He wanted answers. Answers that she really couldn't even figure out herself. Her mind had been in a haze since this all started, and she had floods of emotions washing through her that muddled each and every one of her five senses. "You are a smart man. Much smarter than I could ever hope to be. I am glad that things come so easily to you. You understand what happens inside of you and out as well. I'm sorry. I don't understand any of it. I don't understand these feelings, because I have never HAD them before. And if you so easily understand them, then that means you have had a crash course in them at least once. I'm sorry. I haven't. I don't get it. I don't know what to say and I don't know what to think. I am in some kind of fog. And if my worries and fears seep in to keep me from leaping at a conclusion, I can't stop them with just a word or a thought. I am not a strong person like you are. I haven't yet reached the high plane of understanding that you are on." It was hard for Mariana, mostly because she was frustrated. Frustrated with herself for not understanding, frustrated that he seemed to just KNOW. Know EVERYTHING, for that matter. On the streets in America, she knew things. She could survive, teach others, know exactly what was going to happen. This place was completely different. She was the dumb girl in the corner who couldn't spell or read long words. She didn't know about Rome or how to cook or anything other than very simple math. She didn't understand their races and species and... whatever they all were. She could clean stalls and raise her children. Well, until they outgrew her level of knowledge, then she was back to just mucking stalls. "Be proud that it comes so easily to you... to be brave and laugh at fear. I, on the other hand, didn't have centuries to learn to do that." How old was Mariana now? She was seventeen when she left to come here with Seth, but she might be eighteen now. She couldn't remember her birthday on her fake ID. "Seventeen years. Of that, I had six years free of worry. After that, the rest of my life was spent trying to survive and 'figure it all out'. Call me a slow learner, but I haven't done that yet. And I am sorry if that throws a wrench into your clockwork, but you have to deal with it. And if you can't, then just give me a holler." She left on that biting note, pulling away and disappearing into her room. Ugh. Argal was hoping it would be easier to keep Felix at the tower without having to imprison the youth. "You are one tough safe to crack." He pointed out as Felix gave him his two options. He would choose to imprison Felix here in the tower, as his own prisoner for the time being, but would still keep him comfortable and well supplied. Aside from that, he would be cut off from trying to contact anyone aside from Argal or Marco on the outside. He would have to figure out where to go with him later, but now he had a trial and a meeting to deal with. Marianna settled quietly on the bench in her cell, her fingers half-heartedly pleating the material of her gown, then smoothing her fingers back over the wrinkles to flatten them out. She didn't even realize that someone was in the cell with her until she heard something rustle. When she lifted her dark eyes, she made out the form of a girl who had obviously just woken up from a very fulfilling nap. She had lines on one side of her cheek from the mattress and her short hair was sticking out in every direction. "Hi!" The girl chirped, shocking Mariana with her dapper mood. "I'm Rania. Who are you?" Mariana hesitated then spoke. "Marianna. I didn't know anyone else was in here." Rania grinned then hopped her tiny form down to plop down on the bench beside Mariana. The two were about the same short height, but Rania was bony as a pole. She seemed happy to have a cell mate and launched into chattering like a magpie about why she was here. When she asked Marianna what she was in for, the Romanian youth hesitated, but finally told her, causing Rania's eyes to widen. "Whoa, and you aren't dead? Someone must like you!" She laughed like it was the funniest joke ever, but Mariana could only force a tiny smile. She didn't really FEEL like laughing, and this girl seemed so chipper that her head would explode from all of the sunshine filling up her skull. WHY? She was in a damn jail cell! Marianna supposed it was because the girl knew she would have Marianna as a cell mate until she left her own five year term; unless something drastic happened. Within two hours, Marianna was pinching the bridge of her nose, praying that someone would come and get her and shove her damn head in a noose. Even though this meeting was reaching high in tensions, Argal looked amused and was grinning at Halen, who looked the color of a tomato. He wasn't a fan of Maelmorda; that was for certain. When Maelmorda turned it over to Argal to explain, the mage left his papers in a pile on the table and walked around to stand behind Halen's chair, patting him on the shoulder. "Dear dear Halen. We all know that your main concern is the safety of our city, no?" He would continue even if Halen didn't answer him, or made a smart remark. "Felix's poppa is not a nice man. In fact, he has the resources to completely take over, defile and flatten this entire city and the surrounding villages if he sneezes too hard. Now, if we launch Felix out into the world after he just divulged Acheron's little plan to us, his poppa is going to try and snuff us out to keep us quiet. And I am pretty certain that you don't want all of the citizens running around on fire, right? Well, at least the HUMAN ones." His words bit hard at that one then he tweaked Halen's cheek with his finger before leaving his chair to return to his own spot. "For now, I have Felix contained in captivity at my tower. He has no contact to the outside, but he is being treated comfortably, as the youth looks like Hell turned into a citadel and ran his ass over a few times."

Now, it was Aurelius' turn. Forcing himself to sit, Argal grabbed his goblet of wine and hid a grin behind it as Aurelius advised that Marianna and Maximus would not only be released, but given quarters to remain in the city, due to unfair charges. Halen's panties were probably twisted fifteen times over already. This was not helping. Argal had not thought of the Act of Temporary Stewardship, and he had to keep from choking on his wine at the face that Halen made. Putting down his goblet after spilling some on his robe and ignoring it (just about every piece of Argal's clothing had stains on it), Argal leaned forward and steepled his fingers on the table, watching as the knights took vote. Callum was quiet, but agreed on behalf of the other knights when they concurred.

Argal rolled his green eyes as Halen questioned the terms of the act stating that the steward had to uphold the King's wishes. He was like the bratty kid on the playground, always trying to steer things his way. "Of course he is up to something." The mage agreed easily, turning to grin wickedly at Halen. "I was in his office looking through public records and he nearly had a stroke; like he was hiding something." The man was a snake and Argal always knew it. He just had to deal with him. And of course, Aurelius placed the responsibility in his hands of talking Halen down from his high horse. Fantastic. "Of course, my Lord." He nodded, then rose and collected his things, now stuffing them haphazardly in his leather book. His first order would be to bypass the telepathy guards to bypass the list he was given, and that would be done in moments. After that, he would motion for Halen to come with him, once his work was completed, so he could try to sit down one on one, bore into the man's mind, and try to get him to see the error of his ways. He might even go so far as to test brainwashing the little bastard, as he was a stone in their shoes with his ideals. "My Lord, if I may..." He spoke to Aurelius, obviously having something important to say. "You intend to call your arms here. I would like to be allowed random probings of them, as we found that one of our previous guards was inhabited by a darker force. I want to ensure that it doesn't happen to your men as well." If agreed, Argal would thank him. If not, he would at least request that if any of the men were reported acting different in ANY way, he be allowed to meet with them.

Callum was immediately presented parchment to write up the pardon for Maximus and Mariana, which he was glad about. He had felt terrible for the two as they stood trial, having Halen drill them like they were monsters. He would agree, write out the dismissal from their punishments, and have Halen seal the dismissal before he was off. Mariana was going to kill herself. She was certain of it. It had been five hours since she had been locked up. She was supposed to wait five YEARS to get rid of this chattering idiot?! Rania went on... and on... and on... and onononon. About everything! Her family, where she came from, her favorite foods, different people she had stolen from. When she started on the sex stories, Mariana was on her feet and at her cell door, grabbing onto the bars to press her face between two of them. 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!' She bellowed into the hall. "THE DEATH PENALTY! I WILL CONFESS TO SHIT I DIDN'T EVEN DO! PLEASE! TORTURE! ANYTHING!" She heard the girls in the cell across the corridor guffawing. Rania was alone in the cell for a reason. Every time she got a roommate over the last two months, they had gone nuts, started acting out and screaming to get moved. Rania was sitting on the bench, huffing in indignation when Callum showed up. He hid a smile when he heard Mariana's yells down the corridor. He had first gone down to fetch Maximus, who was sitting in a corner looking just pitiful. He explained, briefly, that Aurelius was now steward while the king was gone and he had ordered their release. He looked all too happy to get out of the cell and come with Callum to get Mariana. Callum glanced at Maximus, trying not to snicker as the two entered the corridor, Max looking distraught at Mariana's cries. "Don't worry." He said softly. "They put her in with an impossible cell mate who never shuts the hell up. We have had a handful of girls crack like that. She didn't last very long." Callum appeared before the cell first, unlocking it, causing Mariana to spill hurriedly into the hall and fall against him. "I don't care how you do it. If you want to lock me up in a damn coffin for the rest of my sentence, just DO it!" Callum lost in then, snickering as he patted her on the shoulder and locked the cell, helping her straighten. "Actually, you have been relieved of your sentence." He mused. Blinking, Mariana straightened and looked at him like she wasn't believing it, then glanced over to see Maximus standing a few feet away. "Wait... really?" She looked shocked, but Callum briefly explained it to her as well then told them both he was to bring them to Aurelius at Young Bloods'. He would turn to lead the two out of the dungeon from the shortest stretch of time for espionage that the palace ever did see. Mariana walked silently beside Max, glancing at him and the back of Callum's head like she was getting ready to hear that it was a joke and she was going to be put back with Rania. But sure enough, the two were walked across town to the Young Bloods', and once they entered, they were lead to the corner where Aurelius, Maelmorda and a handful of his cohorts were enjoying drinks and discussing the recent situations. "Maximus and Mariana, my Lord." Callum bowed then would leave the two standing in front of the table to face the mass of eyes fixed on them. It made Mariana squirm and she wondered if it would be easier to be here or back with Rania the Chatterbox. Maximus was astounded by Marianna's opinion of him and her poor evaluation of herself and it showed in his stunned expression. He considered her a very intelligent woman, moreso than himself, and had never confused her lack of education for a want of acumen by any means. Nor had he ever thought of himself as an all knowing person, and had she voiced that notion aloud he probably would have laughed for his amazement. "I...Marianna...dear lady, you underestimate yourself," his words stumbled over his flabbergasted mind. She left him speechless otherwise. He had no idea how to respond when she reminded him quite vividly of the age difference between them and the distinctions between them which came of it. It brought to mind how for awhile he had been afraid to profess what he felt to her because he imagined that one day she might she grow too independant and make him feel inferior. Was that how he made her feel? Inferior? Were they so alike in mind that they were actually wary of one another for the same ridiculous reasons? It had taken him quite some time to acknowledge that his reason for keeping aloof of her were quite unreasonable when he had lost the true reason he should have waited along the way. He had meant to take care with her, to be patient so the very feelings she was battling with now would never have to arise. He began to realize that he had made a terrible mistake by forgetting that she needed time, needed to be free of emotional pressures so that she could discover herself, find her way in the new world she had found herself in. Aurelius had warned him to have a care with her. Maximus did not know everything, indeed he made mistakes like anyone else. He was poorly equipped to take on the emotional arena and Marianna made that quite evident to him. When she stormed into her room he stood motionless to stare off into space for some duration then after a time he approached Marianna's door, knocked twice and opened the door to step just insider of her chamber. "I ask your forgiveness, Marianna. I meant to be patient with you, to give you all the time you needed. I do not know at just what time I forgot my resolve to stand back and watch you grow before I dared impose my self-indul;gent feelings on you. What I feel astounds me and I have stumbled over it to be selfish without even knowing it. Please forgive me for being so blind and stupid. I promise you, I will not pressure you again. I will let you come to me, even if you approach me a hundred years from now to tell me that can you only ever love me as your brother. I am content to love you as my sister until the future decides otherwise." The man spoke to her from his heart and when their conversation drew to an end he bowed to her. "Good night, Marianna. Sleep well." He withdrew thereafter and went to take a bath, then laid out his clothes for tomorrow and retired to his bed. He went to court the next day clad in a poet shirt, a dark brown leather jerkin (which was like a long vest) brown leather boots and knee-high deer-skin boots. His clothing was simple but pleasing to the eye.

Felix said nothing when Argal made his remark and then ushered him to a well provided room to lock him inside. Felix was unaware that the heavy mirror on the wall was enchanted to collect and record his very thoughts and image, and that it was factored against breaking. Argal had magic items of all kinds scattered all over the tower for various reasons. Some of them, items as simple as a lamp or book, sucked intruders into dimensional holding cells. When the powerful man had taken his leave Felix plopped down on the edge of a very comfortable bed and gazed off into a hiatus of his own reflections. He wondered what his life would have been like, what he would have been like, had he been raised and mentored to by such men as Argal, Lavoy and Marco in place of Mekkor, men with good hearts and a high standard of ethics. Felix was quite aware that Mekkor was evil, perhaps even one of Acheron's most degenerate and corrupt of all fiends. Mekkor had controlled his will for so long that he could not separate where Mekkor's influences began and his own will ended. He was quite aware that he was a slave, a lap dog to be used to any evil or corrupt purposes Mekkor devised, or disposed of if he was no longer of any use, but it was not within his control to free himself of those chains. Mekkor spoke often of how fiercly he loved Felix, but the man did not know the meaning of love. Felix doubted that he did either, though he hoped that what he felt for Lavoy was honest and not some emotion implanted in him by his sire. Felix could not force himself to walk away even if he could rise out of the muck Mekkor trapped him in to want to. He was a prisoner of Mekkor's will, plain and simple, and knowing it changed nothing. Felix had been able to confide in Argal and Marco only because he had convinced himself that he was not betraying Mekkor or Acheron by telling the truth. He was simply tying a noose around his own neck. By placing himself in a state of mind to deceive himself, he had been able to break a chink in the chain of loyalty to confess himself. He was no longer deceiving himself though. He had betrayed Mekkor and Sammael and would pay the price for it. The Arcane Reaver swung his legs around and laid himself down on the bed without removing his boots, which were hard core gothic and made to last. Scars riddled him beneath the fish net shirt and black leather pants he wore. Even beneath his spiked collar and bracelets his flesh was deeply marred. He'd had so many injuries and been held in statis of near death for so long that it would take some time to regenerate completely. Felix closed his eyes. He did not think about what the future held. He already knew the answer to that. Acheron would tear him to pieces, whether by Mekkor's hand, Sammael's, or by demons he had never met.

Maximus would have thanked the devil that he was alone if he had any idea of the cell mate Marianna was suffering. He would have stuffed a sock in her mouth, gagged her, and tied her up using the bedding, and that is why his cell was bare, why all immortals' cells were bare. Someone else might do much worse than what Max was capable of if they had the chance. Max laughed to himself as he sat there and realized that he and Marianna had their first fight last night. Somehow, he felt relieved that they had laid their reservations and concerns out on the table. He still felt terrible that he had wounded her as he had when that was the last thing he had wanted. Maximus would have enjoyed seeing them make Halen sweat at that meeting. He was beginning to hate the man who he had only really known in official capacities, without crossing him. If not for Aurelius and Argal, Maximus would have faced an executioner's block and Marianna would have been released once his influence was removed. Fear of Aurelius kept people from overstepping lines of justice with his clan members. Maximus was legendary as a warrior but few people knew anything about him beyond his prowess snd reputation as a knight. In Hawker's Fort he was known as a dragon knight who assisted the guards and Castellarn knights occasionally in petty disputes or to deliver messages from Aurelius to the king. He was not feared. He was an enigma with a reputation for being loyal to Noct'maire. He did not flaunt his arcane power and only practiced it when necessary, most often on the battle field to harm, kill, and to heal.

Halen had not realized just who he was dealing with when he had ordered Dimitri and Marianna's arrest. When he was told it was Maximus he had arrested, he had felt cornered. The people wanted him to pay for his crimes regardless, so he had plucked up the nerve and pursued every legal action he could take. He had used the law to protect himself while prosecuting the spies by maintaining a perfectly legal stance. That is why he had left it up to the people to judge the vampire. It took the heat off of him. He could not control what the people believed. Now here he was being harranged by two of An Morendor most terrifying men and Argal. Halen had never feared Argal until now. He had always known that Argal was powerful, but it never occured him until then that he might be as powerful as these other two men who distrusted his motives. The man tensed when Argal clapped his shoulder and his gaze shot on Argal as he addressed him. "Of course I am acting in the interest of the people. Their welfare is always my main priority," he declared, sure that Argal was evasively challenging his honor. Halen truly believed in his causes and believed it was in the best interest of his people. Trouble was, he had never seen the immortals as his people, a fact Argal was about to allude to. "Do not speak to me as though I am a child, Argal. I know the man is pure evil. Mekkor cannot even enter this city however. Your wards will prevent it, wards you, Marco and Hellor have recently improved." When Argal pointed out that wards could broken down given enough power united to pull it off, Halen frowned. "That takes time though, and they would have to gather outside the walls to do it. You have range guards, remember? They have to show themselves to break the wards. We could break their concentration with a constant assault that could also take some of them down. Catapults, trebuchets and arrow volleys have a lot of sway against mages, even powerful ones." The man did have some virtues, he had a decent tactical mind. Still; being of an intelligent mind trained as a cabalist, Argal stressed that shields went a long way to deflect such attacks. Halen's expression darkened when Argal informed him, that while their city had a handful of magic weilders, nearly ever hellion was equipped with arcane talents. "What are we supposed to do then?" Halen jerked his head to relieve his cheek of that annoying pinch. "You go too far, Argal. I never once wished the immortals dead. Distrusting their presence is not the same as wanting to see them perish. I have no such desire. I respect them, I just don't trust them, and can you blame me in light of recent incidents?" He raised a brow when Argal informed him that he would keep Felix in his tower. "But if what you say is true about the wards, the boy could draw Mekkor and whatever host he has to call on directly to the palace by keeping him in your tower. He must be removed from the city and imprisoned elsewhere." He had a point there. "So if you know anyone who would be willing to hold him, I advise you to place him with them right away."

Maelmorda raised his hand half-mast and waggled his fingers to draw their attention. "Lavoy Garceaux knows him. He might be willing to keep him."

Halen's gaze leaned on the sharp tongued man. "Does he have wards that can hold against the boy's sire?" he asked.

Maelmorda smiled. "I will make sure that he does."

"I will hold him at Noct'maire if Lavoy refuses," Aurelius then offered.

Halen was unnerved by the state of affairs in his city to the extreme. His underwear were not only twisted into knots, they had imploded to burn his ass. When the vote came to Callum, the magistrate slumped into his chair as the knight cast his vote. He stared off into his own thoughts as each knight cast in with Aurelius there, all but Hughveld. He smiled when the man voted against. Though it did not make a difference, Halen was glad that at least one of the knights placed their loyalties in the right place. The man rolled his eyes when Argal alleged that he might be hiding something. "I just did not expect to see you there, Argal, and I am accustomed to people going through the proper channels to retain records, rather than skulking around in my office like a sneak thief while I am away. How would you like it if Iwent into your tower and started rummaging through your things?" When Argal muttered that he would wind up in a lamp or ashtray, the man raised a perplexed brow. "You are crazy, you know that, Mortiari?" He could not possibly know that Argal meant it or even know what he was talking about. Maelmorda snickered in the meantime.

When Argal asked if he was would allow him to probe his men, Aurelius nodded. "Probe away, man. I shall conduct random probes of my own if I suspect anything. My progeny Marco has long suspected domination and possession practices were taking place in Castleguard, so I am not surprised you uncovered something. Could you identify it?" When Argal stated that he was unable to, Aurelius raised a brow. The man was as well as he was to uncover intruders and it surprised him that whatever he had found had evaded identification. He was even more surprised when Argal informed him that the powerful elf who had combined power with him had been unable to mark what it was either, other the evil of its presence. His gaze fell on Maelmorda. "What could elude him like that?"

Maelmorda shrugged. "Beats me. A phantom maybe?"

Aurelius gazed at him for a moment. Maelmorda knew what it was, he was sure, but because he trusted his Lord to know what he was doing, and knew that his interests lie in protecting An Morendor, he said nothing. If he decided to question him about it, he would do so privately. His gaze then trained on Argal. "There is something else you must do. Your wards allow three individuals to gate into the city at once. I want you to close off supernatural gate access to the city. Leave the ability to gate within the city walls though. If anyone wants to enter this city, they shall have to come through the city gates which shall remained closed to all but known allies and residents,. and no one will enter until they have been probed. The citadel must be locked down. I will meet you tomorrow morning at day break at the East Gate and together we shall improve the wards and add extra defenses."

Maximus was in a gloom one moment, and so happy to hear the news which Callum delivered the next, that when the knight liberated him, the vampire clapped his hands against Callum's shoulders and kissed his cheek. A smiled beamed on his lips and he jostled the man thankfully. "Never has Aurelius failed me, never," he proclaimed reverantly. So much for being an emotionless rock. Until recently, he had not failed Aurelius either. He intended to make up for it, and when Callum informed him that he was to remain in the city as a residence of the palace with Marianna, he was thrilled to have the chance to make right all his errors.

Maximus broke his strides to a dead standstill as he heard Marianna's bellowing. He was bewildered at first, wondering what on earth drove her to say such things as reached their ears from the end of the corridor. When Callum explained what had set her off, he chuckled, and was laughing richly by the time they met her at her cell. His amusement shone in his eyes and face as much as in his laughter which deepened to shake him when Marianna fell against Callum blubbering her hysterical demands. Marianna was so funny sometimes. "Want me to cut the girl's tongue out for you, Marianna?" he asked wickedly. He was joking of course, but the verbose little thief did not know that and paled where she sat pouting. He smiled when Callum informed her that Aurelius had retained their pardon. "Didn't I tell you it would be alright?" He winked at her at that. Maximus the know it all, yes, that was him. What was he supposed to do, play dumb? When the two arrived at Young Bloods it was immediately apparent that Matthew had cleared the place out to all but clan and those they invited to join them. Maximus bowed to Maelmorda and then Aurelius. "My Lords, I am ever thankful for whatever steps you took to achieve our release." Maximus snagged Callum by the arm as he turned to leave. "Join us for a few drinks, Callum, you have a earned a moment of leisure. You have plenty to occupy you in the days ahead I am sure." At that he pulled him into a chair beside Aurelius; hence he pulled out the chair beside Callum for Marianna. When she hedged to sit down, he tipped his head towards the seat to urge her to sit. When she got over her momentary loss of courage to lower herself into the chair, he sat down beside her.

Vaeren, who sat across from them, was still trying to position his wings so that he could sit comfortably. His huge, furred wings and chairs did not get along. Few people outside of the Noct'maire, Decasey and Urik clans had ever seen an Elwion before. Elwion were usually mistaken for vampires, and in Vaeren's case he was also a vampire, sired by accident by Valis Urik who had meant to kill him in a blood rage. Vaeren was the only living Elwion vampire in existence. He had finally gotten over the violent act Valis had perpetrated and even come to respect Valis, though he was still instinctively wary of him.

"We shall all have a great deal to occupt us, Maximus," Aurelius had his progeny know to solicit a questioning eye from Maximus. "Acheron is rising against An Morendor, this city included." It was all Aurelius had to say for Maximus to understand. The moment Max was told his mind started turning like a well oiled engine. Lord Emrys then trained his dark gaze on Marianna. "I am reassigning you and Maximus. You will be residing at the palace as my ambassador with Maximus as your personal guard, either in Tyr Cadarn Tower with the knights, or in the Tyr Cadarn palace itself." He pursed his lips as a look of panic overcame Marianna's facial features. "Calm yourself, Marianna, your duties are ones I have every confidence you can handle. You will act as a mediator between my people and theirs, and as a messenger for me. You will take information I send to you to those I refer you to, and deliver information from them to me. You can do this yourself or send one of the Castellarn Knights or my knights with the reports. You are also to report any conflicts which arise internally. You will otherwise speak your mind when any contest between my people and theirs arises and attempt to resolve those conflicts to the best of your abilities. If you are unable to resolve an issue, report to me immediately. Men can be terribly stubborn so do not take it on yourself if they will not listen to you. You are a good person, Marianna, who has my trust. That is all you need to be an ambassador of Noct'maire. The rest you shall learn and conquer along the way. If you choose to reject this occupation it shall not reflect poorly on you. I shall send you home to be with your children. If you consent to this task, you have the option of bringing your children to the palace with Naomi. It is your choice if they remain at Noct'maire or stay here with you."

While Aurelius let Marianna chew on that, his gaze pinned Maximus. "If she agrees to take on this position you shall stand as her personal guard and advisor. You shall not offer your advice unless she asks of it however. It is she I am offering ambassadorship to, not you."

Maximus drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then met his gaze and nodded. Aurelius knew of the mistakes he had made with Marianna...Of course he did. He seldom let clan members out of his sight with so little protection, unless he was keeping an eye on them, and two against a city of hatred definitely counted as being left vulnerable. "I understand, My Lord. I am grateful for this opportunity to rectify my errors during this mission, any personal mistakes on my part included."

Aurelius held Maximus in his regard for an interval then leaned forward; his leather and plate arm guards coming to rest against the table. "I am not even sure that you made any mistakes in concerns to your investigation, Maximus, but if you did, we all make them. It is not often you make oversights in your duties, however, not since you were a young man, and even then it was usually the men you devoted yourself to that erred by failing to listen to you. Still, all men must make their own mistakes. It is our personal mistakes we learn the most from, so do not despair your mishaps, embrace them for what they are, food for growth."

Maximus bowed his head deeply to Aurelius. "I am ever grateful to receive your wisdom, My Lord." Everyone who knew Maximus was well aware that he esteemed Aurelius above all others and always would. It was not blind devotion either, Aurelius had earned it. Aurelius had never made a mistake or committed an act that Maximus could not forgive and that trust was mutual.

Maelmorda poured Callum a stout from a pitcher and then lifted his own glass of cognac to take a sip as he regarded the knight. When he sat the snifter down he smiled at the man. "It is good to see you again, Haashi," he addressed him openly by his beqidum name, yet despite appearances; Maximus and Aurelius were the only ones who noticed that Maelmorda addressed him by a different name. Maelmorda was using a mental deception. Everyone heard Maelmorda talking to the knight about horses, swords, past battles and other macho things that were unrelated to the genuine conversation they were having. Not even Aurelius knew the formless ones by names, with exception of Mog, who as mentioned drew attention to himself, so the name Haashi meant nothing to he or Max other than not being Callum's name. Maelmorda's following statement changed that. "How many months did I reside with you and your brothers in the pit?" That comment grabbed Aurelius and his eldest progeny's attention. "I enjoyed your company very much in that interim. Phaux is such a card," he chuckled. "Are you enjoying your new threads? He is quite handsome this one. I wonder if Callum would resent being taken over. No harm done though eh? Just a great deal of confusion if you decide to abandon ship, what with remembering the last thing he did before you possessed him and being at a complete loss from that point forward. Then again, if you keep him until he dies, he will never be the wiser for it. It is a merciful way to die when you think about it, unless Mog possesses someone." He went on.

"Maelmorda..." Aurelius began to interrupt, intending to ask what was going on, but the Morning Star shushed him with a flippant wave of his hand.

"It is a terrible thing being without a form. I empathize with that, have been there myself," he gave a dour shake of his head then pierced those beautiful green eyes the formless angel had stolen. "I would not have you lose Callum, unless you intend to turn him over to Sammael. That I will not tolerate. You have two choices here, Haashi, the same choice each of your brothers shall be given. Pledge your loyalty to me and Aurelius, and keep the body and identity you possess, or I shall plunge you back into the pit; where you can wait for Sammael to call you back to him and whatever body he has waiting for you to possess. Serve two noble lords," he pointed to Aurelius and himself, "...or one who would lay ruin to everything that is good and majestic about this world to make it is his own second Hell. The choice is yours. I believe in free will, remember? I am after all the one who gave all the angels of my creation free will, including Sammael." Maelmorda then sipped his liqueur and leaned back in his chair. "No one here will betray you. You have my leave to meet with the other Beqidum and relay my message to them. I will be here at this Inn for three more days. Those who I do not hear a decision from before I leave; shall find themselves in the abyss again, only I shall seal anyone in who tries to avoid informing me of where they are placing their loyalties." No one could say that he did not give them fair warning or a fair deal. They were free to choose who to serve, but would pay the price if they tried to steal away without making their loyalty known.

Maximus and Aurelius looked to one another and then Maelmorda when he and Callum had finished their talk and the knight got up to leave at a rather hurried pace. "Just let me handle this," Maelmorda told them before they could even express whatever was on their minds. "You two keep it under wraps. Tell no one about this. If they betray us then you may seize them secretly and report to me about it. You have to trust me. Those who pledge their loyalty to me shall maintain their present identities unless I command them otherwise. If Mog chooses to serve me, I shall take him with me and use him against our enemies." Mog was evil, but if exploited in the right way, he could also be very useful. Mog would not side with Maelmorda however. It was Sammael who set him free of the pit, so he would pay that debt by serving Sammael.

The two men of Noct'maire nodded their heads. "Yes, My Lord," they both vowed one after the other. That done Maelmorda placed his index finger against his lips and dropped the veil of duplicity.

Aurelius drained his pint and regarded Marianna warmly. "I am curious, Marianna, if you would humor me, what is your opinion of Maximus as a spy? I would like to hear your assessment of his strengths and weaknesses as a man under cover." He intended to ask Maximus the same thing about Marianna when the lady had reported her opinions. Max did not appear put off by Aurelius' want of an assessment. He sat drinking his whiskey and talking to the men. He laughed now and again as they made fun of Halen and cracked on his attempt to make Marianna look innocent. Matthew's comments on the matter sobered him however.

Matthew ribbed his sire. "Did you really think they would believe you capable of being so smitten by Marianna when you are in love with a Goddess? I mean damn, Marianna is hot, but that temptress you screw off and on is the Venus of babes!"

Maximus pursed his lip. "Nice try, Matthew, but I am not screwing anyone. Nor have I engaged in that act for longer than I care to share," he stated sternly.

Matthew quirked a brow. "Uh...yes you have," he said. "You do not need to hide it, I mean damn, she is phucking hot!"

Max's brows knit and his eyes keened on Matthew to thin. "If this is your idea of a joke, I am going to beat you silly," he warned.

Matthew shook his head. He hated it when Max threatened abuse, because he backed it up. Matthew was a little afraid of his sire. He also realized that Max really did not have a clue that he had been with the beauty rather frequently for the past year. "No joke, My Lord. You really do not remember all the times you have..."

Max shot him a cutting look.

"...Been with the woman," he concluded without being vulgar.

Aurelius was now staring at Maximus as he shook his head, his attention then fixing on Matthew who met his gaze. "What did this female look like?" he growled.

"Pure sexy, I mean kaboom kaboom. Long hair like black asian silk, dark eyes, she got all the moves, arabian sex pistol and wet dream all in one to drool over package. Candy phucking hits me every time she walks in the place," he laughed.

Aurelius was both amused and enfuriated by his description. "Lilith," he hissed. "That bitch is gonna pay." Aurelius had his own run in with the demon temptress of Acheron. She was dead if he got his hands...gloved hands on her this time.

Maximus shook his head again. "Hold on...Are you two saying I have been...been with someone without even knowing it?"

Matthew scoffed. "Oh you know it, at least when you are with her. The two of you are all over each other like..." He shut up when Max burned him with his gaze. "You have chased customers away, My Lord," he relayed sheepishly.

"What?! This took place in public?"

"Sometimes you could wait to get a room. I thought it was just pent up warrior shit you know? I mean, we all know the last woman you bonked was your wife, and Sir, that is just being cruel to yourself. I worshipped you for getting a piece of ass like that. Damn shame you seem to have been fogged by her and don't remember it." He shrugged.

Maximus rubbed his face and his hand almost covered it. There were times when he wished he had refused to Sire Matthew, he was so tactless and vulgar and took pride in being that way. Modern kids, he thought.

"Did she ever try to get him to leave with her?" Aurelius asked Matthew.

"Yeah, but he wanted to stay here."

"Thank fortune for the man's survival instincts," Aurelius breathed.

Maelmorda stood and stretched out his back. "Lilith does not know the meaning of the word surrender unless her victim is dead and beyond the grave. Someone wants him to get to you, Aurelius. There will be a lot of that going on. Of course there is also the chance that she wants him for herself. He is just her type and she did appear to him in her true form. That is unusual. She never went for the pretty boys and it turns her on when they can resist her will. Few can," he shrugged and headed for his room. He had to contact Sammael, and had decided to project himself rather than meet him in person. It was not a precaution; He did not feel like going back to the desert.

"Resist my ass," Matthew said.

Maelmorda did not have to tell Aurelius about Lilith. He was all too aware of how she worked. "He means by resisting her every wish and command. No man can resist her body if she gets close enough to touch them," Aurelius warned and informed in one breath.

"Please do not isolate me because of this, My Lord," Maximus implored.

"Don't worry, I wont," Aurelius assured him. "Just avoid beautiful women, she can take other forms. What you saw and do not remember is her true guise."

Maximus elbowed Marianna who seemed out of sorts. "Too much to breathe in all at once, isn't it? Welcome to our life. Just take a deep breath and pretend you don't know a thing," he advised.

"Let her handle it her own way, Maximus. Adapt to letting her come to you," Aurelius advised him.

Maximus slumped into his chair. He felt suddenly like he was being tested all over again. He had come through countless battles, treachery, Hell's ordeals with his dignity intact, but he was not sure he would surface from this emotional war with his confidence, his pride, or his self-respect. It was not a test that Aurelius or anyone imposed on him, but one he could not stop from imposing on himself. The Lilith thing had shaken him, forgetting his own convictions concerning Marianna had shaken him, and his recent failures had shaken him. Was he losing himself because he was in love, or was there a lot more to it? He had no answer.

"My Lord, I am tired...Where would you have me sleep tonight?"

"You have been tired a lot lately, Maximus," Aurelius stated with concern.

And Marianna thought Max was a know it all? Try living with Aurelius or Maelmorda the rubber-neckers from hell...literally. "Sir...I..."

"Have not been getting enough sleep?" Aurelius pointed that excuse out as an obvious lie.

"I was going to say I cannot explain why."

"How soon they forget," Aurelius muttered. It had been a long time since his progeny had been depressed. Max's emotional state was an enigma to him but Aurelius knew exactly why he was so depressed. "Get a room here for the night."

Maximus nodded, rose and headed for the stairs, taking his whiskey with him. Matthew grabbed another bottle for him and followed to escort him to one of the last two available rooms. They were full up and most of the knights there were sharing a room between three to four men. Max as first knight always got his own room, as did Aurelius. Matthew would kick people out of their rooms for them.

When Maximus vanished up the stairs Aurelius focused his attention on Marianna once again. "Are you alright, Marianna?" He wanted her to unload on him. She had been through a lot and Max had not made it any easier for her. He did not blame Max, he was just aware of it. Mariana felt shy as they approached the table full of people, some whom she knew and others she didn’t. She stood beside Max, brushing elbows until they greeted Aurelius and Max presented her with a seat. She hesitated then mumbled a thank you as she slipped into it, folding her fingers tightly on her lap.

When Lord Emrys turned on Mariana to speak, she felt her face drain of color and her mind scramble back to her reading lessons. Ambassador. Ambassador. She hadn’t learned that word yet! She was seconds from throwing Aurelius a desperate look when Lord Emrys continued on to explain, causing her to let out a slow breath and listen carefully, trying to soak it all in. She nodded, but gave no answer yet as she assumed she was given time to think.

Callum looked surprised when asked to join the group, but he warmly smiled and agreed, taking his offered seat and stout. It was Haashi who lifted borrowed eyes to face Maelmorda when spoken to. A smile peaked when questioned about how long they had been in the pit with one another, his brothers included. “I do not recall exactly,” he said easily. “Time bleeds together there, does it not?” He looked pleased when Maelmorda spoke of how he enjoyed his company, then grinned and patted his thighs at the compliment of Callum’s good looks. “He’s luscious, isnt he? And sweet to boot.” Haashi fell quiet and drank his stout as he pondered Mael’s thoughts on whether he should abandon the body or stay with it. It was a fair question that he didn’t rush to answer.

It was the choice given next that would give him more to think about. Haashi was one of the more levelheaded formless ones, so he pondered his decision seriously. Turn Callum over to Sammael or turn to Aurelius and Maelmorda. Haashi glanced at Aurelius, then back at Maelmorda before speaking. “Some of my brothers, I am quite sure, will have to deliberate long and hard over it,” he answered. Really, the deal was a good one in Haashi’s eyes, but he had to convince his brothers of the same. “I will meet with them tomorrow and we will hopefully have that decision within two days,” he vowed, then rose and was soon darting out the door.


Mariana’s coffee brown eyes lifted as Aurelius asked about Maximus as a spy. She glanced at Max, who seemed to care less then cleared her throat to address Aurelius directly. “He’s stubborn,” she answered honestly. “Which is good and bad, I suppose. He tries to take on the world alone. I can tell he has a hard time lying sometimes, but he does it pretty well anyway. I thought he did a good job. He was very alert.” What else could she say? She wasn’t big on critiquing people.

It was Matthew who caught the table’s attention first, much to Mariana’s horror. For a moment she was shell-shocked. A million and one things exploded through her mind. Flashbacks of the seemingly sincere speeches that Maximus had given her. He loved her; he wanted to marry her; he was thrilled that they might love each other without the physical aspect of things clogging up the works. It was no WONDER he said all of that! It was easy to encourage the homeless when you lived in a donut shop!

Not only that, but Matthews comment stung more deeply than she cared to admit. Max had done a good job pretending to be smitten by her, alright. But why settle for a brain dead peasant when you could have the queen, right? He obviously had the choice right in his lap, from what it sounded like. Mariana’s lips pursed gently shut as she fought showing any kind of emotion on her features, and only gave a rehearsed laugh as Max nudged her to mention that this was how things were with them. Ugh, she wanted to throw up. Literally. She felt nauseous and dizzy. It made her realize that everyone at the trial thought Max to be a fantastic liar about his feelings for her. And here he was, advising her to pretend like she knew nothing. Oh, she could pretend that alright. She could pretend she never heard any of it, including all of the ridiculously sweet nothings he had spent the days crooning to her.

Mariana felt like she had been beaten senseless and left in the bottom of a garbage dumpster. The last few days had been a train wreck. Her head buzzed as she contemplated having a drink, but when she remembered what happened last time, she stopped even thinking about it.

Minutes later she was vaguely aware that Matthew and Maximus had taken off upstairs, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. It wasn’t strange that she felt slightly out of place among the chocolate box of people here. She WAS pretty curious about the fellow with the fuzzy wings that sat across from her. She wondered what they felt like then almost smiled when she thought of the field day that Elizabeth would have with them. She adored soft and furry things.

Her attention snapped back to Aurelius as she heard her name. The question made her feel guilty. She had hardly faced anything that anyone at this table couldn’t easily handle, so why was she any different? She hardly wanted to talk about her personal feelings, but she also knew better than lying. She decided on half-truths. The majority of this table didn’t need to hear anything more anyway. “Overwhelmed,” she admitted quietly. “But I am thankful to be free and to have been provided such an opportunity.” Ugh, she sounded like she was interviewing for a job in a cubicle. “I would like to accept, but I also decided that I would rather my children stay at Noct’maire.” It was true. There was too much going on that she had no hand in here and she would rather miss them than put them at any kind of risk. She would wait for any questions he had then would ask one more of her own. “Is there a library I could go to?” She wanted to read up on her new job so that she didn’t feel like she was leaping blindly into it. She couldn’t study with others there because she felt embarrassed. Every other word had to be looked up in the dictionary. If it was agreed to and Aurelius asked if she would like an escort, she would refuse. If he demanded it, she wouldn’t argue, of course. She desperately wanted to be alone at the moment. Could she be blamed? Maximus entered his room and turned inside of the threshold to face Matthew as he started to enter his room. The vampire blocked the way with his arm his hand pressing against the door from. "Matthew, I am tired."

Matthew skewed his mouth in a purse. "Sir, I know it may seem that I disrespect you at times, but the truth is quite the opposite. What you need to do is get wasted and bare your soul to me. This whole Lilith thing really pisses me off, you know, so I know the dragon in you must be steaming to get out."

Maximus smiled at his progeny and rested a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly with affection. "I appreciate your concern, my son, but I really am fit for a good night's rest. I will be all right. I always am," he promised.

Matthew could not argue with that. His sire was a strong man who Matthew had never seen any weaknesses in. Even his flaws were strong ones. He handed Max the extra bottle of whiskey. "Good night, My Lord."

Maximus took the whiskey from him. "Good night, Matthew." Maximus closed the door around as Matthew left him then withdrew to sit down on his bed.

For an interim of half an hour he chugged the whiskey he had been provided until both bottles were empty. He tried very hard not to reflect on what Marianna must think of him. During that time he wondered how Cezar and Stephanie were and decided to pay them a visit and sleep at the cottage. Before shadow stepping across the street he informed his Sire of his change of location. When he arrived at the place he found his squire asleep on the couch. All the blood stains and damage he had done to the place had been cleaned up and repaired. He went to the kitchen when he heard Stephanie rattling around and looked in on her. She was putting dishes away.

"You are up late. Have you two been all right here?" He inquired and smiled when she startled slightly then met his gaze.

"My Lord! We are well, even better to see you standing here. Cezar will be so pleased. Have you escaped?" she chirped in amazement.

"Marianna and I were released. Aurelius retained our pardons."

"Oh bless that man with all the good fortune he deserves! Our dear king be praised!" she lauded her overlord.

Maximus smiled. "Indeed, he is an amazing man. I am going to take a bath and catch some rest. I will see you and Cezar in the morning. Is there anything you need?" Those vampires of Noct'maire like Maximus, who resisted the sun, performed their duties during light of day. By choice the young bloods were night owls.

"We have everything we need, Sir," she assured.

"You and Cezar have a done a good job here. Good night, Stephanie." When the woman reached out to clasp his wrist he suspected nothing but a gesture of thanks. Maelmorda had not been exaggerating when he said that Lilith was determined.

She frequented Young Bloods in various guises as customers and had heard stories about Maximus, his troubles and his alter identity. It had not taken her long to discover where he resided. She had gone to his trial as well. She also had friends out of Acheron who could spy on him for her or arrange for her do so at will by arcane means. She had learned of his love for Marianna and was furiously jealous. Marianna was a pitiful human and Lilith felt it was her duty to spare him the shame of such a weak alliance. Maximus was far too good for the pathetic girl in Lilith's opinion whose passions could never equal those of Lord Caerellius. It would please her to claim him just to spite her.

Lilith had not harmed Stephanie, but placed an enchantment of sleep of over her and cloaked her presence in the cellar, then emulated her presence to project it and her guise. Cezar lie in an unnatural rest as well. The moment her fingers closed around Maximus's wrist, he was under her power. The method of escaping her incredible physical domination was to avoid being touched by her altogether. Her power over her subjects lasted for some little while after contact was broken but then faded until she managed to take their will into herself to enslave them to her every desire and command. No man could resist her sexually, but those with strong wills could resist her ability to command their resolve. Given time she could wear them down. Maximus thrilled her because he was a challenge as great as his sire. She had never met two men with stronger wills with exception of Sammael and Maelmorda. Because she wanted to claim Maximus as hers, she shed Stephanie's guise to manifest a form she had come to choose just for Maximus as she pulled him against herself. The demoness was strong, stronger even than Maximus whose might was impressive, and if she needed or wanted to, she could overpower him physically as well. The moment she had touched him; his dynamic passion and exceptional carnal knowledge was hers. She thrilled at the feel of his powerful arms around her, his hands groping her with rough urgency, and the feral kiss he arrested her senses with. If anyone was to see them together they would think it was true love. Lilith wanted him to be able to remember her this time, as the neffari beauty she had become and named just for him. She wanted to make him believe that she was his chosen lover. Only until she had won that part of his will would she permit him to remember her and reveal her true carnal talents to him. Lilith could alter her physical and carnal physiology at will as she pleased. Maximus sang out breathless and desperate as she took his member in hand to squeeze and stroke him. Oh yes, he would be hers and the magnificent female she had made for him would be his. Lilith's confidence was unshakable.

Aurelius chuckled when Marianna said that she was overwhelmed. "How could you not be, my dear? I imagine you have been overwhelmed since you met Seth. We are all so old and strange in our ways and you are so very young. You have yet so much to learn about yourself, the world, and those around you. Try to be patient with yourself, even when others are not, and not to feel guilty for being human. Youth is nothing to be scorned either. It is so wonderful and so brief. Sadly we only ever embrace and cherish it when it is gone. You are a delightful woman, Marianna, whether you acknowledge that fact or not. We are old and our minds brim with knowledge and we recognize virtues in you that you cannot yet see. Do you think my Eldest progeny would have fallen in love with you otherwise?" The dragon lord smiled at the expression she tried to hide. "I know all about it. What he feels for you burdens you further and that is a shame. A shame for you both. Wise as he is, love is difficult for him. He has been an island for so long, Marianna, which no eyes could touch. Now that you have cracked him open, he does not know what to do. You meanwhile bear the cross of having opened a vault you never intended to breech. I feel for both of you. Perhaps your duties will distract you and allow the turbulent waters to calm between you, hmm? You need not be grateful for the assignment I have offered either. It is you who are benefiting me by accepting it." Aurelius was more concerned about the situation with Max and Marianna than he let on, as much for Maximus as Marianna. If he suffered the unrequited love he felt for her for too long, he would grow vulnerable, and it was a bad time to have an Achilles Heal. His need for her was desperate, too damn desperate. If Aurelius had to, he would interfere and put a stop to it.

Aurelius nodded when she expressed her resolve towards her children. "A wise choice, My Lady." She had the means to see them whenever she wished as readily as if she was there. He was pleased that she chose to leave them in the safety of Noct'maire's island and castle. His brow raised slightly when she asked where a library might be. "Yes, there is an impressive library by City Park on the north side. Vaeren will escort you." When she tried to refuse the Elwion's escort, he shook his head sternly. "I will not be swayed to leave my people unprotected with times as they are. Vaeren will escort you and he shall wait for you outside. The only way I shall permit you to go unescorted is if you have mastered your dagger and can gate there and to your next destination, be it home, your prior residence at the cottage, at the knight's keep, or the tavern here, avoiding the streets. Maximus is under the same orders, as are all of my people when they are alone. These are strict orders, Marianna, and if they are defied you shall lose the privilege of being alone altogether. Are we understood?" He wanted to make it clear that very real dangers were present.

If she consented to accept Vaeren as her escort and at any time brushed up against his wings, she would find out just how soft they were. It was like brushing a cloud you could feel, the pelt covering the outside of his wings dense and softer than milkweed silk or down, while the underside was like mole skin. He would comment on how nice it was to get some fresh air. Half of the Noct'maire Knights smoked something or the other, tobacco mostly and Vaeren did not smoke at all. His only bad habit was to drink his own blood. It tasted fantastic! It was his blood, why shouldn't he get to drink it? He was discreet about it, but could be caught occasionally sucking on his own hand or arm, and he did so more openly if he was hungry to still the hunger pangs for blood until he could sink his fangs into someone, usually a blood serf. Otherwise he fed on game or enemies with safe blood. Other than his sincere remark about the air, he would not talk unless she engaged him in conversation. If she mentioned that it sucked not being able to be alone, he would laugh and say he could make himself invisible if she liked, so she could pretend he was not there. By invisible, he meant he would track her while cloaked in shadows. Mariana's lips pursed as Aurelius began to, quite openly, discuss her position with Maximus. She hated to hear it out loud. She hated to think of him and suffer that painful clenching in her throat and chest, but she couldn't cut her keeper off. She simply lowered he dark eyes and pondered the way he put it. Perhaps duty WOULD allow them to calm themselves. The few moments she had been allowed to think in the dungeon cell brought misery... She missed him, she felt horrible for snapping at him the night before and she wished to apologize. Perhaps she would have... had she not heard the conversation about this Lilith chick at the table this evening. It wasn't his fault, and she vaguely remembered hearing that, but it hurt far more than some unknown mistake he might have made. Smoothing her fingers over the velvet on her thighs, Mariana took a slow breath and nodded, meeting his gaze once more. "You can see everything around you, My Lord. I can only hope to be so observant in the future."

The mention of the library relieved her, and though she tried to protest Vaeren going with her, she was cut off immediately and dropped her argument. "Of course, My Lord." She finally answered. "I appreciate your concern." At least she could be alone at the library. Rising quickly, she thanked him for his time and wisdom then would shoot out of the tavern like her backside was on fire. Poor girl never did well under so many eyes... eyes that could see what was happening when she herself was so confused by it.

She didn't mean to be rude to Vaeren, so when he joined her, she slowed her pace and took in a deep breath to calm her jittery nerves. She fully agreed with him when he mentioned fresh air, but because she was not under a spotlight any longer. "Thank you for coming with me." She said after a moment of silence, then hid a smile as his wing brushed her hand. It WAS soft. "You looked about as uncomfortable as I did." Of course, his was due to his wings and unforgiving chair backs.

Once they reached the library, Mariana promised not to take too long, and she would spend the next two hours smearing her fingers with ink as she poured over a few books the librarian had suggested on the topic of ambassadorship. She took copious notes, taking care to write slowly, as she had been working on her handwriting skills too. After two hours her eyes blurred and she gathered her notes, rolling the papers in a bundle before exiting the library. Sure enough to his word, Vaeren was sitting outside, and she greeted him with a warm thank you.

Now, where to sleep? She didn't want to go back to the tavern; that was for sure. Max was there, along with Aurelius and about a billion knights and clans members, so she wanted to stay out of the hot pot. She decided to sleep at the cottage, where she would be able to bathe and change in the morning. Filling Vaeren in on her decision, Mariana headed to the cottage with him beside her, and she did her best to make small talk. It was hard after the long day she had been through. The thought of a warm bath and her familiar bed upstairs fueled her slowing footsteps, and once they reached the cottage, she thanked Vaeren again and bid him a goodnight.

Once inside, Mariana saw Cezar on the couch and smiled softly. He was out cold. She walked quietly over, taking a quilt from the back of the chair to spread over him, then straightened and laid her papers on the tea table beside her. Noises from the kitchen drew her attention and she found herself relaxing and smiling at the thought of being able to sit down and talk to Stephanie... hopefully over some of her delicious food. She realized, only now, that she was ravenous. Skirting around the tea table, she pushed her way into the kitchen on a scene she would never forget.

Lilith had coaxed Maximus in with Stephanie's guise, but she was absolutely hell-bent on making the man realize who he really wanted and would benefit from. So after the two had shed their clothing, the dark haired beauty dissolved Stephanie's appearance to her own...and would, for the first time, dissipate his memory block; only after things were in full swing, of course. She could sense when Mariana entered the cottage and she found it all too perfect. The girl would be crushed and hopefully this would be the end of whatever might have dallied between her and Max. Lilith's lips brushed Max's ear as she drew him down on top of her, on the kitchen table, her thighs locking around his hips. They were in full out, table-leg scraping humping when the door swung open. The look on Mariana's face was priceless, in Lilith's mind. She looked over Max's shoulder with seething, lecherous eyes to see the human's face drain fully of color. She looked ill! And of course, when Max would look up to see her, he would realize now who he was with... and would believe that it was his conscious decision to take Lilith, yet again. As soon as Maximus looked up and saw Mariana, Mariana found her legs moving. She swung from the kitchen, lifting her skirts and darting through the living room to the door, her wake blowing her bundle of papers to scatter the floor around the tea table. She was going to be sick. She had no idea what to think... what to feel... but ill. She had seen the look in his eyes. He recognized her. He knew what he was doing. Had he been LYING about it? Putting on a ruse that he didn't REMEMBER ever being with that woman?! She had been beautiful. Stunning. Perfect. And she knew it.

"Vaeren..." Mariana's voice cracked horrendously as she spilled outside, but he was gone. She had said goodnight nearly twenty minutes ago. She found herself standing in the middle of the street, her head spinning worse than when she had been hung over, and she promptly leaned over and vomited, right in the middle of the street. She couldn't go back to the tavern. Shaking like she was latched to a tree in the middle of a hurricane, Mariana forced her feet to go. And she just ran. Her eyes were blurred and she wasn't really certain WHERE she was going, but she would eventually end up at the knight's keep, where Callum would find her begging for her old room where her things were still neatly packed. As Marianna's expression was priceless to Lilith, the expression on Max's face when he glanced over his shoulder would surely imprint an image in Marianna's mind that she was not soon forget. He looked sex-drunk at first but as his eyes met hers; his eyes filled with anguish for the briefest moment, but as Lilith inserted a finger inside of him to spread his virgin pleat and her slick walls locked him in her depths to suck, pulse and grip against him in ways which arrested all of his senses, he gasped and his face filled with stunned ecstasy at the foriegn and very invasive sensations which caused his body to tense with the sudden heightening of his sexual furor. She plunged him head long into the trap of her carnal charms and effective albeit effusive carnal talents, and Marianna saw the force of her effects over him painted vividly on his face. Lilith meanwhile could feel it. His eyes rolled back and he turned his head away from the woman he loved to unviel his glazed eyes on Lilith. His hips ground against her as if he was trying to bury himself body and soul inside of that amazing body she dominated his physical being with. The pleasure was unimaginable. Many men fell to her physical endowments alone and anyone who had ever experienced her would understand why. Max had a hard shell to crack though, and much as she respected and admired him for that, she was also tired of waiting to chain him, to complete him as she saw it. Max was not completely clueless of the trouble he was in however. She let him remember and what he remembered tore him apart inside despite the fact that he could not stop himself from ravishing her with all he was. He was all too aware that Marianna had fled in hurt and anger as he gritted his teeth and drove himself inside of her ravenously hungry c*unt again and again while his fingers thrashed her with a keen awareness of what made her body fly apart. He kissed her deeply and his breath caught as she bit his tongue then nursed on the blood which seeped from his muscle. His arm wrapped around her to pull her hard against himself with each thrust which buried him in those undulating walls. When her throat was offered he almost made the mistake of sinking her fangs into that soft flesh. He had not fed since being restored. He necked her and his fangs grazed her but then he groaned and went for a breast as he reminded himself how dangerous demon blood was. The higher she made him the deeper he fell into the chasm of her charms and as an orgasm threatened he arched his back to toss his head back. He pumped her slower but deeply and his eyes locked into her pale-blue-green eyes. Beautiful eyes, amazing eyes. He spoke to her, his words breathless, rasped with pleasure, broken and raw with tortured emotions. "Ah...r-release me...Lilith...How can I hold the woman who tried to...oh god...kill my queen, who is an enemy of the Lord I love and serve loyally? I love another...How can I...can I love her and still feel this fierce...need for you? Why can I not resist you? Would you see me...see me broken...would you? The spirits help me...I...I love you..." He sobbed the last words miserably and his body shuddered and locked against her in heaves as he orgasmed. He choked on his own breath and shattered cries when she sustained him for longer than any man should continue to convulse and for a time he held her locked in his arms trembling with spasms as she milked him of all he had to give. He spoke the words she had wanted him to spill for nearly a year. He had betrayed everyone he loved to say them. She had achieved stage one. Now she would capture him as another no one would mistake as an enemy. He would be hers through Tulaave, and once she had him, he would be Lilith's again, forever.

Maximus was hardly aware of her leading him upstairs to his bedroom by his arm, while her other hand roved over his muscular body. He fell into the bed with her and groaned deeply as she guided him to his back and impaled herself with his shank. When morning came he would not remember the wine he had drunk or the hours they had spent satiating one another. Wine Lilith had poured. It had tasted strange, but she had encouraged him to drink it anyway. He would not remember Marianna walking in on them, the wine he drunk, his pleas to Lilith, none of it. She had let him remember long enough to weaken him, to despair the sight of Marianna, his treachery, and to enjoy her as a man whose mind and will could not defeat his body. No, when Maximus woke an hour late for his duties, Lilith was gone and he found himself naked in his bed. He was clean, as was his bed. He felt extremely out of sorts as he rose and went about his morning ritual of bathing, getting dressed, and riding to his post. Having no need to enter the kitchen he did not find Marianna's papers on the kitchen table where Stephanie had picked them up placed them. Instead, the girl, who'd had a very good night's sleep, met Max at the door with the stack of papers. "These have the Lady Marianna's name on them. They were all over the floor but I figured the wind must have got them." she said as she hurried up to him. Max's gaze fell on the papers and an uncormfortable feeling squeezed at his chest. After a moment he snatched them from Stepanie's hand, and slid the stack inside of his leather jerkin which was buttoned up and laced as he hasted out the door. He withdrew to the stables to mount his black horse, which Cezar had ready for him.

He kept feeling like he was forgetting something every step of the way. When he arrived at the palace the grooms met him and took his horse when he dismounted in front of the main keep. He walked through the corridors in a daze, passing guards and knights without a glance, and just before reaching the Court Room where Aurelius had told him Marianna would be found, he gasped and turned off quickly into a narrow hallway which led to the bath chambers. It was empty at the moment. Tears pooled and spilled from his eyes and his back struck the wall and his entire body shook. Max never wept, never. His face knitted, lips trembled as did his hands as they covered his face, and breaths jumped in rapid shudders in his chest which felt as tight as his legs felt liquid. His tongue formed words as harsh whispers and he rubbed his face as if to try to wipe something foul from it. He did not notice Marianna coming out of the chamber at the end of the hall. She had been on time but had needed a brief bathroom break. "Someone help me...Oh help me...What is wrong with me? I feel so...tangled...violated inside...Why? What is happening to me?" Maximus was sure he was going insane and the man had never looked so pitiful. He truly thought he was losing his mind and for the life of him did not know why. The feeling would pass when he met the 'love of his life' at Young Bloods, but at the moment the undefinable sensations of being terribly used and exploited were wreaking havoc on his mind and constitution. To say that Lilith was a deviant was largely an understatement. The girl had set her bewitching eyes on Maximus some time ago, during her tangle with Aurelius, and finally decided to have him. There would be no question. Though she might be jealous of Galaxy and Melissant for holding the love of the other two men she longed to have, she was not in the same state of mind about Mariana. The girl was a human and most likely had no idea how to make Maximus live to his full pleasure. Lilith could. She had REASON to be confident about that matter. She just had to make Maximus forget about the annoying little maggot. He was a man of heart and virtue. Ech. So she just had to sway his heart and virtue to her! Simple enough, right? Still, she had to proceed with the utmost caution. If Aurelius caught wind of what she was doing, there would be quite an issue on their hands.

Lilith knew how to dig under the skin of females as well to pry them away from the side of her wanted lovers. With Maximius and Mariana, she stated with location. After doing her homework, she decided that baiting Maximus not only in public, but in the privacy of the little cottage that she was certain Mariana doted on, was the best way to ensure complete shellshock on the girl. Once Mariana had stumbled on them and fled, Lilith had once again sealed up Maximus' memories, suffocating him with pleasure before leading and coaxing him upstairs to take him to bed. The wine had been the trick, and at first he refused, but after her sultry voice drifted around his groggy mind to convince him, he finally took the bait. The next morning, Lilith would be gone. But that same afternoon, Kamila would be frequenting his favorite tavern, playing coy and unknowing, waiting for him to lock his gaze on her. It would be bonus if Mariana was with him so that she could see him immediately falling for yet ANOTHER girl. It would destroy the young woman, most likely. But if Mariana was not there it was no bee in her bonnet. Max would be in love and there was no WAY for him to seperate them forever. Perhaps the girl would fling herself off a bridge. All the easier for Lilith. Less distractions!

Mariana had stumbled to the knight's keep a complete mess, not even sure where she was going. She wasn't sure where in the city she started sobbing hysterically, but by the time she fell through the gates and into Callum's arms, her eyes were bloodshot, her face and neck soaked, and she looked like her entire world had fallen apart. The images... the images playing in her mind wouldn't leave. She saw the two of them over and over, as if she was still standing in the kitchen of the cottage she had adored so much when they first arrived together. She saw their hands, his face, her glare... the way they moved. Callum immediately was panicking, asking her if someone was attacked, but she tearfully promised that she was just upset for personal reasons and asked if she could go back to the room she had shared with Max during their imprisonment. He left her with a hefty carafe of strong wine and a warm hug. Callum was such a sweetheart, but he didn't even know that tomorrow, Haashi had to use his body to meet with his brothers about a very important decision.

That night was the longest in Mariana's life. She stumbled about the room, her head throbbing and spinning, skipping the goblet and drinking wine from the glass carafe instead. She ended up in the bathtub, her dark hair loose and floating about her in the water, the empty carafe in the tub by her hip. How... how could something so simple break her like this? She had once eaten nails... felt for no one and gave no one an opening to her heart. Maximus was not hers. Did she have a right to be upset? SHE had kept HIM at a distance while she tried to figure out her feelings. He was a free man to make his own decisions, wasn't he? Then why... WHY did this hurt so badly? How could she be so crippled emotionally? He said he loved her, but maybe he was just as confused as her...

Mariana had eventually passed out in the tub, the water going cold as the evening passed, and when morning came, she awoke to find herself shivering violently, her head slumped over the side of the tub, her body clammy and pale. Her eyes weren't doing much better either. They were underlined with thick, dark looking circles. She manged to climb from the tub, dry off and brush out her long hair, then slide into a warm velvet gown in a brilliant forest green color.

After searching for her notes for nearly half an hour, she sighed, her head throbbing as she dug up a small notebook and charcoal pencil to take with her. She intended to settle in at the court room today, get adjusted to the feel, and try to remember some of her notes that she could not find. If she remembered nothing she would eventually head back to the library.

The wine caught up with her by the time she reached her destination and gotten settled, so she rose and took a trip to the restroom. The last thing she expected to see was Maximus. She had been hoping not to see him at all today. Surely not so soon. She nearly swung around to run away before he saw her, but she froze, her cocoa eyes softening. He was sobbing. She had never even seen him mist up, let alone cry like a lost child. Her heart wrenched in her chest. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe Aurelius could help him. Maybe it wasn't over. Forcing her mind to stay free of the images of last night, Mariana reached into the waist of her dress where she always kept a clean, folded hankerchief (Naomi had suggested it. It came in very handy with kids!), then slowly moved to stand in front of Maximus. Lowering to her knees, she reached over his bent legs and gently pressed the hanky to his wet cheek. When he would look up at her, she would speak first, in a soft, pleading voice. "I think you should speak with Aurelius. Promise me... promise me you will today." It was obvious that she was desperate. She was desperate to hang onto what strings were left for the taking. Aurelius always made EVERYTHING better. He could fix this. Maybe burn the witch at the stake and erase the bad visions in Mariana's head and things would be fine. She looked on the verge of tears herself. She needed him to take the initiative in this and get help... to fix it. Mariana couldn't, and Max obviously couldn't do it alone. "Promise me..." She repeated softly. Lilith was a witch by every meaning of the word and for whatever reason, she preferred honorable men for mates. Was it because she could rely on them once she had them completely snowed? Or because she enjoyed corrupting them? Was there another motive in between? Whatever the case, Maximus was in very serious Trouble.

Maximus could not look at Marianna at first when she approached him. He was a proud man and was humiliated to be seen in the condition he was in. His eyes closed when she pressed the kerchief against his cheeks and softly dragged across his flesh to absorb the tears he had been unable to restrain. He strove with all his will to regain control of his dignity and strength and it was only when the sound of her voice reached his ears that he lifted his gaze beneath a brow knitted with confusion that he met her gaze. He gazed at her in a peculiar way as she implored him to give her his promise that he would speak to Aurelius. "What shall I tell him? That his first knight is falling apart because the woman he loves is slipping away from him? That his eldest progeny and lifelong comrade may not even be fit for duty because his heart feels as though it has been taken from him and dashed into a thousand pieces? I told you I was not a man who falls apart. I was not lying...so why am I in this state? Why am I coming apart?" The vampire took her by her shoulders suddenly and shook her once firmly. "I love you with all that I am and there is nothing I can do to change that. Do you understand that I would rather die than betray those I love? Yet I feel as though I have done just that, betrayed you, Aurelius, my queen, my kingdom, by falling into Lilith's clutches in the past unknowingly without even knowing how! It rattles me, Marianna. How can I defend myself against something so intangible? What if it happens again? I will go to Aurelius and ask him to probe me for domination factors. Perhaps she has gotten inside of me, or perhaps another demon has possessed me. I must have surely done something terrible to feel this way. If it is my own demons I am warring with, then I am not fit for duty, and at such a time as this. To shame my Lord in such a way..." He shook his head.

"To shame me in what way?"

Maximus's hands leapt away from Marianna to unleash her as his King's grave voice gainsaid his attention from the head of the corridor where he stood. A number of the dragon knights were with him, whom he dismissed with a wave of his hand as Max met his gaze with a wounded look. When the knights were gone the king entered the narrow corridor to stand over them. He noticed the way Maximus's muscles trembled as he rose to face him whereof he bowed to him before answering. "I am feeling unwell, My Lord, and fear that I am unable to perform my duties with a clear head and steady hand," his first knight stated humbly.

"Can you explain what you mean by unwell?" his king probed.

"I am uncertain. I am entirely shaken, My Lord..and have no excuse for it. I can only believe that is because I am losing Marianna and have betrayed thee, My Lord, by allowing myself to be tempted by that witch." Tears threatened again but he choked his emotions down.

Aurelius gazed at the man a moment, never have seen him in such a state, then bent his focus in the way of Marianna. "Is there anything you can tell me about his present state?" When Marianna related what she had witnessed last night, at least the gist of it, it was plain to Aurelius that Maximus was stunned by the revelation. His lips parted and his brows creased and he shook his head in disbelief.

"How can I not remember these things?!" The knight's voice nearly cracked.

"She is powerful, that is how, perhaps even more powerful than myself. If you recall Maximus, she very nearly had me." Aurelius sighed a deep breath. "Her domination is unlike other demons. It does not just overpower her victim but becomes a part of them, thus is it undetectable. I have also been told that her presence is what she makes of it wherefore she cannot be sensed reliably." In other words, a probe was useless. "She has perfected her art within herself and others. I told you to avoid beautiful women, Maximus. What happened?"

Maximus shook his head, bewildered. "I...nothing happened. I went home...I spoke briefly to Stephanie, then I went to bed, My Lord." That is exactly how Max remembered it, as clearly as he was standing there now.

"She took you last night, Maximus. She came into your home and in witness of Marianna she took you. Do you understand that?"

"I understand perfectly, My Lord, I just do not recall any of it..." his progeny's bitter voice wavered.

"I ask that do not forget that it happened all the same, Maximus. I imagine that she was thrilled that Marianna caught you in the act. She does not like competition." Aurelius was steaming inside. The woman had arranged many times for Melisseant to catch him with her in compromising positions. Despite himself, Aurelius laughed. "And here you two do not even have a relationship, only your all too desperate longings to be loved by her, Maximus." That last he stated soberly to draw his progeny's eye with a heavy sigh. "You will perform your duties, Maximus. You will brace yourself and guard Marianna with your life. You will not leave her sight or her side for any reason until it is Vaeren's shift to guard her." His gaze then trained with a burn on Marianna. "And you, Marianna, when you are in Maximus's company, shall permit no woman to touch him but thee and your queen. The knights shall receive the same orders. Now, we have much to do. Let us to court." Aurelius turned on his heels and withdrew swiftly, expecting them to come along the moment they had snipped any remaining strings.

The moment his king had turned the corner Max trained his full attention on Marianna. "I am so sorry for all of this, Marianna. I would rather cut my own heart out than hurt you. You are the only woman I ever want to hold. You must never doubt that." The knight then bowed to her. He knew without a doubt that she loved him now. Her pain had spoken for her when she had told Aurelius of what she had witnessed. Her concern for him had also been too genuine not to have come from the heart. He would content himself with that knowledge and allow her to come to him in her own time. He was officially her guard now, and would not leave her side until three hours short of midnight, when his shift ended and Vaeren's began. Some knights would see the duty of guarding a lady of low rank as an offense, but Maximus did not. There was no duty Max was not proud to fulfill for his master, and guarding Marianna was a privilege. He was also well aware that Aurelius honored him by allowing him to guard the only woman he had ever chosen to sire. As it was, if Aurelius wanted to punish a man of standing, he assigned them to stable or kitchen duties. If Marianna sustained her stance of staying aloof of the love Maximus felt for her, it would play perfectly into Lilith's plans. Max would have the excuse of deciding not to be toyed with any longer. If on the other hand Marianna finally came to embrace his affection, it would make matters more difficult for Lilith. It was well known that Maximus was a very devout and honorable man. Either way, she had the advantage of Tulaave's exquisite body.

Aurelius intended to make it hard for Lilith but the demon goddess had done her homework. Tulaave Kamila was not a stranger to Maximus, not the real woman who had been killed by Lilith in recent years unknown to him. The witch had absorbed her presence and her memories in preparation of her plans to claim the second generation Noct'maire vampire. Maximus had found Tulaa near the lake of shadows after she had been attacked, raped, and forcibly sired by a wicked demon shapeshifter who had promptly abandoned her even before the process had completed to resurrect her in her new embodiment. Maximus had taken her to one of the cabins by the lake and looked after her. He and the beautiful Neffari shapeshifter came to be close friends, a friendship which had lasted fifty years until Maximus's duties and her desire to return to her family in the desert had separated them. There had never been anything romantic between them but they had loved one another dearly as friends. Maximus had not seen her since she embarked to the Desert of Fire six years ago. He did remember her fondly from time to time, and wondered how she was. He had always meant to visit her, but he had just not gotten around to it. Six years to an immortal of his age was like a month to a human in the scheme of things. Court that day would be a heyday that would no doubt add to Marianna's sense of overwhelm. Aurelius was not there for long. He gave his orders to the dragon and castellarn knights then withdrew to see the city's defenses. Maximus was everpresent to help Marianna whenever she had questions to pose, but as per his king's command, he offered no advice unless she asked of it. He seemed much better now that he had his duties under his feet to steady him. Men and women came and went throughout the day asking for Hawker's Fort protection for their villages or homes. All who entered the court were escorted by guards and had been scanned at the gates. An Elven Prince with a well armed escort arrived at mid-day, his division camped on the grounds outside of the citadel. Aurelius had sent him to Marianna when he had expressed dismay at Aurelius taking over the city as steward and demanded to speak to Prince Heldras, who was present in the court. He demanded to know how he could have allowed a demon who was very likely a hellion himself to seize control of the city, and when the Prince explained that by vote of the knights, dumarc, and with his approval, Aurelius had been allowed to assume stewardship under the Act of Temporary Stewardship. Things grew rather heated when the elf accused the Prince of being too weak to take command of his own kingdom, and the prince defended himself by declaring they required the kind of power behind them as only Aurelius owned. The elf then proclaimed that he could have summoned his elven allies to his aid rather than entrusting the lives of his people to a Lord of Acheron, who might very well be aligned with the very enemy which threatened the world with disorder and chaos. Maximus called for silence to give Marianna the chance to speak on behalf of her king. Such were the quarrels which arose, some village leaders feeling cheated when they had no choice but to move their people into the city to receive protection. Others wanting to know if their armies would be paid and properly fed for taking up arms, still others who had no weapons demanding arms. It was late afternoon when Marsol's division arrived and Aurelius ushered him to the Great Hall across the corridor from the court. It was ironic that of all the people who had come to the Western Kingdom and An Morendor's aid, the demons which served Marsol were among the more gracious. Elves were high strung and distrustful of dark kinds, and though they were perfectly gracious to humans, ancients, and immortals unconnected to Acheron, they were extremely suspicious of underworlders. When night fell, Marianna was no doubt thankfully excused from her duties to enjoy the dark hours for herself. Until nine Maximus would be at her side wherever she chose to go, and even when Vaeren took over he was reluctant to leave her. The Castlellarn knights and their brethren in the meantime met up by arranging to have those who were possessed ride out of the city, past the various armies which had united on the grounds without, to scout the lands, particularly areas where enemies could hide, such as copses of trees and rocky outcropped hills. Semmet, Mog, and the two formless ones possessing the knights that had sailed with their king were communed with telepathically on the matter at hand. Semmet informed them that the king had been killed by an assassin shortly after he had possessed him and that he had possessed the king's page Euren. Possession did not make those they took immortal by any means unless they were already immortal. All but Mog and Lucifuges chose to serve Maelmorda in Sammael's stead. The formless ones had always been loyal to Maelmorda as a general rule, whereas Mog and Lucifuges preferred to serve Sammael. Their split did not damage the sense of brotherhood they shared, it was simply a parting of ways. They would unite again when it was all over and decided. That was a common rule in Acheron, to be enemies until a dispute was settled then brothers again when it was done, with exception of the most spiteful who held grudges. Whether all of the formless who retained their castellarn embodiments could be trusted not to act as spies for Sammael remained to be seen nevertheless. It concerned Aurelius that Maelmorda had placed his trust in those who would choose to serve him, but he had faith in Maelmorda's wisdom. He always had a reason for his resolve. Maelmorda met them in the woodland east of the city at Morgrym's request to receive their answers. It would have been difficult to divide themselves from the other knights to meet him privately otherwise. Maelmorda was pleased by those who chose to stand with he and Aurelius and held no grudge against those who sided with Sammael. Mael had the majority of them after all, and that satisfied him. From where he sat in that cell, the brown haired fellow had wandered perhaps too far from home this time. With legs crossed and an empty wooden bowl that cut his hands from its splinters, Niculaie began to think he might actually die here. For what it was worth though, he had hoped he would get to see her again before that happened. As fate had it though this dreary holding cell in one of the Forts jails would not be the tomb he made it out to be. Somewhere along the line the warden of the jail, being very fair and just for a human, had become swayed by something beyond his understanding. Was it Niculaie’s doing? Did the young reaver know how to mold the minds of others in his hands as most immortals did? Or was it someone else working to aid him in getting him out of that place of little sun light and damp dirt? The demon’s head turned upwards from where he sat with his back to the south side wall of his cell, to see the warden and the ring of iron keys jingling in his doors lock. Eh? Slightly confused by this, he remained where he was seated until the robust looking man in his late forties pulled the door open wide and that key ring was hooked back on its latch at his hip. Nic sat for a long while just staring up at the man and the man stared back down at him from the ill lit doorway of his cell.

"On your feet son," he said loudly, stepping aside, your times been served.
"What," Niculaie said, brow arching as his head started to cant to the side.
"Time served, now get up and go to the end of the hall to collect your things and be on your way."
"Your shittin’ me right?"
"No I aint shittin’ you, now get up and get the fock outta my jail before I decide to make you a trustee!"
"Alright, alright," Niculaie said as he sprang to his bare feet. The dark brown breeches and sleeveless shirt covered in dirt from him laying on the floor instead of his bed. As soon as he stepped through the door of his cell and turned to the left to look down the narrow hallway to the small wooden desk where the effects personnel sat, he saw someone that made his face drain of color and his palms become clammy. Standing with their arms crossed over their chest and leaning on the edge of the table, where a pudgy woman with glasses was trying to keep busy without staring at whom was leaning on her desk, Sammael smiled as warm as a hot iron being pressed to the tender flesh of a limb.

"Well no worse for wear I see," Sammael sighed, a little miffed that Nic had been arrested and had cost him time from his duties.
"If you're the one that paid to get me out of here, Id rather just st-," Niculaie started to say but was stopped by a pair of large hands on his shoulders shoving him forward with a few claws digging into him.
"Now is that any way to treat the only one that cares about their own," Sammael asked, mock hurt in his expression as darkness leapt up from the floor and flew from the walls to form a gateway in the middle of that path that Nic was shoved head first into. As the young demon blooded man was engulfed in those wisps of black smoky conjurations the dark one would look down over his shoulder to the woman scribbling things on old parchment and tying them together. She glanced up at the man dressed in all black with the over coat and then down the hall to the warden that was itching his head from a slight confusion that was over coming him.

"Can I help you sir? Are you here on official business or visiting? Visiting hours are over you know, and... and," she said, although she couldn't remember what she was going to say after that.
"Let us forget shall we," he said, even as he spoke his boot covered feet carried him into that shadow gate and the memories of the woman and the warden were wiped clean. Every trace of Niculaie being arrested, processed, and conviction to spending time in one of Hawker Forts jails was erased. Niculaie's very presence was sponged from the few people in the facilities that had had actual contact with him, but only they and they alone. Outside of the jail though nothing else was done. Nobody with ties directly to the higher ups anyway. It wasn't that elaborate though that nobody would find out Nic had gone missing in the middle of the night. It was just a tiny cover up to get his demonic arse out of there and to a place he was better off never coming to. The officers and employees were left alone. Not one hair on their heads being harmed. It might have been fun but, he had bigger and better things to do with his time. Time. Oh yes, there would be time. Niculaie stumbled forward a few paces after being shoved, and then regretted even walking out of his cell back there. The shadow gate loomed up to meet him and although he put up both arms as if to shield himself from something, he was transported from the jail to a room of tables and chairs; of lavish furniture and hard wood floors. The room was as long as it was spacious, owning a ceiling of stained glass with depictions of many people doing various things of bravery or tom foolery. The windows that ran from floor to ceiling with their pointed tops each had the same kind of glass panels; people fighting for different reasons. It was at the wide hearth at the back of the room that he saw Sammael standing, using an iron poker to stroke the fire into being brighter. His brows furrowed as he glanced from side to side, and then begun to turn around when the other’s voice caught him in mid stride.

"Leaving so soon," Sammael said, his dark eyes washed over by the light of the flames he prodded the logs of wood in. Not turning from it.
"I've got to get home is all," Niculaie said, and he cursed himself for not being able to keep his voice steady and his hands even on the chair he held at the moment.
"Your home is here," Sammael told him, and as he turned the poker over in his hands the double thick oak doors to this room of paintings and statues were thrown open. A stream of dark red cloaked figures came pouring in, all of whose heads were bowed and murmured quiet prayers to the praise of the one they worshipped above all others. At the tail end of this odd parade of mumbling monk like people that all were human in appearance, there came three black furred bestial things. They too wore cloaks of red but their hoods were not drawn so as to hide their faces as the rest did. They were proud after all to be the hell spawns that they were, and they showed their demon hood proudly when in their Lord’s company; a way of giving homage and thanks to where and from whom they came from. In the grasp of two of the tri-horned wolf headed creatures they carried an unconscious man barely covered in rags. The last of the horned wolf looking demons held a goblet in one hand and a long knife with a wide double-edged blade. It looked as though it was meant for butchering.

"Ahh," Sammael said as the human looking robed figures went to line the walls and stand in silence, while the obvious demon looking ones lifted the unconscious man and then dropped him on their end of the long table. They said nothing either, merely awaited their Lord’s command.

"What the," Niculaie watched as these people poured into the room in a wave of red cloth and blank expressions, and then to the hair raising wolf headed ones with the three gnarled looking horns that curved forward slightly before turning their pointed ends turned to the heavens.

"This man tried to kill Marsol, did you know that," Sammael said as he came to stand at the end of the table and reached down a hand to take a hold of the unconscious mans chin, eyeing him carefully.
"No, I didn't know that. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Your not worried he'll try to take your life too? He almost succeeded on Marsol." He could see the twitch in Niculaie's hand even without turning his eyes.
"Well I'm sure he has his reasons. But Marsol isn’t dead, so why are you telling me this?"
"There's no part of you that wants revenge? No piece of you that would want to prove yourself to that man by slaying one of his enemies?"
"If he's got beef with Marsol, then Marsol will deal with him his own way. I've no doubt he'll get what’s coming to him."
Sammael started to smile. "What if this man lands the fatal blow first? Kills Marsol. And you had the opportunity to stop it before it even occurred."
"As tempting as that sounds, I don't fight with people I don't know. And I don't fight unarmed men." Niculaie glared when one of the wolf things snorted over his shoulder, ruffling his dark brown hair.
"If not for Marsol, then do it for Ann at least." His grip on the unconscious man’s chin eased and he let their head drop to the red oak long table with a loud thwack sound.
"Don't bring her into this!" Niculaie’s eyes darkened and his left foot took a step forward without him even thinking about it.
"He also tried to seize her from her home, along with the Miss Arilwen as she calls her, did you know that too?" Sammael’s gaze fixed on Niculaie with a mild looking interest. But he studied the clenching in the young demon’s jaw. The way the youth couldn't mask his emotions nearly as well as the dragon chieftain that had dug him out of the sands to save his life.
"No," Niculaie said after forcing himself to get a grip and he tried not to stare at Sammael directly in the face but, at his chest or his shoulders, "I didn't know that. Why are you telling me all of this? To gain my trust? Or to hurt those I care about?"
"I tell you these things to enlighten you as to just whom has been looking after you ever since your so called friend left you, and you ventured to reunite with your own clan. Your own kind, Niculaie. You do miss them don't you?"
"N-no, not in the least."
"I sense a but in there."
"I don’t. I belong in the desert. With Marsol and his tribe. They are my people now."
"Mm, I see. Well then you won’t mind if I grab a drink while you explain to me why you won’t take what is yours," Sammael stated flatly, and the last horned wolf looking creature raised that mean looking blade to the blind folded and gagged man's throat. Before Niculaie could even shout his own protest or move to stop him, the demon made a small nick in the man’s neck on the right side. Just a small cut. Niculaie thought the beast was about to slit the man’s throat, which wasn't all that far off from the truth. However as the beast held the goblet under the mans throat, as he held his head up by holding a handful of his gorgeous dark locks, the blood would drizzle and then run in a steady river into the cup. Abruptly Niculaie caught the powerful aroma that filled the room and the sweet scent made his nostrils flare.

"What the fu-," Niculaie said with a start, putting up a hand over his nose but it made no difference. He couldn't control just how badly his hunger rose up in him in that moment. Course he had been fed at the jail the time he had been in it but it wasn't the same as what he hungered for right now. It was something he couldn't begin to describe, and it showed how his whole body went slack and then his pupils dilated till they had thin rings of cool grayish blue. His insides twisted and his own inner dark side started to yawn; to waken to this potent scent in the air.

"Oh? Are you thirsty," Sammael asked as the wolf headed demon had bowed with the goblet raised to its Lord in complete submission fashion. His fingers laced over the underside of the goblet, taking it from the offered half paw and half human hands of the beast and then he brought the cup under his nose as if to get a better whiff of the blood that had been drawn from the unconscious man held down on the table. His dark eyes gazed at Niculaie over the edge of the goblet as he watched the young demon blooded man start to loose to the fight with his inner dark urges. Just as Niculaie shook his head and lifted his foot to take a step back, the two beast looking creatures would grab him by his arms and legs. They forced his starving body to his knees, yanking his head back and held his mouth open by the bruising harsh grip to his lower jaw. Niculaie grunted, and tried to twist sideways but that thirst to taste whatever this sweet smell was ate at his insides like a parasite. He could feel himself slipping towards his demonic side, even the threat of changing right there in the hands of these beasts. But as they held him down and that third poured the unconscious man’s blood into his mouth to fill it, Sammael slapped a hand over it so that Niculaie couldn't spit it out.

"Now drink, know this I give you, and no other," Sammael said as he could picture how the blood must be electrifying Niculaie's veins right now. How that delicious nectar was setting his senses on fire and making his mind buzz with such a high feeling. He would force fed Niculaie three more cups of the unconscious mans blood, which he doubted seeing as how Niculaie could barely contain his craving for it. After the third cup the bound man would be removed from the table and carried away. To which Niculaie by this time would surely become vexed and demand more. Of course, Sammael would oblige him; for a price.

“No harm shall befall Anna, I give you my word. She can be brought here, and you both reunited. Live happily even. Have little humanoid babies running around with red hair and tails too," he waited a minute or so as he was sure Niculaie really wouldn't hear him as he gulped down the red life fluid from someone he didn't know, trying not to choke. "All I ask of you... is allegiance." Even as Niculaie heard this, and he tried to jerk his head away from the offered cup of blood, he couldn't quite manage it. It was so addictive whatever this was. He couldn't keep his thoughts straight as he felt his teeth sharpen and bite the inside of the hand over his mouth. He was over come by the need to taste more of that liquid, and it led him to sink his teeth into Sammael's hand. Not that it mattered now. Niculaie's taste buds had been subjected to the blood of the unconscious man moments before; the blood of an angel, a very brave and stubborn angel that had the rotten luck of crossing paths with Sammael not all that long ago. However, what filled Niculaie’s mouth now was nothing like what he had tasted before. A chair was brought for Sammael to slowly lower his tall frame into where Niculaie crouched on the floor, still held in the solid muscular arms of the wolf headed beasts with the three horns on their heads.

"Not the same is it," Satan asked Niculaie as his free hand closed around the front of the young demons throat. "But you'll enjoy it just the same." The sweet blood Niculaie had first tasted of the blind folded man was indeed from an angel. Unfortunately, Marcania's blood was quite different then that of Sammael's. Heh... The dispatched squad of eight plus one were all very well clean and went with the most respected and honorable King Aurelius at the Forts gates. Well, relatively speaking. These ones were so immersed in war affairs that most of the time their appearances weren’t the cleanest. A few may have smelled up to high heaven, while others did not. The leading and most collected of years went by the name of Jedah, he was prone to not having not a bone of gentle in his body. As far as manner went with the introductions, all was fine. The others had remained outside of the meeting Aurelius held with their leader. It was not their place to be in the company of a King, no matter what territory they traveled in. Only Jedah met with the important figures, and that was it. As the old man had taken a human image before they reached the Forts gates, the rest of the team had not. They were either too proud or too comfortable within their full demon forms to revert back to such a bothersome state. As Jedah spoke with Aurelius inside, the rest of the squad all crouched in a circle outside the establishment. Drawing things in the sand with their claws, pointing and gesturing all the while they spoke in their native tongue. These eight all closely resembled their scaled demon blood lines, with respect to their heritage. Some had horns, others tails, while a couple had spikes running down their spines that protruded through the clothing of their backs. They made no effort to conceal just how inhuman they really were, but they didn’t go out of their way to frighten the people of Hawker’s Fort either. They kept to themselves, minded their own business as they awaited the end result of their mission. Not only though did they speak in that particular language, but also communicated mostly with the body and the faint click clacking of their claws at irregular intervals. The scene of them all crouched around in a circle digging shapes and symbols in the dirt with their claws and tails; it seemed almost more animal like then anything else.

"Is it surprising they who feel they had been harmed by the hand of a human would side with the Desert Wind. Personally, I would rather the goblins be wiped out in this war. But that’s just me. As for the dragon kin, are being a sod of a lot. Joining he who would see us all bathed in a world of torment and anguish," Jedah said, his voice deep sounding to the ears, "Our beloved Chieftain suspects that many will rise to the Desert Wind’s call, simply because his offers are too sweet tasting to the mind not to succumb to. It is a well known truth that the Desert Wind is being particularly troublesome to my Liege, and it has been brought to our attention recently that one of our people reside in your law offices? A jah-ale? A boy barely coming into his manhood, of dark hair and lineage he be. Unfortunate his ties are that connect him with the vile fiend known as Mekkor; most unfortunate." At this Jedah would pause as his mind listened to the decisive solutions which those under his command were working on outside in the dirt, and those instructions his dragon Lord was giving him via telepathy. His dark brown eye did not flicker or waver as he took in all this information King Aurelius related to him, those of his squad, and that which Marsol bid him. Naturally should the dragon Lord tell him something he in turn told Aurelius the second he learned of it.
"After we’ve finished here, honorable King Aurelius Emrys, I am instructed to ask of the fate of the young lad being held. If you will permit me such information, I will tell of why it is important to know these things and much more." The old demons arms would cross over his chest as his eye shifted downwards to the map laid out before him, taking in every detail as only he was well known for. He memorized it within seconds, and then begun calculating just how things would pan out for all these territories. But most of all he did not like how close Sammael was to Aurelius’ grounds in the northern regions either. He scoffed at that once he saw it; slightly glaring at that spot on the map that might have served as a reference point for the Ghazis home fortress. The leader would share all he had been told to with Aurelius, which was everything as far as Marsol cared, about how their own boarders were faring and how the surrounding parts were being sent word and able bodies, even if they didn’t deserve it.

She would never get use to such means of traveling Anna thought to herself after saying goodbye to Arilwen and her nurse, and little Anwarr. Whom she got a little teary eyed over leaving again so soon. She loved the little guy to bits and became perhaps too emotional when parted from the only other friend she had in the world. “I’ll see you soon,” she told Arilwen before she felt her arm linked in with Wryvaust, and then to see that flaming fissure that he walked her towards, into and through. When the Raven had come back home she had not noticed until she heard the difference in Arilwen’s voice and the happiness in it. But as much as she willed herself not to, she flinched at the sight of the Raven. Something about seeing dragons and a giant snake, goat looking beasts with horns and wings, it could make someone a little paranoid and skittish right? As the Raven had sought his wife to be with her and relax, if he did in knowing she and their son were safe, Anna had turned her attention on their son and only their son. It wasn’t just that Wyrvaust now scared her because she did not understand, but that in seeing the Swan so smitten with her demon lover she remembered how she had hurt her with her words and pushing in the desert. Yes, yes she still didn’t forgive herself over that whole crazy angel guy trying to grab-and-snatch them before the giant snake came and then the dragons. It was the second time she had seen such breath taking beings of might and grace, but it had been the third time she had seen a dragon. Not very fond of those creatures she was. Not after what she had seen, and then felt. But those memories of the cave and the horrors in it were fragmented and fuzzy when she tried to recollect them. Maybe it was better to forget. To be forgotten. As she squinted and then put up her free hand over her eyes, as if these flaming images that the Raven had used as a means to get them from his lair to his Lord’s personal chambers in the cave would burn her eyes. It wasn’t a conscious gesture, it just happened. But after they stepped onto warm dirt within the muggy cave, she would lower her hand from her face, turn to look up at Wyrvaust and then slowly over her shoulder. So those things just happen randomly then? Did Wyrvaust make that? Was it an illusion she wondered as she padded over to her Father that made her eyes light up. Hugging him and then sliding down to sit on her knees where her hands rested on his knee, and her cheek laid on top of her hands. She had no idea the way she acted so openly with the dragon Lord was informal, and to some rude and disrespectful. She was not of his flesh and blood. She had no offering of livestock or wealth and land to give him as homage and praise. She didn’t even have a house actually. She had never knelt to anyone in her life either the way she saw Wyrvaust doing now. It struck her as odd, and just added to her growing confusion. Know Marsol had some sort of high standing in the desert she did, but she would have been shocked had she known she had been this way towards a King; a very temperamental king that took her in as a child, no more then two or three possibly, because his reasons were his alone to know. Had he been in a good mood that day? Or just took pity on her? The nervous thoughts of her head cleared when she heard Wyrvaust speak of a bond, or maybe it was something about love? Those pale blues moved from a spot on the floor they had wandered to, to look at the Raven from where he had been told to come and to sit beside Marsol. Kneeling couldn’t have been good for ones health she thought, with a silent nod of how Marsol would not let the Ravel keep such a position for more then a few seconds. It had been a long time since she had seen her Father in reality; once perhaps last month, and then nothing the previous months. This was a surprise and she was almost sick to her stomach that he had brought them here only to say he had to go again. Selfish? No, she just missed him something terrible. Just a little while ago she had been telling little Anwarr that he would be tickled pink when he got older to know Marsol when he met him; tickling his little tootsies and mock biting his hands with her lips.

"Do not trouble your heart with thinking you disappoint me, dear friend," Marsol said, making a sweep of his hand and then patting the stone wide step he sat on beside himself to the right. "You’ve yet to do such an act, and I doubt you have it in you to regardless."

His lips tugged upwards into a small smile and he could still taste the spicy flavor of Wyrvaust’s tongue when he rolled his own along his lower lip. His left hand came to the top of Anna’s head, petting through her wild tangle of red hair as he spoke to Wyrvaust. It was common place with the human. She had learned to speak without using words, and that was just what they were doing now. In the slightest of brushes with fingers through hair or tugging of his pant leg. Anna’s eyes would take on a worried look when she saw the way Wyrvaust’s face grew heavy with something. Whatever it was he and Marsol were talking about, it had to be very important. Had the Raven done something wrong? She silently shook her head, because she thought her Father didn’t associate with disappointing people. And the Raven was someone who could not do such a thing anyways, period. Arilwen loved him. Marsol loved him. Anna had grown fond of him, but that fondness was fragile because he had scared her half to death when he had seized the Swan and her from the bathing chambers within the house of Satan. She kept those thoughts to herself though. Not wanting to trouble Arilwen with her nagging fears and unknowing ways. The human would peer over Marsol’s leg as he bid the Raven to come and sit beside him, finding it unusual that the three of them would be here alone. It had never happened before, not to the best of her knowledge. Anna’s brow arched however when Marsol commented that what he was going to do now to Wyrvaust, he would also do something similar to her. Eh? Would be the expression written on her face be noticed as she sat up straighter by her Father’s left knee. But before she could ask just what he meant by it, the two demons were already doing something quite peculiar to her. From where she sat on the lower step, to the left, her Father was holding his friend and he had his mouth on his wrist? No, wait he had his mouth on the side of his neck now. Wait, why?!

Marsol began the bonding process with Wyrvaust without so much as telling the human what was going on. He would tell her later. Right now he felt he had to hurry through with this, and then not only bond but take mortal part of the girl from her and replace it with the strength of his tribe and the ability to act on all that foolish but kind hearted courage he knew she had deep down. The dragon had opened his arms to accept Wyrvaust into them, and then shortly after bite the inside of the Ravens left wrist. Then the right side of the Ravens neck would be nuzzled lightly, as if searching for the softest skin there before fang like teeth were sunken in. He still had the ghostly feel of that stolen kiss Wyrvaust took back at the fire Maelmorda had made, but the taste of his mouth only paralleled that his blood held. It may have been alright with others, but he knew Anna would not understand the intimate embrace her Father did now to his most trusted and cherished of friends. He saw over Wyrvaust’s shoulder as he rested his hands over the Ravens stomach and chest, that the human was perplexed by it; and then frightened to the point that she leapt off of the step to rush several paces away. He saw over his friend’s shoulder, through strands of his silky black strands, when he moved his right hand upwards to rest it over the side of Wyrvaust’s neck her brows rose even further. If he could have painted the look on her face, he might have. But only because it was comical to him. She must be thinking that this was a betrayal to Cirgoth, he thought, reading the humans face like an open book. Poor thing he pondered as his appetite was veracious and he would drain Wyrvaust rather quickly and then cut his own wrist. To give to the Raven as he held his friend where they sat on those wide stone steps. With Wyrvaust half held and half sitting in between Marsol’s knees. He murmured things as his free hand held Wyrvaust’s head should he need the assistance, and he just might, to have the other man’s mouth cover his whole wrist better and to feed as soon as possible. His voice was low, and nearly like a hum in its steady flow of words. Or was he really humming to Wyrvaust? The desert creature may have been reminiscing with the Raven about how this felt all very familiar. Or perhaps he was telling his friend secrets of a dragon’s heart? The only ones to know for sure the things that went spoken and unspoken between the two old beings were they and they alone.

Anna stood far off to the side as the sight of her Father biting and, seeming to drink Wyrvaust’s blood, sort of made her stomach do a summersault. Blood never use to make her queasy but for some reason seeing the corners of Marsol’s mouth leak out Wyrvaust’s life fluid made her dizzy. She wanted not to look, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away either. This wasn’t something normal people did she thought, so sure of it that it was nerve racking to her to try and figure out. Her hands gathered the sides of her robe, knotting them up absentmindedly; though as Marsol cut into his own wrist and then gave his blood in turn to Wyrvaust, she cringed.

"Excuse me," she said, turning around quickly to hurry to the doorway to the cavern so she could leave.
"Annandabah," Marsol said as he licked the corners of his mouth clean, slowly looking up from how he had been looking at how Wyrvaust drank of him.
"Yes Father?"
"Think this not something so terrible that it would put fear in you my dear. It is a bonding, and one I will also do for you."
"Father I do not know if it is me or if it is the sight of blood, but I would rather not take part in it."
"Protect you this does, from those that would do you harm. It does not hurt, if you are worried."
"I-I’m not worried about the pain."
"Your eyes tell me otherwise."
"But how can this be when I know where your heart lies?"
"You question my love for you?"
"No I didn’t mean it like that. I just, Father-,"
"My love for you can be expressed many ways Anna," he cut her off, knowing where she was getting at and not liking even her to be uncertain as to whom he cared for. "This is one of them. I will instill in you a taste of my own. After this eve you will no longer be human, do you understand?"
"Your going to turn me into a monster..?!"
"A demon Anna, but it is you who decides if you become a monster. Not I or anyone else."
"But he said that demons could become monsters."
"Who said?"
"The man that…Um, he said that," her voice ended there as she thought on just who had said that. Getting a little annoyed with herself that she could recall his voice but not his face.
"Was it when you were being bathed with Lady Arilwen," Marsol asked, and his hold on Wyrvaust’s shoulder tightened just a hair.
"Yes but she knew him too. Father I am sorry that I cannot think of his name or what he looked like. But he was quite nice to us."
"Forget whatever he has tried to fill your head with. They are just that, lies."
"Father are you angry with me? I only wanted to tell you this because he did not say anything ill of you, an-,"
"Anna."
"Yes Father?"
"Have you not wanted to be one of us? Would not changing you to become like he and I, make you feel more at home?" He hated how well he knew her sometimes, and that her stubbornness made it impossible not to bring up how she longed to be like him. To be one of his kind, and then maybe she could be more useful to him. Oh he was well aware of what she hid behind her gentle smiles was the sadness that stemmed from just being human. Sometimes he wondered if it had been anything outside related but in the end he blamed himself for it, although the blame was nobodies really. His amber pools studied how the humans head lowered and she would look to the ground, quiet a moment. His arm slid further around Wyrvaust as Anna slowly but carefully came towards them. Small steps that would bring her back to sit by the dragon lord’s left knee and lean her head against it.
"You hide yourself in chores around the castle as though to shut out the world Anna. You have always been a part of this family, you know that," Marsol said as the hand to the wrist Wyrvaust fed from moved its thumb over the Ravens cheek. Feeling the nod against his knee, he glanced down to see the girl fold her arms around his leg and lightly fiddle with the stone around his big toe. Even though she was just a strip of a girl, he already foresaw the kicking and screaming that would come once he started her bonding, and then her siring. It made him kind of groan but smile inwardly... Sammael had broken Niculaie out of the well warded prison and bypassed the wards as easily as he had fogged the warden and his guard's minds when he infiltrated the castle-like penitentiary. He had broken in before Aurelius, Argal and a host of others mages had combined their powers to boost the wards to such might that even Sammael would be unable to shatter them without a united front of arch mages assisting him in the task. Aurelius had added an extra kick to the wards as well. If they were broken, it would trigger a dead arcane zone over and around the citadel for one mile. If Sammael attacked the citadel and broke down the wards, he and his legions would have to fight a physical battle of weapons and bodies. It would even the odds a bit. Aurelius was a tactical master and not to be taken lightly as a rival. Indeed the palace and prison was warded against arcane and supernatural infiltration, including gates and telepathy. Only very select members of court were permitted the use of telepathy and gates in the palace. When Jedah requested that he be permitted telepathic contact with his arms and lord without, Aurelius permitted it temporarily by adding Jedah to the bypass. It was only after Jedah had made the request of retaining information on a prisoner kept in the Citadel's huge prison, and had informed Aurelius of Niculaie's name, that the king would learn that the wards had been infiltrated He sent Corev of the Castellarn Knights to gather reports on Nicolaie at both the magistrate's office and the prison and to find what cell he was being immured in. After a time Corev returned empty handed.

"Lord Emrys, there are no records whatsoever of a prisoner by the name of Nicolaie, nor of any prisoner of Mekkor's clan. I searched the cell block reserved for young immortals and there was no man there fitting Sir Jedah's description other than a young fallen angel arrested for solicitation, serving a short term." It was then a Castellarn Knight named Celebran spoke up.

"I recall arresting the man mentioned. He killed two men and in court claimed it was in self-defense but he was sentenced for two counts of murder by the public regardless. My Knighthood attempted to have the sentence repealed, but we could not get the King's support. I am certain it is because he is Mekkor's progeny. That clan is hated and distrusted in Hawker's Fort, and King Heldras feared that if he was released he would only come under attack again and stir more trouble. He did order a lesser sentence of thirty years be served, instead of the death sentence he received. He was imprisoned, My Lord, Sir Jedah. It was Hughveld and I who locked him up."

"In what cell?" Aurelius asked.

"Cell B-10 on cell block three," Celebran reported.

Corev shook his head. "That cell was empty and right next to the angel's cell, Sir."

Aurelius frowned then met Jedah's gaze. "It appears someone infiltrated the prison wards before they were improved, or someone on the inside broke him out. One of the guards or wardens could have been dominated or possessed prior to the break and been under command of Sammael, Mekkor, or one of their people. What is his importance to Marsol? Argal or one of my people may be able to discover exactly what became of him by means of divination." Unless Sammael had guarded against that as well. "Otherwise, there is no telling where he is now." It was true that Wyrvaust was incapable of every betraying Marsol or even acting against his wishes of his own will. He would die first. He had even asked Marsol's consent to keep the beautiful angel he had found in the desert who had later become his wife and second soul mate. Marsol would always be his first soul mate, and nothing short of final death could change that. All of the parts of him that could love a woman, Arilwen owned; all the parts which could love a man, Marsol owned; likewise, any children he had would own the facets of him that could love his own blood. When Wyrvaust gave himself to someone, he gave himself completely, and for that reason, he would only ever love a few. He wanted to have more children with Arilwen, when the future was more decipherable, but he did not want more than four children, ever, and he had no desire to have any progeny. His was not a rare line which relied on him to sustain it, so he saw no point risking others to his blood, Acheron blood. Despite all his insanity and chaotic flaws, Wyrvaust was also a very reasonable and logical creature.

Marsol forgave him so easily. It pained him, made his heart ache with love and deepen the disgrace he felt towards himself, for how he could he have obeyed even a single command from Sammael when such a being as Marsol was the master of his heart's convictions? Wyrvaust was always far harder on himself than Marsol ever was. It was how he never forgot the mistakes he made. He moved immediately over to the wide stone step his master invited him to with a pat, barely unfolding his bent posture as he relocated his lean human form. Wyrvaust's cheek met Marsol's chest to nuzzle him with animal affection, his fingers toying absently with his chocolate colored hair. The Raven hence exhaled a deep breath of what could only be elation when Marsol sank his fangs into his wrist and his gaze followed his Lord's lips thereafter until they passed out of sight and his throat arched to the heat of his mouth against the curve of his neck. A soft cry breathed past his lips as he felt those dragon fangs puncture his skin and sink in until his blood pulsed freely to those strong pulls which siphoned his life nectar from his arteries. Wyrvaust could no sooner help the way his gut tightened and his pelvis curved beneath that warm hand than he could stop the euphoria he felt at having his blood drained by his most beloved friend and Lord. Immortals were a strange lot when seen through mortal eyes. Wyrvaust craved intimacy with Marsol, he always had, and it was so rarely they ever shared such moments. Nuzzling and caressing his master was hardly anything new for Wyrvaust. He had always shown him such gestures of affection.

Bonding a demon of another's blood was no small endeavor, but Marsol was patient. He could have drained him of his blood a lot more quickly if he had been violent about it, but Anna would not have understood that at all. Thus; it took awhile to drain the demon of as much blood as his veins had to give. He had to, to bond him permanently. A human would have long been dead. A different kind of immortal would have passed out a long time ago and six times over, but not Wyrvaust; he was a demon. Even with his blood drained until all that remained was trapped in tiny capillaries and tissue, the demon was conscious, light headed, but conscious. Oh he would have passed out in a moment if not for Marsol's offering up his own blood to both restore and bond him. Because Wyrvaust did not activate the bonding or enslaving properties in his own blood, by calling the arcane power in him into his blood, the blood Marsol drank from the Raven would not bond him. Wyrvaust would not dare unless Marsol demanded it of him! The demon bit into the wrist offered delicately; not that Marsol couldn't take roughness, but it was out of respect he caused him as little pain as possible. Wyrvaust was sure Marsol would use some sort of numbing power on Anna. He had promised her it did not hurt after all while he was feeding from him. Wyrvaust was rooting at that blood before long without really realizing it. It was powerful blood, tasted like Marsol's tongue a hundred times over, like the wild spices the plants in the desert produced, heady, tasty, bewitching to the Desert Raven. In truth, he wanted to go for Marsol's throat, the demon in him could not help the desire, but contented himself with the wrist he had been offered. Laying in his lap as he was while he fed on that syrupy liquid that was like pure ambrosia to him, Wyrvaust was in his kind of heaven. There was only one greater paradise he could ask for, and it was something he dared never voice. It was an old wish he had never confided to anyone, not even Marsol, and now the wish had altered to include the addition of the only other one he would want to share his ideal utopia with. He was not ashamed of this secret wish, but rather afraid that his all consuming love would be misjudged as a degenerate’s fantasy. Those particular parts of his body which hardened and the very telling clenches of stomach and pelvic muscles gave away certain secret desires to Marsol nevertheless as the demon suckled on that wrist and caressed him nearly everywhere he could reach perhaps all too intimately. Marsol's blood, its flavor, heat and the incredible strength of its bonding powers were having a very compelling and distinct sway over Wyrvaust. There was no question that the bond was taking. He was nearly oblivious to the talk Marsol and Anna were having. It was not his business anyway and nothing was said that he could benefit anyway. When Marsol's mark began to burn though him his lips broke from his flesh to tear him slightly with his fangs. The pain had come on gradually, like a flame heating water, but at length the ocean that was his soul began to boil with the heat of his mark as it scored him through and through, soul to flesh and bone. His breaths hastened and he shut his eyes to lap at the blood and torn punctures he had inadvertently left against Marsol's flesh. The mark would not have manifested if he had not ingested enough blood to complete the bond. Wyrvaust had not expected Marsol to mark him. The Raven had never been marked before, not even by his Sire Mustaalaa. Wyrvaust had marked his wife, even his son, but it had never been done to him. The pain swelled up like an inferno inside of him until the mark lay bare and livid on his navel beneath his belly button, whereof the pain began to ebb. When the pain had grown so intense that the demon could focus on nothing else, he curled as much of his tall frame up in Marsol's lap as was physically possible, his head buried against his gut, his arms encircling Marsol's waist to embrace him tightly until the pain washed away. Laughter bubbled up inside of him afterwards, to shake him and Marsol with him. The Raven lifted his head to peer up at Marsol with his head tipped to the side. "I feel...better than I have ever felt in my life," he said, without once referring to himself in the second person, as happened from time to time when balance overcame his chaotic mind. If never lasted long and this was no exception. The demon then grinned and lifted himself just enough to bring his lips against Marsol's in yet a second passionate kiss. It was as raw with gratitude as it was with love. Depending on Marsol it would either be lasting or brief, for where Wyrvaust had forgotten about Anna's presence there temporarily, Marsol had not. If the kiss lasted too long, Wyrvaust might well get too damn bold in that embrace of his master. Mariana listened quietly and more sympathetically by the moment as Maximus bled out his questions. What WAS he to tell Aurelius? He was a rock and he was being chipped away by the moment. Mariana tucked her hankerchief back into her gown and remained kneeling in front of him in a pool of her gown. Her gaze softened even further as Maximus shook her by the shoulders, asking how he could possibly be betraying everyone he loved. Damn. Lilith was like AIDS. They needed a vaccine! When he trailed off, Mariana parted her lips to try and offer any comfort she could. All she knew was that Aurelius could fix things. He was a brilliant man. He had answers! But she could not even make a sound before she heard that very voice behind them, and she stood swiftly, turning to face him after dipping a bow with Maximus.

Aurelius sent the other knights away, leaving the three of them to speak, and Mariana remained quiet as she listened to Maximus answer each question he was asked. When her lord's eyes turned on her and that question was posed, Mariana felt the blood drain from her face, but she wouldn't hide it. She was concerned for Maximus and if her answers could help... "A woman... who I am assuming is this Lilith person... was at the cottage last night. She had Maximus." Her lips pursed afterwards as she fought her mind's urge to remember the vivid images again. At least Maximus couldn't remember them, so the sex wasn't memorable to him! She felt a twinge of regret for the anger and resentment she felt against him last night when he was so obviously distraught over hearing this. Mariana was so terribly curious when Aurelius assured Max of how powerful Lilith really was, because the woman nearly had HIM at one point. Mariana found it hard to believe that this fortress of a man fell into the same trap. She pressed her lips together when Aurelius pointed out that Lilith did not like competition. Mariana was going to at least try to give her a run for her money. No matter how angry she was, she had to remind herself that Maximus was worth the fight. The next time she saw that witch she was going to grab her by the hair and beat her face into a wall. In all truthfulness, she would get her ass beat in a moment, but she wouldn't be able to hold it in.

Maximus was given exactly what he needed at the moment. Aurelius provided him with simple, clear orders, and it was easier for him to get a grip when he had duties in his lap. For the moment, at least. When he turned to Mariana to advise her that she was not to let any other woman aside from Melissant touch him, she hesitated, but nodded. "Of course, my Lord." She murmured. Court was calling, but before Maximus let Mariana go, he stopped her to apologize profusely for what was happening. Turning her dark eyes up to him, she spoke gently. "I am sorry this is happening to you. I have to remind myself that it is not your fault. We will spend time together after court, alright?" She touched his arm, leaning up on her tip toes to kiss him softly on the cheek, then turned and headed into the court room.

Chaos. That was the only word to describe it. Mariana tried her best to be seated and keep her features serene and understanding as people began protesting Aurelius' stewardship of the city. One of the elven kings that showed up began vehemently protesting, speaking angrily against the prince and declaring that he was a weak man for letting a hellion take over the city in such a time. When Maximus called for silence so that Mariana could speak, the young woman gave a warm, sympathetic smile to the elf. "You are right to be overly worried about the current situation." She said firmly, but gently, causing the elf to stop for a moment and calm down a little. "I would do no less if I was in your shoes. You have your people to worry about. But at no time has Lord Aurelius posed a threat to Hawkers' Forte or any of the people of the city. Have you ever heard of an instance when he lashed out against someone, whether it be for race or personal means?" When the elf admitted that he had not, she folded her hands and leaned forward on the table. "Exactly. Only defense. In the meantime, we have an extensive group of mages and elders scanning and monitoring Lord Aurelius, his knights, the guards, and anyone who comes into the city. The only instance of unnatural hatred we found that needed to be purged lay in a guard that was already part of Hawkers' Forte... a human. And if you wish, you are more than welcome to submit a mage of your own to join the ranks of the ones that we already have and if they sense anything, we urge them to bring it forward. The ones currently on staff come from all areas of An Morendor, so that there is no descrimination. If you would like to provide one or two as well, you can bring them to Argal for any questioning. He is right there." She motioned to Argal, who was seated a few chairs down and gave a welcoming wiggle of his fingers, then smiled gently to the elf again. "We are also urging anyone who has any concerns or suspicions to bring them directly forward for a full investigation. Nothing will be taken lightly or discarded due to race or suspected paranoia, for any reason. I can assure you that. We only ask that you try to hold back discriminations during this time as well." Once the elf was gone, Mariana would meet with a few more village leaders, making sure to learn them all by first names and chat with them during breaks. The personal level seemed important to them, and to see a simple human steady in her decisions about Aurelius calmed a few of them.

Haashi had raised awareness to his brothers about their meeting, and once they were free for the evening, they were sent to 'scout' the area for enemies. The loyalties fell were they may, and right where Haashi expected. Mog and Lucifuges decided to remain on Sammael's side, but all the rest would side with Maelmorda. Nothing Haashi tried to discuss with them would change their minds, so they parted ways amicably and Haashi contacted Maelmorda via a private path to advise him that they could meet now, and the meeting went fairly well. Maelmorda seemed satisfied with the amount of the formless ones that he obtained, and eventually, the knights would return to the citadel to report their findings.

The Formless would be rewarded for their loyalty, and as Maelmorda had promised; treachery would land them in the pit for a long stay. Before Maelmorda parted with them, he kissed each of them, some on the lips, others on the cheek, including those who had chosen to desert them. Hence he withdrew to return to his room at the tavern where he awaited a guest he was expecting, and made contact with Sammael. If O'Braugh did not show up he was going to hunt him down and kick his ass. Jedah did not appear the least bit surprised when word came of the young one's disappearance. He himself had hoped they would retrieve that one before something else could happen to him but they apparently were too late. They raised a hand and ran it over the front of their face and then rubbed the scraggly unkempt salt and peppered beard for a moment as Aurelius, Celebran and Corev spoke. This would not fair well with his Lord the demon thought, and even he did not look forward at all to the temper that was bound to flare once he conveyed this latest news back home. A part of him would rather to just have left the lad wherever he was and be on about their business. It was his own damned fault he'd been caught by whomever Mekkor or Sammael had sent after him, was it not? Least that was the way he saw it. But that wasn't the way Marsol saw it.

"He is a good friend of my Lord Marsol's, and he is being tricked or used to whatever means by the vile fiend and his Master to cause strife with my Lord," Jedah said, and then much slower and with an annoyed look, "and he was to be the husband of our King's daughter." It was beyond Jedah's understanding as to why his Lord would permit this lad such a thing with the human he'd taken into his home. But then again, Jedah was not King, and he knew nothing of what went on in Marsol's head at times. Despite how many years he had served the dragon chieftain loyaly. In the mental link between his Lord and he, Jedah carefully told of the circumstances at Hawker's Fort concerning Niculaie and his vanishing act. To Aurelius, Jedah's battle hardened face might have squinted a bit, as though he had eaten something most sour. In reality, he was getting an earful of just a fraction of his Lord's anger over it. If someone were to ask why his good eye squinted and then his jaw clenched just a little, Jedah would say that his own displeasure over this is out done by his Lord's. The demon leader would then request to the honorable and trusted Aurelius not to bother with finding out more of Niculaie's whereabouts. He stressed that his Lord would not want to bring the attention of Sammael to Hawker's Fort anymore then it already is, for his methods were dark and sneaky as they were all aware of. Jedah also made it clear that this was being said because perhaps it was the lad's own fight to deal with this time. But the likelihood of Niculaie getting away from Mekkor or Sammael, or whomever had taken him was slim to nada. Even so, there was a chance if however small and grave it was. What Jedah didn't say, was that there was a big chance Niculaie would be released in time anyways, and sent back into the desert to do either what he was told or to cause more harm to the desert kingdom. And that was a probable out come seeing as how his Lord thought Nic like a son, and the dragon chieftain's daughter was quite taken to him, thus making it hard to just outright leave the lad to die and whatnots. The request was just that however, a request. If Aurelius choose to ignore it and pursue the matter Jedah would say nothing further to talk him out of it. Aurelius understood them wanting to keep clan affairs in their clan; he was the same way, thus he dipped his head to Jedah when he declined the search for further information. When he explained what the young demon meant to them; he nodded. "Mekkor is one of Acheron's vilest creatures. It is fortunate for Nic that he was spared at all. Those Mekkor claims he corrupts to the best of his ability. One of his is being held in the hopes of reforming him, but I place little confidence there. I imagine his fate shall be to suffer his Sire again. The boy demon is so fogged by domination and bonding factors that he cannot possibly know his own heart, but he believes himself incapable of forsaking his master, despite the fact that his sire left him for dead for two years, an act which breaks Acheron's Standard of Possession. We have explained that freedom is in his grasp, but he will not take it. He believes it is no use." And he could be right if no one was willing to protect him from an arch demon. His pendragon eyes then locked on Jedah. "I would advise Lord Marsol not to bring Niculaie under his fold and allow him to marry his daughter unless he intends to kill him, purify him, and over-sire him as his own. He has that right if the man was taken from him." Demons did not sire like vampires, their chosen had to be raised from immediate death by their sire's blood. "Do extend your Lord many thanks on our behalf, for his tribute to the cause. Tell him he is welcome here or at my fortress in the North at any given time, and that if ever he is need of armed support, I shall lend him as many good men as I can spare." Jedah nodded at the words Aurelius spoke, agreeing with him the entire time and that for some reason wasn’t done very often. The only other soul he had ever fully agreed with was Marsol. The old demon was thankful that he had had such an audience with Aurelius. He had never met him before but, he had heard his Lord speak of this one very highly. Now that he has met the man beyond all that talk, Jedah felt a swell of pride for all immortals everywhere. It might have been silly but, he felt it anyways that there were ones such as his Lord and Aurelius to keep the true essence of evil within the world from the innocents.

The old man’s good eye lowered as he seemed to fall into a deep contemplative state. Though he was only relaying every word Aurelius spoke to his Lord. "It is unfortunate that the young are the ones who suffer the most isn’t it," he said. It wasn’t meant to be answered. He would give a nod and a deep bow as he was told to give his Lord many a thanks for the items they had carted from their home. He waited a moment before he said, "Permit me as to be so bold but, your company is sought after by many and yet here I am, feeling like a…human teenager at prom. Pardon the pun but, it is a sight for this tired body to see such souls like yours in this world. Oh, where is my head. It’s run away from me. When this is all over and done with, there will be change. I can only hope it is for the best. Good King Aurelius Emrys, may you and yours be blessed with good tidings and fortune and never hold another day of sorrow in your hearts."

It was a rare thing that such a blessing came, let alone from a rough and tough looking battleaxe like Jedah. But it was the kind of words he would only say as a verbal and silent prayer for a close friend. For not just their happiness but to ask the powers that be for the safety of Aurelius’s household from the desert herself. At that Jedah retreated from the meeting spot Aurelius had brought him too, unless the King had something further to discuss with the old cod. The leader would find his own way outside to meet up with his squad of eight and they would wait awhile where they all crouched to talk things over. They had actually come to like Hawker’s Fort in the short time they had been there, and weren’t all that happy to leave it. Jedah of course saw their point. The grounds had their own charm to them. The people were so much different then those of their homeland. The smells, good god; how their senses were bombarded with all sorts of delicious scents and savory aromas. However Jedah would have to make the small request to the only master he and his squad would ever serve to remain at the Fort a little longer. And that he knew would not be all that much of a good thing considering how angry his Lord was at the moment. In a short while they would depart for home then, to the groans and sour faces of his team.

"Now none of that," he scoffed, although they all chuckled at the sour face he made too. One had to laugh often at life, otherwise you could go crazy. Aurelius agreed with a slow nod of his head that it was unfortunate the young frequently suffered the most. Such trials usually turned out to be a learning experience, or the young were plain exploited by those who had every advantage over them. The only lesson to learn from that was not to trust others. There was a reason Felix, Mekkor's child progeny, trusted no one and nothing. The king's shadowy eyes settled on Jedah as he spoke of being bold. When he had professed his hopes and granted his respects, Aurelius clapped his hand against the demon's shoulder and jostled him with a warrior's brotherly gesture of affection. "We all of us hope matters shall unveil for the best but we shall endure the worst should it ever come. You honor me, Sir, with your commendation. May your hearts never be taken from you and remain as fiery as the desert which embraces you."

When Jedah retreated Aurelius informed him that he was heading back to the gate thus the dragon of Noct'maire accompanied him to the gate. His black and silver armor was almost Roman in style but clearly of a unique design. The plate shirt was black diamthrill, form fitting and followed his contours to his upper thighs in a leaf cut that was tassled with white diamthrill plates, which looked like silver. He wore leather pants beneath black chain mail and his black greaves and arm guards were etched with handsomely stylized dragons, outlined in white diamthril. Diamthrill was the hardest and most resilient metal known and could only be forged and worked by elven smiths. Aurelius was the only Lord in Morashtar other than elves that had an elven smith in his service, and for such a smith to serve demonic sorts was unheard of. The elf recognized Aurelius as a good man rather than distrusting him as a demon, a dragon, a shapeshifter, or a vampire and Aurelius had come to be all of these things, otherwise known as a Deluvian, a product of chaos. He was very nearly a god, and by the time this war was done, or the war in Mephais against Hestromeph of the Black Pike, he would achieve godhood status. It would change nothing. He would still be the same man. Aurelius noticed how Jedah and his men soaked in the city as he rode along beside the leader at an easy walk down the main streets and down Calvary Lane towards the gates. Calvary lane was the city's greatest unimpeded area. Three miles of the lane was an eighth of a mile wide and the rest of it was half that. Tents were set up on both sides of the road where allied divisions had come to the city. Had Marsol's regiments been ordered to stay in the city, they would have been granted the choice of camping on the grounds outside of the citadel, or on Calvary Lane. They passed men who were practicing with various weapons in preparation for war. Knights here and there gave instructions to those who were still green. The City Park and River Park were also being used as training grounds.

Aurelius could see that Marsol's men were enamored with the walled in city and its many stone buildings whose masonry was ancient and elaborately chiseled in places. He wondered if they would be so enchanted if they knew of the internal struggles which had always taken place between the mortal and immortal denizens of the kingdom, a distrust which Sammael's infiltrators had preyed on. "This citadel and its allied kingdom requires a good immortal king to lay to rest the prejudice which has longed taken precedence here," he mentioned casually. "My Lord believes Yorek Kassim is the man for it. I am of the opinion that he will not give yet on his far eastern desert kingdom to rule another. What is your opinion of the desert Prince?"

Whatever Jedah's response and discourse which followed, it would end by the time they reach the eastern main gate, where the immense double doors would be spared for Jedah and his men and Aurelius would bid him a fond 'until we meet again, good demon.' Yes, it was a pity that demons and dragons were so misunderstood by people. There were as many good ones as there were bad ones. Few races, if any, were all bad. Even Goblins could be ethical, clean, and even well mannered. Some of the filthiest creatures could be good natured beneath all the dirt. Aurelius only ever judged man or beast by their conduct. It was a good thing too, because though no one knew it, Aurelius was An Morendor's highest judge beneath the Morning Star. Jedah had been leaving to the right where he sat in his saddle where Aurelius kept him very appreciated company on his way back to the Gates, when he caught the words and it perked his interest like any time worn person might. Sitting up straight in his saddle, his one good eye turned from the ground where he had seemed to be studying something, to look sideways at the Deluvian. "Ahh, Mr. Kassim," he said as his right hand loosened its hold over the reigns of his horse and move to pat the fine animal on the side of their neck, "Never had an audience with him personally, but from what I've seen and heard of him he is worthy of the kingdom in the far east. A shame that father of his is. Couldn't stomach the lot of them that one housed while he held the people in what I think only to have been a strangle hold. Say this not I do out of where I come from and for whom I live and gladly die for." Jedah's unscared eye lit on Aurelius in case the good King might have misread him on that, being Marsol and all. The leader's gaze relaxed though because he knew he did get a bit overzealous when it came to matters pertaining to his dragon Chieftain. "Fortunate we are, the young are the future," he said, and then he said no more not just because they had reached the main gate but that was all he had to tell of the matter on Yorek Kassim. Once the others fell into a line to pass through that set of doors to the outside, Jedah would chuckle as he gave a wave over his shoulder to Aurelius and Hawker's Fort as a whole. "Yes, yes," he bellowed as his squad waited for him a little ways ahead where they sat atop their own steeds, "you are not the only ones that wish to visit this place again." His brow rose but the demons would all begin to laugh because it always made Jedah's face look more menacing then he meant it to. Which they were use to but it still spurred them to laugh anyways. "Well, what are you waiting for ladies, breakfast in bed? MOVE!" Even as they urged their horses on and the tall white and brown animals kicked up dirt as they took into a gallop, Aurelius and his men would probably hear the old demon shouting things only a military hardened one would. Something about every meal being a banquet and every paycheck a fortune. A gateway of flames awaited them further up the path they took, and it was into this they rode to leave Hawker's Fort and the one named Aurelius that Jedah found most peculiar, with nothing but good feelings and the strong hopes of returning.