Chamber Room

His heavy cloak felt good and tight across his chest and back as he strode toward the entry way of Azazel Palace's Chamber Room. Anticipation had written itself deeply within his dark eyes as he relived his thoughts of meeting his newest potential ally. Duchess... no Princess Elektra formerly of Caraklein was said to be a beautiful, witty and powerful woman, a combination of such elements that left him hungry just for a glance of her. It was no secret that he and his wife were married through their children only. She despised him for the murder of her father and brother and he returned her affections with equal distaste.

Behind him, he could hear the gentle step of Second General Chloris of Vogel, clad in her usual white apparel instead of her heavy armour and by her side First General Gerard of Amsel, his most valuable advisor and leader, the click of his armour beating a dull lullaby. Both he knew were friends, although by their silent natures and calm faces he doubted they ever discussed anything beyond tactics. Still he depended upon them to lead his troops and they had never failed him.

His entourage was completed with several pages and guards, some of which carried gifts for the lovely Princess. If she was but a quarter of the rumors, Jahan knew he would be a fortunate man indeed.

Elektra stood gazing out the window, lost in her thoughts as sapphire orbs gazed upon the icy, frozen horizon. Excitement illuminated the orbs as she thought of how any moment now she would finally meet Jahan V, the potential, posssible soon-to-be King of the lands of not only Mystenia, but Alrania as well. While for the most part Elektra loathed meeting with any others born of royal blood, this time was certainly an exception, particularly since not only was Jahan well known for his good looks, charm, and brilliance, but he was Mystenian, which in Elektra's mind was just as good if he were Carakleinian. For centuries, possibly eons, Caraklei and Mystenia had been almost like sister countries, with Mystenia being the closest kingdom beyond the mountains for Caraklein, and there was even a path in the secret underground cavern connecting the two. Simply put, Carakleinians and Mystenians were rather like family.

Hearing the sound of footsteps and sensing other prescences come closer and closer, Elektra broke away from the window. She stole a quick glance at the mirror,adjusting the light, black sleeve-less gown she wore that clung to her figure, and smoothed out her long raven locks that she left loose and lightly curled. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she broke away and moved towards the arriving entourage.

"My Lord Jahan and Generals Amsel and Vogel. May the fortune that blessed me enough for the opportunity to be graced by your prescece in turn follow you and bless you towards all of your future endeavors in your path of glory destiny." she began with the customary well-wishing, Carakleinian tradition of meeting someone within the same class as you for the first time. Her eyes took in the three important figures before her with veiled intrigue as she swept into a light curtsy, locking her eyes with Jahan's.

"Welcome to Azazel, My Lord and Generals."

Jahan usually prided himself with his firm hold over his facial expressions, however the meeting of his and the Princess' eyes loosened his lips and he found himself smiling like some love-struck colt. Her velvety voice greeted him; the words lost in the sudden vacuum his world became.

She was beautiful; far more so than he had deemed possible. Long black hair, loose and delicately set in waves caught his eye only just as her fathomless green orbs ensnared him. He forgot almost how to breath as the crushing wave of awe fell over the rising king. Her figure was flawless to the point it reminded him of the image dedicated to the goddess of beauty and love.

"And I thank her highness for her generous invitation and greeting." He bowed slightly, tapping just below his shoulder in Mystenian custom. "Blessed indeed are we both, I by your mere beauty and you by your obvious indwelling of the gods themselves." He knew his generals were both no doubt silently rolling their eyes at his near declaration of her, but he was an admirer of true beauty and it clung to her in the gentle embrace of her effortless gown.

Amsel bowed far lower than Jahan had, not touching his shoulder, due to his lack of the correct arm. Despite his age and obvious stiffness, he rose with grace that belied time, a courteous smile given to the princess as he did so. He found her bewitching, but his admiration of her began and ended with her obvious intelligence and pretty face.

Curtseying till her knee nearly touched the floor, Vogel nodded as well, keeping her thoughts and expressions to herself.

A soft laugh escaped Elektra at Jahan's returned greeting as black eyeliner-lined orbs took in his form curiously. "I have heard great things of you, my dear Lord Jahan, of your good looks, wit, and charm. I must say, normally I take no heed of rumours, but I am pleased to say," a smile grew slowly upon her face. "For once, gossip proved true." before curtseying once more. It was difficult to explain, but it was rather hard to divert her attention from Jahan. His prescence seemed to demand and attract it all, and strangely, she had no problems or any qualms about giving it.

She glanced at the two Generals accompanying him, bowing once more in a gesture of respect towards them. "It is only right to assume that all the wonderful skills and feats I have heard of Generals Vogel and Amsel are true as well."

"Oh, not at all. It should be I thanking thee for thy graciousness in agreeing to meet me here, and grace Azazel Palace with thy prescence. I only pray that what you find here, and what I may offer you shall please you." she replied with a slight tilt of her head. "This is Count Fersen, Caraklein's Ambassador to Alrania," she explained as the older Carakleinian emerged from his place at the back of the room, bowing to the visitors.

"Welcome to Azazel Palace, my lord and Generals." he replied as he walked in front of them, bowing to each of them in turn before returning to his place at Elektra's side.

"Shall we sit down?" the Sorceress asked, gesturing to the round table at the end of the ice-donned room.

Her voice was furthering the sense of intoxication that seemed to spread from the moment he had looked into her eyes. Indeed, she was a sorceress; the most bewitching he had ever met. If her power was not evenly halfly held within those pale, perfect hands, he would gladly succumb to an agonizing death. Perhaps it was indeed her very presence that brought such peace to his constantly calculating mind.

"But none is so pleased, as I, my lady." he murmured, wishing it was custom to kiss the hand of noble women in Mystenia. Alas it was not and all in the room were well aware of the fact. Perhaps it was a custom he would borrow from Alrania after he conquered it.

Nodding his head to the count, and partially wishing the older man and his generals were not present, Jahan strode to the nearest seat, waiting until Elektra seated herself before moving to do so himself. Her fluidity of movement and grace held his gaze and he found himself blinking... perhaps it was the light reflected from the stark ice of the room. But he suspected it was more.

Amsel remained standing, after having nodded his respects to the count and seeing his lord comfortable within his seat. It was custom that generals or lords of that following remain standing until order or invite of their king. Jahan almost impatiently waved his hand for the seating and the older man stiffly took his seat. There were times... times when he would have liked nothing more than to through his highness from the highest tower.

A light blush tinged Elektra's face at further words emitted from Jahan. After so many years of being married to Posol, a foreigner amidst the circle of other pure-blooded, born and bred Alranians. They had isolated her, they had sneered at her, they had mocked her. And Posol hadn't helped at all, what with him being the instigator to it all, encouraging the Nobles to continue their torment. Sometimes even going so far as to spit his food unto her face... It had been because of the Nobles and Posol that lead to her disdain of Alranians.

It was refreshing beyond belief to finally have someone appreciate her for who she was, and not see her as "foreign trash" as Posol had so kindly nicknamed her. Of course, she felt the exact same emotions, and even more, with overpowering magnitudes, but... he was far away. She loved him more than ever and she knew that he may possibly not approve of her actions, particularly the returned flirtatiousness, but... she had to do it. If not for herself, if not for Azazel, if not to aid a man who had every right to be King but was denied by the damn Alranians, then at least for their child; a child whose existance they would have to deny until the time was right.

With as much grace as possible, Elektra sat down, with Fersen taking the availible seat beside her. On the table was a map lain out of the world as to aid in their planning and plotting by providing a visual.

"Now," she said as she signaled for a nearby maid to serve the visiting Mystenians their drinks. "In what way might I and Azazel prove the most useful?" she asked with a slight, flirtatious tilt of her head.

Many immediate ways of assistance came to Jahan's mind; none of which were gentlemanly or decent. As if sensing this, Vogel gently touched his arm, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.
"Business before pleasure..." Had it been any other person, perhaps save Amsel, Jahan would have either killed or maimed them on the spot, but Vogel was one of the few underlings in his service that he respected. Mainly because she was one of the only ones who didn't fear him.

Taking the offered drink from the maid, Jahan sipped the amber liquid, debating his choice of words, carefully.
"My men are of strong hearts and will; but there is a small legion of mages that are the most crucial to my plans. They fight best within the void of night... a night that perhaps a sorceress as skilled as her highness, might be able to bring about within the noon day."

Both Fersen and Elektra nodded in response, with the latter smiling softly. "Of course. Perhaps a snow storm as well? Considering the season, I doubt the Alranians will be prepared for such an event. In fact, judging by my late husband, they do not seem to fare very well in the weather we are accustomed to." she replied with a reminiscent half smile, half smirk as she thought back when she was still married to Posol, and how in the winter time, his old, arthritis-plagued limbs would be in agony, as well as his immune system, due to the "bitter" cold of the winter storms in Atticus, while she merely stood outside enjoying the weather, despite it not being even close to her homeland's climate, the coldest in all of the world.

"I will do whatever my King wishes of me." she added softly, her half-smirk forming into a full one as she raised her goblet towards him in a toast of sorts before taking a small sip.

"Indeed, such a snow storm would be a most welcome addition to darkness." Jahan nearly smirked openly as he thought of the warmer climate of his cursed cousin's country. When it was a part of his empire; he would make sure it was overseen by someone capable to keep from having to visit it... Mystenia was a northern mountainous country, with more snow and ice than grass and trees. Its icy beauty was mirrored by its sister country of Caraklein.

"Your temptations weave a tantalizing web, your highness." he whispered, his lip twitching with barely contained rapture. He sipped the wine again, hoping it would offer him another small amount of control over himself.

"Would you be able to kindly return the weather to its former self when the battle is completed?" Amsel asked, his deep voice evenly held to a pleasant volume. He was curious as to what level of control Elektra had over the elements. Never doubting her power, he was simply left wondering if perhaps it would be cruel against the Alranian forces.

Elektra smiled in response, glad to see that her suggestion and offer had pleased Jahan. It had felt like far too long since she had played any hand in the game of politics, and now that she had begun, it was simply intoxicating. All her life she had been raised to play parts in quests of glory and dominance such as this one, and to be able to return to it was, to the sorceress, much like coming home.

A soft laugh escaped her at Jahan's whisper as she whispered in reply. "Tis a web woven for your happiness... I am Arachne, weaving a path in which I may assist you, if you shall have me, towards your true birthright, and destiny."

At the sound of General's voice, Elektra broke her gaze from Jahan, and turned to Amsel with a smile, nodding in response to his inquiry. "If the King wishes that the storm be relinquished, I may and will do so." she replied, adding a smile directed towards Jahan. "Doth thou need more troops?"

Feeling a tremor of desire run up his spine, Jahan blinked away Elektra's smile. Could the woman become in any way more pleasing... more desirable... more beautiful. She had every tool to the art of political pottery; the gentle sculpting and moulding of her hands would have brought the strongest tyrant to his knees. Surely the Alranians wasted their greatest asset... how very much like his idiotic cousin and his nobles.

Her laugh was as the soft bells of worship or the lilting cascade of rising birds; he was torn between the two luscious sounds. A poet would be unable to capture her essence and he longed to tell her as much... already bound within the web she so gently whispered of. Indeed this was a woman he would gladly share his rising empire with.
"Ah, but what king or emperor could refuse you gentle assistance, my lady. You are the north wind gently lifting the bowing branch."

Amsel nodded politely, pleased with the princess' reply. It was indeed good to hear that she was in both complete control and willing to halt any action. Now only to convince Jahan to show compassion, should it come to their hand turning. His ears perked up at at the question and he exchanged a hidden glance with Vogel. They both knew what Jahan would say... both knew they did not agree with him.

"You are most kind, but as of now, the Mystenian army is vast in number." Jahan recounted, proud of his years of work to amass his troops. "And a number of fire-beasts fight with my men as well." he continued. His greatest as of now achievement. Winning the heart of the dragon-king.

Vogel's hands clenched until her fingernails dug painfully into her palms. Pride came before destruction and Jahan's would be his doom. The ruination of Mystenia and perhaps even more...

A light laugh escaped her followed with a light at Jahan's words, followed by a light blush. She wondered briefly who exactly was charming who, for while she had the intention of charming her way into a strong alliance between them, she too fell prey slowly and slowly into his charms, thoroughly proving the rumours of his allure that she had heard to be true.

"Then with the grace of the Gods, may this wind assist the branch in its rise to the eternal realm of redemption, glory, and immortality, that no King has yet to achieve..." she replied softly, with a flirtatious tilt of her head.

She did, however, blink at his reply regarding additional troops, and exchanged a wary glance with Fersen. He had enough troops? When it came to a war, was such a thing even possible? While she was no General and Jahan may have quite a bit more experience and expertise when it came to war, surely one would want all the forces within the heart of Gaia?

Fersen looked to Jahan, studying him closely. His years as an Ambassador had provided him with the expertise and calculation to see the human side of the greatest of Royalty. Including their flaws. Just one look told him exactly what the catalyst in what he was sure would be the biggest disaster, and, quite possibly, Jahan's downfall: pride. One of the seven deadly sins, and one that could very well be considered the worst, for Pride was a cruel master who showed no mercy, and never released the Victims he plagued.

Hesitantly, as to not cause any anger within the younger Lord, Fersen asked. "My lord, given the circumstances, do you truly feel that is what is best?"

Elektra nodded slowly in agreement. "Indeed, my Lord. It would be an honor to have the forces of Azazel and Caraklein fight alongside your's. In fact, at this time, one of the Demi-Gods of Caraklein is here standing as the newest, and best General." Elektra looked at Jahan, feeling for the first time an icy hint of nervousness. While she trusted her ally, she couldn't help but wonder if the troops he had gathered were truly that great in number, or if he had succumed to pride, the poison of great men.

Oblivious to the hateful thoughts his generals were currently linking with his lordly name, Jahan smiled as he mulled over both Elektra and Fersen's words. Indeed, there was wisdom in what he heard. And although he greatly desired to cling to the fact that his long years of work were indeed enough... safety came in numbers and he would be a great fool to not take what was offered.

"Perhaps you are correct..." he murmured, glancing at Fersen and nodding. Elektra's more lifting words had fanned his ego.
"I would be a great fool to not accept your kind offer, my lady." he beamed, nodding to the princess. "Side by side our men will fight and bring honour and power to both our thrones." His curiosity was piqued at the mention of the Demi-god and he wondered immediately what assets the man would offer to the fighting.

Vogel nearly breathed a sigh of relief as Jahan agreed to the Caraklein troops. Had she not been in his presence, she might have even verbally cursed his foolish slowness, but she was thankful the crisis had been averted. Great fool indeed... she thought. The cursed fire-beasts would still remained to taint their progress in battle, by the blasphemy they were against the gods, but with more troops, their chances increased.

"Thank you, gracious lady, for your patience." Amsel murmured. "May I ask more of your General. He sounds a man most uncommon." His deep eyes found Elektra's as he asked his question. Pride had never truly gripped the strong general, and he found himself mostly apologizing or making up for the pride of those 'above' him.

Xanthus strode toward the chamber room, halting for a moment when he seen the door had been closed. He was decked out in black armor, the red sash he’d been given since his days in the Caraklein Arena around his waist for contrast. He had outright refused to be outfitted with new boots, for the ones he wore were good enough and broken in to where they did not so strongly ring out his arrival. Quite the contrary: only a faint clicking could be heard upon the stone and ice floor. Out in the field, his footfalls would barely make a sound.

The guards standing at each side of the entryway glanced to the golden-haired Carakleinian, knowing instantly who had approached them. If it weren’t already obvious enough, in Xan’s opinion, he had two swords at his waist, and a spear strapped to his back – all of craftsmanship clearly old. He set a look of ice upon both soldiers when they stood, gawking at him like schoolboys. “I have a message for Her Grace,” he said simply.

“The Lady is in a meeting with Lord Jahan of Mystenia,” replied one of the guards.

“I’m aware of that...” he answered slowly, dark eyes bouncing between the two guards. Without warning and much as he had done in training several men to be soldiers, Xanthus unsheathed both swords and rested each upon a guard’s neck before they could even draw their blades half way out of their scabbards. “Let me through, and go back to training. Our Lady shall have enough protection, or my soul be Damned.” With as much forewarning as his last movement, Xan sheathed his weapons and did not wait for the guards to leave before making his way into the chamber.


Dark-hued eyes took in the scene some several paces before him. Only when the King of Caraklein had attended battles in the various competitions he’d participated in had Xan seen so many people in one place. By the gods, he was still getting used to being flanked by a small entourage of troops of his own.

The golden-haired Carakleinian halted when he was within twenty paces of the royals and nobility present at the meeting, and immediately sunk into a kneeling bow of respect. He did not speak or move thereafter, waiting for both a pause in the conversation and the permission to interrupt but a moment of their time. Demi-god he might be, but tactless and insolent he was not.


- - - - - - - - - - - -


Quite technically he shouldn’t be in here, a somewhat uninvited listener into the affairs of Mystenia and Azazel. Whilst Elektra would certainly have permitted it, Stephen hadn’t asked to be involved. Instead he followed his cousin, lurking from dark corner to darkened corner, until he had to find a different way into the chamber room. Having the guards let him in would simply spoil the fun... unless he used force on the guard, plying the blade of a dagger to vocal strings. But no: the guard was needed... so playtime was rescheduled for another time.

It was the poor fool’s lucky day, in Stephen’s not-so-humble opinion.

He was still getting used to the architecture of the Palace, learning every in and out he could find and committing it to memory. A building’s hallways were practically the structure’s innards, and looking at it in that light certainly made his exploration of Azazel all the more fascinating. After a few moments Stephen had found a secret passage that led him precisely to where he wished to go. Hence here he was, half-cloaked against a curtain whilst the other half was cloaked in shadows.

The mortician watched and waited, surveying all he could take in with mild interest. War against Alrania... he vaguely remembered someone mentioning that to him. It had twisted his lips into a smirk, the mere notion of the cemetery gaining new residents. One thing Stephen had learned for certain was that no matter where he went there would always be work in the funerary business, and therefore more than enough “specimens” to indulge his hobbies.

Quietly he made a half-hearted scoff at the mention of the Demi-god assigned to playing General here. Stephen knew that, as per the beliefs of his mother’s people, he should respect and revere those blessed by the Gods... but instead he envied them. Envied the status they held, the power they were believed to wield. He wanted that power. Believing Arianna Terris to be an Alranian Demi-Goddess he’d tried to acquire that power via a legend of old, but it only got him a cell first in prison and then again at an asylum. He vaguely wondered if she still thought about him, remembering the flash of her azure eyes when he was taken away.

Stephen vaguely wondered if Xanthus had all-hearing ears to go with his Demi-godship, for as though nearly on cue a familiar head of golden hair entered the room. ’What in the nine circles of hell could he possibly want at a time like this?’ Stephen wondered, slightly agitated at the interruption. He was actually enjoying watching his cousin and the Mystenian Lord conduct business, having missed a full half-year of events while locked away from the outside world...

Both Duchess and Ambassador waited with baited breath, wondering how Lord Jahan would take their opinions. While both would rather have a Lord's anger rather than a defeated battle, both had previous experience in the tempers of Royals and the rage they could possess and subsequently unleash and expected the worse. It was in Gaia's grace, however, that their worries counted for nothing, for Jahan had demonstrated his approval, much to the relief of both Carakleinians, and likely, all the other inhabitants of the room.

"As sure as the blinding sun must yield to the persistent, stronger moon night after night, so shall our troops be victorious." Elektra nodded her agreement, offering a smile. To further illustrate the alliance, and her allegiance to the war efforts, she herself picked up the nearby bottle and poured it into Jahan's cup, serving him herself, rather than allowing a servant to do so. "So it is planned, so it shall be, my Lord." she bowed her head graciously.

She turned to the sound of General Amsel addressing her with a smile. She had heard great tales of him and General Vogel, and was honored by their presence, for although she grew up and was raised to know and study the art of warfare rarely was she able to sit alongside her father and brother Radeios, his heir, in the conference chambers, alongside all his Generals. Her father claimed propriety reasons, as she was still a betrothed young maiden and it would be improper to be alongside him and dozens of other men, though Elektra had a strong suspicion it wasn't so. She thought it more likely that King Strenver couldn't bear the shame of knowing that while his youngest daughter could quickly and eagerly grasp the noble art of Caraklein, his son and the heir fumbled with strategies, making a fool of himself over and over again with his lack of talent and care in the art of war.

"Of course," she replied to General Amsel's inquiry. The smile grew as she heard footsteps approach, revealing none other than he they were discussing. Rising, she extended her arm gracefully towards Xanthus' bowing form, smiling with pride. While her brother opted for "nonviolence", and perhaps did not allow Xanthus to utilize his skills in the highest potential, she would make no such mistake. As long as Xanthus was willing and there stood an army, tall and breathing, never would she yield. "My Lord Jahan, Honorable Generals Vogel and Amsel, may I present the brightest jewel in the crown of Caraklein, General Xanthus."

As introductions were made, Fersen couldn't help the feeling that perhaps they were being watched. Granted, with the amount of personnel within this room, it was only natural that guards were posted throughout. This feeling, however, was different. Different, but distinctly familiar, for he had experienced it several times in the past, at Caraklein. Hell, truth be told, the reason, the afro-haired, racoon-eyed reason, was the cause of his grey hairs!

He made his excuses, though knew his presence would not be missed, as both parties were in discussion. With this cover, he wandered over to the corner where he sensed the presence. He paused a moment before leaning hard, with a thud, upon the curtain portion of the corner where the other presence hid. Sighing, he pressed harder, leaning against Stephen. "Really, Stephen, surely by now you're too old to be playing hide-and-seek!"