A Tale of Crowns

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{Story Variables} -Main Story- <<set $badend to false>> <<set $goodend to false>> <<set $bestend to false>> <<set $worstend to false>> <<set $powerful to 0>> <<set $thallosrep to 0>> <<set $qatheshrep to 0>> <<set $nobleapproval to 0>> <<set $magiapproval to 0>> {20 bonus points to powerful if mirapproval & magiapproval > 50, necessary for worst ending} <<set $people to 0>> <<set $hathurrep to 0>> <<set $surrep to 0>> <<set $commonerapproval to 0>> <<set $creatureapproval to 0>> {20 bonus points to people if all > 50, necessary for best ending} -Chapter One- <<set $abeggar to false>> <<set $dadmemory to false>> <<set $gavecoin to false>> <<set $ervinsent to false>> <<set $hirexel to false>> <<set $sleeptent to false>> <<set $tujotrust to 0>> <<set $mercapp to 0>> -Chapter Two- <<set $question1 to false>> <<set $question2 to false>> <<set $question3 to false>> <<set $question4 to false>> <<set $shamkurstory to false>> <<set $xstory to false>> <<set $astory to false>> -Chapter Three- <<set $ridebehindr to false>> <<set $ridebehinda to false>> <<set $ridealone to false>> <<set $comfortbyr to false>> <<set $comfortbya to false>> <<set $comfortbyd to false>> <<set $comfortbyx to false>> {Relationship Variables} <<set $romancepath to false>> <<set $metd to false>> <<set $metr to false>> <<set $meta to false>> <<set $xpoints to 0>> <<set $rpoints to 0>> <<set $apoints to 0>> <<set $dpoints to 0>> <<set $xfriend to false>> <<set $rfriend to false>> <<set $afriend to false>> <<set $dfriend to false>> {Main Character Customization} <<set $name to "">> <<set $byname to "">> <<set $surname to "">> <<set $gender to "">> <<set $preference to "">> <<set $scar to "">> <<set $facialhair to "">> <<set $bodyhair to "">> <<set $fh to false>> <<set $sc to false>> <<set $height to "">> <<set $haircolor to "">> <<set $hairstyle to "">> <<set $hairtexture to "">> <<set $skincolor to "">> <<set $skinavg to "">> <<set $clothing to "">> <<set $xnickname to "">> <<set $cxnickname to "">> <<set $rnickname to "">> <<set $crnickname to "">> <<set $anickname to "">> <<set $canickname to "">> <<set $dnickname to "">> <<set $cdnickname to "">> {Main Character Pronouns} <<set $they to "">> <<set $cthey to "">> <<set $their to "">> <<set $ctheir to "">> <<set $theirs to "">> <<set $ctheirs to "">> <<set $them to "">> <<set $cthem to "">> <<set $themselves to "">> <<set $cthemselves to "">> {Main Character Traits} <<set $charstats to false>> <<set $charcodex to false>> <<set $appearance to false>> <<set $charm to 0>> <<set $blunt to 0>> <<set $intel to 0>> <<set $intu to 0>> <<set $adven to 0>> <<set $caut to 0>> <<set $kind to 0>> <<set $calc to 0>> <<set $flirt to 0>> <<set $res to 0>> <<set $ass to 0>> <<set $pass to 0>> <<set $verse to false>> {Main Character Skills} <<set $magicpref to "">> <<set $elemental to false>> <<set $warding to false>> <<set $summoning to false>> <<set $healing to false>> <<set $sensing to false>> <<set $physical to false>> <<set $weapon to false>> {Codex} <<set $royalcodex to false>> <<set $royalhis to false>> <<set $religion to false>> <<set $ashaduna to false>> <<set $ferzan to false>> <<set $twocrowns to false>> <<set $hathura to false>> <<set $sur to false>> <<set $thallos to false>> <<set $ivia to false>> <<set $qathesh to false>> <<set $zerat to false>> <<set $penawar to false>> <<set $sevan to false>> <<set $avdin to false>> {R} <<set $rcodex to false>> <<set $rcodex2 to false>> <<set $rappearance to false>> <<set $rgender to "">> <<set $rname to "">> <<set $rtitle to "">> <<set $rthey to "">> <<set $crthey to "">> <<set $rtheir to "">> <<set $crtheir to "">> <<set $rtheirs to "">> <<set $crtheirs to "">> <<set $rthem to "">> <<set $crthem to "">> <<set $rthemselves to "">> <<set $crthemselves to "">> {X} <<set $xcodex to false>> <<set $xcodex2 to false>> <<set $xappearance to false>> <<set $xgender to "">> <<set $xname to "">> <<set $xthey to "">> <<set $cxthey to "">> <<set $xtheir to "">> <<set $cxtheir to "">> <<set $xtheirs to "">> <<set $cxtheirs to "">> <<set $xthem to "">> <<set $cxthem to "">> <<set $xthemselves to "">> <<set $cxthemselves to "">> {A} <<set $acodex to false>> <<set $acodex2 to false>> <<set $aappearance to false>> <<set $agender to "">> <<set $aname to "">> <<set $athey to "">> <<set $cathey to "">> <<set $atheir to "">> <<set $catheir to "">> <<set $atheirs to "">> <<set $catheirs to "">> <<set $athem to "">> <<set $cathem to "">> <<set $athemselves to "">> <<set $cathemselves to "">> {D} <<set $dcodex to false>> <<set $dcodex2 to false>> <<set $dappearance to false>> <<set $dgender to "">> <<set $dname to "">> <<set $dthey to "">> <<set $cdthey to "">> <<set $dtheir to "">> <<set $cdtheir to "">> <<set $dtheirs to "">> <<set $cdtheirs to "">> <<set $dthem to "">> <<set $cdthem to "">> <<set $dthemselves to "">> <<set $cdthemselves to "">>

<<if $charcodex is true>>[[Character Codex]]<</if>> <<if $chartraits is true>>[[Character Traits]]<</if>> <<if $royalcodex is true>>[[Royal Codex]]<</if>> <<if $romancepath is true>>[[Relationships]]<</if>>

@@.chaptertitle;CHARACTER CODEX@@ <<if $rcodex is true>>[[THE SORCERER]]<</if>><<if $rappearance is true>>[[THE SORCERER|S2]]<</if>><<if $rcodex is false and $rappearance is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $xcodex is true>>[[THE HERO]]<</if>><<if $xappearance is true>>[[THE HERO|H2]]<</if>><<if $xcodex is false and $xappearance is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $dcodex is true>>[[THE GENERAL]]<</if>><<if $dappearance is true>>[[THE GENERAL|G2]]<</if>><<if $dcodex is false and $dappearance is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $acodex is true>>[[THE PROTECTOR]]<</if>><<if $aappearance is true>>[[THE PROTECTOR|P2]]<</if>><<if $acodex is false and $aappearance is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> [[Return|$return]]

@@.chaptertitle;ROYAL CODEX@@ [[GEOGRAPHY]] <<if $royalhis is true>>[[LESSONS IN HISTORY]]<<else>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $magicodex is true>>[[LESSONS IN MAGIC]]<<else>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $religion is true>>[[LESSONS IN SPIRITUALITY]]<<else>>Undiscovered<</if>> [[Return|$return]]

@@.chaptertitleact0;chapter one@@ Ten years ago, your eyes were cursed. They glint in the moonlight as you move through the narrow alleyways of an ancient city, and even covering them in the shadow of your hood only barely dims the gleam of gold that glitters beneath. There is never a moment of silence in these time-worn streets, never a lack of people navigating the stone body of this giant, coiled around the crests of ten hills that have immortalized its name: Marabad. You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck as you quietly pass by a group loitering in the warm light of a lantern hanging by the open door of a teahouse. You almost pause at the welcoming melody of a lively tembûr drifting outside with every plucked string, accompanied by the sound of dice rolling across wooden boards, laughter and conversation happy background noise. But then one of the people standing outside glances your way and you have to avert your gaze before they catch it, quickening your step and pulling your thin hood further down over your eyes. In a city this big, you cannot take a chance on who might be an enemy. Continuing to slowly navigate the maze of Marabad, you turn a corner and finally find what you were looking for. You spot thick, dark curtains draped over the entrance of a small, inconspicuous shop at the very end of a street that leads downhill. This shop also has a lantern, which is thankfully still lit. Wandering down as cautiously as you can in the dark, you take care to avoid any curious passerby who may be wondering why you're covered up on such a warm night. A person with a bright yellow scarf slung around their shoulders exits the shop just as you approach it, and you keep your head down as they pass you, tensing until they have gone away again. Pausing in front of the shop, you take a deep breath to calm your frayed nerves. You were lost in the city for far longer than you would've liked, but you've finally made it. You reach out to push the thick curtain aside and step into the dimly-lit building. [[Continue|1.2]]

<<if $agender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;AZAD MIRZA@@ @@.footnote;[ah-zahd · mur-zah]@@<<endif>><<if $agender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;ASHTI MIRZA@@ @@.footnote;[ah-sh-ti · mur-zah]@@<<endif>> An excerpt from a letter of correspondence with an unknown recipient, written by Mîr Lilan of the province Zerat: <blockquote>Tell me in truth if you have ever seen a warrior with such promise. You claim that $atheir lack of regard toward authority and $atheir disdain toward the ruling class is an unforgivable flaw, and yet all I can see is an invaluable asset. The Royal Protector answers only to the Crown and no one else; in that respect, it is a position with power second only to the Crown themselves. There are even situations in which the Royal Protector has grounds to overrule the Crown for their own safety. Who better for such a title than a <<if $agender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> who has proven $athemselves to be completely incorruptible? $cathey puts $atheir principles above all else, and while $atheir loyalty is rarely given, once it is earned it is undying. Someone who looks beyond the formality of titles to assess character instead of political influence is exactly who we need by the future Crown's side. So you will have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I do not see "$cathey refused to attend my monthly banquet of debauchery" as a sufficient reason for blocking $atheir appointment.</blockquote> <<back>>

<<if $dgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;DARA SIDAR@@ @@.footnote;[dah-rah · suh-dahr]@@<<endif>><<if $dgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;DELAL SIDAR@@ @@.footnote;[deh-lahl · suh-dahr]@@<<endif>> The military has always played a pivotal role in Arsur's existence. It has been used both as a tool for territorial expansion as well as a shield to defend the Empire with during the reigns of Crowns past, depending on who was in power. That same shield failed ten years ago for the first time. $dname was determined to become the General of the Arsurian Empire in order to succeed where the previous General failed. When the Twentieth Crown was assassinated and the ones responsible escaped, many put the blame at the Imperial Army's feet, and by extension $dname's predecessor, who was forced to resign the position. $dname's road to becoming the General was an arduous one. It was $dtheir talent and $dtheir strategic brilliance--deterring multiple attacks on Arsur's border from hostile nations--which earned $dthem the position through hard work and perseverence. <<back>>

<<if $xgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;XELEF@@ @@.footnote;[che-lef]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>><<if $xgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;XELARA@@ @@.footnote;[che-lah-rah]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>> A legendary hero, also known as The Pale Sword, whose exploits were chronicled in song. One such famous ballad details the words $xthey shouted to Mîr Behram, standing in his palace courtyard and demanding he come outside. An excerpt from the song: His soldiers cried out, "The Pale Sword is coming!" As the gates broke down, Behram filled with dread <<if $xgender is "male">>And there stood $xname,<<else>>There was $xname,<</if>> With pale sword in hand, A smile as $xthey sang, "Let the palace run red!" <<back>>

<<if $rgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;LORD RÊZAN@@ @@.footnote;[ray-zahn]@@<<endif>><<if $rgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;LADY ROZERÎN@@ @@.footnote;[ro-zehr-een]@@<<endif>> Every Crown has a Sorcerer who serves as the closest advisor to the throne. The Sorcerer is often considered to be the most powerful magus in the entire Empire, if not the most influential. $rname is said to have been very young when the previous Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, found $rthem performing magic for coin on the streets of Marabad and took $rthem in as her apprentice. During $rtheir time under Zerya's tutelage $rname was rarely seen in public, and even after succeeding $rtheir teacher $rname has maintained $rtheir unusually elusive reputation. It was only after Zerya's recent passing that $rname was forced to step outside and show $rtheir face to the world once more, in order to fulfill $rtheir duty as the Crown's Sorcerer. <<back>>

<> <<if $gender is "female">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $cthey to "She">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $ctheir to "Her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $ctheirs to "Hers">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $cthem to "Her">> <<set $themselves to "herself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Herself">> <</if>> <<if $gender is "male">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $cthey to "He">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $ctheir to "His">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $ctheirs to "His">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $cthem to "Him">> <<set $themselves to "himself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Himself">> <</if>> <<if $gender is "nb">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $cthey to "They">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $ctheir to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $ctheirs to "Theirs">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $cthem to "Them">> <<set $themselves to "themselves">> <<set $cthemselves to "Themselves">> <</if>> <><<if $gender is "female">>"I go by she,"<</if>><<if $gender is "male">>"I go by he,"<</if>><<if $gender is "nb">>"I go by they,"<</if>> you answer, glancing toward the exit as you wonder if it would be rude to just leave. "Well met!" Perjin smiles at you. "You may <<if $gender is "female">>also refer to me<<else>>refer to me<</if>> as she, if you did not already know. It's a true pleasure to see a new face around these parts! Usually it's always the same old customers." She hasn't actually seen your face, strictly speaking, but you're not about to volunteer to correct that technicality. Not wanting to get trapped in a longwinded conversation, you respond with a noncommittal hum instead. "Will that be all, then?" she says, leaning forward onto the counter as it seems she took your indifference as shyness. "Perhaps I might interest you in an additional potion at half the price, to extend the duration of the glamour?" Her sales pitch aside, she seems quite friendly. <ul> <li>[[You are attracted to women, but decide to keep your distance.|1.5][$preference to "female"]]</li> <li>[[You are attracted to both women and men, but decide to keep your distance.|1.5][$preference to "bi"]]</li> <li>[[You are only attracted to men, so her pretty smile doesn't affect you.|1.5][$preference to "male"]]</li> </ul>

<><<if $preference is "male">> <<set $rgender to "male">> <<set $xgender to "male">> <<set $dgender to "male">> <<set $agender to "male">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "female">> <<set $rgender to "female">> <<set $xgender to "female">> <<set $dgender to "female">> <<set $agender to "female">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "bi" and $gender is "male">> <<set $rgender to "female">> <<set $xgender to "male">> <<set $dgender to "female">> <<set $agender to "male">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "bi" and $gender is "female">> <<set $rgender to "male">> <<set $xgender to "female">> <<set $dgender to "male">> <<set $agender to "female">> <</if>> <<if $preference is "bi" and $gender is "nb">> <<set $rgender to "female">> <<set $xgender to "female">> <<set $dgender to "male">> <<set $agender to "male">> <</if>> <<if $rgender is "female">> <<set $rthey to "she">> <<set $crthey to "She">> <<set $rtheir to "her">> <<set $crtheir to "Her">> <<set $rtheirs to "hers">> <<set $crtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $rthem to "her">> <<set $crthem to "Her">> <<set $rthemselves to "herself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lady">> <<set $rname to "Rozerîn">> <</if>> <<if $rgender is "male">> <<set $rthey to "he">> <<set $crthey to "He">> <<set $rtheir to "his">> <<set $crtheir to "His">> <<set $rtheirs to "his">> <<set $crtheirs to "His">> <<set $rthem to "him">> <<set $crthem to "Him">> <<set $rthemselves to "himself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lord">> <<set $rname to "Rêzan">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">> <<set $xthey to "she">> <<set $cxthey to "She">> <<set $xtheir to "her">> <<set $cxtheir to "Her">> <<set $xtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cxtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $xthem to "her">> <<set $cxthem to "Her">> <<set $xthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $xname to "Xelara">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "male">> <<set $xthey to "he">> <<set $cxthey to "He">> <<set $xtheir to "his">> <<set $cxtheir to "His">> <<set $xtheirs to "his">> <<set $cxtheirs to "His">> <<set $xthem to "him">> <<set $cxthem to "Him">> <<set $xthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $xname to "Xelef">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "female">> <<set $athey to "she">> <<set $cathey to "She">> <<set $atheir to "her">> <<set $catheir to "Her">> <<set $atheirs to "hers">> <<set $catheirs to "Hers">> <<set $athem to "her">> <<set $cathem to "Her">> <<set $athemselves to "herself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Herself">> <<set $aname to "Ashti">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "male">> <<set $athey to "he">> <<set $cathey to "He">> <<set $atheir to "his">> <<set $catheir to "His">> <<set $atheirs to "his">> <<set $catheirs to "His">> <<set $athem to "him">> <<set $cathem to "Him">> <<set $athemselves to "himself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Himself">> <<set $aname to "Azad">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "female">> <<set $dthey to "she">> <<set $cdthey to "She">> <<set $dtheir to "her">> <<set $cdtheir to "Her">> <<set $dtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cdtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $dthem to "her">> <<set $cdthem to "Her">> <<set $dthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $dname to "Delal">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "male">> <<set $dthey to "he">> <<set $cdthey to "He">> <<set $dtheir to "his">> <<set $cdtheir to "His">> <<set $dtheirs to "his">> <<set $cdtheirs to "His">> <<set $dthem to "him">> <<set $cdthem to "Him">> <<set $dthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $dname to "Dara">> <</if>> <><<if $preference is "female" or $preference is "bi">>You clear your throat, awkwardly glancing away from Perjin's glittering dark eyes as you take a small step back from the counter. "That's, ah, quite alright."<</if>><<if $preference is "male">>"No, thank you," you answer before she can try to empty your pockets, taking a small step back and keeping your head angled down and away from the candlelight. "A month is long enough."<</if>> She looks somewhat disappointed but recovers quickly. "Very well, I'll have your glamour ready for you in two days' time." You incline your head and with a murmured good night depart the shop again, the tension draining out of your body as you breathe a sigh of relief. No one has ever seen through your disguise before, the shadow of the hood usually dark enough to obscure the true color of your eyes. Part of it might be that the possibility simply doesn't occur to people; it certainly wouldn't occur to you, were you not in this position. Some days you almost wish someone would find out, just so you could be free of carrying the weight of this secret. But you can't let that happen, not when you don't know who to trust. You still remember the day the fires found you and burned the gold into your irises, your mother staring at you as if you sentenced your entire family to death, and maybe you did. Back when you were a child, you always thought the reason you and your family were on the run was because of your father, but in hindsight that was probably yet another lie you were fed to keep you in the dark. Shaking the memory off before it poisons your thoughts, you continue on back towards the small inn near the outskirts of the city where you managed to find a room once arriving to Marabad. You are not a native here, but you traveled all over the province of Rojan with your parents and have wandered these streets many times as a child. The last time you visited was when you were seventeen, but eight years hasn't changed much about the Labyrinth City; it's just as difficult to navigate as ever due to its nearly uniform lay-out. You probably would've never returned here either, were it not for your father. "Can you believe there are still people willing to risk it, after what happened to Yado?" To your right, standing near the base of the hillside street, is a couple who appear to be quietly discussing something among each other. In fact, the person wearing a bright yellow scarf is the same one you passed by earlier as you went into the shop. You intend to ignore them since attracting any attention is the last thing you want at this point, but what one of them says next arrests you. "I can believe it, actually," the scarf-wearer replies to their friend with a sigh, shaking their head. "Though you'd have to be either very stupid or very desperate to try and deceive $rtitle $rname with such a cheap trick." $rtitle $rname, the very reason you embarked upon this journey in the first place. You were planning on gathering information about $rtheir whereabouts sometime tomorrow, but now that the opportunity has presented itself--even with your eyes in the state that they are in--you find it hard to pass up. How do you go about asking them more about $rtitle $rname? <ul> <li>[[No point dancing around the issue, you'll just ask what you need to know.|1.6][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li> <li>[[In cases like these, a friendly smile and some artful deception work best.|1.6][$charm to $charm + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<set $rcodex to true>><<if $blunt is 25>>"What do you know about $rtitle $rname?" The couple turn to you with raised brows, exchanging befuddled looks between the two of them as you keep a careful distance. "Only what everyone knows," the scarf-wearer replies with a dismissive wave of their hand. "Which would be?" "Oh, come now!" the one without the scarf scoffs. "Don't tell us you've never heard of $rthem before?" Feeling somewhat self-conscious, you shift on your feet. "I'm from out of town." "That might explain it, I suppose." The scarf-wearer sounds somewhat unconvinced, and their friend is eyeing you with an open skepticism that's making you tense even more than you already are. "$rtitle $rname is a great magus, the one appointed to be the Sorcerer of the realm. $crthey is the one tasked with finding the next Crown--you do know about how the succession works, right?" "I do," you confirm. "Do you know where $rthey's staying?" "The Royal Palace," the scarf-wearer's friend answers dryly. "Where else?" "You won't have much luck getting in," the scarf-wearer warns you. "The last time I was in the area there was a whole crowd gathered claiming to be the next Crown, it was like a small mob." Your brows arch slightly, though you suppose it's not that unexpected considering the circumstances. Who wouldn't want to rule the Empire, after all? Well, except for you. <</if>><<if $charm is 25>>"Excuse me," you say as you approach the couple, both pausing in their chat to turn and look at you. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and I was just wondering, is it true $rtitle $rname is still in Marabad?" "Oh, yes, $rthey's staying at the Royal Palace here," the scarf-wearer's friend answers airily, though they give you a suspicious look. Despite your friendly demeanor, you keep a careful distance. "Why?" "I was actually hoping to have an audience with $rthem," you answer honestly, though it doesn't take you long to start bending the truth. "Everyone knows $rthey is a magus of great skill, being the Crown's Sorcerer and all, though I have heard $rthey has yet to take on an apprentice. I was hoping I could convince $rthem to pick me." The scarf-wearer whistles. "That's pretty brave of you, considering how many people $rthey has already turned down for the position." "Maybe even a bit arrogant, I've been told," you reply lightly. "But I won't know until I try." "I respect that," the scarf-wearer's friend responds. "Then you're in luck that $rthey's still around, though I'm not sure if you'll be able to get $rtheir attention with the search for the Crown still going on." "You said it," the scarf-wearer agrees. "The last time I was in the area there was a whole crowd gathered claiming to be the successor, it was like a small mob." Your brows arch slightly, though you suppose it's not that unexpected considering the circumstances. Who wouldn't want to rule the Empire, after all? Well, except for you. <</if>>"I take it many people have tried to pass off as the successor?" "You don't know the half of it," the scarf-wearer sighs. "We've never gone so long without a Crown before, so people think to try and take advantage of the tensions in the Imperial House by slapping on an eye glamour and hoping no one will notice." "As if $rtitle $rname could be fooled," their friend scoffs. "The selfish idiots have just made $rtheir search more difficult; I hear $rthey's even considering giving up entirely to return to Zeratun." "$crthey's giving up the search?" the scarf-wearer says, looking at their friend in surprise, their expression a small mirror to the alarm you feel at the thought of letting this chance slip away. "It would be temporary," their friend considers, though that's a small comfort; temporary or not, you cannot afford to wait. "Has $rthey already quit searching in Marabad?" you ask, trying to keep the urgency from your tone even as you feel the restlessness in the bottom of your feet. "I'm not sure," the friend responds with a shrug. "I haven't been near the palace in a while, but they could have already very well opened it to the public again if $rthey left." "I see." You'll have to visit tomorrow then to assess the situation. "Thank you for your time, I should get going." "No problem at all," the scarf-wearer says brightly, and their friend gives you a casual wave as you take your leave from them. You hadn't expected to find $rtitle $rname so soon, and yet it still may be too late if the rumor of $rthem giving up the search for the Crown is true. Ideally you'll be able to see $rthem tomorrow and then your eye glamour won't be necessary at all, but you have a feeling that it won't be so simple. Letting out a deep breath and setting aside these thoughts for now, you try and enjoy the cool breeze blowing through the streets as you make your way back to the inn. [[Continue|1.7]]

<<set $charcodex to true>>[ Character Codex unlocked ] You awaken the next morning confused and disoriented as you find yourself staring up at a ceiling that you don't remember being there. The sleep-addled thought of why you aren't curled up in your tent in the woods passes through your mind, until you finally remember your arrival in Marabad yesterday. With a great big sigh, you heave yourself out of bed to face the monumental task ahead of you that day. The inn you're staying at doesn't offer much beyond a simple cot, a modest dresser and a table and chair, but the owners seem like good people. That, at least, is in your favor. They're an older couple who have spent their entire lives in this city, all too willing to give you directions to the Royal Palace when you go downstairs for breakfast. Considering that they don't seem remotely suspicious of you constantly walking around with a hood, you conclude that they're either very naive or they've decided you're some sort of leper. Either way, you're all too eager to take advantage of it; moving around in daylight is far more dangerous for you than during the night. Better that you are left alone. Though you wouldn't be in this situation at all if that damned eye glamour from before hadn't worn off so quickly. In all fairness, it's your own fault for trusting the shady alchemist in the last village, but he offered the glamour at just the right price and it proved too tempting for you to overcome your desperation to stay hidden. Golden eyes aren't exactly subtle, after all. [[Continue|1.8]]

@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN HISTORY@@ <<if $ashaduna is true>>[[Ashadūnā and the Tribes of Sur|ashaduna]]<</if>><<if $ashaduna is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $ardashir is true>>[[The War for the Crown|ardashir]]<</if>><<if $ardashir is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $ivia is true>>[[The Land of Ivia|ivia]]<</if>><<if $ivia is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<if $ferzan is true>>[[The Assassination of Crown Ferzan|ferzan]]<</if>><<if $ferzan is false>>Undiscovered<</if>> [[Return|$return]]

@@.chaptertitle;THE ARSURIAN EMPIRE@@ Arsur dominates the entire northwestern part of the continent of Hidica, laid by the Igrian Sea. Its most prominent neighbors are the independent city-states of <<if $thallos is true>>[[Thallos|thallos]]<<else>>Thallos<</if>> to the west and the kingdom of <<if $qathesh is true>>[[Qathesh|qathesh]]<<else>>Qathesh<</if>> to the south. The Arsurian Empire itself consists of five separate provinces, all ruled by a Mîr who serves at the pleasure of the Crown. Its official capital is the city of Zeratun, where the Crown historically resides. @@.titlepurple2;ROJAN@@ The northernmost province of Rojan is currently being ruled by Mîr Behram. Its provincial capital is the city of @@.stattext;Marabad@@, famed for its intricate architecture that stretches over the span of ten large hills. This province is where the Ruhuth and Ermet rivers originate from, before flowing down into the province of Zerat. The other provinces depend on Rojan for timber and stone as its primary export, though its impressive mountain range is equally as important; it has warded off invaders for centuries. <<if $ashaduna is true>>Rojan is also the historical region of what was once the kingdom of Ardia. Much of its architecture has survived the passage of time and has been carefully preserved such as the Royal Palace in Marabad, known as the Throne of Ashadūnā, as it was once Crown Ashadūnā's home. You yourself were born in a small village, situated within the valleys bordering the snow-capped peaks of the Armas Mountains to the north. While never staying long in any single place, you've spent your entire life in Rojan; it is the only home you know.<<else>>You yourself were born in a small village, situated within the valleys bordering the snow-capped peaks of the Armas Mountains to the north. While never staying long in any single place, you've spent your entire life in Rojan; it is the only home you know.<</if>> <<if $zerat is true>>@@.titlepurple2;ZERAT@@ The centermost province of Arsur is currently being ruled by Mîr Merxas. Historically, the province of Zerat has been the primary seat of the Crown. Its capital city, Zeratun, has held the Royal Palace known as the Seat of the Crown for nigh on centuries, and it is widely considered to be one of the grandest structures in the entire world. <<if $ashaduna is true>>It is also the native homeland of the tribes of Sur, who were the first to settle the region before it became the kingdom of Ardia.<</if>> The climate of Zerat is not as stable as its mountainous neighbor, but its agriculture is unparalleled. The fertile lands of Zerat, located between two rivers--Ruhuth in the west and Ermet in the east--has tempered the province's otherwise arid climate with humidity, allowing for the Empire's most bountiful yield of crops.<<else>>Undiscovered <</if>><<if $avdin is true>>@@.titlepurple2;AVDIN@@ The westernmost province of Arsur, spanning a great majority of its coast, is currently being ruled by Mîr Lîlan. Its capital is provincial capital is the city of Ilwan.<<else>>Undiscovered <</if>><<if $penawar is true>>@@.titlepurple2;PENAWAR@@ The easternmost province of Arsur is currently being ruled by Mîr Dilshad. Its provincial capital is the city of Arzo. <<else>>Undiscovered <</if>><<if $sevan is true>>@@.titlepurple2;ŞEVAN@@ <<if $sevanmir is "Unelected">>The southernmost province of Arsur currently has no Mîr, and is under the combined rule of its Council of Stewards.<</if>><<if $sevanmir is "Zelal">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Zelal, appointed by the Crown.<</if>><<if $sevanmir is "Irem">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Irem, appointed by the Crown.<</if>><<if $sevanmir is "Ezman">>The southernmost province of Arsur is now being ruled by Mîr Ezman, appointed by the Crown.<</if>> Its provincial capital is the city of Rushem.<<else>>Undiscovered<</if>> <<back>>

Leaving the inn you immediately fall into the familiar posture that you're starting to worry is going to turn your back crooked: head bent down, eyes aimed to the ground and neck already growing sore. You glance up occasionally to see where you're going, but with your robes being ragged and dirty from camping in the wilderness, it's more than enough to make you seem a common beggar. As such, you're largely ignored by whoever passes you by. Unfortunately it also makes it difficult to enjoy the sights of the grand city at the heart of Rojan, a province controlled by a famously capricious master. As far as you know, every other Mîr resides in the capital of their territory within the Empire, making Mîr Behram an odd outlier in choosing to live at the very outskirts of his princedom. Then again, considering the rumors of his ill temper, perhaps the citizens of Marabad are better off for it. Why the previous Crown did not remove such a controversial figure from power is beyond your knowledge or understanding. Setting thoughts of politics aside, you try to enjoy what little of the city you do see. Occasionally the dirt path beneath your feet will transition into stone steps built into the slope of Marabad's hills, and you catch glimpses of colorful robes passing you by, dangling jewelry as common as the dirt stained on bare feet. The main roads within the city, as you have been told by the innkeepers, were all built to lead toward public areas and buildings such as temples, marketplaces, the famous bazar in the southern quarter and the Royal Palace at the very center of Marabad. At first glance these public places and private residences all coexist alongside each other, but as you walk you notice many identical walls separating various buildings from the streets. Another thing you notice is how difficult it is to go from one quarter of the city to the next. You thought the city was one giant maze before, but in fact it holds multiple contained mazes in each area, only connected by the main roads. By the time you think you're close to the Royal Palace of Marabad, you're almost sure you've already forgotten the way back to the inn, and walking up and down all these hills is really testing your endurance. You're about to take a break after heading up yet another hill, until the sight of the palace shielded with huge, stone walls grinds you to a halt. [[Continue|1.15]]

<<set $royalcodex to true>>[ Royal Codex unlocked ] Your gaze passes over the imperial structure, the palace's beige stone intricately detailed with paint and carvings and reliefs. You can see the top-half of the famed apadana; an enormous, roofed hall supported by massive columns on three sides, serving as the main hall of the Crown should they choose to reside here. The fluted shafts of the Arsurian columns are just about visible, topped off by two intertwined snake figures supporting the roof, as well as short colorful banners hanging down the roof between the columns. The architecture is sheer extravagance. You cannot even imagine what the interior must be like. Eventually you look away from the Royal Palace, finding the entrance to it as well as something more. Where those same solid walls shielding the palace end in an iron gate, an ordinary man stands as close as can be without risking the ire of the guards stationed in front of it. The man, you notice upon closer inspection, has golden eyes just like yours. Well, perhaps not just like yours. "For the last time, $rtitle $rname won't be seeing anyone today!" the guard on the left snaps, seeming to be losing his patience as he grips his spear tighter. You resume your walk at a much slower pace, trying to hide your eavesdropping while you keep your eyes fixed on the ground and listen to the man try his luck. "I was born with these eyes," the man begs. "Had them all my life! I swear to you, I'm the rightful Crown!" "And I'm the Mîr of Rojan," the guard mocks, his partner snickering. "The Crown isn't born with golden eyes, you fool! Now get lost before I throw you in the dungeons with the others! $rtitle $rname has no time to waste on this nonsense." You feel your heart sink as you continue to shuffle along while the man is finally persuaded to leave. It seems $rtitle $rname has well and truly given up $rtheir search in the city and is ready to return to Zeratun. If you don't get to $rthem before $rthey leaves, you probably won't last long. It's only a matter of time until you're found by your parents' killers. There's no other choice for you but to reach $rtitle $rname before $rthey departs. If $rthey hasn't left already. But first, you need information. You pass by the palace and don't look back, entering the first teahouse you come across. [[Continue|1.16]]

It’s not as busy inside as you expected it would be. The small, round wooden tables scattered around the teahouse are spread around the center of the room, where you assume nightly music is played at the leisure of the guests. The shop is empty save for a group of five seated in the far left-corner, a couple of people scattered throughout otherwise, and a lone performer seated on the stool in the center absently tuning his tembûr. You catch a few words softly sung, almost at a murmur. "The Pale Sword is coming... let the palace run red... let the palace run red...." This is a song you have heard many times as you traveled through various small towns and villages to Marabad. You don't know the details of the event, but even you have heard of Mîr Behram hiding in his palace when the famous mercenary and hero $xname, The Pale Sword, came knocking at his door. Supposedly for debts unpaid, or something of the sort. Behram's cowering was so embarrassing that it was immortalized into song. It's a catchy tune, if a bit macabre; the children certainly love to sing it. You approach the storyteller, who glances up at you and smiles in a friendly way before turning their attention back to their instrument. The bright green scarf they have wrapped around their head obscures most of their hair, though you see a few wisps of black poking out from underneath the fabric. “Are you here for a story, friend?” they ask without looking at you as you take a seat at a table near them. Storytellers are excellent sources of information in big cities like these. “Sure,” you reply. “Do you have one about $rtitle $rname?” The storyteller blinks as their brown eyes flit to you once more, tembûr forgotten. “The Sorcerer? I have one or two.” Of course it’s not actually a story or a song you want, but rumors about $rtitle $rname's stay here in the city. Though you figure truthful stories about $rthem must be few and far in-between, what with how reclusive $rthey is known to be. "What would you like to know?" the storyteller asks, staring at you with curiosity. They should not be able to see anything of note, though, as you are careful about keeping your eyes hidden in the shadow of your hood at all times. <ul> <li><<if $rgender is "female">>[['"I am just curious about how her search is going."'|1.17][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>><<if $rgender is "male">>[['"I am just curious about how his search is going."'|1.17][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is "female">>[['"I have a feeling she is still in the city—am I right?"'|1.17][$intu to $intu + 25]]<</if>><<if $rgender is "male">>[['"I have a feeling he is still in the city—am I right?"'|1.17][$intu to $intu + 25]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<if $intel is 25>>"Not well, I've heard." The storyteller returns to plucking the strings of their pear-shaped instrument, weaving the notes into a loosely formed melody. "The general of the army has been getting quite impatient with $rtitle $rname's search, you see. The longer they extend it, the more restless the people become and the greater the threat of an insurgency. It doesn't help that $rtitle $rname is holed up in the Royal Palace."<</if>><<if $intu is 25>>"As far as I know $rthey's still staying in the Royal Palace," the storyteller says thoughtfully. "Though I have heard rumors that $rthey'll be leaving soon. I couldn't say how soon, considering that revealing the date of departure would be dangerous. Or that's what the general says, at least."<</if>> You frown at the mention of the general. "The army is involved?" "Of course," the storyteller replies. "They are in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname as a matter of safety, as well as helping with $rtheir search." "I assume the general is staying at the Royal Palace as well?" "That's what I've heard." The storyteller peers at you a bit too intently for your liking. "Although I've seen a lot of soldiers wandering around the streets this morning, which seems a little strange as the general has never been one for posturing. Then again, considering how the last Crown died I can understand $dtheir caution." The event itself goes unspoken, not that it needs to be said. You know all about how the last Crown met their end; Ferzan the Bold wasn't known for his political acumen, a personal failing that cost him his life. It was the first time a Crown was assassinated. His sudden and premature death threw the Empire into chaos. Back then, the Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, took over as the de facto ruler to prevent total anarchy from breaking out; nothing in the Empire's laws regarding succession prepared anyone for this possibility. Everyone thought the Spirits themselves responsible for choosing the next Crown, so a disaster like this seemed unthinkable. Surely the Spirits would not allow for it? This naive mindset left the Imperial House completely unguarded once the previous Crown was murdered. Before Lady Zerya died of old age and passed on the duty to $rtitle $rname, she spent close to a decade searching for the next Crown, hoping to restore order to the nation. To no avail, of course. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Usually a new Crown is found well before the current Crown passes, ensuring a smooth line of succession. But this time is different. Your parents did their utmost to keep you hidden, after all. "Was that all you wanted to know?" the storyteller asks, bringing you out of your pondering. <ul> <li>[["So it was." You toss them a bronze coin. "Let's keep this between us, shall we?"|1.19][$calc to $calc + 25]]</li> <li>[["Yes, you've been very helpful." You hand them a bronze coin. "I appreciate it."|1.18][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<set $gavecoin to true>>The storyteller pockets the coin with practiced ease, tucking it away somewhere into the folds of their robes. "Glad to be of service." As you turn your back on them and head toward the doors, the storyteller calls after you. "Take care, friend!" they say. "The general's soldiers patrolling the streets are not known for their kindness, especially toward outsiders." Your shoulders stiffen at the warning. Is it that obvious that you don't belong here? You suppose you have been asking questions that anyone native to Marabad would already know the answers to. Giving the storyteller a nod of acknowledgement, you leave the teahouse behind and walk back out onto the main road in front of the Royal Palace. [[Continue|1.19]]

Stepping back outside you don't notice anything that looks different at first glance, but as you continue to follow the road along the Royal Palace away from the gates you start noticing fewer and fewer people walking the street. Ordinarily you would have gladly taken advantage of this and not thought too much about it, but after your chat with the storyteller you find yourself a little on edge at the change. Walking close to the walls of nearby buildings, you gaze out over the main road that curls around the Royal Palace atop its hill. The strange silence is what bothers you more than anything else; there's very little chatter to be heard, no busy footsteps hurrying along the road, no carefree laughter or singing. You're so focused on the lack of activity in the street, that when you turn a corner you do not watch your step before it is too late. Something hard crashes into you, causing you to lose your footing and fall backwards onto the ground. You land hard on your backside as your elbows scrape the dirt. [[Continue|1.20]]

"Oh, Zal take you!" you hear whoever you bumped into curse, and invoking the name of an evil spirit does nothing for your nerves. Glancing up, you almost freeze at the sight of the unmistakable uniform in front of you; a bronze breastplate atop a long mail shirt, matching bronze arm guards, red fabric with woven gold decoration covering the legs in a skirt, and a spiked helmet on the head of a very irritated soldier. The soldier's partner on the other hand, standing beside their friend who brushes imaginary dirt off their uniform, looks on with amusement as you scramble back up to your feet. "A thousand apologies," you say quickly, keeping your head bent low. It's best to play the poor old beggar and hope they won't pick a fight with you. "I did not see--" "Yes, it is quite obvious that you did not see!" the soldier you ran into snaps, and you think their anger quite the overreaction considering you were the one who ended up falling over, not them. "Spirits, this day can't get any worse." "There's no need to yell at the poor soul," their friend says, attempting to placate them. "It's not their fault you got chewed out by General $dname." General $dname? You remember hearing that name somewhere before, though you're certain this is not the same general as was in charge during the previous Crown's reign. You don't know a lot about it since you were in hiding around the time it happened, but you're certain you remember the previous general having to resign after the Crown was assassinated. Meanwhile the soldier you ran into is keeping themselves busy scowling at you, but after their friend nudges them with an elbow they breathe out a sigh. "I apologize, traveler, you caught me at a bad time." Relaxing slightly you nod, eager to get out from under their attention as soon as possible. "It's already forgotten." "You're not intending to go down this road, are you?" the soldier questions. "We're closing it down for today, so you'll have to find another way around." That would explain why it's been so quiet. "Closing it down?" "General's orders," the friend answers with an apologetic smile. "We're going to have to ask you to move along." <ul> <li>[[You decide to risk it. "But why is it being closed down?"|1.21][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> <li>[[Eager to get away, you simply nod. "Of course, I'll get going."|1.21][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<if $adven is 25>>The two soldiers glance at each other, seeming hesitant but thankfully not annoyed at your question. "We really can't give out any details," the soldier you bumped into says sternly when their companion remains silent. "It's a matter of safety." Safety... now where have you heard that before? "They are in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname as a matter of safety..." A rush of excitement floods through your limbs; could it be they're closing down the main road for $rtitle $rname? This could be your chance!<</if>><<if $caut is 25>><<set $dadmemory to true>>Better to heed their warning than risk being discovered. In times like these, you do not know who you can trust-- No, that's not true. You remember your father's words well, uttered through bloodied lips as the heat of the flames drew closer and closer around you. "Look for $rtitle $rname," he gasped, fingers clutching into your robes and staining them with crimson red. "Trust- no one else, do you understand? No one..."<</if>> You inhale a sharp breath as you turn away from the soldiers with a murmured thank you and goodbye, hurrying into an alley nearby before they can say another word. [[Continue|1.22]]

<<set $dcodex to true>>[ New Character Codex unlocked ] It is not your intent to get lost, but it is what ends up happening. You are so consumed by thoughts of <<if $adven is 25>>getting closer to your goal<</if>><<if $caut is 25>>your father's final words to you<</if>> that you end up wandering the narrow pathways of Marabad's central quarter without paying attention to where you're going. It leads you to completely lose track of where the main roads are. Damn this city for being so huge. Trying not to become consumed by your frustration, you pause at an intersection of alleyways and look around, though you are not able to make out much from in between the tall buildings looming over you. But as you pause to observe your current location, in the distance you hear faint sounds of shouting. A crowd, gathered here and now? You turn into the direction of the noise and decide to head straight for it, seeing as how you're lost anyway. Doubtlessly this is related to the reason for why those soldiers had to cut off part of the main road as well. As you walk, weaving through the streets with no guide aside from the ever increasing echoes of the crowd to spur you on, you pass by another building that catches your eye. It is shorter than the residential structures surrounding it and has smaller square windows, but is also much wider in build, colored with a dark gray rather than the warmer beige and simpler white you've become used to seeing. The huge double doors made of heavy stone appear rather intimidating, inlaid with metal patterns carved into it as decoration. This is certainly no one's house. Glancing around to make sure you are alone, you carefully approach one of the small windows, but before you can even decide whether to take a peek, a commanding voice captures your attention. [[Continue|1.23]]

"How many times do I have to tell you halfwits to keep your mouths shut before you start listening?" A <<if $dgender is "male">>deep, rumbling voice<</if>><<if $dgender is "female">>clear, steely voice<</if>> rings through the building and outside the window where you're eavesdropping. "All of Marabad is gathered outside now to catch a glimpse of $rtitle $rname," the owner of the distinct voice continues, volume raising with every word as you can tell they're starting to lose their temper. "All because one of you had to go bragging about your assignment! This was supposed to be done in secret!" "General $dname--" "DID I ASK YOU TO SPEAK?" The words thunder through the building, the shout so loud that you flinch before the topic of conversation finally sinks in. Is this truly General $dname $dthemselves, talking about an assignment--likely the planned departure--of $rtitle $rname? Does that mean you still have a chance to catch $rname before $rthey leaves? The silence following General $dname's yelling is deafening, and for a short while all you can hear is the pacing of footsteps on the ground, before that sound too comes to an abrupt halt. "The damage is already done," General $dname states, though $dtheir forced calm does not last long. "Seeing as how $rtitle $rname cannot be dissuaded from delaying $rtheir departure any further, we'll have to make do. But YOU do not go anywhere NEAR $rthem, do you understand? If I so much as SMELL you anywhere in $rtheir vicinity I WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD." "Yes, general!" The poor soldier who is being shouted at sounds like they're about to soil themselves, and you can't say you blame them. "Of course, general!" A drawn-out hum, coming from another person in the room who has been silent until now. "Are you quite done tormenting the fool, $dname?" The question arrives in the form of a bored <<if $agender is "male">>masculine<<else>>feminine<</if>> tone, something the general does not appreciate. "Do not think for a moment that you're off the hook, $aname," the general snaps. "This fool was under your command." <<if $agender is "male" and $dgender is "female">>"I will take responsibility if you wish," the man named as $aname replies in $atheir naturally drawling voice, though $athey sounds quite serious. "But do we not have more important business to discuss?"<<else>>"I have already punished him for his misstep," the <<if $agender is "male">>man<</if>><<if $agender is "female">>woman<</if>> named as $aname replies with disinterest, lazily dragging the words out in $atheir naturally drawling voice, making you curious to know who $athey is to get away with talking to the general so nonchalantly. "Shall we move on to more important business?"<</if>> "Very well." The general's tone is stiff. "You, get lost." You hear more footsteps, heading straight toward the double doors you happen to be standing next to. <ul> <li>[[Dive for cover around the corner!|1.24.a][$intu to $intu + 25]]</li> <li>[[Pretend to be a beggar wandering the streets.|1.24.b][$intel to $intel + 25]]</li> </ul>

Speaking of your eyes, what about the rest of you? Your hair color is... [[...black.|1.9][$haircolor to "black"]] [[...deep brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "deep brown"]] [[...chestnut brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "chestnut brown"]] [[...honey brown.|1.9][$haircolor to "honey brown"]] [[...auburn.|1.9][$haircolor to "auburn"]] [[...ruby red.|1.9][$haircolor to "ruby red"]] [[...ginger red.|1.9][$haircolor to "ginger red"]] [[...dark blond.|1.9][$haircolor to "dark blond"]] [[...sunny blond.|1.9][$haircolor to "sunny blond"]] [[...ash blond.|1.9][$haircolor to "ash blond"]]

<<if $haircolor is "black">>Your hair color is black, a common but beloved shade in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "deep brown">>Your hair color is deep brown, a common but beloved shade in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "chestnut brown">>Your hair color is chestnut brown, a common but beloved shade in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "honey brown">>Your hair color is honey brown, a common but beloved shade in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ginger red">>Your hair color is ginger red, not typically seen in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ruby red">>Your hair color is ruby red, not typically seen in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "auburn">>Your hair color is auburn, not typically seen in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ash blond">>Your hair color is ash blond, not typically seen Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "sunny blond">>Your hair color is sunny blond, not typically seen in Arsur, and is...<</if>><<if $haircolor is "dark blond">>Your hair color is dark blond, not typically seen in Arsur, and is...<</if>> [[...shaved.|facial hair][$hairstyle to "shaved"]] [[...very short.|1.10][$hairstyle to "very short"]] [[...short.|1.10][$hairstyle to "short"]] [[...shoulder-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "shoulder-length"]] [[...past your shoulders.|1.10][$hairstyle to "past your shoulders"]] [[...waist-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "down to your waist"]] [[...hip-length.|1.10][$hairstyle to "down to your hips"]] [[...done up.|1.10][$hairstyle to "done up"]] [[...braided.|1.10][$hairstyle to "braided"]]

<<if $facialhair is 'shaven' or $facialhair is 'stubble' or $facialhair is 'beard' or $facialhair is 'goatee' or $facialhair is 'moustache' or $facialhair is 'sideburns'>><<set $fh to true>><</if>><<if $haircolor is "black">>Your hair is black<</if>><<if $haircolor is "deep brown">>Your hair is deep brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "chestnut brown">>Your hair is chestnut brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "honey brown">>Your hair is honey brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ginger red">>Your hair is ginger red<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ruby red">>Your hair is ruby red<</if>><<if $haircolor is "auburn">>Your hair is auburn<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ash blond">>Your hair is ash blond<</if>><<if $haircolor is "sunny blond">>Your hair is sunny blond<</if>><<if $haircolor is "dark blond">>Your hair is dark blond<</if>> and <<if $hairstyle is "very short">>styled very short, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "short">>styled short, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length">>styled down your shoulders, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "past your shoulders">>styled down past your shoulders, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your waist">>styled down to your waist, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your hips">>styled down to your hips, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "done up">>styled up, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "braided">>its style is braided, and its texture is $hairtexture.<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shaved">>its style is shaved.<</if>> <<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>You also keep your facial hair cleanly shaven.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'stubble'>>You also sport a stubble on your face.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'beard'>>You have a matching beard as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'goatee'>>You have a matching goatee as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'moustache'>>You have a matching moustache as well.<</if>><<if $facialhair is 'sideburns'>>You have matching sideburns as well.<</if>> As for the color of your skin, it is... [[...a light beige.|scars][$skincolor to "light beige"]] [[...a sandy beige.|scars][$skincolor to "sandy beige"]] [[...an olive beige.|scars][$skincolor to "olive beige"]] [[...a golden brown.|scars][$skincolor to "golden brown"]] [[...a russet brown.|scars][$skincolor to "russet brown"]] [[...a dark brown.|scars][$skincolor to "dark brown"]] [[...a warm black.|scars][$skincolor to "warm black"]] [[...a cool black.|scars][$skincolor to "cool black"]] [[...a deep black.|scars][$skincolor to "deep black"]]

<<if $haircolor is "black">>Your hair is black<</if>><<if $haircolor is "deep brown">>Your hair is deep brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "chestnut brown">>Your hair is chestnut brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "honey brown">>Your hair is honey brown<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ginger red">>Your hair is ginger red<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ruby red">>Your hair is ruby red<</if>><<if $haircolor is "auburn">>Your hair is auburn<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ash blond">>Your hair is ash blond<</if>><<if $haircolor is "sunny blond">>Your hair is sunny blond<</if>><<if $haircolor is "dark blond">>Your hair is dark blond<</if>> and <<if $hairstyle is "very short">>styled very short<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "short">>styled short<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length">>styled down your shoulders<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "past your shoulders">>styled down past your shoulders<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your waist">>styled down to your waist<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "down to your hips">>styled down to your hips<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "done up">>styled up<</if>><<if $hairstyle is "braided">>its style is braided<</if>>, and its texture is... [[...straight.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "straight"]] [[...wavy.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "wavy"]] [[...curly.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "curly"]] [[...coiled.|facial hair][$hairtexture to "coiled"]]

<<if $scar is 'chin' or $scar is 'nose' or $scar is 'temple' or $scar is 'cheek' or $scar is 'eyebrow'>><<set $sc to true>><</if>><<if $skincolor is "light beige" or $skincolor is "sandy beige">><<set $skinavg to "light">><</if>><<if $skincolor is "olive beige" or $skincolor is "golden brown" or $skincolor is "russet brown" or $skincolor is "dark brown">><<set $skinavg to "brown">><</if>><<if $skincolor is "deep black" or $skincolor is "warm black" or $skincolor is "cool black">><<set $skinavg to "black">><</if>>Concerning your stature, you would consider yourself... [[...very short in height.|1.13][$height to "very short"]] [[...short in height.|1.13][$height to "short"]] [[...average in height.|1.13][$height to "average"]] [[...tall in height.|1.13][$height to "tall"]] [[...very tall in height.|1.13][$height to "very tall"]]

<<set $appearance to true>><<set $chartraits to true>>[ Character Traits unlocked ] <<if $hairstyle is "shaved" or $hairstyle is "braided" or $hairstyle is "done up">>With $hairstyle $haircolor hair, $skincolor skin<<else>>With $hairtexture, $haircolor hair worn $hairstyle, $skincolor skin<</if>><<if $height is "tall" or $height is "very tall">>, a $height stature<</if>> and eyes a vibrant gold, you make for a striking sight. <<if $scar is 'eyebrow'>>The scar through your eyebrow is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'cheek'>>The scar on your cheek is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'temple'>>The scar on your temple is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'chin'>>The scar on your chin is quite noticeable as well.<</if>><<if $scar is 'nose'>>The scar across your nose is quite noticeable as well.<</if>> Anyone who passed you on the street would not soon forget you if you were to forego your disguise, which makes it all the more important that you stay hidden. After what happened to your parents, you know exactly how crucial it is to be careful of who you reveal yourself to. [[Continue|1.14]]

As quickly as you can, you hurry around the corner of the building and slip behind the wall just as the double doors behind you slide open. Pressing your back against the stone and flattening yourself against it, you hope the shadows of the alleyway will be enough to conceal you as you hear several people approach. From the corner of your eye you notice something shiny. It's a bit of sunlight catching on the metal of a breastplate, part of the same sort of uniform you saw earlier when that soldier bumped into you. Thankfully the owner of the breastplate does not glance in your direction as the small group of soldiers pass by the alleyway in an uncomfortable silence. Though you suppose the tension isn't a surprise, considering they did just get chewed out by their general. Once the soldiers pass you by, you wonder whether to just move along or stay put when more of the conversation inside the building--soldier barracks, perhaps--makes you halt. You have to strain to pick up the words now, but you do hear them. "What do you want me to do about $xname?" $aname asks, sounding less bored now but not entirely engaged either; polite disinterest, maybe. "Behram has been throwing quite a temper tantrum about $xtheir capture." "When isn't Behram throwing a temper tantrum?" General $dname grumbles, exasperated. "Nevertheless, we cannot risk endangering the search for the Crown. Bring $xname in." "So you believe Behram?" $aname says sharply, the sudden shift causing you to stand up straighter as if $aname were talking to you directly. "You really think $xname--" "$cxthey's a mercenary." The general's tone is curt, bordering on impatient. "$cxthey will do anything for the right price." "$cxthey's a hero to the people," $aname retorts coolly. "Imprisoning $xthem on the word of a known liar will only cause more unrest. Isn't that the exact thing you're trying to prevent?" "I'm not having this discussion with you," General $dname snaps. "I gave you an order and I expect you to follow it." $aname laughs humorlessly. "I'm not one of your soldiers anymore, $dname. You really think you have the authority to order the Crown's bodyguard around?" "In case you hadn't noticed, Royal Protector," General $dname says slowly, speaking in a measured tone as if talking through gritted teeth, "the Crown hasn't been found yet. So until that happens, yes, I'll be ordering you around!" You're expecting a retort from $aname, but it never comes. Instead, the general sighs deeply. "$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname, and that's not a possibility we should take lightly. Now follow your orders and bring $xthem to me. We leave come dawn." A moment of silence, followed by the sound of the doors slamming open. You hold your breath and wait, catching a glimpse of a figure in dark clothes and armor rushing past the alleyway so fast you barely get a look at $athem at all, and then $athey's gone. [[Continue|1.25]]

<<set $abeggar to true>>As quickly as you can, you back away to the opposite end of the street and sit down against the wall just as the double doors in front of you slide open. Keeping your head down, you cup your palms as you hold them out as any common beggar would, hoping the dirt on your cloak and the frayed edges of your hood will be enough to mask your presence. Your eye catches on something shiny as several feet walk into your line of sight. It's a bit of sunlight catching on the metal of a belt, part of the same sort of uniform you saw earlier when that soldier bumped into you. Thankfully the owner of the belt does not glance in your direction as the small group of soldiers pass you by in an uncomfortable silence. Though you suppose the tension isn't a surprise, considering they did just get chewed out by their general. Once the soldiers pass you by, you wonder whether to just move along or stay put when more of the conversation inside the building--soldier barracks, perhaps--causes you to sit against the wall for a while longer. Unfortunately you can't hear much of it, only bits and pieces of sentences that don't make much sense to you. There are names tossed out as well; you're certain you hear Mîr Behram mentioned at least once, though you couldn't say why. It isn't long until the conversation comes to a sudden end. "...hadn't noticed, Royal Protector, your precious Crown hasn't been found yet. So until that happens, yes, I'll be ordering you around!" A deep sigh. "$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname, and that's not a possibility we should take lightly. Now follow your orders and bring $xthem to me. We leave come dawn." The doors in front of you slam open and you wince before you can help yourself as someone comes striding outside, and the first thing you see are the dark metal sheet of their greaves and their matching dark boots, approaching you. Not daring to look up, you sit there as if frozen with your palms still outstretched. This particular pair of armored legs look much more expensively equipped than the soldiers you saw before. The upper parts are hidden in black cloth that looks a bit more tightly fit than the loose pants you're used to seeing, not revealing any skin and cutting off into a dark robed skirt. The armored skirt itself is decorated with strips of leather hanging down a gray cloth belt, wrapped twice around their waist. You risk a glance further up and catch the gleam of silver scale armor covering their torso, and you know immediately that this is either the general $dthemselves or someone similarly high-ranked. Could it be $aname? They walk at a brisk pace at first, but instead of heading down the street on your right as you were hoping they might, they instead pause, change direction and slowly come to a stop in front of you. Your heart is in your throat as you stare at the dark greaves, unable to do anything but wait. Something drops into your hands. "Mezdin's blessings on you," $aname says to you, though instead of sounding bored as $athey did before, $atheir voice sounds much warmer now. Without waiting for a reply from you, $athey then turns around and walks away toward the street on the right, as $athey originally intended. You stare down with mute shock at the golden coin cupped in your hands, branded with the symbol of the sun. Putting it away in an inner pocket of your robes, you glance toward the barracks but find that while the doors are still left wide-open, the general is nowhere to be seen. Either way, it gives you the chance to make your escape. [[Continue|1.25]]

<><<if $haircolor is "black" or $haircolor is "deep brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "honey brown">> <<set $xnickname to "my dark-haired beauty">><<set $cxnickname to "My dark-haired beauty">> <</if>> <<if $haircolor is "ginger red" or $haircolor is "ruby red" or $haircolor is "auburn">> <<set $xnickname to "my sweet rose">><<set $cxnickname to "My sweet rose">> <</if>> <<if $haircolor is "ash blond" or $haircolor is "sunny blond" or $haircolor is "dark blond">> <<set $xnickname to "my darling star">><<set $cxnickname to "My darling star">> <</if>><>The leader of the group who managed to capture you grins slowly, seeming amused by the situation more than anything else. <<if $haircolor is "ruby red" or $haircolor is "ginger red" or $haircolor is "auburn">>"Heval, look at this lovely rose I've found," $xthey says, eyes trailing over the red of your hair. "It would be a shame if we let someone else trample it, don't you think?"<</if>><<if $haircolor is "black" or $haircolor is "honey brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "deep brown">>"Heval, what do you suppose such a dark-haired beauty is doing all alone in the forest?" $xthey wonders out loud, flashing you a roguish smile as $xthey then addresses you directly. "You should take care; there are bandits here, you know. And mercenaries!"<</if>><<if $haircolor is "ash blond" or $haircolor is "sunny blond" or $haircolor is "dark blond">>"It seems I've stumbled upon a fallen star, Heval," $xthey says as $xtheir gaze flits to your blond hair. "It must be my lucky day, for I've never seen anything so pretty."<</if>> "Chief," Heval says with equal amounts of annoyance and resignation. "I'm sure you have better things to be doing than flirting with some random stranger." "Isn't this like the fifth time this week?" you hear someone else mutter. The bandit leader turns to Heval in outrage, then points at you. "My friend, have you seen their face?" Your heartbeat skips, then thunders through your chest at the mention of your face, because seeing your face means seeing your eyes. Your very much unglamoured eyes. "No, chief, I have not," Heval remarks with a disinterest so blatant you almost feel personally slighted by it. "Let me show you," the bandit leader says smugly, like a child trying to show off some sort of glittery stone they found on the side of the road, then turns to you. "Go on, pull your hood down! It's only polite to show your face when meeting someone for the first time, no?" Oh, shit. You squeeze your eyes shut, the glint of the white scimitar strapped to the bandit's waist the last thing you see, a tremor in your fingers as you slowly grip the edges of your hood and pull it down off your head. A silence falls over the clearing and you breathe in deep. "Why are you keeping your eyes closed?" Heval's voice is laced with suspicion, though it unnerves you more that the bandit leader hasn't audibly reacted at all. "I... I just..." You try to swallow, but your throat is so dry you barely manage it. "I'm sensitive to light." There's a long pause, and then- "Don't make this difficult," the bandit leader says coolly, a stark difference compared to $xtheir lighthearted tone from earlier. "Show us." With few other options, you reluctantly do as you're told. [[Continue|1.37]]

<<if $rgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;LORD RÊZAN@@ @@.footnote;[ray-zahn]@@<<endif>><<if $rgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;LADY ROZERÎN@@ @@.footnote;[ro-zehr-een]@@<<endif>> Pronouns: <<if $rgender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> Age: 23 Appearance: Deep brown skin, gray eyes, defined lips cupped by a distinct chin, and thick black hair parted in the middle and falling down to $rtheir waist. $crtheir stature is average in height and $rtheir body is lean in build. $crthey prefers to wear figure-hugging dresses, and is often seen with many accessories such as decorated belts or jewelry. Every Crown has a Sorcerer who serves as the closest advisor to the throne. The Sorcerer is often considered to be the most powerful magus in the entire Empire, if not the most influential. $rname is said to have been very young when the previous Sorcerer, Lady Zerya, found $rthem performing magic for coin on the streets of Marabad and took $rthem in as her apprentice. During $rtheir time under Zerya's tutelage $rname was rarely seen in public, and even after succeeding $rtheir teacher $rname has maintained $rtheir unusually elusive reputation. It was only after Zerya's recent passing that $rname was forced to step outside and show $rtheir face to the world once more, in order to fulfil $rtheir duty as the Crown's Sorcerer. <<back>>

<<if $xgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;XELEF@@ @@.footnote;[che-lef]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>><<if $xgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;XELARA@@ @@.footnote;[che-lah-rah]; 'ch' as in Loch or Bach@@<<endif>> Pronouns: <<if $xgender is "male">>He/Him<</if>><<if $xgender is "female">>She/Her<</if>> Age: 28 Appearance: Warm, dark beige skin, green eyes with thick eyelashes, <<if $xgender is "male">>ear-length black hair swept back and a trimmed beard<</if>><<if $xgender is "female">>and mid-length black hair tied back into a messy bun<</if>>. Tall in stature with firm muscles lining $xtheir firm figure, broad shoulders with a lean waist, many scars visible on $xtheir arms. Often wearing light, leather armor pieces on top of $xtheir clothes. Carries a distinct, pale white scimitar. A legendary hero, also known as The Pale Sword, whose exploits were chronicled in song. One such famous ballad details the words $xthey shouted to Mîr Behram, standing in his palace courtyard and demanding he come outside. An excerpt from the song: His soldiers cried out, "The Pale Sword is coming!" As the gates broke down, Behram filled with dread <<if $xgender is "male">>There stood $xname,<<else>>There was $xname,<</if>> With pale sword in hand, A smile as $xthey sang, "Let the palace run red!" <<back>>

<<if $dgender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;DARA SIDAR@@ @@.footnote;[dah-rah · suh-dahr]@@<<endif>><<if $dgender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;DELAL SIDAR@@ @@.footnote;[deh-lahl · suh-dahr]@@<<endif>> Pronouns: <<if $dgender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> Age: 30 Appearance: Tanned olive skin, dark brown eyes, gaunt cheeks and a broad jawline,<<if $dgender is "male">> close-cropped brown hair with straight bangs touching on his forehead.<</if>><<if $dgender is "female">> brown hair cut short with bangs swept sideways across her forehead.<</if>> $cdthey has a single mole underneath the corner of $dtheir left eye. Unusually tall in stature with prominent muscles, especially in $dtheir long arms and legs. Almost never seen without $dtheir armor on. The military has always played a pivotal role in Arsur's existence. It has been used both as a tool for territorial expansion as well as a shield to defend the Empire with during the reigns of Crowns past, depending on who was in power. That same shield failed ten years ago for the first time. $dname was determined to become the General of the Arsurian Empire in order to succeed where the previous General failed. When the Twentieth Crown was assassinated and the ones responsible escaped, many put the blame at the Imperial Army's feet, and by extension $dname's predecessor, who was forced to resign the position. $dname's road to becoming the General was an arduous one. It was $dtheir talent and $dtheir strategic brilliance--deterring multiple attacks on Arsur's border from hostile nations--which earned $dthem the position through hard work and perseverence. <<back>>

<<if $agender is "male">>@@.titlepurple2;AZAD MIRZA@@ @@.footnote;[ah-zahd · mir-zah]@@<<endif>><<if $agender is "female">>@@.titlepurple2;ASHTI MIRZA@@ @@.footnote;[ah-sh-ti · mir-zah]@@<<endif>> Pronouns: <<if $agender is "male">>He/Him<<else>>She/Her<</if>> Age: 26 Appearance: Rich black skin, hazel eyes, with <<if $agender is "male">>tightly coiled black hair cut short, patches of facial hair along his jawline, chin and around his mouth<<else>>black hair braided close to her scalp in several raised rows<</if>>. Dimples in both $atheir cheeks and two small, round silver earrings in $atheir right ear as accessories. $catheir stature is on the tall side, $atheir body toned. $cathey switches between armor and robes when appropriate. An excerpt from a letter of correspondence with an unknown recipient, written by Mîr Lilan of the province Zerat: Tell me in truth if you have ever seen a warrior with such promise. You claim that $atheir lack of regard toward authority and $atheir disdain toward the ruling class is an unforgivable flaw, and yet all I can see is an invaluable asset. The Royal Protector answers only to the Crown and no one else; in that respect, it is a position with power second only to the Crown themselves. There are even situations in which the Royal Protector has grounds to overrule the Crown for their own safety. Who better for such a title than a <<if $agender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> who has proven $athemselves to be completely incorruptible? $cathey puts $atheir principles above all else, and while $atheir loyalty is rarely given, once it is earned it is undying. Someone who looks beyond the formality of titles to assess character instead of political influence is exactly who we need by the future Crown's side. So you will have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but I do not see "$cathey refused to attend my monthly banquet of debauchery" as sufficient grounds to block $atheir appointment. <<back>>

<<if $abeggar is false>>As you make your way toward the din of the crowds, the sound echoing against the stone walls of the streets and alleyways, you try to process the conversation you just overheard. They're hunting for $xname, at a time like this? You have heard that $xtheir relationship with the military of Arsur is a complicated one; $xthey has helped the Imperial Army as many times as $xthey's hurt it, but such is $xtheir nature as a mercenary. Was $xthey hired to thwart the search for the Crown? $aname certainly did not seem to think so, and even the general appeared skeptical of Mîr Behram's claims.<</if>><<if $abeggar is true>>Royal Protector--though in name only, since there is currently no Crown to protect. You did not expect to get an extra coin out of that exchange, let alone one of gold. Clearly $aname is the generous sort, though $athey seems rather bad at taking orders. Or perhaps it's just that $athey has a problem with General $dname?<</if>> Whichever the case, none of this changes anything for you materially; your goal is still to find $rtitle $rname as quickly as possible. Though why you need to find $rthem is something you try not to think too much about. "Your precious Crown hasn't been found yet," General $dname sneered at $aname. Not knowing that you were standing right outside the building. [[Continue|1.26]]

@@.titlepurple;CHARACTER TRAITS@@ Name: $name Age: 25 Pronouns: <<if $gender is "female">>She/Her<</if>><<if $gender is "male">>He/Him<</if>><<if $gender is "nb">>They/Them<</if>><<if $magicpref is "inner">> Magic type: Inner magic<</if>><<if $magicpref is "outer">> Magic type: Outer magic<</if>> Appearance: <<if $appearance is true>><<if $hairstyle is "shaved">>You have $hairstyle $haircolor hair and your complexion is $skincolor. <<else>>Your hair is $hairtexture and $haircolor, its style $hairstyle, and your complexion is $skincolor. <</if>><<if $fh is true and $sc is true>>You have a $facialhair and a scar on your $scar. <</if>><<if $fh is true and $sc is false>>You have <<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>shaven facial hair<<else>>a $facialhair<</if>> matching with your hairstyle. <</if>><<if $fh is false and $sc is true>>You have a scar on your $scar as well. <</if>>As for stature, you are $height.<</if>> Your Manners Toward Others <<if $charm eq $blunt>>You take the middle ground between being charming and blunt, much like the average person.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $calc gt $kind>>You prefer @@.stattext;charming@@ others in conversation with your sharp wit.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $kind gt $calc>>You often @@.stattext;charm@@ others with your grace, treating others with courtesy.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt and $kind eq $calc>>You tend to @@.stattext;charm@@ others, drawing people to you.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $calc gt $kind>>You speak @@.stattext;bluntly@@, but your every word is chosen with thought.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $kind gt $calc>>You speak @@.stattext;bluntly@@, but treat others kindly; you wear your heart on your tongue.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm and $kind eq $calc>>You say what you mean and hold nothing back, speaking @@.stattext;bluntly@@.<</if>> Your Disposition Toward Others <<if $calc gt $kind>>You are not afraid to @@.stattext;calculate@@ how to best use others to your advantage.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>Your first impulse is to treat others with @@.stattext;kindness@@.<</if>><<if $calc eq $kind>>You are not particularly kind or calculating, but choose to adapt to the person in front of you.<</if>> Your Mental Capabilities <<if $intel gt $intu>>You easily categorize the world around you into pieces of knowledge to be stored away, putting your @@.stattext;intellect@@ to good use.<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel>>You listen to what your gut tells you, trusting your @@.stattext;intuition@@ to lead you to the right path.<</if>><<if $intel eq $intu>>You don't lean strongly toward either intuition or intelligence, instead finding a balance.<</if>> Your Attitude <<if $adven gt $caut and $intel gt $intu>>You eagerly seek out @@.stattext;adventure@@ wherever you can find it, driven by a thirst for knowledge.<</if>><<if $adven gt $caut and $intu gt $intel>>You are naturally drawn to @@.stattext;adventure@@, letting your instincts guide your actions.<</if>><<if $adven gt $caut and $intel eq $intu>>You cannot resist the call of @@.stattext;adventure@@, finding yourself drawn to it despite the risks.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intel gt $intu>>You have learned to move through life with @@.stattext;caution@@, always thoughtfully weighing your options.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intu gt $intel>>You are naturally @@.stattext;cautious@@, relying on your instincts to keep you away from danger.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven and $intu eq $intel>>You would rather avoid risks when you can, trusting your @@.stattext;cautious@@ nature.<</if>><<if $adven eq $caut>>You are cautious when you need to be and adventurous otherwise, walking a path between.<</if>> [[Return|$return]]

Your foot catches on something and you trip, the momentum of your run slamming you head-first into the dirt, a sharp pain shooting through your nose. A few choice words slip past your lips as you curl up on the ground, holding your hands to your face and hoping you didn't break anything. At least you don't feel any blood. All thanks to the unfortunate placement of a tree-root. "I did tell you to wait." You stiffen, eyes aimed at the ground as you realize your hood has fallen down, revealing your face to the stranger. You quickly yank it back up, heart pounding. "What's wrong?" A teasing tone in a booming voice. "Don't tell me you're shy?" Certain the shadow of your hood is doing its job to veil your eye color, you glance up at the tall <<if $xgender is "female">>woman<<else>>man<</if>> coming into your view with a lackadaisical swagger to $xtheir step. $cxthey stands still right in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck to get a good look at $xthem. The first thing you notice about $xthem is $xtheir eyes. It's not just the brilliant green color of them or the downturned shape, but the thick, long eyelashes framing them as well that makes for remarkable features. As well as an incredibly intimidating stare. You quickly shift your attention to the rest of $xtheir appearance. $cxtheir skin is a warm, dark beige complexion, contrasting with the ebony black color of the <<if $xgender is "female">>hair swept into a messy bun on the back of her head, stray locks framing her face.<<else>>ear-length hair messily swept out of his eyes, matching the trimmed beard covering the lower half of his face.<</if>> $cxtheir figure is much like that of a rigorously trained soldier. With the natural broadness of $xtheir shoulders as well as $xtheir height, you would not soon want to test $xthem in a battle of any sort. You can even see a few cuts scarred over on $xtheir bare muscular arms, as the blacks of the robes wrapped around $xtheir torso lack any sleeves. The collar is cut into a deep V as well, revealing a long slip of $xtheir chest<<if $xgender is "male">> and the dark hairs covering it<</if>>. The lower half of the fabrics are draped into a loose skirt on top of $xtheir black pants, covered by a thick, wide leather belt meant to be armor, matching the leather shoulder pads and chest straps. It's a very light attire compared to what you've seen soldiers wear, but judging from the bone-pale scimitar strapped to $xtheir side $xthey looks ready for a fight. Though that doesn't seem to be $xtheir intention with you, luckily. The <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> regards you with nothing more than mild curiosity, lips bending into a smile as you sit in front of $xthem in stupefied silence, $xtheir gaze slowly trailing over you as if assessing you. "Chief!" More figures emerge from behind the trees and between the bushes, likely having followed you here. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You don't feel as threatened as you probably should, though you are acutely aware of the fact that your eyes are not glamoured.<</if>><<if $caut eq $adven>>This is not good. Your eyes aren't glamoured and now you're surrounded by a group of strangers, possibly bandits.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven>>You quickly bend your head down though your eyes flit around the clearing to try and find a way to escape, but you soon realize it's futile. You're surrounded.<</if>> Someone even taller and broader than the <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> in front of you steps forward to join $xthem, dressed in heavy iron armor from head to toe, their appearance hidden behind their helmet, stretching down in a metal mask shaped like a human face set in a stern expression. "Who's this?" they ask, a note of suspicion to their tone. You really hope you're not about to get robbed. [[Continue|1.36]]

@@.titlepurple;RELATIONSHIPS@@ Your Relationship With $xname <<if $xpoints is 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 0 and $xpoints lte 5>>You have $xtheir attention.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 5 and $xpoints lte 10>>$cxthey likes you.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'X'>><<if $xpoints gt 10 and $xpoints lte 30>>$cxthey really likes you.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 30 and $xpoints lte 40>>$cxthey wants to trust you.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 40 and $xpoints lte 50>>$cxthey trusts you.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 50 and $xpoints lte 70>>$cxthey wants you.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 70 and $xpoints lte 90>>$xthey wants to be worthy of you.<</if>><<if $xpoints gt 90>>$cxthey loves you.<</if>><</if>> <<if $meta is true>>Your Relationship With $aname <<if $apoints is 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 0 and $apoints lte 5>>$cathey is skeptical, but curious.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 5 and $apoints lte 10>>$cathey's intrigued.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'A'>><<if $apoints gt 10 and $apoints lte 30>>$cathey genuinely enjoys your company.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 30 and $apoints lte 40>>$cathey has faith in you.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 40 and $apoints lte 50>>$cathey is proud of you.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 50 and $apoints lte 70>>$cathey can't stop thinking about you.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 70 and $apoints lte 90>>$cathey has fallen for you.<</if>><<if $apoints gt 90>>$cathey loves you.<</if>><</if>><<else>>A stranger you've yet to meet<</if>> <<if $metd is true>>Your Relationship With $dname <<if $dpoints is 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 0 and $dpoints lte 5>>$cdthey doesn't know what to make of you yet.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 5 and $dpoints lte 10>>$cdthey feels reassured.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'D'>><<if $dpoints gt 10 and $dpoints lte 30>>$cdthey wants to be there for you.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 30 and $dpoints lte 40>>$cdthey feels safe with you.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 40 and $dpoints lte 50>>You are dear to $cdthem.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 50 and $dpoints lte 70>>$cdthem is devoted to you.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 70 and $dpoints lte 90>>$cdthey adores you.<</if>><<if $dpoints gt 90>>$cdthey loves you.<</if>><</if>><<else>>A stranger you've yet to meet<</if>> <<if $metr is true>>Your Relationship With $rname <<if $rpoints is 0>>You have a neutral relationship.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 0 and $rpoints lte 5>>$crthey's interested in seeing how you will do as the Crown.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 5 and $rpoints lte 10>>You get along quite well.<</if>><<if $loveinterest is 'R'>><<if $rpoints gt 10 and $rpoints lte 30>>$crthey feels as if $rthey's known you for years.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 30 and $rpoints lte 40>>$crthey likes seeing you smile.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 40 and $rpoints lte 50>>$crthey loves being around you.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 50 and $rpoints lte 70>>You are so very dear to $rthem.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 70 and $rpoints lte 90>>$crthey cherishes you.<</if>><<if $rpoints gt 90>>$crthey loves you.<</if>><</if>><<else>>A stranger you've yet to meet<</if>> Romantic Inclinations <<if $flirt gt $res and $adven gt $caut>>You are bold and you show it in the way you @@.stattext;flirt@@, easy and open with who you choose to share your affection with.<</if>><<if $flirt gt $res and $caut gt $adven>>You take romance seriously and though you enjoy @@.stattext;flirting@@, you are not the type to do so carelessly.<</if>><<if $flirt gt $res and $caut eq $adven>>You do not shy away from showing your interest in others,@@.stattext;flirtation@@ being your preferred method of doing so.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $adven gt $caut>>You are more @@.stattext;reserved@@ in regards to love, preferring to let your interest in someone show through actions rather than words.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $caut gt $adven>>You have often heard your @@.stattext;reserved@@ demeanor being described as shy, lending to your careful approach to love.<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt and $caut eq $adven>>You are not one to be open with your affections, coming across to others as @@.stattext;reserved@@ in most romantic situations.<</if>><<if $flirt eq $res>>You are neither especially flirtatious or reserved, capable of both depending on your mood or the situation.<</if>> <<if $ass gt $pass>>When it comes to your preferred dynamics, you are typically the @@.stattext;assertive@@ one who leads your partner.<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass>>When it comes to your preferred dynamics, you are typically the @@.stattext;passive@@ one who follows your partner's lead.<</if>><<if $ass eq $pass>>When it comes to your preferred dynamics, you are @@.stattext;balanced@@ and able to easily adjust to your partner's needs.<</if>> <<if $nextlevel is true>>Platonic Relationships [LI] has proven to be a good friend. Aside from [LI], you also get along quite well with [non-LI]. There is also [non-LI mentor], who you have come to respect and look up to.<<else>>Undiscovered<</if>> [[Return|$return]]

The way the succession should work is relatively simple. Once the Crown nears the end of their life, they will receive a vision. Most often this occurs at night, though there have been some Crowns in the past who have had them during the daytime. This vision will lead the Crown and their Sorcerer to the successor. Many have asked Crowns in the past what exactly they saw in these visions, and the answer is always the same: it is a feeling more than an image. Crowns usually get these visions three to five years before they pass away, though on a rare few occassions some have been known to get them a whole decade before their deaths, while others have them mere months before. No one knows what triggers it, at least not with certainty. It is said that the Spirits of the land are responsible for these visions the same way they are responsible for the Crown's golden eyes, or that's what your parents believed. After the successor is found, they spend whatever years the Crown has left being mentored and tutored, though some successors need it more than others. The range of backgrounds is incredibly broad, after all, varying from the humblest farmer to the wealthiest noble. Then, upon the Crown's death, their golden eyes pass onto their successor, securing their rule as the new Crown. This is how it should've gone for you as well. Lady Zerya should have found you and taken you to meet the Twentieth Crown, Ferzan the Bold, who would have had years to help you prepare to become the next Crown. But Lady Zerya did not find you, could not find you when your parents had hidden you away, and then one day your eyes bled with gold and Ferzan was dead, assassinated. You don't know how your parents knew that you would be chosen, you only know that you've been on the run from an unseen enemy your entire life. The same enemy that killed your parents and murdered Ferzan in his sleep. [[Continue|1.27]]

<<if $dadmemory is false>>You remember your father's words well, uttered through bloodied lips as the heat of the flames drew closer and closer around you. "Look for $rtitle $rname," he gasped, fingers clutching into your robes and staining them with crimson red. "Trust- no one else, do you understand? No one..." But how did he know $rtitle $rname? <<else>>Your father told you to find $rtitle $rname, to trust no one else but $rthem. Did your parents somehow know $rthem? That seems unlikely. <</if>>Your father was a simple village priest and your mother a farmer, neither of them raised anywhere near Marabad nor would they have had a reason to travel there. Is it simply because $rtitle $rname is the Crown's Sorcerer, the least likely to be corrupted? The frustration you've felt ever since reaching the city and only being confronted with more questions than answers makes your jaw clench from the tension. If only they had been honest from the start instead of trying to shield you, but they told you ever since you were a child that your eyes were a curse and Spirits willing you would never see the throne. They never intended for you to seek $rtitle $rname out, but to keep you safe from it all. A desperate, foolish plan, one that left you unprepared when everything went wrong. The anger you hold toward your parents' secrecy distorts into the familiar sorrow at their deaths, but the grief has hollowed out your chest and you have no more tears to shed. You have to move forward if you want to stay alive. [[Continue|1.28]]

The shouting from the crowds you are walking toward grows louder than ever, and you find a few people loitering in the alleyways the nearer you get. Thankfully they are much more interested in watching the commotion from the safety of the shadows than paying any attention to you. As you reach the edge of the hill where the streets begin to slope downwards, you emerge back onto the main road and then almost immediately wish you hadn't. It's total chaos. You can barely see the Royal Palace's walls with how the main road is packed with people, the wealthy and the poor alike. You're almost certain this must be the official entrance as the gates here are much larger and gilded in gold rather than the simple iron gates you saw before. Though with how many people have gathered here, you're sure all the side entrances are being harassed by protestors as well. The news of $rtitle $rname's departure must have only just been spreading around. Just your luck. How are you supposed to get to $rtitle $rname now? If only that soldier hadn't leaked $rtheir departure and caused all this commotion-- Thinking of that soldier suddenly reminds you of the conversation between the general and $aname. "$xname is the only one with the means to get past our security to reach $rtitle $rname." An inkling of a plan begins to take shape inside your mind. $xname is a mercenary, isn't $xthey? $cxthey could get you to $rtitle $rname, for the right price. <ul> <li>[[That is such a terrible idea.|1.29.b][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[[That is such a terrible idea, you HAVE to do it.|1.29.a][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

You try to think of any other option that might be open to you, but short of trying to storm past the guards on your own which is surely suicide, you can't think of anything. <<if $intu gt $intel>>To take a risk like this isn't in your nature. If you had even a hope of some other path being open to you, you would never even consider doing this under ordinary circumstances. But, strangely, you don't feel as much fear as you thought you might at the idea. Something in your gut tells you that maybe this isn't as dangerous as you think it is, that maybe you can trust that the stories about $xname's heroic nature are true.<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>Being hunted as you are, there have been other moments where you had to abandon your careful nature in order to survive, but you've always done so with the utmost preparation, with back-up plans to your back-up plans. This appears to be one of those moments, seeing as how you have no other feasible way of getting to $rtitle $rname. You don't intend to be caught unaware this time either, not when you're so close to reaching your goal.<</if>><<if $intu eq $intel>>Just thinking of exposing yourself like that is making your stomach twist into knots, but you're running out of time. Ultimately, whether you decide to go to $xname for help or go into hiding to wait for $rtitle $rname to take up $rtheir search once more, both roads could lead you to your death. Still, all things considered, the latter seems almost certain to be lethal, while with the former there's at least a sizable chance that $xname is truly the hero that the stories make $xthem out to be.<</if>> Approaching $xname for help may be tricky, considering you still don't have your eye glamour. You could always pretend to be scarred blind and wrap a cloth around your eyes that's light enough to see through. It's something you've done before in the past, when staying in small villages where people pay much more attention to travelers than enormous cities like these. <<if $calc gte $kind>>It might even gain you some sympathy from $xname, and it's the next best plan you've got.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't feel good about having to resort to such tactics, but at least you have some semblance of a plan.<</if>> Now that you've figured that out, the first step is to find out where $xname is. But where to start? [[Continue|1.30]]

What other choice do you have? <<if $intu gt $intel>>Sure, $xname could possibly be conspiring with the people who killed your parents, assassinated the Crown and are probably planning to kill you as well--actually, that doesn't sound so good when you lay it all out in your head. But neither $aname nor General $dname seemed to think it likely. That has to count for something, right? You have a pretty good feeling about $xname not being an assassin, and when have your instincts ever let you down before? They got you this far, at least.<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>Realistically speaking there is a chance that $xname is bought by the people behind both the assassination of the Crown and the murder of your parents. The thing is, from everything you know about $xname, it's a very small chance. $cxthey is a mercenary, certainly, but $xthey is also known for never taking any contracts involving foreign nations or criminal groups if it harms Arsur or its people. It's the reason why $xthey is considered to be such a heroic figure. $xname is a native to the Empire, after all, and clearly still holds some loyalty to $xtheir place of birth. Why then would $xthey accept a contract to assassinate the Crown?<</if>><<if $intu eq $intel>>Your options are incredibly limited. $rtitle $rname is being guarded by dozens of soldiers and has the General $dthemselves taking care of security. You've been looking for $rtitle $rname for weeks, and if $rthey is truly giving up $rtheir search now, who knows when $rthey'll get back to it? It could be months, perhaps even years; how are you supposed to survive until then with nowhere to go and unseen enemies breathing down your neck?<</if>> Besides, the general was right: $xname is the only one you could imagine able to get you past $rtitle $rname's guards. $cxtheir whole reputation as a mercenary is built on almost singlehandedly winning crucial battles for Arsur during wars with other nations, so much so that you've heard speculation that $xtheir presence alone has worked as a deterrent. If you're going to accomplish your goals, taking a risk here and there is necessary. Otherwise you'll stand little to no chance of reaching $rtitle $rname any time soon. $xname is your best bet. Approaching $xname for help may be particularly tricky, however, considering you still don't have your eye glamour. You could always pretend to be scarred blind and wrap a cloth around your eyes that's light enough to see through. It's something you've done before in the past, when staying in small villages where people pay much more attention to travelers than enormous cities like these. <<if $calc gte $kind>>It might even gain you some sympathy from $xname, if nothing else.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't feel good about having to resort to such tactics, but you don't have any other options open to you right now.<</if>> Before anything else, however, you'll have to find $xname first. [[Continue|1.30]]

Both the bandit leader and Heval are staring at you, as well as the rest of the small group gathered in the clearing. No one says anything, seeming to be overtaken by surprise for what feels like an eternity, until someone finally speaks up. "They must be faking it," one of the group calls, breaking through the tension before you can even think of anything to say. "There's no way we'd just stumble on the Crown like this!" "Yeah," another agrees. "Probably just some desperate impostor." But their leader's grin has faded from $xtheir face and $xtheir gaze has sharpened into a sword's edge as it bores right through you, all the playfulness gone from $xtheir expression. You almost reflexively turn away, trying to hide away into your hood even though it's too late. $cxthey suddenly kneels down in front of you, fingers gripping your chin and lifting your head back up to face $xthem, clear green eyes staring into yours and you hold your breath. You feel like a mouse trapped in the claws of a <<if $xgender is "male">>lion<<else>>lioness<</if>>. But there's something strange about <<if $xgender is "male">>the man's<<else>>the woman's<</if>> grip; you think you feel an unnatural warmth in the tips of $xtheir fingers sinking into your skin, like the glow from a bonfire against your face. It is such a subtle sensation that it might just be your imagination, and without realizing what you're doing you suddenly find your fingers curled around $xtheirs, $xtheir eyes widening in surprise. You feel it so clearly, a blaze of fire within $xtheir veins connecting $xthem to you and you marvel at the realness of its heat. It's as if you were holding a flame in your hand. The bandit leader abruptly pulls back and gets up to $xtheir feet, an unreadable look on $xtheir face as $xthey stares down at you. "What's wrong?" Heval asks, and their leader shakes $xtheir head. "Nothing." $cxthey tilts $xtheir head slightly as $xthey watches you. "Only, our new friend here might be more than they seem." [[Continue|1.38]]

"Many people do," $xname says in a flippant tone, though $xthey watches you intently. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"This is important," you insist. "I wouldn't be here risking my neck otherwise."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Of course they do," you agree. "You're the most famous mercenary for a reason, which is why I came to you; you're the only one who can help me with this."<</if>><<if $blunt eq $charm>>"I'm sure you're very busy," you consider. "But there's no one else who stands a chance of succeeding, and I've run out of options."<</if>> $xname arches $xtheir brows and you catch a glimmer in $xtheir eyes, appearing intrigued for a moment before $xthey quickly straightens out $xtheir expression. "Be that as it may, I'm not a mercenary out of the goodness of my heart and my services certainly don't come cheap. Unless you have some serious coin--" You quickly loosen the heavy bag of coins tied to the belt around your waist underneath your cloak, and hold it up to $xthem. It's everything that your parents left you, having always been meticulous about saving up money and spending as little as possible so as to not draw any unwanted attention. Being constantly on the move and not having a permanent residence certainly helped with that. $xname takes the bag from you, bouncing it on the palm of $xtheir hand to test its weight as the coins inside clink together. The sound draws movement from the mercenaries and sellswords watching from between the trees, like hungry hyenas spotting their first meal of fresh meat. "That's certainly nothing to scoff at," $xthey murmurs, eyes flicking from the bag of coin back to your face. "What's the job?" You take a quiet breath to calm your racing heartbeat. "I need you to take me to $rtitle $rname." Whispers build up around you, the mecenaries muttering amongst each other as their gazes dig into you like small thorns prickling your skin, but you keep your attention focused on $xname whose stare pierces right through you. "Are you telling me," $xname says slowly, "that you're actually claiming to be Arsur's rightful Crown?" You avert your eyes, the tension in the air a weight bearing down on top of you. "I just need to speak to $rtitle $rname, that's all." $xname frowns thoughtfully and stays quiet for a while, but unfortunately $xtheir companion doesn't seem as interested in giving your offer any serious consideration. Though you can't see Heval's face, their helmet is aimed squarely in your direction before it turns to look at $xname. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Heval says to $xthem, worry heavy in their voice. "If they turn out to be a liar and you put $rtitle $rname at risk for nothing, General $dname will come for your head!" $xname scoffs. "$cdthey is welcome to try." "$xname--" "I know, Heval," $xname says, raising $xtheir hand and Heval's protest dies down. "I've seen my fair share of charlatans, but there is something different about this one. Besides, why would a fake go through all this trouble when $rtitle $rname is certain to see through any glamour?" "Maybe because they're planning to harm $rtitle $rname," Heval replies tightly, "and they want to use you to do it!" Something falls in $xname's expression and $xtheir shoulders stiffen, $xtheir stare turning cold. Oh no. [[Continue|1.40]]

<<set $hirexel to true>>"Oh?" $xname arches $xtheir brows slightly, $xtheir interest in you beginning to wane as <<if $xgender is "male">>he crosses his arms over his chest<<else>>she begins to study her fingernails<</if>>. "And what, pray tell, does this job entail?" <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I want you to take me to $rtitle $rname,"<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It entails a highly dangerous and somewhat foolish escort mission to get me to $rtitle $rname,"<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"I need to speak to $rtitle $rname and you're the only one who could get me past $rtheir guards,"<</if>> you answer, $xname's attention immediately refocusing on you again as $xthey watches you intently. One wrong word here and you might end up finding out exactly how sharp the edge of $xtheir sword is, and not just $xtheirs alone. The mercenaries and sellswords watching on silently from between the trees blend into a wall of shadows surrounding you as the twilight of the sky fades into dusk. Their dimly-lit silhouettes shift ever so slightly, a little restlessly, as they wait for what their leader will do. "Why?" $xname asks, $xtheir unblinking green stare on you like a solid weight pressing down on your body, the oppressive atmosphere making it hard to keep your breathing calm and your heartbeat steady. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Not to hurt $rthem," you emphasize. "Just to talk."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Just for a little chat," you reply, managing a smile. "I might ask $rthem for fashion tips; I hear $rthey's quite the style icon."<</if>> At $xname's lingering silence, $xtheir smooth expression as blank as a mask, you resort to the last card in your hand. "I can pay you." You loosen the heavy bag of coins tied to the belt around your waist underneath your cloak, and hold it up to $xthem. It's everything that your parents left you, having always been meticulous about saving up money and spending as little as possible so as to not draw any unwanted attention. Being constantly on the move and not having a permanent residence certainly helped with that. $xname regards the bag of coins for a while, a soft breeze blowing through $xtheir hair and filling up the silence with a hollow sound as you nervously wait for $xtheir judgment. $cxthey looks at you, and then a mocking smile lifts the corners of $xtheir lips. "Let's be honest with each other," $xthey says. "This is about your eyes, isn't it? Would you prefer that I bow or that I kneel, O Mighty Crown?" <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"Look," you start before $xthey can make another snide remark, "do you want the money or not?"<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Whichever you like," you reply nonchalantly and $xname snorts. "Think what you will, I'm offering you good coin for this. Are you interested, or should I spend my money elsewhere?"<</if>><<if $blunt eq $charm>>"My reason for wanting to see $rtitle $rname should hardly matter to you," you reply with as much patience as you can muster. "I promise that I mean $rthem no harm, I only want to talk to $rthem--isn't that enough?"<</if>> $xname frowns slightly, appearing somewhat thoughtful, though unfortunately you can't say the same about $xtheir companion. While you can't see Heval's face, their helmet is aimed squarely in your direction before it turns to look at $xname who takes the bag from you, bouncing it on the palm of $xtheir hand to test its weight as the coins inside clink together. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this," Heval says to $xthem, worry heavy in their voice. "If they turn out to be a liar and you put $rtitle $rname at risk for nothing, General $dname will come for your head!" $xname scoffs. "$cdthey is welcome to try." "$xname--" "I know, Heval," $xname says as $xthey passes the bag of coins on to another one of $xtheir underlings and Heval's protest dies down. "I've seen my fair share of charlatans, but there is something different about this one. Besides, why would a fraud go through all this trouble when $rtitle $rname is certain to see through any glamour?" "Maybe because they're planning to harm $rtitle $rname," Heval replies tightly, "and they want to use you to do it!" Something falls in $xname's expression and $xtheir shoulders stiffen, $xtheir stare turning cold. Oh no. [[Continue|1.40]]

A shadow appears by your side as if materialized out of thin air, the roughened skin of their palms tugging at your wrists, then followed by a metallic click before you have the chance to so much as process what's happening. The weight of cold iron chains suddenly drags on your arms and it's like all the energy seeps out of you. Looking down at the chains, you notice ancient symbols glowing a soft purple carved into the wrist bindings, likely to prevent you from using any magic. You turn your head to look at your captor in bemusement. A black scarf is wrapped around their head, the cloth draped to cover their face from the nose down, a pair of dark gray eyes and tanned brown skin the only visible part. Their clothes are much the same, black robed shirt atop loose-fitted black trousers and tight boots, covering them from head to toe. "Really, Tûjo?" The silent figure holding your chains does not move a single muscle, though their eyes shift to $xname in acknowledgement. $xname shakes $xtheir head at Tûjo's silence, then claps you on the shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly gesture but has you nearly falling forward due to the force of it. "Don't worry about Tûjo here, he's much scarier than he looks." "Chief, I think that's supposed to be backwards," Heval remarks blandly and $xname blinks, then laughs. "Ah, well, it's probably more truthful!" You swallow thickly, your increasing nerves making you feel unsteady on your feet. Should you be worried? Tûjo's voice is quiet but sharp, cutting through the atmosphere like the faint whistle of an arrow flying through the air. "You're far too impulsive, <<if $xgender is "female">>sister<<else>>brother<</if>>," he says to $xname, dark brows drawing down slightly in a disapproving look. "Do you realize how much you'll be risking by taking this stranger at their word?" The reprimand seems to have no effect on $xname, who grins and slings an arm around Tûjo's shoulders. "What's life without a little risk?" "I have to agree with Tûjo, chief," Heval adds while Tûjo pointedly extracts $xname's arm from his shoulders. "This is careless, even for you." $xname's eyes flit to you, holding your gaze in a fleeting glance before looking back at Heval and Tûjo. "Do you trust me?" "Always," Tûjo answers without hesitation, and Heval inclines their head in agreement. "Then trust me on this," $xname says, and their debate ends there. "Tûjo, take care of our new charge, would you? Heval, with me." Without another look at you, $xname turns $xtheir back on you and walks the way you came, toward the river. [[Continue|1.42]]

You move around the outskirts of the crowd pressing up against the Royal Palace's gates and walls, but even there it's hard to walk a few steps without bumping into someone. "Watch it!" a woman scolds you when you accidentally step on the long hem of her dress, causing you to jerk back and cram your elbow into someone else's side. "Agh!" The man glares at you as you quickly back away with an apology, trying to be more mindful of where you step while simultaneously keeping your head down and your eyes out of sight. But it's hard to focus with so many people around you, and you're starting to feel overwhelmed as you try and distance yourself even further, finding a wall to flatten yourself against as you catch your breath. You're not used to being in such a mass of people. The volume of the noise is making your ears hurt, the energy coalescing and rippling through the throng putting you on edge. You take a few deep, slow breaths, closing your eyes and trying to acclimate to it; you don't have the time to be loitering here when $rtitle $rname could be leaving the city any second now. As for the crowd itself, it's unclear to you whether these are merely ordinary people trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive Sorcerer, or whether something else is going on. Either way, you need to find information about $xname. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Asking a stranger outright would be the height of recklessness, especially since you have no way of being able to tell friend from foe. You consider returning to the inn you rented a room at to perhaps make some inquiries with the friendly owners; they <<if $calc gt $kind>>seem gullible enough to answer your questions without wondering to the why of it.<</if>><<if $kind gt $calc>>seem helpful enough to answer your questions without digging into your business.<</if>><<if $kind eq $calc>>don't seem the sort to pry into other people's affairs at least.<</if>><</if>><<if $adven gt $caut>>In a crowd this size, surely there is someone who would know what $xname is up to and where you'd be able to find $xthem? It's just a matter of asking the right person and getting them to answer you honestly<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, but with your considerable talents in the art of conversation you should have no trouble persuading them.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>, but with your straightforward approach you should have no trouble seeing through any obfuscation they might try to pull on you<</if>>.<</if>><<if $caut eq $adven>>There are several ways you could approach this, the most obvious one being to simply ask some people around you whether they might know of $xname's whereabouts, though that carries a certain amount of risk with it. You could also try asking someone you've met before, such as the innkeepers or maybe Perjin from the magic shop, but that would take more time than you might have.<</if>> As you continue to ponder your next action, you somehow pick up the distinct sound of a tembûr through the sounds of chatter and shouting surrounding you. You look around, curious, and sure enough--further along the wall you've been leaning against--you catch the sight of a familiar green scarf wrapped around a head of black hair. Of course, the storyteller! Quickly moving toward them, your hand tracing the stone of the wall as if to anchor yourself, you catch their attention as you approach and they glance up from their instrument to look at you. "Oh," they say in surprise, voice raised so you can hear them speak over the noise. "It's you, from earlier!" Relieved that they remember you, you incline your head in greeting, matching the volume of your voice to theirs. "Hello again!" "Are you also here to try and lay your eyes upon the Sorcerer?" the storyteller teases, smiling slightly. Considering your questions about $rtitle $rname earlier, you can't blame them for thinking as much. "I only wanted to see what the commotion was about," you reply. "What about you?" "Likewise!" the storyteller replies. "I'll be returning to the teahouse soon enough, I can barely hear myself think in this crowd!" Here is your chance. <ul> <li>[['"Before you go, can I ask you something, friend?"'|1.31.a][$charm to $charm + 25]]</li> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[['"While I have you here, do you know where I can find Xelef?"'|1.31.b][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li><</if>><<if $xgender is "female">><li>[['"While I have you here, do you know where I can find Xelara?"'|1.31.b][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li><</if>> </ul>

"Of course," the storyteller says. "But perhaps not here?" They gesture toward the sidestreet next to you, and you follow them out of the crowd and into a more secluded area. "Much better," the storyteller sighs once it's quiet enough for you to understand each other without yelling. They turn to you expectantly, keeping their long stringed instrument in their arms. It must be quite the effort to carry that thing around everywhere, but they don't seem bothered by the weight of it at all. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?" "Before I get to that," you say, smiling though you're not sure they'll be able to see it from underneath your hood, "might I know your name? I've been just calling you the storyteller in my head this entire time." The storyteller smiles back at you. "My name is Ervin, and I go by he." "A pleasure, Ervin," you reply, returning the courtesy by giving your name and preferred pronouns before moving on to business. "Now, about my question, I have a bit of a problem, you see..." You fabricate the tale of a priceless family heirloom being stolen from you by several intimidating criminals, the only thing of value you owned and was intending to sell for a fair price to save you from starvation. A bit of a bold move, spinning a story for a storyteller, but Ervin seems completely taken in by it. "I suspect it's a whole band of thieves behind this, and I dare not go after them as I'm but one person." "How valuable is this heirloom?" Ervin asks. "Oh, worth your weight in gold at least!" you say, and Ervin arches his brows. "It would've kept me fed for the rest of my life, I would never consider selling it otherwise. I still have some money left to sustain myself for a few days, but I thought it might be wiser to hire someone to retrieve it for me." "If it's truly worth that much... not to mention you're up against an entire band of thieves..." Ervin hums, thinking for a moment. "I don't know how reliable this is, but I've heard rumors about a few Crescent Blades being sighted camping out in the forest outside the city, somewhere in the western part." "Crescent Blades?" you repeat, frowning slightly as you try to remember where you've heard that name before when it suddenly hits you. "Isn't that $xname's mercenary company?" Ervin nods. "They're not as cutthroat as most mercenary groups, but you should still expect to pay a sizable price if you decide to hire them." You let out a breath, the tension in your shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," you say earnestly, reaching for another coin. "This was just the information I needed." <<if $gavecoin is true>>But Ervin gently pushes your hand aside when you try to offer the bronze coin to him. "Keep it. You already paid me before, remember?"<</if>><<if $gavecoin is false>>"Much obliged, friend," Ervin says as he takes the offered coin. "I will keep this between us as well, as you requested before."<</if>> Feeling energized now that you know where to go next, you bid your farewells to Ervin and use the alleyways to maneuver around the crowd gathered by the palace gates, coming back up to the main road and following it to the edge of the city. Hopefully, this gamble will pay off. [[Continue|1.32]]

<<set $ervinsent to true>>The storyteller's eyes widen slightly. "The mercenary?" "Yes," you reply. "Who else?" They give you a long look, then gesture toward the sidestreet next to you, and you follow them out of the crowd and into a more secluded area. "Much better," the storyteller sighs once it's quiet enough for you to understand each other without yelling. They turn to you expectantly, keeping their long stringed instrument in their arms. It must be quite the effort to carry that thing around everywhere, but they don't seem bothered by the weight of it at all. "What business do you have with $xname?" You consider your options, watching the storyteller to try and read their expression but their gaze is entirely neutral as they wait for you to respond. "I can't tell you," you state eventually. "I want to hire them for a job, it's important." "Really?" The storyteller arches their brows. "You do know $xname's services do not come cheap? No offense." "None taken." You know you don't exactly look like the wealthiest person in Marabad in your ragged old outfit. "I can pay them, coin is not an issue." "And this job," the storyteller continues, "is it dangerous?" You frown. "Why are you asking all these questions?" The storyteller seems to ponder something for quite a while before they finally speak again. "I'm somewhat acquainted with $xname," they say, and you cannot keep the surprise from your features as you stare at them in silence. "Is it that shocking? I am a rather talented storyteller, you know; I've entertained quite a number of famous people." You suppose that makes sense. "I see." "In any case," they say, waving dismissively with their hand, "I'm asking these questions because I know what type of jobs $xname tends to pick, and if you give me more details, I can tell you right now whether you're wasting your time trying to hire $xthem or not. "So, to return to my earlier question," they continue, "is the job dangerous?" You think of General $dname and $dtheir guards, as well as $aname, the Royal Protector tasked with capturing $xname. "Incredibly dangerous," you answer honestly. "Probably one of the most dangerous jobs $xthey'll ever get offered." The storyteller hums in thought before they finally say, "I don't know where $xname's exact location is at the moment, but I know a few Crescent Blades have been spotted outside the city. Follow the western road until you see a river, their camp should be along the bank." "Crescent Blades?" you repeat, frowning slightly as you try to remember where you've heard that name before when it suddenly hits you. "Ah, $xname's mercenary company." The storyteller nods. "They're not as cutthroat as most mercenary groups, but you should still expect to pay a sizable price if you decide to hire them." You let out a breath, the tension in your shoulders relaxing. "Thank you," you say earnestly, reaching for another coin. "This was just the information I needed." <<if $gavecoin is true>>But the storyteller gently pushes your hand aside when you try to offer the bronze coin to them. "Keep it. You already paid me before, remember?"<</if>><<if $gavecoin is false>>"Much obliged, friend," the storyteller says as they take the offered coin. "I will keep this between us as well, as you requested before."<</if>> Feeling energized now that you know where to go next, you bid your farewells to the storyteller and use the alleyways to maneuver around the crowd gathered by the palace gates, coming back up to the main road and following it to the edge of the city. Hopefully, this gamble will pay off. [[Continue|1.32]]

<<set $xcodex to true>>[ New Character Codex unlocked ] You take some precautions before setting out, purchasing a bit of food for on the road and refilling your leather flask with water. <<if $ervinsent is false>>Even though your feet are already aching at the thought of trying to find the Crescent Blades in such a huge forest, you are determined to get there as fast as you can.<</if>><<if $ervinsent is true>>Thanks to the storyteller you know exactly where to look, so you don't anticipate it taking you longer than an hour at most.<</if>> If only you had a horse, but those don't come cheap and you need to save up all the coin you have left for $xname. As you walk down the hill and see the outer city gates of Marabad in the distance, the more you think about what you're about to do, the more insane it seems. Walking out in the open like this isn't doing anything good for your nerves, either. By the time you've finally left the city proper and are following the expensively constructed stone road toward Kartan's Forest, the sun is already on its way back down toward the horizon and the air has gotten chillier. For once, your thick robes come in handy. You pass by a few solitary wanderers like yourself and a small group of soldiers entering the huge iron gates left open to allow passage. It seems you're the only one to be leaving the city at this hour. Hopefully you'll be back soon, but you decide to survey the environment in case this takes longer than anticipated. Great Arsurian oak trees litter the northern part of the landscape, leading towards the slopes of the Armas Mountains far away in the distance. Thankfully, the rightmost part of the forest is more even terrain, broken up by the flow of the Ruhuth River that curls around the city walls before it disappears into the forest itself. Looking further east you can see the oak woods taper off into grassy steppe lands known for pistachio and almond trees, though there is also plenty of food to be found growing wild throughout the mountains. Surviving mainly on nuts and fruits--pomegranates, grapes, plums and many more--as well as the occasional fallow dear or fish has made you intimately familiar with Rojan's natural resources. You have no doubts about being able to feed yourself should the need arise, especially since the heat of summer is still going strong. Had it been winter, freezing to death would have been a far likelier story than starving to death. The only thing that might form a natural obstacle at this point would be wild predators in the western part of the forest, but you doubt any leopards or striped hyenas native to the mountains would venture this close to the city. Bears and wolves might, though. <<if $ervinsent is false>>As you continue to follow the road west, you realize the scope of the search you're about to embark on. Couldn't Ervin have been a little bit more specific?<</if>><<if $ervinsent is true>>Whatever the case, Ruhuth's River is where you need to go. You abandon the stone road and head toward the river, intending to follow it until you come across the Crescent Blades camp.<</if>> [[Continue|1.33]]

<<if $ervinsent is false>>Your feet are worn and you wish you had the foresight to bring a torch with you as time passes by and the sun is slowly finishing her descent beyond the horizon, night chasing the last lingering rays of light coloring the sky. Thankfully it's still bright enough for you to see.<</if>><<if $ervinsent is true>>It's late into the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as you progress along the riverbank, the sound of the flowing water soothing your nerves but not by much.<</if>> The forest is doing nothing for your paranoia of being caught. You can't exactly watch your back here without solid walls to protect you, though you suppose one upside is that you can't get cornered easily either. <<if $ervinsent is true>>Although, you couldn't exactly jump in the river to escape; you never did learn how to swim.<</if>> <<if $ervinsent is false>>After a while of walking in silence, nothing but the quiet sounds of the forest to keep you company, you pick up the subtle noise of flowing water in the distance, likely from the river you noticed earlier. If anyone were to camp out in the forest, it occurs to you that they'd likely do so near a source of water. Might as well follow it, then. After a short stretch of walking, you come across the sizable Ruhuth River, wide and even enough to allow for a smooth stream of water. Taking a moment to refill your water flask once more, as you drank nearly all of it earlier, you wonder how much longer you have to walk before you finally find the mercenary camp. <</if>>The Ruhuth River's currents gradually slow the further you go, your feet brushing through the grass and the flowers, tulips and irises, growing along its bank. An eagle cries out in the distance, breaking up the constant chittering and chirping of other birds, and a soft breeze blows through the tops of the trees, rustling the leaves. It's almost peaceful. You consider taking a break to sit down and enjoy the scenery, until you look ahead of you and spot a figure crouched at the edge of the river, seeming to wash their hands. [[Continue|1.34]]

That's unexpected. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You come to a stop, briefly, before deciding to keep walking. They appear to be alone, and you're not so jumpy that you would turn tail and run just because you saw a single stranger. Besides, they seem far too preoccupied with washing their hands to notice you. Maybe they can even tell you if they've seen anyone set up camp here recently? Taking another few steps toward them, you open your mouth to call out to them when you notice something glinting beside them in the grass.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven or $caut eq $adven>>You come to a stop, peering at the figure with suspicion as you try and decide how to avoid them. Seeing as how you have murderers and assassins tracking you, you're not too keen on engaging any stranger you randomly encounter in the forest. It's best to sneak away and go around them, hopefully without being seen, and you're about to do just that when your eyes fall on something glinting beside them in the grass.<</if>> You go rigid when you realize what it is: a curved sword. "Damned stains," you hear them curse, splashing the water up their bare, muscular arms. "It had better not gotten into my shirt--" The grass around them is covered with blood, and as your eyes trace the trail of red you find someone- no, two, even three- People, corpses lying on the ground a few feet behind the stranger. "Staring is rude, you know," the stranger suddenly says without looking up at you, continuing to wash their hands. You lose your breath and the noise that escapes your lips draws the stranger's gaze to you as you keep standing there in mute shock, staring at them with your mouth agape. They move to get up on their feet, and you bolt. "Hey, wait!" You're not about to listen to a murderer so you run as fast as you can further into the forest, low-hanging branches from trees whipping past you, catching against your robes and occasionally hitting your face. You hear your cloak rip as it hooks on something behind you but you pay it no mind, legs moving and hurried footsteps pounding across the forest floor as you hear the stranger chasing you. "I said wait, damn you!" A flurry of curses follows after you. "Contrary to popular belief, making a <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> chase you is not cute at all!" Zigzagging in between the trees, you think you're finally starting to lose $xthem as the sound of $xtheir footsteps grows more distant--but of course you couldn't be that lucky. [[Continue|1.35]]

The sweet scent of incense is strong inside, cramped as it is with shelves on every wall. They're all stacked with glimmering bottles and jars filled with potions and ingredients you can't even begin to guess the purpose of. There are glowing and sparkling liquids in large vials that look like they were melted from gemstones; odd animal parts like a basket of shimmering snake-skin that shifts and changes its color every few seconds; and little wooden figurines of people and animals that totter around on the shelves. You catch the sight of one wooden humanoid puppet nearly tumbling off the edge of a shelf before it abruptly rights itself, marching off the other way again. Though, you suppose for a magic shop it is nothing out of the ordinary. "Welcome, welcome!" a voice says, drawing your attention away from the various items and further into the shop. Someone stands behind a small counter, dressed in a long, shapeless purple gown with a light blue shawl draped over their shoulders. They have a bright smile and a youthful complexion of tan olive skin, though you estimate them to be several years older than you. "Welcome to my shop," they greet you cheerfully, motioning with their hand for you to come closer, the leaf-shaped charms on their bracelet jingling against each other. "I am Perjin. What can I help you with?" This must be the owner of the shop you've heard so much about, a woman of great skill. "Good evening," you reply softly, stepping closer to the counter while taking care to hide your eyes, fingers settling on the edge of the coarse wood as if to anchor yourself. "Do you sell any glamours?" "But of course, my dear!" Perjin's friendly smile warms and she leans forward over the counter to pat one of your hands, as if to reassure you--Spirits, you must seem really nervous. "What kind of glamour might you be looking for?" You shift uncomfortably on your feet, hoping the light in the room isn't bright enough to give anything away. The few strangers you dared to approach for directions told you that this was the most reputable magic shop in town, and that Perjin was one of the most skilled alchemists in Marabad, but your request isn't exactly a socially acceptable one. "Something to change the color of my eyes." Perjin's smile falters slightly, turning pensive. "Your eye color, hmm?" "I know it's an unusual request--" She waves you off. "No, no, it can most certainly be done, I would just need some time to brew it. What color would you prefer?" "Brown or dark gray," you reply quickly; brown and dark gray are common colors in Arsur, and the less conspicuous you are the better. "Whichever you can make quicker." The alchemist gives you a curious look but does not question you. "It can be done, but I will need some time to find the right ingredients; it's not often I get a request for such common colors." That's unsurprising. You don't imagine many a person walks in here willing to pay a sizable amount of coins just to glamour their eyes into such innocuous shades. Changing your eye color at all is associated with a particular kind of deceit that could easily land you in a dungeon, but right now that's the least of your worries. [[Continue|1.3]]

"How long would it take, exactly?" you ask the alchemist, watching a wisp of smoke from the burning incense trailing in between the two of you like a veil. Perjin hums, pressing her thumb to her lower lip, the golden rings on her fingers shining in the candlelight. "No more than two days for brown, three for dark gray. They would each last you a month without problems." You let out a sigh of relief; last time you almost had to wait a week. "Brown will do, thank you." "Excellent, I'll write it down for three pieces of silver." You watch as Perjin pulls out a bit of parchment. "Might I have your name? That way I can add it to the list, so I won't forget." While it would be unwise to give her your family name, your first name should be harmless enough. "It's $name." You watch as Perjin diligently writes down your name and your request on her bit of parchment with a short, rigid pen made of reed, the split tip of it wet with dark ink, before nodding in satisfaction and looking back up at you. "$name, yes?" she asks, showing the bit of parchment to confirm the spelling. "How should I refer to you?" <ul> <li>[[He/Him|1.4][$gender to "male"]]</li> <li>[[She/Her|1.4][$gender to "female"]]</li> <li>[[They/Them|1.4][$gender to "nb"]]</li> </ul>

"I'm not--" But before you can finish speaking, $xname grabs you by the front of your robes and hauls you up to your feet, yanking you close until you're just inches away from $xthem. $cxthey <<if $height is "average" or $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>towers over you<</if>><<if $height is "tall">>stares at you<</if>><<if $height is "very tall">>stares up at you<</if>> with a frightening glare in $xtheir eyes, the look of someone who has killed before and won't hesitate to kill again. "No one will lay a finger on $rtitle $rname," $xname says to Heval, $xtheir voice deceptively calm compared to the fury in $xtheir gaze that's directed at you. "I'll make sure of it." "I would never hurt $rthem!" you insist adamantly, your clammy palms clinging to $xname's wrists. "I swear it, I just want to talk to $rthem!" $xname looks at you a moment longer before suddenly releasing you and it takes all your willpower to stay upright and not collapse back down onto the ground. "Good," $xname says, all $xtheir anger gone, and <<if $xgender is "female">>snaps her fingers<<else>>gestures with a hand<</if>> at some of the mercenaries surrounding you. "Bring me the chains." "The chains?" you repeat, getting more than a little nervous now as you're starting to think that perhaps this wasn't the best idea after all. "Just a precaution," $xname answers casually, as if $xthey isn't about to take you prisoner. "If you really are who you appear to be, then you won't hold it against me." [[Continue|1.41]]

"Come on, $xname," Heval says with obvious frustration, and you freeze at the name. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You can't really think--" "You're $xname?" you blurt out, your heart beating faster in your chest as $xname frowns down at you. "The mercenary?" $xname's frown is replaced by a smirk, resting $xtheir fists on $xtheir hips in an almost cocky pose. "Unless there is an impostor who would dare use my name, yes, I'm $xname. The one and only!"<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"You can't really think they're the Crown!" "I'm sorry," you interject hastily before $xname can reply to $xtheir friend. "I just- did they call you- $xname? As in, you're $xname? From the stories?" $xname laughs, a hearty sound from deep within $xtheir chest. "Yes, from the stories! Count yourself lucky, as most never have the privilege of laying eyes upon this <<if $xgender is "female">>beautiful<<else>>handsome<</if>> face."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You can't really think they're the Crown!" "Stranger things have happened," $xname says dismissively and you can do nothing but stare at $xthem, which $xthey notices. "What's the matter, my dear? Were you struck speechless by my divine appearance?" "It's only..." You take a breath. "Could you really be $xname? The $xname?" $xname laughs as $xthey rises back up to $xtheir feet. "Oh, I like that! Heval, take note, from now on you and the crew must address me as The $xname!" "Not on your life, chief," Heval retorts dryly.<</if>> It appears as though the Spirits may smile upon you yet. <ul> <li>[["I really, really need your help," you beg. "Please."|1.39.b][$pass to $pass + 25]]</li> <li><<if $charm gte $blunt>>[["I would like to hire you for a job," you state calmly, taking charge of the conversation.|1.39.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<<else>>[[You stay calm. "I want to hire you for a job."|1.39.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<set $romancepath to true>><<set $xappearance to true>><<set $xcodex to false>>[ Relationships unlocked | $xname's Codex updated ] Tûjo turns to the group of mercenaries gathered around you and now that you have a chance to freely look around, you estimate that there are easily over two dozen of them present. Will that be enough to reach $rtitle $rname? "Back to camp," Tûjo calls out, your chain wrapped twice around his hand and from the way the mercenaries around you immediately fall in line you figure that Tûjo must be rather high-ranking within the company. If not equal to Heval, then certainly right below them. Tûjo watches his fellow Crescent Blades--all dressed in similar black attire or armor--retreat through the trees opposite the way $xname and Heval just went. Once the last of them have gotten moving Tûjo follows in their footsteps, the chains pulling you with him, though he does you the favor of not yanking you along like a dog. You trail behind him in silence as you cross the small clearing and pass through the trees and the bushes, no man-made path for you to walk. <<if $intel gte $intu>>Going to $xname was incredibly dangerous, but you already knew that before setting out to find $xthem. The problem is that your eyes were revealed far sooner and much more suddenly than you anticipated, in front of complete strangers no less. What if one among their number is allied with the people who killed your parents, murdered Crown Ferzan? What will you- what can you do to protect yourself?<</if>><<if $intu gt $intel>>Spine stiff with tension, your feet drag through the dirt and the weeds as you keep your eyes on the mercenaries walking ahead of you and Tûjo. Your heart is not pounding, but it still beats a little faster than usual as you follow these strangers. You were willing, are willing to trust $xname, but the mercenaries following $xthem are a different story.<</if>> "Are you afraid?" Tûjo does not look at you as he keeps moving ahead, but it's obvious his question was directed toward you. <ul> <li>[['"Should I be?"'|1.43.a]]</li> <li>[['"Maybe a little."'|1.43.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> <li>[[Say nothing.|1.43.c]]</li> </ul>

"Only if you have something to hide," Tûjo replies, and you wait for him to elaborate but he says nothing more. <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"I'm not hiding my true intentions, if that's what you mean." You pause for a moment, but when he doesn't respond you continue. "If I'm afraid it's for another reason entirely."<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I don't," you state unequivocally. "My fear has nothing to do with $rtitle $rname."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Everyone has something to hide," you point out wryly. "But that's not why I'm afraid."<</if>> From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "Then tell me," he says. "Why are you afraid?" <ul> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>

"A bit of fear is wise," Tûjo replies, and you wait for him to elaborate but he says nothing more. <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"That almost sounds like a threat," you venture, eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"Are you threatening me?" you ask him directly, eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Do you threaten all your charges, or am I special?" you wonder in a nonchalant tone even while eyeing the back of his head warily.<</if>> Tûjo does not so much as break his stride. "Whether it is a threat or not depends entirely on you." From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "If your intention is truly to speak to $rtitle $rname and nothing more, then you need not fear any of us," Tûjo speaks plainly. "I and every mercenary in this camp will protect you; you paid us to, after all." Casting your gaze to the ground, you remain silent. As much as you want to believe him, you cannot afford to trust anyone so easily anymore. "Unless you have another reason to be afraid?" Tûjo prompts, watching you cautiously. <ul> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>

"Your silence is as much an answer as any," Tûjo observes, and while his tone is straightforward you still can't help but feel as if he is taunting you a little. "It won't save you if we catch you in a lie." <<if $blunt eq $charm>>"You won't, because I'm not lying," you reply with some irritation. "I want to talk to $rtitle $rname, that's all."<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I'm not lying." You pause for a moment. "At least, not about this."<</if>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>"How fortunate for me that I'm telling you the truth, then," you reply dryly.<</if>> From between the trees you glimpse the triangular shapes of tents raised in a much larger clearing, the smoke of at least two bonfires rising through the branches into the air. It seems the group you encountered with $xname were only half of the Crescent Blades, the other half staying back at this camp. Tûjo comes to a halt at the edge of the clearing and turns to face you. "So you claim," he speaks in a cautious tone, eyes narrowing at you fractionally. "Yet I sense the fear radiating off your body as clearly as I can feel the wind on my skin. Why is that, if you speak nothing but the truth?" <ul> <li>[[Lie.|1.44.a]]</li> <li>[[Deflect.|1.44.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>

The best lies are wrapped in truth, an eye-catching veil to hide the features beneath. Surviving meant deceiving and obfuscating until your tongue grew so used to holding the lies that now they slip from your lips as naturally as any exhale of breath. "I'm just- nervous about being here," you say, glancing toward the camp filled with strangers, some throwing subtle looks your way while others stare openly. "I know about $xname, but that's it. I don't know you, or anyone else here for that matter, and I have no idea how much I can trust you." You've lived your entire life in hidden places, small single-room huts sheltered by the forests or inconspicuous caves tucked into the crevices of mountains. Being exposed like this, baring your neck like this, goes against everything you were taught by your parents and it does scare you, just a little. That, at least, is not a lie. Tûjo's gaze trails over your face, then averts, shifting to a spot over your shoulder and turning distant. You can't tell what he's thinking, but he seems to come to a decision soon after. "Follow," he says, turning his back on you and for one nerve-wracking moment you think he's going to parade you straight through the center of the camp, but then he trails off toward the side. You navigate around the clusters of tents raised with dark brown and green cloths, blending in with the forest. You and Tûjo toe the line near to the bushes and trees, and you pick up various scents of musk and smoke and roasted meat as you go, the latter making your stomach stir with interest. The detour doesn't spare you some curious looks from the mercenaries you do pass, but it's much better than waltzing straight through the entire camp. [[Continue|1.45]]

<<if $kind gt $calc>>You don't want to lie to Tûjo, or any of the Crescent Blades unless you absolutely have to; you've never enjoyed lying to people. Even though it was a matter of survival for you, it always made you feel a little bad.<</if>><<if $calc gte $kind>>Lying to Tûjo may be unwise. He seems perceptive and you're not on equal footing with him either. As his expression is mostly hidden behind his scarf, it makes him very hard to read.<</if>> It's better to redirect the conversation instead of outright lie. You've done it enough times to know not to make it obvious and how to add a touch of subtlety, inviting the change of subject rather than forcing it. "You seem like the ones who are afraid to me," you say, pointedly lifting your chained wrists. "What do you think I'll be able to do all on my own? I'm not even armed." Tûjo levels you with an unimpressed stare. "You don't need weapons to use magic, or to snap someone's neck." You laugh nervously, thought you're certain that Tûjo isn't joking. Any faint notion you had of aborting this whole thing and escaping is instantly crushed as Tûjo turns his back on you and leads you away without another word. With such an intimidating captor, you'd better lay low. Following him, you try not to pay any mind to the looks thrown your way from the mercenaries in the camp. Tûjo leads you around the edge of the brown and green tents clustered together, the attention on you lessening as you shuffle along behind him and keep your head down out of habit. You can't tell whether you're heading to the back or the front of the camp, not that it matters. As you go you pick up some scents of food being made, roasted meat and stew, but try to pay it no mind even as your stomach stirs with interest. The detour doesn't spare you some curious looks from the mercenaries you do pass, but it's much better than waltzing straight through the entire camp. [[Continue|1.45]]

"$xname sensed something within you." Tûjo does not turn his head back to look at you, walking forward as if he hadn't said anything at all. You mull over his strange words and are reminded of the touch of heat you felt in $xname's hand when $xthey grabbed your chin. <<if $intu gte $intel>>"About that," you say, feeling less reluctant to speak now that Tûjo invited the conversation. "$cxthey used magic on me, didn't $xthey? I felt it very clearly, but it was... a lot more intense than I'm used to." "Yes," Tûjo confirms. "$cxthey possesses extremely fine-tuned sensory magic, a useful skill to determine someone's intent, among other things."<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>"About that," you say, feeling less reluctant to speak now that Tûjo invited the conversation. "What did $xthey do, exactly? I felt $xtheir- presence, or... energy very clearly, but I don't really understand what happened." "$cxthey used $xtheir sensory magic on you," Tûjo replies. "It's a useful skill to determine someone's intent, among other things."<</if>> "Sensory magic?" You think back to the riverbank and how $xname seemed to know you were there without even looking at you, and realize with some embarrassment that your plan to fake being blind wouldn't have worked out regardless. "Why are you telling me this? Isn't it a bad idea to reveal $xname's skillset to a stranger?" Tûjo sounds dismissive when he responds. "It's a well-known fact in our line of work, and hardly $xtheir most dangerous skill." $xname does seem like the type to advertise $xtheir prowess, though you wonder what Tûjo means when he says it isn't $xname's most dangerous skill. None of the stories about $xtheir exploits go into detail about how $xthey defeats $xtheir enemies, or at least, none of the ones you've heard. "So, $xname is an inner magic type, then?" While magic permeates the world and dwells within every living creature, not everyone has the talent of making use of it. The ones that do more often than not end up receiving formal education and becoming magi, but there are plenty of exceptions. Your father being a priest, he was also a magus; the latter is a requirement to become the former, considering how essential the use of magic is in religious ceremonies. He taught you about the bare basics, about the differences of outer and inner magic, of manipulating the magic in your surroundings versus honing the magic within yourself. Inner magic is often more defensive and passive, while outer magic is more offensive and active, and rare is the magus skilled in wielding both. Elemental spells, summoning and warding are all examples of outer magic, while enhanced senses, enhanced physical abilities and healing are all examples of inner magic. Your father was trained in outer magic, himself. As for you... <ul> <li>[[You always took more to inner magic.|1.46][$magicpref to "inner"]]</li> <li>[[You always took more to outer magic.|1.46][$magicpref to "outer"]]</li> </ul>

<<if $magicpref is "inner">>Relying on your inner magic suits you more than trying to bend your surroundings to your will. If you have no control over your environment, then you should be in control of yourself. As a result your mind is clearer, your resolve stronger, your body more resilient, and you've learned to remain calmer in dire circumstances.<</if>><<if $magicpref is "outer">>You have always been strong-willed, and it has manifested into a particular talent for outer magic. This type of magic has the potential to be incredibly powerful, but also incredibly destructive. As a result you have learned to be more resourceful, learned how to use your environment to your advantage, and it has made you more tactical as well as creative.<</if>> "$xname should have been able to sense whether you had any ill intent," Tûjo says, guiding you to a particularly large tent that stands a small distance apart from the others, colored in red rather than brown and green. "The fact that $xthey couldn't come to a sure conclusion means that either you are exceptionally skilled in hiding your feelings, or you were being truthful." That must be $xname's tent. You eye it warily, wondering if it's intended for you to share it, though you suppose that's the easiest way to keep an eye on you. "Which do you think it is?" you ask Tûjo with some trepidation, watching his back as he walks up to the tent and parts the curtain hanging down over the entrance with a hand, standing beside it and gesturing you to go inside with a nod of his head. "We'll find out soon enough," Tûjo says, then notices you hesitating in front of the tent. "Would you rather sit around outside for the whole camp to gawk at you?" He makes a fair point. <ul> <li>[['"I would, actually."'|1.47.a][$mercapp to $mercapp + 5]]</li> <li>[['"No, I suppose not."'|1.47.b][$tujotrust to $tujotrust + 5]]</li> </ul>

The small closed-in space of the tent makes you far more anxious than sitting outside in the camp in plain view of everyone. At least this way you can watch what they're doing. "As you wish," Tûjo responds, and walks around the side of the tent to one of the trees nearby. You follow a few steps, the chain long enough to allow for several feet of distance, then stop when you see him wrap the chain around a slender tree, hooking it. "What are you doing?" Tûjo does not respond respond, focusing on tying the chain around the tree. If you weren't a prisoner before, you certainly are now. "Say, Tûjo," you call, remembering your grim first encounter with $xname. Tûjo doesn't turn his head, but his eyes shift your way. "When I saw $xname by the river there were... uh... bodies." "Bandits," Tûjo answers. "We were paid by Marabad's steward to rid the forest of them, to secure safe passage for $rtitle $rname." "Oh." You watch him tighten the chain around the tree, and once that is done, he rights himself and looks at you again. "Do you want to eat?" "Uh..." You briefly wonder if it's a trick question. "Yes?" He leaves without another word. You remain standing there with a baffled look on your face as you watch him go into the camp, both wrists chained to a tree in front of $xname's tent. [[Continue|1.48.a]]

With your chains in Tûjo hands, you follow along, eager to find some privacy away from the curious looks the mercenaries keep giving you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. Tûjo parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, It creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You nearly trample an old scroll because of it, before realizing what it is and carefully stepping around it. Tûjo picks it up off the ground as he comes inside after you, setting it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one that's been left unrolled. "I keep telling $xthem to clean up this mess," you hear Tûjo mumble, sounding somewhat like an exasperated parent. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while Tûjo hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xname's tent. He then sits down across from you, legs folded and arms crossed. You can't make out what he's thinking, his dark gray eyes watching you silently. "Say, Tûjo," you say tentatively, remembering your grim first encounter with $xname. "When I saw $xname by the river there were... uh... bodies." "Bandits," Tûjo answers. "We were paid by Marabad's steward to rid the forest of them, to secure safe passage for $rtitle $rname." "Oh." "Do you want to eat?" he asks suddenly. "Uh..." You wonder if it's a trick question. "Yes?" He gets up off the ground and leaves the tent without another word. You're left alone in $xname's tent, slightly baffled. [[Continue|1.48.b]]

Settling down on the ground with your back against the tree, you suppose it could be worse. Tûjo has treated you courteously so far even though he's clearly suspicious of you, and $xname has actually agreed to help you. That doesn't mean your outrageous plan will work, though. You lean your head back against the tree with a sigh, a sudden fatigue washing over you after your initial tense encounter with $xname. If your parents could see you now they'd probably die twice over from a heart attack. Surely there are worse mercenaries to entrust your fate to than $xname's famed Crescent Blades? You're not entirely certain what to make of the <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> $xthemselves, seeing as how you've only just met, but $xthey certainly appears just as charming and <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> as all the stories claimed $xthem to be, as well as a lot more imposing. You expected someone more friendly or approachable, but $xtheir presence is so striking that you can't help feeling a little daunted. Your thoughts linger briefly on the touch of magic between you two. That warmth you felt, the sensation of fire, that must have been $xname's magical signature. Everyone has one unique to them, leaving you wondering what yours felt like to $xthem. The sound of footsteps startles you out of your thoughts, and you quickly look to find Tûjo walking toward you with a skewer of meat in his hand. He stands still in front of you and offers it wordlessly. "Thanks." You take it from him, eyeing the meat before looking back at him. "Aren't you going to eat?" "I ate earlier." <<if $calc gt $kind>>Well, there goes your plan of getting him to reveal the rest of his face. <</if>>Might as well eat, then. You dig your teeth into the meat--a little gamy, probably deer or something similar--as Tûjo sits down cross-legged on the ground across from you, a polite distance away as he stares out over the camp. The meat isn't bad. It's roasted a bit too much for your liking, but it's not as if you have the luxury to be picky. As long as your hunger is sated, that should be enough. While you eat, finishing your skewer rather quickly, you peer at Tûjo who still isn't looking at you. It's hard to tell whether he's lost in thought or watching for something specific as he stares at the activity in the camp, mercenaries filing in and out, wandering around to chat with each other or drink. They often look your way when they get close to $xname's tent, though Tûjo's presence seems to deter them from coming any closer or initiating any interaction. [[Continue|1.49.a]]

There soon comes an exception, however. "Hey, Tûjo!" A short mercenary wearing dark furs on top of their black robes waves at him as they walk toward you, a broad grin on their face. "Can I talk to Golden Eyes over there?" Tûjo frowns deeply, arms crossing over his chest in a display of almost palpable disapproval. "Şanazî." A woman's name. Şanazî comes to a stop right in front of him, short bronze curls framed around her face as her dark eyes settle on you with brazen curiosity, though she then addresses only Tûjo. "Are they really the Crown?" <<if $gender is "male">>"He, actually." <</if>><<if $gender is "female">>"She, actually." <</if>>You regard Şanazî with some interest, as she's the only one so far brave enough to approach you and Tûjo, and it suddenly occurs to you that you haven't even so much as introduced yourself to anyone yet. The issue of your golden eyes overshadowed your identity entirely. "My name is $name, for the record." "Doesn't sound very Crown-y," Şanazî comments drolly, and Tûjo clears his throat while you suppress a smile, but only barely. "Şanazî," he cuts in before you can reply to her. "Is there a reason for your visit?" "No," Şanazî answers cheerfully. "Just wanted to introduce myself to our future ruler, you know, make sure $they <<if $gender is "nb">>remember<<else>>remembers<</if>> me, get on $their good side early and all that." She winks at you. Tûjo pinches the bridge of his nose between two gloved fingers. "Please leave." "Wait, am I supposed to bow, or..." Şanazî bends her knees slightly and does an awkward half-dip in front of you, spreading her arms out wide for seemingly no reason. "A true honor to meet you, your Crownliness. Your... clothes look very... worldly. And your eyes sure are gold! Anyway, can you lower the price on imported dragon tears? I'm trying out this new mix with beer and I really think--" "Şanazî, stop pestering our client!" $xname's voice rings out over the camp, and sure enough when you turn to look you see $xthem heading straight for you with Heval just a step behind $xthem. [[Continue|1.50.a]]

Şanazî squeaks, standing upright like a soldier with her arms stiff by her side and even then she barely reaches $xname's shoulders. <<if $height is "very tall">>She'd look even shorter if you stood next to her, since you're even taller than $xname.<</if>><<if $height is "tall">>She'd just about come up to your shoulders as well, as you're around the same height as $xname.<</if>><<if $height is "average">>You're not that much taller than Şanazî is, come to think of it, but you do pass $xname's shoulders.<</if>><<if $height is "short">>You're just as short as Şanazî is, come to think of it--or rather, $xname is just tall.<</if>><<if $height is "very short">>She's still taller than you, though; you only come up to $xname's chest.<</if>> "Sorry, chief!" "Take it easy," $xname says with a grin, giving her a friendly pat on the back as $xthey stands next to her, Heval lingering a few steps behind with their arms crossed over their dark metal breastplate. "Have anything to eat yet?" "No," Şanazî mutters out of the side of her mouth, shoving her hands underneath her armpits. "But I was going to! I just don't like the way Huner roasts the meat, he always overcooks it." "Then cook your own meat," $xname replies patiently, nudging her toward the camp. "Go on, the three of us need to have a private chat." Şanazî huffs. "Fine, fine!" She turns to you one last time, a mischievous curl in her lips. "Remember the dragon tears, alright? Farewell, honored Crown!" She traipses off back toward one of the campfires surrounded by other mercenaries eating and drinking among each other, one of them blowing some false notes through a flute before Şanazî snatches it out of their hands and starts playing it in a breezy melody. "Şanazî's a good kid," $xname says, not seeming to be speaking to anyone in particular as $xthey watches her. "Nosy, but still a good kid." "She's only two years younger than you are, chief," Heval informs $xthem in a deadpan tone. "You're shitting me!" $xname's eyes grow wide, glancing between Heval and Şanazî. "She acts like she's sixteen, not twenty-six!" Tûjo clears his throat. "$xname." "Oh, right." $xname turns to you and blinks, and you briefly wonder if $xthey forgot all about you until $xthey slowly smirks at you. "$name, was it?" [[Continue|1.51.a]]

You frown, confused. "You know my name?" "I've got pretty good hearing," $xname replies smugly as $xthey taps on an ear, likely enhanced by magic. "You already met Tûjo, but Heval goes by they<<if $gender is "nb">> as well<</if>>, if you were wondering." You slowly nod in understanding, glancing toward Heval whose helmet is facing straight ahead of them, not aimed at you. From what you've seen, they seem protective of $xname and not overly fond of you. Their caution is understandable, but you hope it won't become a problem later on. Meanwhile, $xname finally notices the chain linking you to the tree, frowning in question as $xthey glances between you and Tûjo. "Why are you sitting outside?" "$cthey didn't want to go into the tent," Tûjo answers plainly. $xname sighs, casting Tûjo an irritated look as $xthey walks over to the tree and starts undoing the chains. "So your solution was to tie $them up like a horse?" Heval makes a strange, high-pitched noise that sounds suspiciously like a smothered laugh. You take a little offense to that, even though you're happy to be freed from the tree. "For the record," $xname says to you, all manner of joking replaced by a rather serious tone, "I wasn't going to force you to share the tent, if that's what this is about. I can sleep somewhere else." <ul> <li>[[You weren't bothered by that; you're fine with sharing.|1.52.a]]</li> <li>[[You're relieved; you would really rather not share.|1.52.b]]</li> </ul>

"I'd rather sleep alone, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname glances at Tûjo and Heval, then toward the mercenaries clustered together in the rest of the camp who are starting to stare your way. "Let's find somewhere more private for this discussion," $xname says mildly, nodding toward the tent and you frown a little. "Don't worry, I'll keep my word once it's time to sleep, it's just that my tent has wards to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. Unless you'd rather have this conversation out in the open?" You wonder if you really have a choice in this situation seeing as how talking about this in public is a foolish idea, but $xname is just standing there looking at you. $cxthey's not dragging you along, but waiting for your permission. "Alright." $xname smiles at you in a reassuring way, which is strange when contrasted with the fact that $xthey's holding your chains in $xtheir hands. $cxthey turns and walks toward the tent and you follow along while Tûjo and Heval trail after you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. $xname parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, It creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You almost trample an old scroll because of it, before $xname quickly bends down to swipe it out from under your feet. "Careful," $xthey says with an apologetic smile, tossing it aside carelessly, though it is quickly caught by Tûjo who sets it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one of them that's been left unrolled. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while $xname lazily hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xtheir tent. Tûjo sits across from you, Heval beside him, while $xname leisurely lies back down on the brown and white furs of $xtheir bed, a hand behind $xtheir head. "So," $xname says as $xthey plucks a grape from the bowl beside $xthem, tossing it into $xtheir mouth and chewing on it as $xthey continues to speak. "I figure you're probably the Crown." A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as a blink of his eyes. You just stare at $xname. <ul> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.c][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.d][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

"I don't mind sharing the tent, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname glances at Tûjo and Heval, then toward the mercenaries clustered together in the rest of the camp who are starting to stare your way. "Let's find somewhere more private for this discussion," $xname says mildly, nodding toward the tent. With your chains in $xtheir hands, you follow along while Tûjo and Heval trail after you. The curtain in front of the red tent is embroidered with a white curved sword, the blade of which is shaped like a crescent moon. $xname parts the curtain for you, and you step inside. You aren't at all shocked by the luxurious furs nor the gleaming sets of weaponry and armor scattered about. There's plenty of space for it all, though it is more chaotic than you expected it to be. There's a single lit candle near the bed spread on the ground. Added to the distant light of the bonfires outside, It creates an almost constant and very distracting stream of shadows and silhouettes moving and shifting inside the tent. You almost trample an old scroll because of it, before $xname quickly bends down to swipe it out from under your feet. "Careful," $xthey says with an apologetic smile, tossing it aside carelessly, though it is quickly caught by Tûjo who sets it down among the pile of other scrolls--maps, you notice from one of them that's been left unrolled. You cautiously settle down near the entrance of the tent, next to a stack of books, while $xname lazily hooks the other end of your chains to one of the poles holding up $xtheir tent. Tûjo sits across from you, Heval beside him, while $xname leisurely lies back down on the brown and white furs of $xtheir bed, a hand behind $xtheir head. "So," $xname says as $xthey plucks a grape from the bowl beside $xthem, tossing it into $xtheir mouth and chewing on it as $xthey continues to speak. "I figure you're probably the Crown." A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as a blink of his eyes. You just stare at $xname. <ul> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.a][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[['"So... no more chains, right?"|1.53.b][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, unfortunately?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. "In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." $xname pauses, either to weigh $xtheir next words or just for dramatic effect; you think it could very well be both. "That is why I'm inclined to believe our new friend here." Both Heval and Tûjo say nothing, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. $xname lies back down on the bed, then asks you an unexpected question. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic you're naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward healing. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly though $xthey does not look at you. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]

"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being appears. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown?" "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "Tell me, do you have an affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic one is naturally inclined toward. Your mother had an affinity toward fire, while your father was more inclined toward healing. "No, I don't." Tûjo frowns at you. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five, why?" "That's not possible," he says, scowling. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity." "It's true for the general population," $xname interjects, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "You have a very particular magical signature," $xname continues, addressing you directly. "I haven't felt the like since... well, never mind that. In any case, It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]

You suppose it could be worse. Tûjo has treated you courteously so far even though he's clearly suspicious of you, and $xname has actually agreed to help you. That doesn't mean your outrageous plan will work, though. You lie down on the ground, a sudden fatigue washing over you after your initial tense encounter with $xname. If your parents could see you now they'd probably die twice over from a heart attack. Surely there are worse mercenaries to entrust your fate to than $xname's famed Crescent Blades? You're not entirely certain what to make of the <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> $xthemselves, seeing as how you've only just met, but $xthey certainly appears just as charming and <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> as all the stories claimed $xthem to be, as well as a lot more imposing. You expected someone more friendly or approachable, but $xtheir presence is so striking that you can't help feeling a little daunted. Your thoughts linger briefly on the touch of magic between you two. That warmth you felt, the sensation of fire, that must have been $xname's magical signature. Everyone has one unique to them, leaving you wondering what yours felt like to $xthem. The sound of footsteps startles you out of your thoughts, and you quickly look to find Tûjo parting the curtain and stepping into the tent again, a skewer of meat in his hand. He stands in front of you and offers it wordlessly. "Thanks." You sit up and take it from him, eyeing the meat before looking back at him. "Aren't you going to eat?" "I ate earlier." <<if $calc gt $kind>>Well, there goes your plan of getting him to reveal the rest of his face. <</if>>Might as well eat, then. You dig your teeth into the meat--a little gamy, probably deer or something similar--as Tûjo sits down cross-legged across from you again, a polite distance away. The meat isn't bad. It's roasted a bit too much for your liking, but it's not as if you have the luxury to be picky. As long as your hunger is sated, that should be enough. While you eat, finishing your skewer rather quickly, you peer at Tûjo who has closed his eyes now. You can't tell whether he's trying to sleep, meditating, or simply didn't want to have to keep staring at you. [[Continue|1.49.b]]

You look around for where to put the stick after you've finished eating all the meat on the skewer when Tûjo suddenly holds out his hand, his eyes open again. Handing it over, you watch as Tûjo holds the stick between his two index fingers, and you wonder what he's up to. Concentration furrowing in his brow, Tûjo stares down intently at the stick and after a few seconds pass, it suddenly splinters in front of your eyes, disintegrating into nothing. "You can do magic," you state with arched brows, though you're not sure why you didn't expect him to be able to. Most people can do at least some form of basic magic, though whatever that command was didn't look rudimentary. "How did you do that?" "I commanded the wood to split up into smaller and smaller pieces until it disappeared," Tûjo replies, resting his hands on his knees. "Ah." That would be the easiest way to do it. "So you have a nature affinity?" Magical affinities, the type of magic one is naturally inclined toward. Your mother's was fire, while your father's was air. "Trees and plants, more specifically," Tûjo clarifies. "Not earth." "Wait." You remember the way you tripped over the root of a tree while $xname was chasing you. "When I fell down earlier, was that your doing?" "Yes," Tûjo says simply, unaffected by your accusatory tone. "Huh." Bastard. "So, you have a nature affinity, and $xname has a fire affinity. Plants and fire don't really go together, do they?" Tûjo gives you a long look. "Is there a point to these questions?" You shrug. "I was just curious since you called $xname <<if $xgender is "female">>sister<<else>>brother<</if>> before. Don't siblings usually share the same affinity? Or complimentary ones, at least." "We are not kin, but we have fought many battles together," Tûjo states, saying nothing more. A comrades-in-arms sort of thing, then? It is a common way to refer to close friends as well, you suppose. You take Tûjo's enduring silence as a cue to drop the conversation, assuming that's all you're going to get out of him, but then he says, "What is yours?" "I'm sorry?" "Your affinity." Tûjo tilts his head slightly. "What is it?" "Oh, I don't have one," you answer, and Tûjo frowns. "How old are you?" "Twenty-five." You give him a curious look. "Why?" Tûjo's frown turns into a scowl. "That's not possible." [[Continue|1.50.b]]

"It's entirely possible." You nearly jump at the sudden voice coming from outside the tent, relaxing slightly when it's $xname who steps in through the curtain, followed by Heval. "Twenty-five, hmm?" $xname shoots you a smirk in passing as $xthey moves toward $xtheir bed, all but collapsing onto the furs. "That's only three years between us; I really thought you'd be younger." Meanwhile Heval sits down next to Tûjo, the metals of their armor clanging together noisily. You glance at the both of them, then look back toward $xname; twenty-eight is nowhere near as old as you expected. With $xname's reputation and how well-established the Crescent Blades are, you figured $xthey'd be in $xtheir late thirties at least. $cxthey must've been quite young when $xthey started doing mercenary work. "What are you talking about, $xname?" Tûjo says irritably, but $xname seems entirely unconcerned as $xthey lazily stretches out on $xtheir bed, a hand beneath $xtheir head. "Twenty-five is far too old to not have an affinity yet." "Patience, Tûjo," $xname teases him, plucking a grape from the bowl beside the bed and popping it into $xtheir mouth, chewing while $xthey addresses you next. "What is your name?" "It's $name," you answer, not sure what to think of $xname's carefree attitude. "I go by $they." "Fantastic," $xname comments and you honestly can't tell whether $xthey's being sarcastic or not. "You already met Tûjo, but Heval goes by they<<if $gender is "nb">> as well<</if>>, if you were wondering." You slowly nod in understanding, glancing toward Heval whose helmet is facing straight ahead of them, not aimed at you. From what you've seen, they seem protective of $xname and not overly fond of you. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Their caution is understandable; if you were in their position, you're not sure you wouldn't be reacting the same way.<<else>>Their caution is understandable, though you hope it won't become a problem later on.<</if>> [[Continue|1.51.b]]

"About my affinity," you start, but $xname cuts you off. "What do you think about the tent?" $xthey asks, tossing another grape into $xtheir mouth. "It's..." You look around the clutter, not sure how to describe it without offending $xname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"It's a pigsty." $xname bursts out laughing while Tûjo shakes his head. "Honesty! I like it."<</if>><<if $charm eq $blunt>>"It could be worse." "How diplomatic of you," $xname replies with a knowing grin. "I appreciate the attempt to spare my feelings, but trust me, I know it's a mess."<</if>><<if $blunt lt $charm>>"Well, seeing as how every single item in this room is more valuable than I am, I can't complain." $xname gives you a sly smile. "I wouldn't be so sure."<</if>> "Why are we talking about your tent?" Tûjo interjects, glaring at $xname. "Get to the point, <<if $xgender is "male">>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>." "I was only gauging $their opinion since we'll be sharing it for tonight," $xname answers, but then frowns slighty as $xthey props $xthemselves up on an elbow to look at you. "You don't mind, do you? I could sleep outside, otherwise." <ul> <li>[[You're fine with sharing it if it's just for one night.|1.52.c]]</li> <li>[[You would rather not share it, actually.|1.52.d]]</li> </ul>

"I don't mind sharing the tent, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problems keeping me in chains." $xname sits up on the furs as $xtheir mouth curves in amusement, leaning back on $xtheir hands as $xthey turns toward you, $xtheir full attention on you making you a little nervous. "Magic isn't infallible, unfortunately," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze on you intent, as if trying to figure out a riddle written across your face. "I have my own thoughts about who you really are, but I can't risk $rtitle $rname's safety on a hunch." "Is it because of..." You glance at Tûjo. "Because of what you sensed in me?" "Your magical signature is very particular, I don't think I've ever felt anything of its like. Well, except for..." $xname's brow furrows slightly. "Ah, never mind. The point is that it's a highly unusual one." "Chief, what are you saying?" Heval interjects, staring at $xname through the eyeholes of their masked helmet, their posture stiff. $xname's eyes flit from Heval back to you, and then $xthey says, "You're the Crown, aren't you?" A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as blinking. You just stare at $xname. <ul> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.e][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.f][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

"I'd rather sleep alone, but why do you care?" you can't help but ask, though you appreciate the gesture. "You clearly have no problem keeping me in chains." $xname sits up on the furs as $xtheir mouth curves in amusement, leaning back on $xtheir hands as $xthey turns toward you, $xtheir full attention on you making you a little nervous. "Magic isn't infallible, unfortunately," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze on you intent, as if trying to figure out a riddle written across your face. "I have my own thoughts about who you really are, but I can't risk $rtitle $rname's safety on a hunch." "Is it because of..." You glance at Tûjo. "Because of what you sensed in me?" "Your magical signature is very particular, I don't think I've ever felt anything of its like. Well, except for..." $xname's brow furrows slightly. "Ah, never mind. The point is that it's a highly unusual one." "Chief, what are you saying?" Heval interjects, staring at $xname through the eyeholes of their masked helmet, their posture stiff. $xname's eyes flit from Heval back to you, and then $xthey says, "You're the Crown, aren't you?" A choking sound comes from underneath Heval's helmet and they nearly rear back as if they were physically slapped, though Tûjo looks entirely unsurprised, not even so much as blinking. You just stare at $xname. <ul> <li>[['"What makes you think that?"'|1.53.g][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[['"So... no more chains?"|1.53.h][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

the fabric of $xtheir shirt stretched over the fit muscles of $xtheir abs and chest. Your eyes linger on the skin revealed by the deep cut of $xtheir collar, so distracted that it takes you a moment to realize $xname is speaking to you. "Magic isn't infallible, unfortunately." You quickly look back up to $xname's face, $xtheir green eyes gleaming with mischief as $xthey flashes you a devilish smile and you know $xthey absolutely caught you staring. "What do you mean?"

"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being appears. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown?" "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo says to $xname, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]

"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, unfortunately?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. "I am still waiting for you to start making sense, $xname," Tûjo says with a hint of impatience, and $xname shoots him an exasperated look. "Brother, if you keep that stern look on your face your heart might stop the day you finally smile," $xname warns, though it sounds more like a childish complaint with the way $xthey almost glares at Tûjo's interruption. "In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity. That is why I'm inclined to believe our new friend here." Both Heval and Tûjo say nothing at first, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo speaks after a while, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts matter-of-factly, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.b]]

"You think I'm trying to trick you?" $xname says with amusement when $xthey notices your guarded tone. "Why would I do that?" $xname certainly appears to be a very straightforward person, keyword being appears. <<if $intu gte $intel>>Something tells you<</if>><<if $intel gt $intu>>You imagine<</if>> $xthey did not get this far as a mercenary by being recklessly honest with every stranger $xthey comes across. "I don't know," you answer, retorting with your own question. "Why would you think I'm the Crown?" "Mostly a gut-feeling, among other things," $xname says, lying back down on the bed as $xthey continues to elaborate. "It is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity." "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo says to $xname, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]

"I didn't say that," $xname replies with a cheeky grin. "Unfortunately, $rtitle $rname's safety is still my priority." "What do you mean, unfortunately?" Heval mutters underneath their breath, but $xname ignores them. "I am still waiting for you to start making sense, $xname," Tûjo says with a hint of impatience, and $xname shoots him an exasperated look. "Brother, if you keep that stern look on your face your heart might stop the day you finally smile," $xname warns, though it sounds more like a childish complaint with the way $xthey almost glares at Tûjo's interruption. "In any case, it is possible for inner magic types to forge a signature, but even then it's unlikely an impostor would've known to lie about having no affinity. That is why I'm inclined to believe our new friend here." Both Heval and Tûjo say nothing at first, and you are equally unsure of how you could possibly respond to that. This has taken a turn for the truly bizarre; $xname was never meant to find out about your identity, but in the event that $xthey did you were fully convinced it would spell your doom. Instead, it seems $xthey actually believes that your eyes are real and on top of that wishes to help you because of it. You were so unprepared for this possibility that you don't even know how to process this development. "Everyone who has reached maturity has an affinity," Tûjo speaks after a while, though his tone is more of a question than a stated contradiction. "It's true for the general population," $xname concedes, "but not for the Crown. Or rather, not for the successor of the Crown." This is the first time you've heard of this; did your parents keep you in the dark about this, too? The thought is almost infuriating, to be kept from truths about yourself you have a right to, being infantilized to the point where the people who professed to protect you instead lied to you again and again. "What does that mean?" Heval demands, voice sounding strained. "Usually magical affinities reveal themselves when a child transitions into an adult, no?" $xname keeps staring up at the ceiling of $xtheir tent with $xtheir hands folded on $xtheir stomach, appearing thoughtful. "It's different for the successor. Their affinity doesn't reveal itself until they become the Crown." You sigh, frustrated. "Why have I never heard of this before?" "Most successors are in their early teenage years when they are found, when it's common not to have an affinity yet," $xname points out. "So it's not typically useful knowledge during a search and not widespread outside of magus circles." "That's not enough proof that $they<<if $gender is "nb">>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> the Crown!" Heval suddenly erupts, throwing up their hands. "$cthey could've easily heard it from somewhere, or--" "That's why we're keeping the chains on, Heval," $xname interrupts matter-of-factly, turning to look at Heval with a grin. "Take a deep breath, friend; I'm sure if $name does turn out to be the Crown, $they'll be more than willing to forgive you for all your hostility up until now." Heval sputters for a response, unable to come up with anything and the tent goes quiet. [[Continue|1.54.a]]

@@.chaptertitleact0;prologue@@ You come home to the sound of screaming and the smell of smoke. From the edge of the forest you can see bright, flickering lights spreading across the farm, growing bigger and bigger. The setting sun soaks the scene in orange and red reflected vividly in your eyes, casting horrible shadows that stumble out of the burning house, howling and writhing in pain as they drop to the dew-covered grass. Young as you are--barely into your fifteenth year--you stand frozen, the hand holding the basket of berries you gathered squeezing so tightly your knuckles turn white. You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm; you were prepared for this. The thought that you should go look for your mother crosses your mind, but then a rider appears around the corner of the burning house, the hooves of their mount thundering across the ground and headed straight your way. For a moment all you see is the curved sword in their hand and you almost turn to run, until you look up to the rider’s face and realize it’s your mother, Nazire. She calls your name: <<textbox "$name" $name>> [[Continue|0.2]]

“$name, they’ve found us!” she calls as she comes to a halt beside you, sounding out of breath, eyes wide and wild and you realize her sword is covered in blood. “Get on, we have to keep moving!” She did not manage to kill them all, she explains to you while you ride behind her toward the nearest village. There will be more, as setting fire to the farm only slowed them down. It was sheer luck that you and your father weren’t there when the sect arrived, or this could have all ended very differently. You are not as shaken as you thought you would be. Your parents both prepared you for this possibility at a very early age; the farm was a temporary home, as most homes you have known. Even if you hadn't been found, you and your family would've moved by the end of the week regardless. You sit by the campfire that night, the sound of the softly crackling flames and the songs of crickets the only thing to fill up the silence between you and your mother. Your father's absence is somewhat concerning as he is the one that the sect is after, but he left to buy supplies from a nearby village. Hopefully the smoke from the burning farm will tip him off to the attack. It has been this way for as long as you can remember. You will settle somewhere remote, somewhere you can farm and provide for yourselves, but after a year or two the sect will find you again. This day is no different from the last. You gaze at your mother where she sits quietly beside you in front of the small fire, staring off into the darkness of the forest, and you ask her: <ul> <li>[['"What do we do now?"'|0.3]]</li> <li>[['"Should we go look for father?"'|0.3]]</li> <li>[['"How do they keep finding us?"'|0.3]]</li> </ul>

Your mother turns to you as her lips part to answer, but when her gaze lands on you she goes very, very still. Even in the orange light of the bonfire you can see the color drain out of her face, or perhaps it just seems that way due to how horrified she appears. "Mother?" you prompt her anxiously. "What's wrong?" She suddenly leans forward and cups your cheeks with both her hands, the calluses on her palms rough against your skin as she stares into your eyes. Whatever she sees takes her breath away. You hear it hitch in the back of her throat, her fingers pressing into your cheeks more tightly and you grab her wrists. You see a look on her face you have never seen before. She's afraid. "Mother, you're hurting me!" you tell her, pulling her hands off you that start to tremble as soon as your mother sits back, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare into the fire. "It's happened," she whispers. "The Crown... the Crown is dead." "What?" You stare at her, uncomprehending. How can the Crown be dead? The Empire isn't at war with anyone and last you heard, the Crown was in perfect health. "How do you know?" "The Crown's eyes," your mother mutters, still not looking at you. "Just like he foretold... we have to go." She suddenly stands up and flicks her wrist, the bonfire sizzling out at her command. "Wait, mother--" But she doesn't listen to you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up to your feet. "We have to leave, immediately," she says as she pulls you along to your horse. "Forget your father; now that the Crown is dead, they'll come for you next." "Me?" you protest, trying to yank your arm out of her grip but it's too tight, so you brace your feet against the ground and force her to stop. "Why would they come for me? I thought they were after father, I don't understand--" She lets go of your arm and grabs you by your shoulders instead, her breaths heavy through gritted teeth and her eyes wide. You see panic, desperation, resolve, and most of all, sadness. "Your eyes, $name," she says. "Your eyes are cursed." [[End Prologue|1.0]]

You were nervous for a while, but it seems that coming to $xname was the right decision after all. While you're not sure to what extent you can trust the people in this tent, you have a far better chance of reaching $rtitle $rname with the Crescent Blades on your side. Had it not been for you stumbling across $xname and having your eyes revealed, you may have never gotten that chance. The amount of coin you had was sizable, but $xname likely would not have trusted a stranger unwilling to reveal their identity or their purpose. Convincing $xthem of the legitimacy of your eye color was more than you could've hoped for, though you're careful not to examine the consequences too closely. What does it even mean to be chosen as the Crown? You push the thought back down from where it rose, keeping it stored away for another time. Before anything else, you need to speak to $rtitle $rname. As you decide on shelving the matter for another day, Tûjo has already gathered his thoughts and is the first one to speak. "What is your plan?" He stares directly at $xname. "The general's handpicked guards are nothing to scoff at." Tûjo's remark makes you remember the conversation you eavesdropped on earlier, and it occurs to you that if you're going to trust these people with your fate, you should probably inform them. "About that," you interject before $xname can reply, "I overheard the general talking to someone, back in the city." <<if $abeggar is false>>You recount everything you've heard with as much detail as possible, emphasizing Behram's involvement and General $dname's order to capture $xname, as well as the planned departure at dawn.<<else>>You didn't hear much and are uncertain how much of it will be useful to $xname, but you recount the snippets that you did overhear in their entirety, including the planned departure at dawn.<</if>> "The general is sending $aname?" Heval repeats sharply while Tûjo's gaze on you is even more intense than usual, and when you glance back at $xname you see $xthem sitting up. "That might be a problem," $xname admits reluctantly, $xtheir attempt at a carefree smile marred by the furrow in $xtheir brow. Now that even $xname looks worried, you're starting to grow anxious. You figured that $xname would have no problem in overpowering $aname. What are you missing, here? [[Continue|1.55.b]]

"You've never heard of $aname before," Tûjo deduces from your quizzical expression, and both Heval and $xname turn to you in disbelief. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"No, I haven't," you confirm, seeing no point in denying the obvious.<<else>>"Should I have?" you reply, keeping a casual tone.<</if>> "Regardless, how much damage could a single soldier possibly do?" $xname laughs openly and you feel heat gathering in your cheeks, instinctually embarrassed as you <<if $intu gt $intel>>can sense<<else>>can tell from $xtheir reaction<</if>> that you said something rather ignorant. "$aname is not merely a single soldier," Heval grumbles moodily when $xname keeps on laughing, wiping tears from the corners of $xtheir eyes. "$cathey is the only one to have bested $xname in one-on-one combat." Your eyes grow wide. "But isn't $xname supposed to be--" "Undefeated?" $xname smirks wryly. "I used to be, until $aname came along. Of course I have won from $athem in the past, but the last time we fought it was a decisive victory in $atheir favor. It was the single greatest loss of my life." You try to wrack your brain about hearing anything of $xname's defeat in your travels, but you come up blank. "I've never heard anyone sing that tale before." "We were far away from prying eyes at the time," $xname replies. "It involved a cursed family tomb and a corpse summoner--the point is that for reasons I cannot fathom, $aname decided not to spread the news of my defeat. Hence, in the eyes of the public, I am still undefeated." At your troubled expression, $xname grins. "What are you looking so scared for? This is a good thing! In the long run, at least." "Uh, how?" "$cathey will serve as your Royal Protector, will $athey not?" Tûjo points out. Oh. You hadn't even considered that. "That's all fine and well," Heval says, a dubious tone to their voice, "but we'll still have to deal with $athem as well as $rtitle $rname's guards, and that sounds like a fool's errand if you ask me." "Not necessarily," $xname muses, rubbing $xtheir lips thoughtfully. "$name, you said $aname seemed unhappy with the general's orders?" <<if $abeggar is false>>"Yes," you answer, almost able to recall $aname's exact words. "$aname called you a hero to the people, and argued that arresting you would only create more chaos." That gets a smile out of $xname, though not the cocky one you've seen so far; if anything, $xthey almost looks bashful from the praise. "Really?" Tûjo snaps his fingers, getting $xname's attention. "Stay on topic." "Right," $xname says, clearing $xtheir throat. "In any case, I might be able to capitalize on $atheir reluctance. Tûjo, what is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zerat?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "I'm leaving $name here in your care." $xthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<<else>>"The general sounded frustrated," you answer, trying to recall what little you've heard. "$aname stormed out of the barracks, too." $xname hums, then glances to you. "Might be that $athey's reluctant to capture me, but I wouldn't want to bet the Crown's life on it." You shift uneasily where you're seated on the ground, your chains rattling slightly with the movement. Being referred to as the Crown so casually, as if it is fact already, makes you uneasy. "Tûjo," $xname continues, not paying any mind to your discomfort. "What is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zeratun?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "Then I'll leave $name in your care." $cxthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem for as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<</if>> "Understood," Heval says, and just like that everything has been set in motion. [[Continue|1.56.a]]

<<set $acodex to true>>[ New Character Codex unlocked ] "You look tired," $xname remarks, eyes flitting over your face before $xthey turns to Heval and Tûjo. "Time to let our guest catch some sleep, we'll be up early tomorrow." The command to leave the tent goes unspoken but is heard loud and clear as $xname's two righthand mercenaries get up. <<if $tujotrust is 10>>Unexpectedly, Tûjo inclines his head to you as he follows Heval outside. "Huh." $xname sounds slightly impressed. "Seems like Tûjo has taken a liking to you." You're unsure of how to respond, glancing down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<<else>> You watch them leave, then look down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<</if>> "Let me get that," $xname says when $xthey notices, getting up from the thick furs of $xtheir bed and kneeling down in front of you. At first you're focused on what $xtheir hands are doing with the chains, $xtheir fingers curling around the metal bands around your wrists, but as you look up at $xname, what should've been a quick glance turns into a stare. $cxtheir head is bent down as $xthey's focused on the chains, but with $xtheir face so close to yours--leaving a small space of mere inches--it gives you an opportunity to regard $xtheir <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> features more closely. You find an old scar beside $xtheir right eye that you didn't notice before, carved into $xtheir temple and shaped somewhat like a crescent. $cxtheir eyelashes are just as thick and long as they seemed from a distance, even more startling when $xname turns $xtheir attention back to you, eyes cut from emeralds peering through them to look right at you. "All done," $xthey says with a knowing smile, a touch of playfulness to it as you avert your gaze down to your wrists. The carved markings on the chains that glowed a soft purple before blink out, then flare up into a brighter pink, followed by a metallic unlocking sound and then the chains fall off your wrists entirely. "Better?" You meet $xname's eyes again and almost wish you hadn't, because they're mesmerizing and it's so difficult to look away a second time. You can almost feel $xtheir breath on your face, and you can't remember the last time anyone got this close to you. It's making your pulse quicken. The predominant thought going through your head at that moment is... <ul> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[[How gorgeous Xelef is.|1.57.a.1][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[How gorgeous Xelara is.|1.57.a.1][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]</li><</if>> <li>[[That you would like your personal space back.|1.57.a.2]]</li> </ul>

$xname's smile widens, arch and cat-like as if $xthey knows exactly what you're thinking, but $xthey doesn't linger. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey rises back to $xtheir feet, gathering them up. You finally dislodge the words that got stuck in your throat. "Why did you unchain me?" "I'll be sleeping right outside," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything I'll sense it immediately. Don't tell Heval I took your chains off, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur toward the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "Good night, Your Imperial Majesty," $xname says with some humor to $xtheir tone, or perhaps $xthey's amused at the bewildered look on your face. "Your Empire awaits at dawn." $cxthey doesn't wait for a reply, stepping outside and leaving you alone in the tent. Though whether you're truly alone is debatable, considering you can see $xname's shadow through the fabric of the tent as $xthey moves around to the left side, silhouette fading a little but still visible. At least $xthey won't be camped out right in front of the entrance. Your gaze is drawn toward the heap of furs left on $xname's bed, and you realize there is no other place for you to lie down. Whether you will even be able to fall asleep is doubtful; in the silence the merrymaking of the mercenaries is even louder than before. Certain that the noises will keep you awake, you reluctantly approach $xname's bed. Slipping off your cloak and kicking off your boots, you settle down on the furs and curl up on your side, trying to get comfortable if you're going to be lying here all night. Before you know it, the exhaustion from your eventful day washes over you like a wave, and as your eyes slip shut you are swept away in its tide, fast asleep. [[End Chapter|2.1]]

$xname seems to be able to read the disinterest from your face as $xthey wordlessly pulls away and rises to $xtheir feet, allowing you the space to breathe without any further remark or sly smile. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey moves through the tent, gathering the rest up. Your tension eases at the distance put in between you, but only by a little. "Why did you unchain me?" "I'll be sleeping right outside," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near a corner, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything I'll sense it immediately. Don't tell Heval I took your chains off, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur toward the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "Good night, Your Imperial Majesty," $xname says with some humor to $xtheir tone, or perhaps $xthey's amused at the bewildered look on your face. "Your Empire awaits at dawn." $cxthey doesn't wait for a reply, stepping outside and leaving you alone in the tent. Though whether you're truly alone is debatable, considering you can see $xname's shadow through the fabric of the tent as $xthey moves around to the left side, silhouette fading a little. At least $xthey won't be camped out right in front of the entrance. Your gaze is drawn toward the heap of furs still left on $xname's bed, and you realize there is no other place for you to lie down. Whether you will even be able to fall asleep is doubtful; in the silence the merrymaking of the mercenaries outside is even louder than before. Certain that the noises will keep you awake, you reluctantly approach $xname's bed. Slipping off your cloak and kicking off your boots, you settle down on the furs and curl up on your side, trying to get comfortable if you're going to be lying here all night. Before you know it, the exhaustion from your eventful day washes over you like a wave, and as your eyes slip shut you are swept away in its tide, fast asleep. [[End Chapter|2.1]]

"You've never heard of $aname before," Tûjo deduces from your quizzical expression, and both Heval and $xname turn to you in disbelief. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"No, I haven't," you confirm, seeing no point in denying the obvious.<<else>>"Should I have?" you reply, keeping a casual tone.<</if>> "Regardless, how much damage could a single soldier possibly do?" $xname laughs openly and you feel heat gathering in your cheeks, instinctually embarrassed as you <<if $intu gt $intel>>can sense<<else>>can tell from $xtheir reaction<</if>> that you said something rather ignorant. "$aname is not merely a single soldier," Heval grumbles moodily when $xname keeps on laughing, wiping tears from the corners of $xtheir eyes. "$cathey is the only one to have bested $xname in one-on-one combat." Your eyes grow wide. "But isn't $xname supposed to be--" "Undefeated?" $xname smirks wryly. "I used to be, until $aname came along. Of course I have won from $athem in the past, but the last time we fought it was a decisive victory in $atheir favor. It was the single greatest loss of my life." You try to wrack your brain about hearing anything of $xname's defeat in your travels, but you come up blank. "I've never heard anyone sing that tale before." "We were far away from prying eyes at the time," $xname replies. "It involved a cursed family tomb and a corpse summoner--the point is that for reasons I cannot fathom, $aname decided not to spread the news of my defeat. Hence, in the eyes of the public, I am still undefeated." At your troubled expression, $xname grins. "What are you looking so scared for? This is a good thing! In the long run, at least." "Uh, how?" "$cathey will serve as your Royal Protector, will $athey not?" Tûjo points out. Oh. You hadn't even considered that. "That's all fine and well," Heval says, a dubious tone to their voice, "but we'll still have to deal with $athem as well as $rtitle $rname's guards, and that sounds like a fool's errand if you ask me." "Not necessarily," $xname muses, rubbing $xtheir lips thoughtfully. "$name, you said $aname seemed unhappy with the general's orders?" <<if $abeggar is false>>"Yes," you answer, almost able to recall $aname's exact words. "$aname called you a hero to the people, and argued that arresting you would only create more chaos." That gets a smile out of $xname, though not the cocky one you've seen so far; if anything, $xthey almost looks bashful from the praise. "Really?" Tûjo snaps his fingers, getting $xname's attention. "Stay on topic." "Right," $xname says, clearing $xtheir throat. "In any case, I might be able to capitalize on $atheir reluctance. Tûjo, what is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zerat?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "I'm leaving $name here in your care." $xthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<<else>>"The general sounded frustrated," you answer, trying to recall what little you've heard. "$aname stormed out of the barracks, too." $xname hums, then glances to you. "Might be that $athey's reluctant to capture me, but I wouldn't want to bet the Crown's life on it." You shift uneasily where you're seated on the ground, your chains rattling slightly with the movement. Being referred to as the Crown so casually, as if it is fact already, is making you uneasy. "Tûjo," $xname continues, not paying any mind to your discomfort. "What is the most likely route the general will take to get $rtitle $rname to Zeratun?" "Straight through the forest, skirting near the mountains," Tûjo says and $xname nods. "Then I'll leave $name in your care." $cxthey turns to Heval. "$aname has probably figured out where we're camping by now and is lying in wait for an ambush, so I'll try and stall $athem for as long as possible. Heval, you'll go with our people to distract $rtitle $rname's guards so that Tûjo and $name can get through to $rtitle $rname."<</if>> "Understood," Heval says, and just like that everything has been set in motion. [[Continue|1.56.b]]

<<set $acodex to true>>[ New Character Codex unlocked ] "You look tired," $xname remarks, eyes flitting over your face before $xthey turns to Heval and Tûjo. "Time to let our guest catch some sleep, we'll be up early tomorrow." The command to leave the tent goes unspoken but is heard loud and clear as $xname's two righthand mercenaries get up. <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>Unexpectedly, Tûjo inclines his head to you as he follows Heval outside. "Huh." $xname sounds slightly impressed. "Seems like Tûjo has taken a liking to you." You're unsure of how to respond, glancing down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<<else>> You watch them leave, then look down at your chained wrists as you try to figure out how you're going to manage sleeping like this.<</if>> "Let me get that," $xname says when $xthey notices, getting up from the thick furs of $xtheir bed and kneeling down in front of you. At first you're focused on what $xtheir hands are doing with the chains, $xtheir fingers curling around the metal bands around your wrists, but as you look up at $xname, what should've been a quick glance turns into a stare. $cxtheir head is bent down as $xthey's focused on the chains, but with $xtheir face so close to yours--leaving a small space of mere inches--it gives you an opportunity to regard $xtheir <<if $xgender is "male">>handsome<<else>>beautiful<</if>> features more closely. You find an old scar beside $xtheir right eye that you didn't notice before, carved into $xtheir temple and shaped somewhat like a crescent. $cxtheir eyelashes are just as thick and long as they seemed from a distance, even more startling when $xname turns $xtheir attention back to you, eyes cut from emeralds peering through them to look right at you. "All done," $xthey says with a knowing smile, a touch of playfulness to it as you avert your gaze down to your wrists. The carved markings on the chains that glowed a soft purple before blink out, then flare up into a brighter pink, followed by a metallic unlocking sound and then the chains fall off your wrists entirely. "Better?" You meet $xname's eyes again and almost wish you hadn't, because they're mesmerizing and it's so difficult to look away a second time. You can almost feel $xtheir breath on your face, and you can't remember the last time anyone got this close to you. It's making your pulse quicken. The predominant thought going through your head at that moment is... <ul> <<if $xgender is "male">><li>[[How gorgeous Xelef is.|1.57.b.1][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]</li><<else>><li>[[How gorgeous Xelara is.|1.57.b.1][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]</li><</if>> <li>[[That you would like your personal space back.|1.57.b.2]]</li> </ul>

$xname's smile widens, arch and cat-like as if $xthey knows exactly what you're thinking, but $xthey doesn't linger. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey rises back to $xtheir feet, gathering them up. You finally dislodge the words that got stuck in your throat. "Why did you unchain me?" "We'll be sleeping in the same tent," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything, I'll sense it. Don't tell Heval I took off your chains, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur over near the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "There." $xname pats the fur, smoothing it out. You regard the brown coat with some consideration, but then $xname sits down on top of it and starts taking off the leather pieces of armor strapped to $xtheir shoulders. "Aren't you going to sleep in your bed?" you ask, confused, and $xname pauses to give you a strange look, but then starts chuckling. "What?" "You're going to have a difficult time being the Crown with that attitude," $xname remarks with amusement, not explaining $xthemselves any further and at this point you feel too awkward to ask so you remain silent. "Are you going to change?" You glance down at your clothes, but you're quite used to sleeping in them since they're so thin. "No, I'll just take off my cloak." "Suit yourself," $xname says, though makes no effort to change out of $xtheir own clothes either once the armor pieces and the heavy boots are off. <<if $xgender is "female">>You notice she has let her hair down as well, no longer tied up in a large bun.<</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">>She gets to twining her mid-length black tresses into a single braid over her shoulder with deft fingers, gaze faraway as if lost in thought. You watch her for a while before you realize you're gawking at her again. It must be a habit for $xthem, a nightly ritual, and though you know it's silly you never expected to see $xthem doing such a normal, human thing.<<else>>He puts both hands through his hair, sweeping it back more evenly, then traces his fingers over his jawline and the lower half of his cheeks, likely checking his facial hair. You watch him for a while before you realize you're gawking at him again. His gaze is faraway as if he's lost in thought, so fortunately he didn't notice.<</if>> [[Continue|1.58.b]]

$xname seems to be able to read the disinterest from your face as $xthey wordlessly pulls away and rises to $xtheir feet, allowing you the space to breathe without any further remark or sly smile. $cxthey takes the chains with $xthem as $xthey moves through the tent, gathering the rest up. Your tension eases at the distance put in between you, but only by a little. "Why did you unchain me?" "We'll be sleeping in the same tent," $xname says casually as $xthey drops the chains somewhere near the corner of the tent, then pulls one of the thick furs off $xtheir bed. "I've had plenty of time to become attuned to your magical signature, so if you try anything, I'll sense it. Don't tell Heval I took off your chains, though." That quickly, just by being in proximity to you? As you watch $xname drag the fur over near the entrance of the tent, you get a stark feeling that your real chains haven't been removed just yet. "There." $xname pats the fur, smoothing it out. You regard the brown coat with some consideration, but then $xname sits down on top of it and starts taking off the leather pieces of armor strapped to $xtheir shoulders. "Aren't you going to sleep in your bed?" you ask, confused, and $xname pauses to give you a strange look, but then starts chuckling. "What?" "You're going to have a difficult time being the Crown with that attitude," $xname remarks with amusement, not explaining $xthemselves any further and at this point you feel too awkward to ask so you remain silent. "Are you going to change?" You glance down at your clothes, but you're quite used to sleeping in them since they're so thin. "No, I'll just take off my cloak." "Suit yourself," $xname says, though makes no effort to change out of $xtheir own clothes either once the armor pieces and the heavy boots are off. <<if $xgender is "female">>You notice she has let her hair down as well, no longer tied up in a large bun.<</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">>She gets to twining her mid-length black tresses into a single braid over her shoulder with deft fingers, gaze faraway as if lost in thought. You watch her for a while before you realize you're gawking at her again. It must be a habit for $xthem, a nightly ritual, and though you know it's silly you never expected to see $xthem doing such a normal, human thing.<<else>>He puts both hands through his hair, sweeping it back more evenly, then traces his fingers over his jawline and the lower half of his cheeks, likely checking his facial hair. You watch him for a while before you realize you're gawking at him again. His gaze is faraway as if he's lost in thought, so fortunately for you he didn't notice.<</if>> [[Continue|1.58.b]]

@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter two@@ The fires follow you. From the farm across the vast plains of Rojan, it burns through great oak trees as it leaves nothing but the dead ground and the carcasses of animals in its wake. It's a plague, living and breathing and hungering. You are in a fire temple that holds an altar to sacred flames, the same way your father, Harun, holds your small hand in his large one. "Many people come here in the winter," your father explains to you, voice hushed as you both watch the flames burn in the center of the temple. "Fire temples are always warm." You watch another visitor stand before the stone altar, then gasp in horror when she stretches out her hands into the flames. "Father, that lady--!" "It's alright," he shushes you, a steady grip on you to keep you put. "Just watch." Her hands do not burn. Your horror transforms into amazement as you watch the woman stand there, eyes closed as the flames travel up her arms and yet leave her clothes untouched, sinking through the fabric into her body and disappearing entirely. She opens her eyes and smiles, bowing respectfully to the altar, before turning around and walking toward the doorway to leave again. She notices your stare and winks at you as she passes. "What did she do?" you wonder out loud, looking back toward the altar in wonder. "Perhaps she asked for warmth to carry her through her journey," your father speculates thoughtfully. "Most people are not magi and cannot summon fire or spirits by themselves, but must rely on temples like these." <<if $adven gte $caut>>You turn to your father, excited. "Can I pray to the fire too? Please?"<<else>>You turn to your father. "And it doesn't hurt?" "Not even a little bit." You nod, thinking, then ask, "Can I pray to the fire too?"<</if>> Your father smiles. "We do not pray to the fire, my love. We form a concord with its spirit, but there is always an exchange involved." "Exchange?" "Spirits do not give so easily," your father explains. "After all, it is a piece of themselves that you're asking to take with you. If you wish to make use of their power, you must impress them." "How?" Your father hums for a moment, pondering before he answers. "Fire spirits are drawn to those who possess clarity. Someone who holds no secrets." "Oh." You stare at the altar. "That sounds a little scary." "Yes, I suppose you're still too young for a concord," your father admits, almost apologetic. "Fire Spirits are very... fussy by nature, so not everyone can interact with their kind. But I believe you can do it. Once you are of age, I will take you here again." "Really?" You grin up at your father as the flames consume the temple around you. "You promise?" Your father smiles back down at you, blood pouring from his lips. "I promise." [[Continue|2.2]]

A bit unsure, you get up off the ground and walk over to $xname's bed, your eyes darting furtively to where $xname is already stretched out atop $xtheir single fur coat, lying on $xtheir back again. Although you feel rather strange about sleeping in someone else's bed when the owner is sharing the same space as you, you're not about to decline the offer. You untie your cloak and loosely fold it up, setting it next to $xname's bed before you lower yourself down on it. It's quite warm, and what with the heat of summer you doubt you'll need a blanket. As you settle onto the furs, lying on your side, you realize you're facing $xname. $xname smiles when $xthey meets your eyes. "Sweet dreams, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gte $charm>>You frown, rolling over without a reply and turn your back to $xname, laughing with delight at your terse response. The silence settles in slowly, even with the noises of merrymaking from the mercenaries in the background. You thought $xname's presence in the tent would make it harder to fall asleep, but when the exhaustion of the eventful day settles in you find it forms no obstacle. It washes over you like a wave as you're swept along in its tide, and before you know it your eyes slip shut.<<else>>You smile back in response, a touch sardonic before you roll over and turn your back to $xname. "Sweet dreams, Pale Sword." $xname snorts, but says nothing more. The silence settles in slowly, even with the noises of merrymaking from the mercenaries in the background. You thought $xname's presence in the tent would make it harder to fall asleep, but when the exhaustion of the eventful day settles in you find it forms no obstacle. It washes over you like a wave as you're swept along in its tide, and before you know it your eyes slip shut.<</if>> [[End Chapter|2.1]]

You wake from your nightmare only to find the horrifying steel visage of a stranger hovering over you, two dark holes where their eyes should be. A scream leaves your lips before you can understand what's happening, and the scowling mask flinches backward. You try to put your hands up in self-defense, but realize belatedly you're chained up again. "Oh for--" Two gloved palms come up in a placating gesture. "It's me, Heval! I was just trying to wake you up!" You finally remember that Heval wears a helmet with a mask and your momentary fear gradually subsides again, replaced by embarrassment. You're not used to anyone waking you up, and no doubt your nightmare didn't help matters. Avoiding Heval's eyes on you, you prop yourself up a little on your elbows and glance around the tent. The dim light heralding a new dawn filters into a warmer color through the red fabric, and it's a lot more peaceful now compared to the jovial noises of mercenaries drinking and laughing from last night. The red of the tent feels suffocating the longer you look at it, a need to breathe fresh air growing in your chest. The color reminds you of blood and fire--you avert your gaze to look up at Heval and find them staring at you quietly, still kneeling in front of the bed of furs you're lying on. "You seem shaken," they note, the pause in their words sounding hesitant. "I did not mean to--" "I'm fine," you lie. Heval doesn't say anything more, instead reaching over to unhook your chains from the tent pole, and you think they probably don't believe you. You wouldn't either.<<if $tujotrust gte 5>> But before you can say anything else, an apology already budding between your lips, someone comes barrelling through the entrance of the tent with a sword drawn the very next second. "$name!" It's Tûjo, looking ready to run someone through the pointy end of his curved blade. "I heard- Heval?" "Sorry," you say, barely able to meet Tûjo's bemused gaze. "Heval just, um, startled me. Everything is fine." Tûjo glances between you and Heval, then promptly sheathes his sword and walks right out of the tent again.<</if>> [[Continue|2.3]]

When you tell $xname what happened a little while later as you sit in front of the burning embers of a bonfire--keeping quiet about your nightmare, of course--both $xname<<if $mercapp is 5>>, Şanazî and a few other mercenaries<<else>> and some of $xtheir mercenaries<</if>> erupt into howling laughter. Heval fumes as they sit to your left on the grass. "It's not that amusing!" "Oh, but it is!" $xname grins, sitting on your right and nudging you in the side with $xtheir elbow. "Your screaming woke up most of the camp, they all thought someone was getting murdered!" "How is that in any way worthy of a laugh?" Heval grumbles, arms crossed. "Don't look so sour," <<if $mercapp is 5>>Şanazî, who sits next to Tûjo,<<else>>a petite mercenary with short bronze curls who sits next to Tûjo<</if>> teases them, then turns to you to say, "You should've seen $xname's face when $xthey heard you screaming." $xname's grin disappears, a look of affront aimed at <<if $mercapp is 5>>Şanazî<<else>>the mercenary<</if>>. "<<if $mercapp is 0>>Come now, Şanazî, <</if>>I was startled for a moment- no, half a moment! If even that!" "I saw you reach for your sword!" "It was a reflex," $xname replies defensively. "Then I sensed Heval in the tent and didn't even pull it from its sheath. You are exaggerating, girl." "Oh, sure." Şanazî all but rolls her eyes. "We'll pretend like you weren't about to storm the tent yourself<<if $tujotrust gte 5>> when Tûjo beat you to it<</if>>, <<if $xgender is "male">>grandpa<<else>>grandma<</if>>." "You are such a little brat!" "Am not!" $xname opens $xtheir mouth to retort, but then has to dodge an apple flying toward $xtheir head, barely catching it in $xtheir fingers. $cxthey looks at Tûjo, sitting there as if he hadn't just casually lobbed an apple at the Pale Sword's head. "Tûjo!" $xname exclaims, appearing delighted by the unexpectedly childish act. Even with Tûjo's face hidden underneath his scarf, you can somehow still sense him scowling. "It's too early for this nonsense." Clearly not a morning person. You watch the scene silently with an apple of your own in your hand, though you can't bring yourself to take a bite, your appetite lacking. The good-natured bickering and ribbing continues well into the sunrise as food is passed around and others slowly emerge from their tents to join breakfast. At some point $xname leaves your side to go around the camp, stopping to chat with every mercenary $xthey comes across, looking for all the world as carefree as a bird. The sounds and the conversations wash over you, your shoulders tense and jaw clenching as your thoughts linger on the nightmare. The phantom touch of your father's hand still clings to your skin, the warmth of his blood on your face, the heat of the flames licking at your feet--was his sacrifice worth it? Was your mother's life worth it? Or did they both die for nothing, now that these cursed eyes of yours have led you here? [[Continue|2.4]]

"You should eat." This whole time you didn't realize Heval remained next to you, so lost in your own head that you almost forgot about the rest of the world. It moved on without you, sunlight slowly warming the air as it scatters through the trees, bird songs greeting the new day as the open clearing fills with movement. Tents are being taken down, the camp cleaned up around you while you are as a statue in front of the remains of bonfire. You watch one of the sellswords kick some dirt on top of it to extinguish the embers. "I'm not hungry," you respond lamely, staring down at the apple still gripped between your fingers. "A child's answer." You turn to Heval. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"What did you just call me?"<<else>>"Excuse me?"<</if>> They're not even looking at you, their helmet aimed in $xname's direction as $xthey moves through the camp like flowing water- no, in $xtheir case it would be more apt to compare $xthem to a flame spreading across the open clearing. The people around $xthem appear so much brighter when $xthey's near, a single grin from $xthem enough to coax smiles out of those around $xthem. You yourself only spent a very short while in $xname's company, but you can understand why. $cxtheir presence is a force of nature. "$xname never misses a meal," Heval says out loud, not tearing their gaze away from $xthem. "$cxthey never shows $xtheir fear, not out in the open. Do you know what would happen if $xthey did?" "What?" "The crew would start panicking," Heval answers. "They'd lose their nerve, and some might even abandon $xthem entirely." "That doesn't seem fair," you say, not liking where Heval is going with this. "$cxthey's only human, isn't $xthey?" "It's $xtheir responsibility," Heval says. "$cxthey leads us and we follow, provided we have faith. Anything that would shake that faith is something $xname cannot afford, and neither can you." You look around you for the first time that day and notice the stares you're getting. Not curious ones like they were last night, but hesitant ones, skeptical ones, some even outright disdainful. The apple feels heavy on your palm. Suddenly Heval's hands clamp around your chains, the purple engravings burning pink again before the chains fall off your wrists once more. "Eat," Heval says as they gather up the chains. "You can't rule on an empty stomach." They get up off the ground and walk away, leaving you be. [[Continue|2.5]]

He wears a wide, thick scarf around his forehead. His tightly coiled, small black curls are a bush of hair on the top of his head, just long enough to fall down around the scarf. -- An impressive, intricate pattern of dark hair braided very close to her scalp, the edges of the braids that fall down past her shoulders covered with red and brown and silver beads. --

<<if $charm gte $blunt>>You decide to at least take a few bites while you sit on the grass. Heval is right, you can no longer move through life as if you're invisible. You'll have a reputation to uphold now, and you can either choose to wield it or end up consumed by it. After you're done eating you decide to stretch your legs, maybe take a walk around the camp.<<else>>You give the apple to a mercenary who passes by you, indifferent to what they may think. Why should you care? You've never bothered putting up a polite front of anyone, and you're certainly not going to start now. If these people would get flighty just because you skipped a meal then you're not interested in being their damned Crown in the first place. You decide to stretch your legs instead, maybe take a walk around the camp.<</if>> As you survey your surroundings you don't see any familiar faces around, Heval long gone and $xname and Tûjo both absent. You don't see Şanazî<<if $mercapp is 0>>, the cheeky mercenary from before,<</if>> anywhere either. You're surrounded by strangers. The thought puts you on edge as you wander toward the outskirts of the clearing out of habit, careful to stay out of everyone's way as the mercenaries continue to pack up. Most of them either give you a nod in passing or outright ignore you, and none of them so much as speak a word to you, which you find odd. Were they told not to talk to you, or is it because they think you might be the Crown? You walk for a while, hoping it might ease your worries but it only serves to make you even more restless instead. There are so many ways in which this could end up a disaster. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, putting your trust in total strangers out of desperation, going along with $xname's plan just because $xthey <<if $xpoints is 1>>batted $xtheir pretty eyelashes at you once.<<else>>appears to know what $xthey's doing, but what if $xthey doesn't?<</if>> What if-- "There's no need to be so nervous." A sudden voice to your left nearly has you jumping out of your skin, a hearty laugh immediately giving away the owner as you press your hand over your chest, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. You turn to find $xname leaning casually against a tree with $xtheir arms crossed, emphasizing $xtheir large muscles. $cxthey's grinning at you, the shadows of the forest darkening $xtheir eyes to a deeper green. "$xname, seriously?" You try your best to frown disapprovingly at $xthem, though you're afraid you look more like a kicked puppy judging from the amused look $xname gives you. "I know you did that on purpose." "My apologies," $xname replies without a hint of remorse, $xtheir grin lingering a touch longer before it fades, $xtheir gaze drifting toward the mercenaries packing up the camp behind you. "Are you ready to leave?" You glance over your shoulder to the camp, realizing that nearly all of it has already been cleaned up, saddled to packhorses and mules or loaded onto wagons. Is it time to go already? You thought you would have longer to prepare yourself; it feels as if mere seconds have passed from when you first woke up rather than a whole hour. "Having second thoughts?" $xname questions with arched brows. <ul> <li>[[You respond honestly. "I don't know. Maybe."|2.6.a][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li> <li>[[You play it off. "Oh, no, merely thinking about all the ways in which this could go horribly wrong."|2.6.b][$charm to $charm + 25]]</li> </ul>

$xname hums, eyelids lowering slightly as $xtheir smile curves to show a glint of teeth. "Shame." $cxtheir stare on you has your skin burning up, the intensity and the hint of danger promised in $xtheir gaze making your blood run hot inside your veins. "Do let me know if you change your mind," $xname says, voice lowered into a murmur that's a little too quiet, a little too intimate and you feel your ears burn, cheeks glowing from the heat. You don't know how to respond, struck mute by this ridiculously attractive <<if $xgender is "male">>man<<else>>woman<</if>> openly propositioning you without so much as batting an eye. Does $xthey do this a lot? You can't imagine sweet-talking anyone with such ease, yet with a look and a smile $xname already has you flushed from head to toe. Likely your years of being alone is part of why you're so sensitive to it. "But to answer your question," $xname says, the smile fading from $xtheir face, "if I had to describe you in three words, I'd probably say something like... a bright spot." A bright spot? What were you talking about before this? Oh, yes, your magical signature. You clear your throat, hoping the blush has faded from your cheeks, but from the amused gleam in $xname's eyes you assume it hasn't yet. "A, um, a bright spot?" "Like the way the light catches on a golden coin," $xname elaborates, tilting $xtheir head slightly as $xthey gives you an intrigued look. "It's hard to describe, especially since you don't have an affinity. Do you remember when I touched your face, yesterday? When we first met?" As if you could forget the way $xthey held your chin between $xtheir fingers. "I do." "The moment I connected with you, that's when I first sensed it." $xname uncrosses $xtheir arms and stands up straight to face you, one hand resting against the tree while $xthey gives you $xtheir full attention. "That- that I was the Crown?" you guess uncertainly, unsure of your footing because you're still flustered from $xname's flirting, not to mention the way $xthey's focused on you now. "Not necessarily," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze softening and $xthey looks endeared by you. "The only thing I knew with certainty was that I held something precious in my hands." Oh. [[Continue|xcon]]

$xname uncrosses $xtheir arms, pushing off from the tree to take a step closer to you, standing right in front of you. You don't move even as your heart beats quicker in your chest, boldly holding $xname's darkened gaze. $cxthey lifts $xtheir hand, the edge of $xtheir finger a feather-light touch on your skin as it slides down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat behind. "A promise like that will cost you," $xname warns, voice lowered to a rough murmur that has your blood running hotter in your veins. "I would gladly pay," you reply, touching on the inner side of $xtheir wrist and $xtheir eyes flash, a glimpse of something hungry before $xtheir gaze flits to something behind you and $xthey suddenly steps back again. You faintly remember that you're not exactly in a private place, though you'd forgotten all about the other mercenaries packing up the camp behind you. $xname clears $xtheir throat and you take some pleasure in seeing that you haven't left $xthem unaffected. "To answer your question," $xtheir says, "if I had to describe you in three words, I'd probably say something like... a bright spot." A bright spot? What were you talking about before this? Oh, yes, your magical signature. "A bright spot?" "Like the way the light catches on a golden coin," $xname elaborates, tilting $xtheir head slightly as $xthey gives you an intrigued look. "It's hard to describe, especially since you don't have an affinity. Do you remember when I touched your face, yesterday? When we first met?" As if you could forget the way $xthey held your chin between $xtheir fingers, a smile playing on your face at the memory. "Of course." $xname watches you, then blinks, as if $xthey'd forgotten that you were having a conversation. "The- moment I connected with you, that's when I first sensed it." "That I was the Crown?" you guess, amused as $xname briefly averts $xtheir eyes, rubbing the back of $xtheir neck. "Not necessarily," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze more intense when $xthey looks at you again, appearing mesmerized by you. "The only thing I knew with certainty was that I'd stumbled on a treasure I was desperate to possess." Oh. [[Continue|xcon]]

$xname uncrosses $xtheir arms, lifting $xtheir palms in an apologetic gesture before crossing $xtheir arms over $xtheir chest again. "I apologize," $xname says, seeming more sincere here than $xthey did with $xtheir previous apology. "I'll watch my tongue from now on." <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"I'd appreciate it," you reply, though you feel a little awkward now.<<else>>"No harm done," you reply, giving $xthem a smile. "I'll take it as a compliment."<</if>> "In any case, to answer your question," $xname continues, tactfully choosing to let the topic drop, "if I had to describe you in three words, I'd probably say something like... a bright spot." What an odd descriptor; it's not elemental, nor does it have anything to do with the other branches of magic. "A bright spot?" "Like the way the light catches on a golden coin," $xname elaborates, tilting $xtheir head slightly as $xthey gives you an intrigued look. "It's hard to describe, especially since you don't have an affinity. Do you remember when I touched your face, yesterday? When we first met?" As if you could forget. "Yes, I remember." "The moment I connected with you, that's when I first sensed it." $xname stares off toward the camp, likely watching the mercenaries packing up behind you. "That I was the Crown?" you guess. "Not necessarily," $xname replies, $xtheir gaze finding you again. "The only thing I knew with certainty was that whoever you were, you were valuable, or important in some way." You suppose that was part of the reason that helped convince $xthem of you being the Crown, fortunately for you. [[Continue|xcon]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

"I couldn't help it, I could sense you shaking from the nerves a thousand miles away." "You could sense...?" Right, you were wondering about that yesterday. "That reminds me, what do I feel like to you?" $xname arches $xtheir brows, $xtheir eyes slowly trailing down your body before you realize your unfortunate wording. "Well now, I'd need a little more hands-on experience to answer that particular question." <ul> <li>[[You start stammering. "T-that's- that's not what I meant!"|xres][$res to $res + 10]]</li> <li>[[You laugh, smiling coyly. "Another time, perhaps?"|xflirt][$flirt to $flirt + 10]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is "male">>[[You frown, not interested in his advances.|xreject]]<<else>>[[You frown, not interested in her advances.|xreject]]<</if>></li> </ul>

"It's natural to have doubts," $xname tells you, turning to look out over the mercenaries behind you who have cleared up any trace of the camp that was standing here moments ago. "Any leader has them." $xname doesn't elaborate on what $xthey means, but you think you can guess from the way $xthey watches over $xtheir crew, Heval in the midst of the crowd giving out orders. If anything goes wrong today, if someone should die today, it'll be because $xname decided to take on this job. And you asked $xthem to. "You have doubts as well?" you question, pulling $xtheir attention back on you as $xthey gives you a long, weighing look. You can read very little from $xtheir expression; for someone who laughs so loudly, $xname is not nearly as open a book as $xthey appears. $cxthey's evaluating you, gaze examining your expression closely before $xthey gives you a look-over from head to toe. It almost makes you feel like a prize horse being judged on the market. "I won't lie and say this will be easy," $xname speaks at length, features carefully neutral and you could not say what conclusion $xthey came to. "That would do you no favors. Just stay close to Tûjo and do whatever he tells you to do." "And everything will be alright?" you finish when $xname does not continue. The wry smile $xthey gives you doesn't inspire much confidence, but then $xthey reaches over and puts $xtheir hand on your shoulder, a reassuring squeeze through the fabric of your cloak. "We'll get you there," $xthey promises, speaking it into being as if it already happened, and despite all your misfortune up until now, hearing it from $xthem makes you want to believe it. "How are you so calm about this?" you ask, not finding any hint of nerves in either $xname's touch on your shoulder or $xtheir body language. $cxthey's utterly relaxed, if a bit more serious than what you've seen up until now. "A combination of experience, planning and insufferable arrogance," $xname replies with an easy smile, releasing $xtheir grip on you. "It's mostly the arrogance." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"You mean well-earned confidence." You pause and reassess. "Wait, did you just bait me for compliments?"<<else>>You almost open your mouth to assure $xname that $xthey's nowhere near arrogant when you realize what $xthey's doing. "Oh, very sly. You're just baiting me for compliments, aren't you?"<</if>> "Your Imperial Majesty!" $xname gasps with feigned indignance."I would never! Oh, for shame! But if you could throw in a line about my dashing good looks, I would appreciate it." You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "I'm sure you have enough people already telling you that on a daily basis. Should I call Tûjo and ask for his opinion?" "Ha, no, that won't be necessary." $xname shifts a little closer to you, a friendly distance near your personal space. "Not unless you would like a long list of all of my horrible habits and many flaws." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You're exaggerating," you accuse,<<else>>"I'm certain it's not that bad," you say,<</if>> watching $xname's hovering with some curiosity. From what you've seen so far, $xname tends to be physically affectionate with the people close to $xthem, but obviously you haven't earned that closeness yet. Or maybe it's because you're the Crown that $xthey's keeping a distance? "Perhaps <<if $blunt gt $charm>>a little<<else>>not<</if>>," $xname admits playfully, leaning toward you. "Though he refuses to tell me that I'm pretty, which I must say is really hurtful." <ul> <li>[['"Tragic."'|2.7.b]]</li> <li>[[You avert your gaze, your cheeks heating up. "Hmm."|2.7.a][$res to $res + 25]]</li> <li>[["I would love to tell you how pretty you are," you respond smoothly.|2.7.a][$flirt to $flirt + 25]]</li> </ul>

$xname pushes off from the tree and uncrosses $xtheir arms, turning fully toward you while $xthey gives you a sympathetic smile. "I know the feeling," $xthey admits, casually leaning $xtheir forearm against the tree. You can't help your surprise. "You do?" "Of course." $xname looks at the mercenaries who have meticulously erased any signs of the camp that was standing here a short while ago, and are now clustered into small squads, standing around and waiting. You notice Heval with their heavy armor in the thick of it, seeming to be giving out orders to various groups while their subordinates listen attentively. $xname doesn't elaborate on what $xthey means, but you think you can guess from the way $xthey watches over $xtheir crew. If anything goes wrong today, if someone should die today, it'll be because $xname decided to take on this job. And you asked $xthem to. "Do you think we'll succeed?" you ask $xname, pulling $xtheir attention back on you. The wry look $xthey gives you doesn't inspire much confidence, but then $xthey reaches over and puts $xtheir hand on your shoulder, a reassuring squeeze through the fabric of your cloak. "We'll get you there," $xthey promises, speaking it into being as if it already happened, and despite all your misfortune up until now, hearing it from $xthem makes you want to believe it. "How are you so calm about this?" you ask, not finding any hint of nerves in either $xname's touch on your shoulder nor $xtheir body language. $cxthey's utterly relaxed, if a bit more serious than what you've seen up until now. "A combination of experience, planning and insufferable arrogance," $xname replies with an easy smile, releasing $xtheir grip on you. "It's mostly the arrogance." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"You mean well-earned confidence." You pause and reassess. "Wait, did you just bait me for compliments?"<<else>>You almost open your mouth to assure $xname that $xthey's nowhere near arrogant when you realize what $xthey's doing. "Oh, very sly. You're just baiting me for compliments, aren't you?"<</if>> "Your Imperial Majesty!" $xname gasps with feigned indignance."I would never! Oh, for shame! But if you could throw in a line about my dashing good looks, I would appreciate it." You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "I'm sure you have enough people already telling you that on a daily basis. Should I call Tûjo and ask for his opinion?" "Ha, no, that won't be necessary." $xname shifts a little closer to you, a friendly distance near your personal space. "Not unless you would like a long list of all of my horrible habits and many flaws." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"You're exaggerating," you accuse,<<else>>"I'm certain it's not that bad," you say,<</if>> watching $xname's hovering with some curiosity. From what you've seen so far, $xname tends to be physically affectionate with the people close to $xthem, but obviously you haven't earned that closeness yet. Or maybe it's because you're the Crown that $xthey's keeping a distance? "Perhaps <<if $blunt gt $charm>>a little<<else>>not<</if>>," $xname admits playfully, leaning toward you. "Though he refuses to tell me that I'm pretty, which I must say is really hurtful." <ul> <li>[['"Tragic."'|2.7.b]]</li> <li>[[You avert your gaze, your cheeks heating up. "Hmm."|2.7.a][$res to $res + 25]]</li> <li>[["I would love to tell you how pretty you are," you respond smoothly.|2.7.a][$flirt to $flirt + 25]]</li> </ul>

$xname looks taken aback by your dry response, then starts to laugh, shaking $xtheir head. "You will make a very cruel Crown," $xthey accuses you with humor. "I set you up perfectly, and you shot me down without hesitation! <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>No wonder Tûjo likes you.<</if>>" "What did you want me to say?" you reply, perhaps with a bit of intentional obliviousness. "Anything but tragic!" You shrug, barely suppressing your grin. "You'll survive." "I wouldn't be so sure." Tûjo appears from behind you, as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask him how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "You shouldn't underestimate $xname's penchant for melodrama," Tûjo cautions you in such a serious tone you're not certain if he's joking or if he's being sincere. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances and<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances and<</if>> up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy linen from that region." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo continues, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gt $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]

<<set $xpoints += 2>><<if $flirt gt $res>>$xname is only briefly caught off guard by your flirtatious tone, quickly shifting into something more mischievous as $xthey tilts $xtheir head, a slight curve of $xtheir lips. "You don't have to tell me, $xnickname," $xname says, voice lowered to reach only your ears. "I can see it in the way you watch me." You bite your lower lip, heart beating a little faster when $xname's eyes flit to your mouth, watching intently as the soft skin catches on the edge of your teeth. "What, ah, what did you just call me?" you ask distractedly, then remember that $xthey also called you something like that the first time you met. $cxthey was flirting with you then as well, quite boldly considering you were mere strangers. It makes you wonder how honest $xname is being right now.<<else>>"My, you've gone so quiet all of a sudden," $xname teases, inching a little closer to you and your heart beats faster at the proximity, $xname standing near enough to touch. "Wouldn't you agree that I'm pretty?" "I, um..." Your tongue doesn't seem to want to cooperate, eyes darting here and there to avoid $xname's intense gaze on you. You dare a look at $xname's expression and find it a little bit different, the playful edge softened into something fonder. "You are so easy to tease, $xnickname," $xname says. "It almost makes me feel bad." "I'm- sorry, your what?" you question, then remember that $xthey also called you something like that the first time you met. $cxthey was flirting with you then as well, quite boldly considering you were mere strangers. It makes you wonder how honest $xname is being right now.<</if>> "Should I not call you that?" $xname asks, seeming considerate of your comfort. "I suppose you will be the Crown soon, so maybe--" <ul> <li>[['"No, I like it."'|2.8.a]]</li> <li>[['"I would rather you stick to my name."'|2.8.b]]</li> </ul>

$xname appears pleased, a slight smile on $xtheir lips that eyes much more genuine than the typical smirk $xthey usually wears. "Good." <<if $flirt gt $res>>You find yourself smiling back without even realizing it, holding $xtheir gaze as you stare into each other's eyes for a moment that lasts too long to be entirely innocent. $xname parts $xtheir lips. "I--"<<else>>You look away again, unable to hold $xname's gaze without blushing, but you can still feel $xtheir eyes on you even as you stare down at the ground. "$name, I--"<</if>> "Of course you're acting inappropriately with the Crown." Whatever moment passes between you is interrupted by Tûjo, appearing from behind you and as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask Tûjo how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "I was not!" $xname protests, but $xthey is swiftly ignored. "Though I can't say I'm surprised," Tûjo continues, shooting $xthem a disbelieving look. "Wouldn't be the first time $xthey got caught up with royalty, though that usually doesn't end well." "What do you mean?" you ask before $xname can get a word out, interested in learning more. You've heard tales of $xname's romantic exploits, but it's impossible to know whether they were based on any sort of truth. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances,"<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances,"<</if>> Tûjo explains. "Up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy any linen from that region, even though it used to be $xtheir favorite." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo adds, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]

<<set $xnickname to $name>><<set $cxnickname to $name>>"Of course," $xname aquiesces, flashing you a somewhat apologetic smile. "$name it is." "Huh." You're almost surprised at how easily $xname adapts to your request. "I was sure you would throw a fit." "Surely not!" $xname scoffs, but the impish crook in $xtheir grin betrays $xtheir mischief. "Though I cannot say that I'm not disappointed." "You'll get over it," you reply, smiling back a little. "I wouldn't be so sure." Tûjo appears from behind you, as silent as ever. You have half a mind to ask him how he keeps doing that, though you suspect you wouldn't get much of an answer even if you did. "You shouldn't underestimate $xname's penchant for melodrama," Tûjo cautions you in such a serious tone you're not certain if he's joking or if he's being sincere. "Five years ago a <<if $xgender is "male">>prince of Qathesh rejected his advances and<<else>>princess of Qathesh rejected her advances and<</if>> up until this very day $xthey refuses to buy linen from that region." $xname groans. "Please don't mention <<if $xgender is "female">>Nitocris<<else>>Meryatum<</if>>, my heart is still broken." "If my memory serves me right," Tûjo continues, "didn't <<if $xgender is "male">>he<<else>>she<</if>> become a priest<<if $xgender is "female">>ess<</if>>?" $xname groans even louder and buries $xtheir face into $xtheir hands. Though you can't read anything from Tûjo's eyes, he must be having quite a lot of fun prodding $xname. "Enough about that," $xname decides moodily, glaring at Tûjo. "Are you here solely to torment me or is there another reason for gracing us with your delightful presence?" "There is." Tûjo folds his hands behind his back, addressing $xname in a more even tone, the change in the atmosphere almost palpable from the way $xname straightens up and gives Tûjo $xtheir full attention. "The crew has their orders, we're ready to move out." $xname nods, $xtheir eyes flitting to you. "What about you?" This is it. <<if $adven gt $caut>>"Let's go," you answer, your nerves only serving to make you more eager for action.<</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you answer, trying to keep a level head; nothing good can come from rushing into things blindly.<</if>> [[Continue|2.9]]

Tûjo takes you toward the Crescent Blades who are split up into two large groups, standing in sharp rectangle formations as well-trained as any army platoon. You see Heval at the very front of one group where $xname joins them, while Tûjo guides you to the back of the other group. Barely anyone speaks. It seems so quiet at first, but there's an undercurrent that becomes apparent to you the longer you observe the sellswords around you, so focused that none of them so much as glance in your direction when you join them in the back. You can almost feel it in the air, something restless and charged like right before a thunderstorm. $xname's voice rings out over the clearing. "Crescent Blades!" $xthey shouts. "Are you ready to save the Empire?" "We are!" the mercenaries cry out as one, some raising their weapons, and you flinch at the sudden burst of noise surrounding you. "Then march!" They move as one and you're thankful that there's no one behind you or they surely would've smacked right into you. Tûjo gives you a look from the corner of his eyes, wordlessly warning you to keep up, and you make sure to stick close to him as you follow the procession of mercenaries heading down a dirt path. The two groups each divide into rows of three, seeing as how the path is too narrow to maneuver otherwise, but as you watch them from behind you realize they move more easily than soldiers would. With the exception of Heval, most of their armors are light, meant to allow flexibility and movement. They don't get bogged down even amidst the dense terrain of a forest. You and Tûjo are at the very end, walking side by side. No one speaks, which doesn't help your nerves, but you're not keen on being the first to break the silence when everyone seems to be concentrating on a possible battle. It occurs to you that you don't have a plan for what you're going to do or say to $rtitle $rname once you meet $rthem, if you even get the opportunity. If all goes well there won't even be so much as a skirmish, but that seems too much to hope for. [[Continue|2.10]]

You consider $xname's easy demeanour with some curiosity, comparing it to the way the other Crescent Blades preferred to stay out of your way. $xname notices your staring. "What is it?" "You believe I'm the Crown, don't you?" you ask, a touch uncertain. "I suppose so." "It doesn't... bother you?" $xname snorts. "Bother me? Why on earth would it bother me?" "Maybe bother is the wrong word," you consider. "But you seem completely unaffected. I mean, you treat me like everyone else." "Well, you're human, aren't you?" $xname replies, as carefree as ever. "Besides, I've never cared much for titles or nobility."

The peaceful sounds of the forest are drowned out by the harsh thuds of boots against the dirt, steadily building like a drum. You start to keep count of the footsteps if only to keep yourself occupied, but your mind drifts too much. Are you going to need a weapon? Maybe you should ask for one, or maybe that will just make things worse. You want to make a good first impression, whatever that means—you’re the Crown, do first impressions even matter? Spirits, you’re the Crown. You don’t even know what you want to do once you ascend the throne. This journey started from blood, from fear, from the ingrained need to survive. You never asked for it, yet it was decided that it would be you regardless of what you wanted. What will you do with the throne? You could do anything. The thought is dizzying, so much power given to you when you’ve never known any, living the life of a refugee constantly on the run. It frightens you. What if you make a mistake? What if you misuse your power? What’s stopping you from destroying the Empire? “$name!” You spot $xname standing near the side of the path as the other mercenaries pass by, seeming to be waiting for you. [[Continue|2.11]]

Tûjo guides you to $xthem and your gaze briefly falls on the pale white scimitar strapped to $xname’s waist. You walk up to $xthem, but as soon as you approach $xthey reaches out with $xtheir hand and flicks your forehead with a finger, a slight sting of pain on your skin as you flinch back. “Um, ow?” You rub the spot, frowning <<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>up<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>down<</if>> at $xname. “What was that for?” “You know,” $xname says casually, “I have no less then seventy mercenaries in my crew, seventy different people with their emotions and feelings chattering non-stop at me like overactive birds, and yet yours is a deafening screech that drowns them all out.” Tûjo raises a fist to his mouth that’s hidden behind his black scarf to smother a cough, one that sounds suspiciously like laughter. “You can hear me?” you ask anxiously. “Not literally, and that's not the point!” $xname sighs. “Didn’t I tell you before that there is no need to be nervous? You came to me for a reason, so trust me to do the job you <<if $hirexel is true>>hired me to do<<else>>asked me to do<</if>>. I need you clearheaded and calm if we’re to succeed.” It's true that being anxious isn't going to help you get through this, but $xname's words don't exactly reassure you either. “You really think $rtitle $rname’s guards would go that far to defend $rthem?” $xname does not respond to you, instead taking out a short dagger with its scabbard and handle decorated with a rich pearl inlay, and offering it to you. “Just in case.” You take the dagger with some hesitation, fingers curling around the cold metal handle painted in gold. Neither of your parents knew anything about physical combat, the only manner of self-defense you possess is <<if $magicpref is "inner">>hardening your skin to withstand simple attacks.<<else>>erecting a basic shield of magic to protect you from simple attacks.<</if>> <<if $adven gt $caut>>Though you suppose it can’t be that hard to use a dagger. Aim and stab, right?<<else>>Merely holding the dagger makes you antsy<<if $kind gt $calc>>; you hope you won’t have to use it on anyone<</if>>.<</if>> [[Continue|2.12]]

“Did you find $aname?” Tûjo asks $xname as you slip the dagger away beneath your cloak, and $xname grins crookedly. “$cathey’s waiting for me, in fact.” $xname adjusts the dark leather vambraces on $xtheir forearms, something $xthey wasn’t wearing yesterday. It matches the greaves on $xtheir lower legs, and you can make out the image of a lion’s head bearing its fangs carved into both leather pieces. “Don’t get reckless,” Tûjo warns $xthem, to which $xthey huffs. “Tûjo, who do you think you’re talking to?” $xname claps him on his shoulder. “I can handle $aname. Take care of $name, would you?”<<if $xpoints is 3>> $xname then turns to you, smiling for a moment before $xthey bows low at the waist with one hand over $xtheir heart. “I’ll pray for your success,” $xname says, $xtheir eyes on you and you know that $xthey’s being truthful with you this time, not mocking you for a title you haven’t earned yet.<</if>> $cxthey turns away from both you and Tûjo, moving off the dirt path into the wilderness of the forest as $xthey smoothly slips into the shadows between the trees, and then $xthey’s gone. “Let’s catch up,” Tujo says, nodding with his head toward the marching mercenaries who have moved on without you. <<if $kind gte $calc>>“Will $xname be alright?” Tûjo glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you hurry along the path to rejoin the back of the second group. “$xname’s task is simple compared to ours.”<<else>>“Do you think $xname can win?” Tûjo glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you hurry along the path to rejoin the back of the second group. “$cxthey doesn’t need to win, $xthey only has to stall $aname.”<</if>> You fall silent and try not to get worked up by your nerves again, like $xname warned you, but it’s not as if you can help how fast your heart is beating. You try to control it through measured breaths as you walk, the pace slowing once you rejoin the other Crescent Blades. Just as you start to feel calmer, the group ahead of you splinters off. [[Continue|2.13]]

Confused, you pause to look at what’s happening, but Tûjo doesn’t give you the opportunity as he grabs you by the elbow and pulls you along. The narrow dirt path you were on has lead you onto the main road, often simply called the Crown’s Road, which cuts through Kartan’s Forest and heads into the province of Zerat. It connects to all the five major provincial capitals, including the Empire’s main capital, and you realize it would thus likely be used by $rtitle $rname to get back to Zerat as quickly as possible. That explains why Tûjo is dragging you into the bushes bordering the Crown’s Road. The other Crescent Blades are similarly hidden along both sides of the road, lying in wait for an ambush. One mercenary stands in front of the dirt path, lifting his hand up in a rising motion. Something seems to fade into existence, a shadow that gradually takes shape and color. A mirage of trees appears to cover up the opening to the dirt path, hiding it from sight. Illusory magic. You had no idea there were also highly trained magi among the Crescent Blades. You turn to Tûjo. “How do you know $rtitle $rname has yet to pass through here?” “$xname sent out a scout earlier.” Tûjo seems completely focused on the road, even as he answers your question. “So all we have to do is wait?” Whether Tûjo would have responded to you or not is something you’ll never know, as right at point you hear the unmistakable sound of hooves treading down the road. It’s coming from the far left, and sure enough as you lean forward to take a peek, you spot a glimpse of mounted soldiers riding ahead of what looks like a procession. “Tûjo, what is the plan?” you ask as calmly as you can, considering you don’t know what you’re supposed to do once the procession reaches you. “Do nothing,” Tûjo replies. “Not until I say so.” [[Continue|2.14]]

The mounted soldiers at the front are quickly drawing closer, their horses moving with efficiency even with their riders clad in armor from head to toe. You wait with baited breath, keeping an eye on Tûjo beside you as the first soldiers reach the ambush point. They pass by, as do the mounted soldiers behind them. You catch the glare of golden armor and the edge of a red cloak, standing out among iron and silver, and you're not the only one who notices. “Blades, with me!” You recognize Heval’s voice, and then the mercenaries move. The ambush is so quick and so sudden you can barely keep up with what’s happening. The Crescent Blades jump out from their hiding spots onto the Crown’s Road, surrounding the procession. Some manage to yank riders down from their horses, while others use magic to trap the horses instead, tree roots shooting up from the ground or the earth itself twisting around their horses' legs. You see a flash of fire, a wall of flame erected to block the path. The soldiers are shouting, panicked at the sudden attack, but then you see the one with golden armor atop their black horse, their voice ringing out like thunder over the chaos. “GUARDS, ON ME!” You recognize that voice. “Tûjo, that’s—” “General $dname, I know.” Tûjo hasn’t moved from his position and so neither have you, both still hidden behind the bushes. “Don’t move yet.” You watch as the general rallies $dtheir soldiers, and only then do you notice someone else atop a gray spotted horse beside the General. It’s an unassuming slender figure, wearing the thick, red cloak you noticed before. They stay close to the general as the soldiers form a protective circle around them both, trying to drive the Crescent Blades away who are content to hang back now that they have the procession surrounded. [[Continue|2.15]]

The general wears a golden helmet with a nose guard, one that doesn’t quite hide $dtheir features but in this chaos and from this distance you can’t make out much of what $dthey looks like. All you can tell is that $dthey’s swinging a heavy iron mace around that collides with the shield of a mercenary, toppling them over as if they were nothing. “HEVAL!” the general roars, having caught sight of Heval who watches the Crescent Blades slowly drive the procession into a corner—apparently they’re acquainted. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” “General $dname, didn’t it occur to you that we might hear about your order to arrest $xname?” Heval sneers, twirling a battle axe with twin blades shaped like crescents around in their hand. “You’ve gone too far this time.” General $dname’s demeanor changes, $dtheir rage cooling. “Then where is that damned thorn in my side? Where is $xname?” “Shit,” you hear Tûjo mutter from beside you. “$cdthey’s not buying it.” “Let us take you to $xthem,” Heval responds evenly. “We can talk this over and clear up this misunderstanding.” That seems to hit a nerve with the general, whose fury is almost palpable even from where you’re crouched dozens of feet away. “I WILL DO NO SUCH THING!” General $dname fumes. “If $xname wants to speak to me then $xthey should come here and face me $xthemselves! I refuse to—” Tûjo suddenly yanks on your arm again, dragging you out of the bushes. “Come!” As you follow him you notice that the wall of fire that someone had cast earlier to block off the main road has been extinguished. The red-cloaked rider from before, accompanied by several mounted soldiers, is now hurrying along the open road. You were so fixated on General $dname’s irate display that you did not notice them slip away. Was that intentional? “How are we going to catch them?” you call as you run after Tûjo as fast as you can, but you have no hope of catching up to horses. “Watch,” Tûjo says, and bends down low to smack his palm onto the dirt. From a distance you see massive tree roots burst out of the ground like before, coiling tightly around the horses, throwing off one of the soldiers while the other two quickly jump off. They help the red-cloaked rider dismount as well before they head off the main road into the dense forest. [[Continue|2.16]]

“Hurry!” Tûjo says to you as you sprint after them together. The soldier that was thrown off his horse before and was left behind straightens up at your approach, unsheathing his sword and facing you. “You go no further!” Tûjo slows into a walk, ignoring the soldier and heading straight for the area where the red-cloaked rider as well as the other soldiers disappeared into the forest. “Halt!” the soldier cries out, but when Tûjo does not stop, he swings out with his sword aimed at the side of Tûjo’s neck. “I said—” Tûjo ducks so quickly you barely see him move, a solid punch straight to the soldier’s abdomen, right below the sheet metal plate covering his chest. The soldier doubles over in pain and falls to his knees with a wheeze, more tree roots bursting from the ground to trap his arms and legs. "W-wait!" he cries out, trying to fight the tree roots in vain as he's pinned down to the ground on his stomach. "Stop! I'm warning y-- mmph!" A tree root clamps down around his mouth, silencing him. “This way,” Tûjo says to you, giving you little time to gape at his display of competence as he takes you off the path into the forest. The both of you take up running again, leaving the soldier behind. Twigs snap and grass flattens beneath your feet as your legs move in between the bushes and you weave through the oak trees, keeping up relatively well with Tûjo's pace. If nothing else, all the traveling you've done until now has improved your stamina by quite an amount. You hop over a small patch of wildflowers to avoid trampling them as you continue to jog and look around, but you can't find any sign of the other soldiers or the red-cloaked figure. “The person with the red cloak,” you muse, your run tapering off as Tûjo slows down the pace until you're both walking. “Was that $rtitle $rname?” “We will find out shortly.” You open your mouth to ask Tûjo what he means when two figures dart out in front of you from behind the trees. Tûjo quickly unsheathes his short sword as he stands in front of you, blocking the soldiers. One has a short sword similar to Tûjo's while the other holds a bow and arrow, both pointed at Tûjo. “Back away, mercenary,” the sword wielder warns. “I’m not here for you,” Tûjo replies coolly, holding one hand behind his back as he faces the both of them with his sword in hand. “Where’s $rtitle $rname?” “That is none of your business!” “I believe $rthey would benefit greatly from meeting my <<if $tujotrust gte 10>>friend<<else>>acquaintance<</if>>,” Tûjo states, relaxing his stance and sheathing his sword again, likely to signal that he's not an enemy. “As would the Empire.” Both the sword wielder and the archer look at you<<if $caut gte $adven>>, their eyes on you making you stiffen in surprise. “Show them,” Tûjo tells you. You breathe in deep, gathering all the courage you have and trusting Tûjo to keep you safe, before you step forward and pull your hood down to reveal your eyes.<<else>>. Your turn to do your part, then, though you wish Tûjo would’ve given you a heads-up before throwing you in the deep end like this. Nevertheless you step forward, and pull your hood down to reveal your eyes.<</if>> [[Continue|2.17]]

The sword wielder’s jaw slackens, their sword lowering slightly as they stare at you, dumbfounded. Their partner, the archer, keeps their bow trained on Tûjo but you see their eyes widen in equal measures of shock. “Do you understand now?” Tûjo says. “$rtitle $rname needs to—” The archer points their bow at you, their partner looking at them in confusion. “What—” You stand frozen. Time slows down as the archer fires their arrow aimed right between your eyes and you can’t seem to move. The only thought in your mind is that you’re going to die and it startles you how calmly you take it, how easily you embrace the idea as the arrow flies toward you. You’re going to die— A sword curved like a sickle cuts through the arrow, snapping it as if it were a twig. You stare at the broad back of another soldier having appeared seemingly out of nowhere, standing in front of you. <<if $abeggar is true>>Dark leather and silver scale, black cloth—you’ve seen this armor before.<<else>> The silver scale armor covering $atheir torso is distinct from what the regular soldiers wear, though it's also more muted compared to General $dname's bright golden armor. Below the scale armor $athey wears an armored skirt, devorated with strips of leather hanging down a dark gray cloth belt, wrapped twice around $atheir waist. $catheir legs are hidden in black cloth that looks a bit more tightly fit than the loose pants you're used to seeing. You glance further down and notice the dark metal sheets armoring $atheir matching dark leather boots. It looks heavy, but $athey seems to carry it with ease.<</if>> “Ro-Royal Protector,” the soldier with the sword stammers, almost as flustered as you are at $atheir sudden appearance. It’s $aname. [[Continue|2.18]]

The archer slowly lowers their bow, jaw clenching in tension, while Tûjo tries to reach for his own short sword. $aname shifts to stand sideways and points $atheir blade at your throat, staring at Tûjo in warning. “Don’t.” Tûjo raises his hands, but you can read the tension in his posture, movements stiff as he stands motionless while watching $aname in turn. The archer’s gaze darts furtively between the two of them while the soldier with the sword still looks confused. At least you’re not dead. Yet. $aname turns $atheir head to face you, the edge of $atheir dark metal sickle sword cool against the skin of your neck, yet as you look at $athem you don’t feel threatened. Such kind eyes, finely-shaped and narrow with a soft brown color that almost appears light against $atheir complexion. It’s a strange thing to notice about someone who has a blade pressed to your throat, but you don’t sense any malice. Only a desire to protect. $catheir skin is a rich shade of black with a warm undertone, a natural glow to it like the sun gleaming off a brown gemstone. It's just a tint lighter than $atheir hair<<if $agender is "male">>, tightly coiled curls trimmed down short while patches of dark facial hair cover his jawline, chin and the skin around his upper lip.<<else>>, her tresses separated into several locks braided close to her scalp in raised rows, going from above her forehead down to the back of her neck.<</if>> You note a pair of silver earrings in $atheir right ear, small and round but subtly present, glinting when the light catches the metal. The dimples in $atheir cheeks when $athey flashes you a mocking smile, the natural curve to $atheir full lips contrasting with the defined angle of $atheir jawline; these are the kind of features that poets would exalt in lovesick verses. An easy, warm kind of beauty, one that nearly made you forget there’s still a sword in the way. $aname is <<if $height is 'tall'>>the same height as you<</if>><<if $height is 'average' or $height is 'short'>>somewhat taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>quite a bit taller than you<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>shorter than you<</if>>, possessing a solid frame meant to carry the hefty silver scale armor on $athem with ease, though with how $athey reacted to the arrow you don't think $athey lacks for speed because of it. Once $athey speaks, the usual low tone of $atheir voice is sharpened into a threatening edge and there’s no hint of the drawling, bored manner you heard $athem speaking with back in Marabad. “You claim to be the Crown?” <ul> <li>[[You manage a smile, albeit a weak one. "Trust me, I would rather not be."|2.19][$charm to $charm + 25]]</li> <li>[[You simply nod, not sure what else you can say.|2.19][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li> </ul>

$aname hums briefly, looking at you critically before $athey appraises the two soldiers in front of you. $catheir gaze lingers on the archer who takes a small step away from $athem, as if physically pushed back by $aname’s stare. “It- it was an accident!” they stammer nervously, fingers twitching around their bow. “I didn’t mean to—” $aname starts walking toward them and the archer goes straight into a panic, lifting their bow and aiming an arrow straight at $aname. “Have you lost your mind?” the other soldier exclaims in disbelief, distancing themselves from their partner. “Stay back!” the archer yells at $aname who ignores their warning and keeps walking toward them, causing the archer to stumble back as they barely keep from tripping over their own feet. “I’ll shoot! I’ll—” $aname smacks their bow aside and grabs them by their forehead, both $atheir palm and $atheir eyes lighting up a vivid blue. You feel the ripple of magic in the air like a cold chill, and after a long moment passes the unnatural glow fades. The archer goes slack, dropping like a sack of stones on the ground once $aname releases them. “What…” You swallow thickly. “What just happened?” $aname looks straight at you, the steely gaze from before replaced by one of casual disinterest. “You survived your first assassination attempt. Congratulations.” All you can do is stare as $aname seems to dismiss your presence immediately thereafter, turning to the other soldier who is equally stunned, if not more so than you. “Where is $rtitle $rname?” $aname asks in a bored tone, hooking $atheir sickle sword back on $atheir belt. “$crthey, uh, $rthey went on ahead,” the sword wielder replies, nervously tripping over their own words. “We- we were going to follow the river to the nearest outpost.” “Go join $rthem.” $aname’s focus drifts until it settles on Tûjo, though $athey continues to speak to the soldier. “We’ll follow once we sort this mess out.” “Yes, Royal Protector!” The soldier bows quickly to $athem, then hesitates when turning to you. “Uh… Your- Your Imperial Majesty.” They bow again to you, a bit stiffly as you can still see the confusion written on their face as they sheathe their sword and hurry along. [[Continue|2.20]]

“I’ve had it up to here with $xname’s clever schemes,” $aname drawls the minute the soldier has left, looking over at Tûjo who crouches down next to the unconscious archer. “If $xthey wanted to lure the assassins out, $xthey could’ve done so without using the Crown as bait. As it is, there are yet more of these traitors to account for among the guard.” You perk up, looking from $aname to Tûjo in alarm. “Bait?” Tûjo doesn’t say anything when you look at him. In fact, he avoids eye-contact with you entirely as he rolls the archer over, taking away their bow and quiver of arrows as well as the dagger tucked into their belt. Instead of answering you, he responds solely to $aname. “The only way to expose the assassins is to take them by surprise, though such tactics wouldn’t have been necessary at all if you hadn’t let them infiltrate $rtitle $rname’s personal guard in the first place.” You are so utterly lost in this conversation. What are they talking about? Infiltrators among the Imperial Guard? Assassins? What? “I didn’t let anyone do anything, Tûjo,” $aname corrects him pointedly, and you get the sense these two know each other quite well. “$dname is in charge of appointing $rtitle $rname’s personal guards. I’ve had my doubts about some of $dtheir picks, but it was not my place to disagree.” Tûjo hums as he rises to his feet again, the bow and the quiver slung over his shoulder while he twirls the archer’s dagger with his hand. “Where is $xname?” $aname arches a single brow, watching the movements of the dagger. “Being stalled by the bandits you people failed to take care of, apparently. They crashed our duel.” “We were supposed to take out their main camp yesterday, but we were sidetracked by $name here,” Tûjo answers dryly, glancing at you as he slips the dagger into his belt. “$cthey showed up rather unannounced. As you can see.” “So I can.” $aname turns $atheir attention back on you, a dissatisfied pull of $atheir lips. You're expecting a sneer of some sort, so when $aname bends $atheir knee to you instead you're more than a little surprised. “My name is $aname Mirza and I go by $athey,” $athey says, $atheir head bowed and $atheir expression hidden, but the aloof tone of $atheir voice doesn’t exactly make you feel welcomed. “I will serve as your sword and as your shield, if you would have me.” <ul> <li><<if $agender is 'female'>>[[Accept; you'll win her over eventually.|2.21.a][$calc to $calc + 25]]<<else>>[[Accept; you'll win him over eventually.|2.21.a][$calc to $calc + 25]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Decline; you haven't earned it yet.|2.21.b][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> </ul>

“I get the impression you’re not very happy with me,” you remark, unsure of how to feel about having a stranger serving you. You’ve never been served by anyone your entire life, and now you suddenly have a whole bodyguard to account for. “Why is that?” $aname is silent for a short time, then lifts $atheir head to peer up at you as $athey responds. “It’s nothing personal, and a matter that is best discussed another time. Regardless, I swear no harm will befall you so long as you are under my protection.” $cathey appears earnest and entirely serious. From how $athey overpowered the archer earlier you have no doubts about $atheir abilities, especially since $athey even defeated $xname once in single combat. <<if $kind gt $calc>>It just makes you uneasy to have someone serving you when they’re in any way reluctant about it. You would never want to make anyone do something for you against their will.<</if>><<if $calc gt $kind>>It just makes you skeptical to have someone serving you when they’re so reluctant. Can you really trust $aname’s word that $athey will protect you, given that?<</if>> “How do you know that I’m the Crown?” you ask, feeling the need to prod this stranger who you're expected to entrust your very life to. “That I’m not an impostor?” “$rtitle $rname shared $rtheir vision with me,” $aname answers plainly. “The one $rthey received from Lady Zerya, the previous Sorcerer, who in turn received it from Crown Ferzan right before he died. The details were a little... faded, since it was passed on from person to person, but I do believe it was your face that I saw.” That's a clear enough explanation. You sure wish someone had bothered to share that vision with $xname; it would've spared you an hour or three in chains. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“In that case, ah…” You struggle with how to answer, never having done this before. “I’ll… submit to your… proposal?”<<else>>“So, uh, I have no idea how to respond to all this,” you say, figuring you’d rather be honest than accidentally embarrass yourself. “Try,” $aname says. Looks like you’re embarrassing yourself after all. “Then, I’ll… submit to your… proposal?”<</if>> You can feel Tûjo staring at you, and $aname presses $atheir lips together, trying not to break out into a laugh even while you can see the dimples forming in $atheir cheeks again. “I said that wrong, didn’t I?” you mutter, wishing you could transform into moss and become one with the forest floor. $aname rises back up to $atheir feet, taking a deep breath to collect $athemselves and smooth out $atheir expression before answering. “So very wrong.” “Sorry.” “No, you—” $aname raises a hand to $atheir head, resting it on the side of $atheir forehead as if $athey were overcome with a sudden headache. “I apologize?” $aname’s mouth doesn’t move but you hear a noise from $atheir throat, something between a deep hum and a groan. “The- phrasing isn’t the issue.” $aname looks at you with a mixture of despair and amusement. “You must never apologize to your servants, much less submit. Don’t ever use that word, in any circumstance.” “Okay, right.” You nod, still feeling lost<<if $kind gte $calc>> and not taking a liking to the idea of never apologizing to anyone, but if it's the usual decorum it's probably best to stick with it<</if>>. “Then what should I say?” “When someone pledges themselves to you,” $aname explains slowly, “simply state your acceptance. If you wish to be formal about it, you could use words like allow or permit. If they’re someone you respect you could say, ‘I would be honored’, or something of the sort.” You hesitantly try again. “So, I accept your service? Or, I shall allow you to serve me?” “For example,” $aname agrees, then frowns deeply. “Why on earth am I teaching you etiquette?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Because you’re a kind and helpful person?” you suggest, and actually manage to coax a slight smile out of $aname. “Or because I would rather not be embarrassed by my Crown.” You smile back playfully. “Ouch?”<<else>>“I’m not sure,” you consider, “but you’re quite good at it.” $aname snorts. “How ironic! If only $dname could hear this.”<</if>> [[Continue|2.22]]

<<if $charm gte $blunt>>"I'm honored, really," you say for lack of a better word, and $aname lifts $atheir head to look up at you expectantly. "But I can't accept."<<else>>"I can't accept," you state without hesitation.<</if>> $aname's brows lower slowly, crinkling into a frown as if you were speaking a foreign language. "What?" "I'm not even the Crown yet," you reason as $aname gets up to $atheir feet, $atheir bewildered expression morphing into one of annoyance as you explain yourself. "I haven't even done anything to be worthy of--" "Your worthiness--or indeed, who you are as a person--has absolutely nothing to with whether you ought to be protected or not," $aname cuts in. "It's completely irrelevant." "How is it not relevant?" You gape at $atheir nearly apathetic response. "Look, I know you don't really want to serve me, I can see it written all over your face! Which is perfect, because I don't want to be served, so..." $aname raises $atheir hand to $atheir forehead as if overcome with a sudden headache. "That is not even in the vicinity of the point that I'm trying to make." "Oh, then please," you retort a little bit snappily, starting to feel equally irritated. "Enlighten me!" $aname smirks at you with derision, but then straightens out $atheir expression again. "It's my duty to protect you, that's all there is to it. If you wish to dismiss me because you find me inadequate, that's one thing, but I will not allow you to brush me aside merely out of some fanciful notion of selflessness." "Fanciful notion of--?" You almost rear back at the provocation. "I'm not trying to be selfless! It's not as if I have a death wish, I just don't want other people to- to die for me!" "Thereby risking your own life," $aname argues back. "If no one is allowed to die for you, who is going to protect you? What will happen to the Empire when yet another Crown is assassinated, have you thought about that?" You don't have a response for that, and as much as it bothers you, you know that $athey's right. The whole reason you wanted to meet $rtitle $rname in the first place was because you were running from assassins, wasn't it? You were so busy trying to survive that you didn't realize that your safety would require sacrifice on the parts of other people, barely even giving a thought to the consequences of becoming the Crown beyond wanting to stay alive. It's not entirely rational, maybe, but it doesn't sit well with you because people have already sacrificed themselves for you. Your parents both died for you, and even as you push the weight of that knowledge down, you still carry it with you. You will always carry it with you. "I'm sure this hasn't fully sunk in yet, but you are to be the Crown now," $aname continues sternly. "Your life is worth thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives, whether you like it or not." You inhale a deep breath, slightly shaky as the sweat starts to gather on your palms, trembling lightly as you move your arms to hug yourself and hide your hands, but $aname's eyes flash to your fingers and you know $athey caught their unsteadiness. "Is it so wrong to not want others to die for me?" you say quietly, the magnitude of what's happening fully hitting you for the first time. People are going to die for you, in your name, and there's nothing you can do about it. $aname regards you for a long moment, $atheir expression slowly softening as does $atheir voice when $athey answers you. "No, it's not wrong, not at all. But it is naive, and you cannot afford naievety anymore." $cathey's right. You know $athey's right, you just don't want to admit it. So you stay silent instead. [[Continue|2.22]]

<<set $meta to true>><<set $aappearance to true>><<set $acodex to false>>[ Relationships updated | $aname's Codex updated ] “As educational as this has been,” Tûjo chimes in, “should we not join $rtitle $rname?” “Later.” $aname looks at you. “We should return to $dname and the other Crescent Blades first." You have to agree with $aname. Mainly because... <ul> <li>[[...you want to make sure they haven't started fighting.|2.23.a][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> <li>[[...taking out the assassins hiding among the other guards is your top priority.|2.23.b][$calc to $calc + 25]]</li> </ul>

“Let’s return to the General,” you decide. “I want to make sure everyone is alright." $aname's lips bend into a faint smile, and you can't tell whether $athey's ridiculing you or amused by your reasoning. "How kind of you." "$cdthey is close by," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>coming to your defense. “That is true,” $aname agrees, bending down and gathering up the unconscious archer, effortlessly slinging them over $atheir shoulder as $athey rights $athemselves again and addresses you. “But stay close to me; as I said before, there are still several assassins among $dname’s soldiers.” “Did you see their faces?” Tûjo questions. “I did.” $aname frowns, adjusting $atheir grip on the soldier slightly and tapping them on the back. “Our friend here knew of four others who have been keeping a close eye on $rtitle $rname’s search.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. “What did you see and how?”<<else>>“What are you two talking about?” you interrupt, glancing between the two of them.<</if>> $aname gestures in the direction leading back to the Crown’s Road, indicating that you should get going. $cathey falls into step beside you when you start walking, while Tûjo lingers behind you both. “You saw what I did to that archer, yes?” $aname reminds you. You nod. “Some sort of magic that made your eyes and hand glow.” “It did more than that.” $aname pushes aside a low hanging branch, holding it out of your way as you pass and you mumble a quiet thank you as $athey rejoins you. “The magic I used allowed me to sift through their memories.” Your eyes go wide, though it’s no surprise you’ve never heard of this type of magic before. All your father’s expertise amounted to religious rituals, particularly interactions with spirits rather than anything practical. “You can do that?” “It’s a highly advanced spell,” $aname considers. “Not one suited for combat situations since it leaves me vulnerable, but it makes interrogations much easier. Although memories can be... unreliable, at times.” “Does it hurt?” you ask with a note of <<if $caut gte $adven>>caution to your tone, imagining all the ways in which this sort of spell could go wrong<<else>>curiosity to your tone, imagining how useful this sort of spell could be<</if>>. “I only ask because the archer passed out afterwards.” “That was a separate bit of magic to put them to sleep,” $aname explains, taking the lead once the wild path between the trees narrows, guiding you through the green thickets. “The memory spell itself is painless. I could make it hurt, but that would be needless cruelty.” “How long did it take you to master it?” “I took to it quicker than most; I’ve always had a knack for inner magic.” $aname shrugs with $atheir unburdened shoulder. “But don’t ask me to start a fire, unless you want me to burn the whole forest down.” You figured $aname was an inner magic type<<if $inner is true>> just like you<</if>>, considering the nature of the spell. “Would it work on $xname?” $aname winces. “Tried that once, didn’t work out well for me.” “What happened?” “$cxthey turned the tables on me.” $aname appears both mildly impressed and irritated, looking ahead and as you follow $atheir gaze you notice the Crown’s Road has come into view again. “Turns out the spell is less effective against other inner magic types, especially those with mental defenses.” [[Continue|2.24]]

“Let’s return to the General,” you decide. “We need to do something about these infiltrators before we go meet $rtitle $rname. I wouldn't want to be stabbed in the back." <<if $kind gt $calc>>$aname regards you with a considerate look. "That's surprisingly practical of you." You're not entirely sure that was a compliment, but you'll take it anyway. "Thank you." "It's also rather risky." There's the skepticism you were waiting for. "And I'm not sure you realize exactly how big of a risk it is." "I'll be there as well," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>arguing in your favor. "Not to mention that $xname and the Crescent Blades will certainly look out for $them should it come to an attack." “Fair enough,” $aname agrees<<else>>"Did you take over $dname's post when I wasn't looking?" $aname drawls, though $athey seems more amused by your initiative than anything else. "Don't be so quick to play at being a strategist when you haven't even been properly crowned yet." "$cthey<<if $gender is 'nb'>>'re<</if>><<if $gender is 'female' or $gender is 'male'>>'s<</if>> not wrong, though," Tûjo points out, <<if $tujotrust lte 5>>surprisingly <</if>>supporting your reasoning. "Traipsing through the forest with known spies at our backs is asking for another attempt on $name's life." "I suppose you're right," $aname replies after some thought<</if>>, bending down and gathering up the unconscious archer, effortlessly slinging them over $atheir shoulder as $athey rights $athemselves again and addresses you. “But stay close to me, and don't try anything reckless on your own when we approach the soldiers.” <<if $adven gt $caut>>"When have I ever done anything reckless?" you quip, then notice Tûjo's unimpressed stare. "Uh, don't answer that."<<else>>You nod; you weren't planning on it anyway.<</if>> “Did you see their faces?” Tûjo questions $aname. “I did.” $aname frowns, adjusting $atheir grip on the soldier slightly and tapping them on the back. “Our friend here knew of four others who have been keeping a close eye on $rtitle $rname’s search.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“I’m sorry,” you interrupt. “What did you see and how?”<<else>>“What are you two talking about?” you interrupt, glancing between the two of them.<</if>> $aname gestures in the direction leading back to the Crown’s Road, indicating that you should get going. $cathey falls into step beside you when you start walking, while Tûjo lingers behind you both. “You saw what I did to that archer, yes?” $aname reminds you. You nod. “Some sort of magic that made your eyes and hand glow.” “It did more than that.” $aname pushes aside a low hanging branch, holding it out of your way as you pass and you mumble a quiet thank you as $athey rejoins you. “The magic I used allowed me to sift through their memories.” Your eyes go wide, though it’s no surprise you’ve never heard of this type of magic before. All your father’s expertise amounted to religious rituals, particularly interactions with spirits rather than anything practical. “You can do that?” “It’s a highly advanced spell,” $aname considers. “Not one suited for combat situations since it leaves me vulnerable, but it makes interrogations much easier. Although memories can be... unreliable, at times.” “Does it hurt?” you ask with a note of <<if $caut gte $adven>>caution to your tone, imagining all the ways in which this sort of spell could go wrong<<else>>curiosity to your tone, imagining how useful this sort of spell could be<</if>>. “I only ask because the archer passed out afterwards.” “That was a separate bit of magic to put them to sleep,” $aname explains, taking the lead once the wild path between the trees narrows, guiding you through the green thickets. “The memory spell itself is painless. I could make it hurt, but that would be needless cruelty.” “How long did it take you to master it?” “I took to it quicker than most; I’ve always had a knack for inner magic.” $aname shrugs with $atheir unburdened shoulder. “But don’t ask me to start a fire, unless you want me to burn the whole forest down.” You figured $aname was an inner magic type<<if $inner is true>> just like you<</if>>, considering the nature of the spell. “Would it work on $xname?” $aname winces. “Tried that once, didn’t work out well for me.” “What happened?” “$cxthey turned the tables on me.” $aname appears both mildly impressed and irritated, looking ahead and as you follow $atheir gaze you notice the Crown’s Road has come into view again. “Turns out the spell is less effective against other inner magic types, especially those with mental defenses.” [[Continue|2.24]]

You step out onto the road right behind $aname, and when $athey turns to face you again you almost do a double take when you notice $atheir eyes are different. You thought they were soft brown before, but now you see a subtle shade of green in them. It's as if the color changed, shifting in the sunlight that filters brightly through the leaves of the trees around you now that you’re in a more open area. “Something wrong?” $aname asks when $athey notices you staring, but then the realization dawns on $athem and $athey smiles knowingly. “My eyes?” “I just thought they were brown before,” you state awkwardly. Eye color can be a touchy subject; you should know. “They’re a mix of green and brown,” $aname says automatically; $athey must be asked this question often when $athey meets new people. “The color looks different depending on the light.” <ul> <li>[['"It suits you well."'|2.25.a]]</li> <li>[["It, uh, it looks very pretty," you say shyly.|2.25.b][$res to $res + 25]]</li> <li>[["It looks beautiful," you admire with a smile.|2.25.c][$flirt to $flirt + 25]]</li> </ul>

“So I hear,” $aname says, directing you down the road. It seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear General!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the <<if $dgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. You catch fingers twitching around weapons, restless daggers being flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $dtheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappear right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow; $aname seemed to materialize from out of thin air back then as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst the crowd. [[Continue|2.26]]

<<set $apoints += 1>>“I know,” $aname replies, a smile playing on $atheir lips with a flicker of interest in $atheir gaze as $athey watches you, though it disappears just as quickly. “Let's move on.” $cathey directs you down the road that seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear General!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the <<if $dgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. You catch fingers twitching around weapons, restless daggers being flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $dtheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappear right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow; $aname seemed to materialize from out of thin air back then as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst the crowd. [[Continue|2.26]]

<<set $apoints += 1>>$aname doesn't immediately respond, eyes flitting to you. "Hmm." "Hmm?" you repeat playfully, and $aname averts $atheir gaze, dodging your stare. $cathey seems a little awkward, and you wonder if you were being too forward. You didn't mean to scare $athem off or make $athem uncomfortable, but from the way $aname still lingers near you $athey doesn't appear outright bothered. Is $athey shy? "Thank you," $aname replies at length, still not able to hold your gaze as $athey briefly meets your eyes in a furtive glance before looking away again. "Let's move on." $cathey directs you down the road that seems mostly empty, but as you start walking around the bend you catch the first glimpses of the signature black attires of the Crescent Blades. They all have their backs turned to you, no longer surrounding General $dname and $dtheir soldiers, and as you start walking faster to catch up you realize why. “My dear General!” $xname’s voice is unmistakable and soon you spot $xthem standing in front of $xtheir mercenaries, facing down the <<if $dgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> in golden scale armor, General $dname. “This was all simply a misunderstanding!” The soldiers, like the mercenaries, have also taken their distance and together the two factions are watching their leaders interact. You don't sense any outright animosity in the air, not like would be palpable during the lead-up to a fight, but everyone still looks tense. Fingers twitch around weapons, restless daggers flicked around in hands, feet shifting around on the ground. You don't think anyone wants to brawl, but soldiers and mercenaries are not the type to cower from a battle either. You mean to walk closer when $aname suddenly drags you to the side of the road, pulling you behind a tree as $athey drops the archer from $dtheir shoulder into the bushes. “What?” You glance around to find Tûjo also hiding behind a tree. “Why are we hiding?” “Stay here,” $aname says. “I need to take out the assassins before they notice you.” $cathey doesn’t wait for your permission, taking off through the forest brush and as soon as $athey blends into the shadows, $athey disappear right before your eyes. You blink, peering around the corner of the tree, but you can’t find any trace of $athem anywhere. It’s just like when $athey suddenly appeared to save you from the arrow. It reminds you of how Tûjo tends to simply appear and disappear as well. “Something the matter?” Tûjo remarks at seeing your bewildered expression. “No, nothing,” you reply, pulling back to watch $xname’s conversation with General $dname while you wonder how $aname is planning on taking out four soldiers amidst this crowd. [[Continue|2.26]]

You can’t see much of what’s actually happening on the road because of the mercenaries in the way, but $xname and $dname both speak so loudly that you at least overhear the conversation. “I’m running out of patience, $xname,” $dname threatens, and you catch shimmers of sunlight shining off $dtheir golden armor from between the crowd, the top half of $dtheir helmet sticking out due to $dtheir frankly ridiculous height. “Start talking.” “I would love to.” $xname sounds cheerfully blasé compared to the General’s gruff tones. “You see, about three days ago we were hired by Marabad’s steward to take care of the bandit problem that’s been plaguing Kartan’s Forest for a while now. Perhaps because a certain imperial army hasn’t been doing its job, hmm? Now, I’m not pointing any fingers, but it was hardly a difficult task. Indeed, when I found one of the bandit leaders he was little more than an emptyheaded brute who knew only how to flex his muscles. So, once I found him…” Listening to $xname chatter on about the bandits you realize halfway through $xthey’s stalling for time, seeing as how that has nothing to do with anything. Of course, General $dname wouldn’t know that, but $dthey doesn’t seem like the sort to suffer fools either. You doubt $xname will be able to keep this up for long. As you watch the backs of the mercenaries, you notice something blue flash in the midst of the crowd. It’s so quick that you think maybe it was just a trick of the light, or a bird flying by, but moments later you see it again, several feet to the left. You pin it down somewhere among General $dname’s soldiers, and when the blue light flashes a third time the soldiers start to notice something amiss. “General!” someone calls, interrupting $xname’s aimless story. “Is that $aname?” you whisper over to Tûjo. “How is no one seeing $athem?” “The same way you didn’t see $athem disappear earlier,” Tûjo answers cryptically, and you quickly turn your attention back to the soldiers. “What?” $dname asks impatiently, but then there’s a fourth flash of blue and the soldiers stir, crowd parting. “$aname! What’s the meaning of this?” You decide to leave your tree, carefully moving up a little closer to the commotion as you hide behind some bushes, trying to get a better view of what’s happening. The first thing you see are the unconscious bodies of four soldiers spread across the road, the other Imperial Guards surrounding them in a restless state of bewilderment, the hushed sound of muttering growing louder. $aname stands in the middle, not a single weapon unsheathed, looking like the most bored <<if $agender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> in the world. [[Continue|2.27]]

“$dname,” $aname greets, supremely unconcerned. “You’re welcome.” The general tries to pinch the bridge of $dtheir nose, realizes belatedly the noseguard of $dtheir helmet is in the way and settles for rubbing $dtheir eyes with $dtheir fingers instead. “Spirits grant me patience—what is this? Why did you do that?” “They’re spies,” $aname states. “Followers of Vidarna.” You lose your breath all at once, fire and blood flooding your vision. Part of you already knew when that archer aimed an arrow between your eyes, but hearing it confirmed out loud makes it so much more real. These are the people that killed your parents and would've killed you too, if it hadn’t been for $aname. General $dname stares at $aname and utters a single word. “How?” $aname’s eyes trail over the bushes until they find your hiding spot, catching your own with a meaningful look and you can tell that $athey’s waiting for you to reveal yourself. It’s not an easy thing for you to do, especially when you have to face someone as imposing as General $dname, but you trust that $aname meant it when $athey said $athey would protect you. <<if $xpoints is 3>> <<if $pass gte $ass>>You look over at $xname who meets your gaze, likely having sensed your approach. $cxthey smiles reassuringly; you're comforted by $xtheir presence, and feel a little braver.<<else>>You look over at $xname who meets your gaze, likely having sensed your approach. $cxthey raises $xtheir brows expectantly, as if daring you; it makes you feel bolder, wanting to rise to $xtheir unspoken challenge.<</if>><</if>> You brace yourself, a calming breath in and out, then stand up, stepping out from between the bushes in plain view. Your hood is down, your eyes shining in the sunlight and impossible to miss. There are gasps from among the soldiers and you don’t know where to look, but your gaze eventually settles on the equally bright golden gleam in front of you. [[Continue|2.28]]

General $dname is turned toward you, $dtheir lips parting slightly in wordless astonishment at your appearance. $cdthey slowly removes $dtheir helmet, watching you silently just as you watch $dthem, surprised by what you find beneath the armor. From the angry shouting that you heard back at the barracks, you were expecting someone older and meaner looking. But while $dname does look severe--both in the sharp angles of $dtheir face and $dtheir statuesque posture--$dthey doesn't look like the cruel dictator you imagined. Certainly the scale armor appears intimidating, making General $dname look even taller and larger than $dthey already is. It seems heavier than what $aname is wearing, colored in gold rather than silver, the red cloth of General $dname's skirt similar to what you've seen soldiers wear, though $dtheirs is more richly embroidered with golden threads. $cdthey has a natural gauntness in $dtheir cheeks that's emphasized by $dtheir distinct cheekbones and the broad and <<if $dgender is 'female'>>smooth<</if>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>strong<</if>> line of $dtheir jaw. $cdtheir <<if $dgender is 'male'>>close-cropped brown hair is almost dark enough to be black, his locks edging over his forehead in simple straight bangs.<<else>> hair is almost dark enough to be black, cut short to keep her tresses out of her face, her bangs swept sideways over her forehead.<</if>> The color of $dtheir eyes is as dark and intense as $dtheir hair, the skin around it looking like it has been tanned into a tawny brown, scarred from years in the sun and battered by arid winds. You notice a black mole beneath the corner of $dtheir left eye, a surprising touch of beauty in a face so stern. Harsh and rough and unyielding, a little like the cut of a mountain—or perhaps a volcano, considering $dtheir temper. It occurs to you that you should probably say something. <ul> <li>[[“Allow me to explain,” you say, figuring you should take charge on this.|2.29.a][$ass to $ass + 25]]</li> <li>[[“Hello, I’m… well…” You gesture vaguely at your eyes, hoping someone else will spare you from having to speak.|2.29.b][$pass to $pass + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<if $caut gte $adven>>"I knew I had no chance of reaching $rtitle $rname on my own," you speak quickly, partly due to your nerves and partly because you half-expect General $dname to cut you off at any second to throw you in chains. "There are so many impostors around, and... well, I hired the Crescent Blades to help me. While $xname distracted you Tûjo was supposed to- to escort me to $rtitle $rname, and I revealed myself to $rtheir guards hoping they would let me pass... but then one of them tried to kill me." Spirits, public speaking always has a way of making you queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Charming a single person comes as easily as breathing to you, but addressing a huge group like this? Very much beyond what you're comfortable with.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You prefer being direct and to the point when you're speaking to someone, which is hard to do when there's an entire group in front of you.<</if>><<else>>"I hired the Crescent Blades to help get me to $rtitle $rname," you state clearly, and though you've never spoken to such a huge group of people before, you don't feel nearly as nervous as you thought you'd be. "Unfortunately, when I revealed myself to $rtheir guards, one of them tried to kill me." If you're going to be the Crown, you suppose you ought to get used to public speaking quickly. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Thanks to your welcome lack of nerves, the words flow as naturally and smoothly as ever.<</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You keep it simple and to the point just as you prefer, not even a single stammer thanks to your welcome lack of nerves.<</if>><</if>> General $dname's dumbstruck stare shifts into an intensely attentive gaze during your explanation, which $dthey aims toward $aname once you finish speaking. "Is this true?" "Every word," $aname answers. "I caught the one who tried to kill $them." Tûjo walks through the bushes out onto the main road to join you, hand hooked into the back of the archer’s collar as he drags them over the ground and drops them in front of General $dname’s feet. General $dname kneels down and takes the helmet off the archer, brows twitching as $dtheir lips thin into a grim expression when $dthey sees the archer’s face. You catch a glimpse of something in $dtheir face as $dthey breathes the soldier's name, but it's gone too quickly for you to figure out what it means. “Nima.” “I went through their memories and identified these four as their co-conspirators,” $aname elaborates, gesturing to the soldiers lying unconscious around $athem. "But that's all I was able to identify, unfortunately." General $dname rises back to $dtheir feet with steel in $dtheir eyes and looks at $xname with accusation, as if it were $xname's fault somehow. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Considering that $xthey did use you as bait, as $aname described it, it might be at least partially $xname's fault. <<if $xpoints is 3>>You actually feel slighted by that, too. Why couldn't $xthey have just told you the truth? <</if>>You resolve to ask $xthem about it later, if you can catch $xthem in private. “What, like I’m going to indict myself for a crime?” $xname graces General $dname with a conceited smirk. “As I said, one big misunderstanding!” A disgusted noise passes General $dname’s lips. “Ugh.” $cdthey turns to face you again, brows knitted together and $dtheir helmet tucked underneath $dtheir arm--but then, just as $aname did, General $dname kneels before you. $cdtheir soldiers follow suit without hesitation. "Your Imperial Majesty," $dthey says with $dtheir head bowed, and you hear no mockery or indifference in $dtheir words; $dthey sounds utterly truthful when $dthey says the title, holding it between $dtheir lips as if it were something precious. "My name is $dname Sidar, I go by $dthey. I am here to serve." It nearly sounds like a pledge of its own with how solemn $dthey is, all but throwing $dtheir life at your feet without hesitation. A sort of diligence and dedication that you feel entirely undeserving of. "Thank you," you manage to say, trying not to think of all the eyes on you, the Crescent Blades watching you, $xname and $aname watching you--the expectations of these soldiers, of General $dname, it casts such an enormous shadow you feel as if you are drowning in it. General $dname raises $dtheir head to look up at you, and maybe $dthey can read the discomfort from your face or your posture because $dthey immediately rises back to $dtheir feet again, which you appreciate. $cdtheir soldiers stand up again as well. But what $dthey says next doesn't make you feel any better. "We will escort you to $rtitle $rname," $dthey vows to you. "I swear to keep you safe. No one else shall so much as dare raise a finger in your direction!" You have no idea how to reply to that. Does everything this <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> says have to sound so weighty? [[Continue|2.30]]

General $dname continues to stare at you, dumbstruck, so $aname takes it upon $athemselves to introduce you properly to the rest of the soldiers. “Officially we will need $rtitle $rname to confirm $name's claim,” $athey speaks, turning toward the soldiers. “But when $they revealed $themselves earlier, one of the guards in charge of protecting $rtitle $rname tried to kill $them.” Tûjo walks through the bushes out onto the main road to join you, hand hooked into the back of the archer’s collar as he drags them over the ground and drops them in front of General $dname’s feet. General $dname kneels down and takes the helmet off the archer, brows twitching as $dtheir lips thin into a grim expression when $dthey sees the archer’s face. You catch a glimpse of something in $dtheir face as $dthey breathes the soldier's name, but it's gone too quickly for you to figure out what it means. “Nima.” “I went through their memories and identified these four as their co-conspirators,” $aname elaborates, gesturing to the soldiers lying unconscious around $athem before $athey addresses General $dname. “$xname’s intent was to stall you and draw the infiltrators out while Tûjo accompanied the Crown-to-be to speak to $rtitle $rname. Seeing as how $they <<if $gender is 'nb'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> attacked on the way there, however...” General $dname rises back to $dtheir feet with steel in $dtheir eyes and looks at $xname with accusation, as if it were $xname's fault somehow. “Is this true?” Considering that $xthey did use you as bait, as $aname described it, it might be at least partially $xname's fault. <<if $xpoints is 3>>You actually feel slighted by that, too. Why couldn't $xthey have just told you the truth? <</if>>You resolve to ask $xthem about it later, if you can catch $xthem in private. “What, like I’m going to answer no?” $xname graces General $dname with a conceited smirk. “As I said, one big misunderstanding!” A disgusted noise passes General $dname’s lips. “Ugh.” $cdthey turns to face you again, brows knitted together and $dtheir helmet tucked underneath $dtheir arm--but then, just as $aname did, General $dname kneels before you. $cdtheir soldiers follow suit without hesitation. "Your Imperial Majesty," $dthey says with $dtheir head bowed, and you hear no mockery or indifference in $dtheir words; $dthey sounds utterly truthful when $dthey says the title, holding it between $dtheir lips as if it were something precious. "My name is $dname Sidar, I go by $dthey. I am here to serve." It nearly sounds like a pledge of its own with how solemn $dthey is, all but throwing $dtheir life at your feet without hesitation. A sort of diligence and dedication that you feel entirely undeserving of. "Thank you," you manage to say, trying not to think of all the eyes on you, the Crescent Blades watching you, $xname and $aname watching you--the expectations of these soldiers, of General $dname, it casts such an enormous shadow you feel as if you are drowning in it. General $dname raises $dtheir head to look up at you, and maybe $dthey can read the discomfort from your face or your posture because $dthey immediately rises back to $dtheir feet again, which you appreciate. $cdtheir soldiers stand up again as well. But what $dthey says next doesn't make you feel any better. "We will escort you to $rtitle $rname," $dthey vows to you. "I swear to keep you safe. No one else shall so much as dare raise a finger in your direction!" You have no idea how to reply to that. Does everything this <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> says have to sound so weighty? [[Continue|2.30]]

$xname takes that moment to saunter up to stand beside General $dname, clapping $dthem on $dtheir shoulder. General $dname doesn't so much as flinch. You imagine if $xname had slapped a solid wall it would've had more of an effect, but $xname must be used to it because $xthey doesn't look remotely surprised by General $dname's lack of a reaction. "Stop being so grim, $dname," $xname tells $dthem. "Our darling Crown here looks like $they<<if $gender is 'nb'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> just about ready to keel over, the poor thing." General $dname actually sputters at $xname's nonchalant remarks. "You- show some manners! This is our Crown you're ridiculing!" "Ridiculing?" $xname repeats sardonically. "I'm not ridiculing $them, I'm looking out for $them! Isn't that right, my love?" You kind of stand there, unable to respond to $xname's flirty wink as you're too fascinated and horrified by what's happening to General $dname's face. $cdtheir tan complexion is starting to gain a dark red flush from the blood rushing to $dtheir head, a vein swelling on $dtheir neck. $cdthey looks like $dthey's going to physically explode and you're genuinely concerned. "How DARE you address $them with such familiarity!" General $dname shouts, posture tense from head to toe. "Have you no respect?" "Spirits, $dname, you've known $them for all but three seconds and you're already trying to defend $their honor." $xname openly rolls $xtheir eyes. "Don't you ever get sore from constantly walking around with a stick shoved up your--" "That's enough!" Heval comes bodily in between them, pushing them apart as they stand in the middle to separate them. "Chief, you really need to watch your tongue! General $dname, you're not doing a much better job of minding your manners. We're wasting time here, let's get going." General $dname turns away from $xname, grumbling something underneath $dtheir breath, while $xname sighs in a put-upon way and dramatically <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brushes a hand through his hair<<else>>sweeps a stray lock of hair out of her eyes<</if>>. $aname, who siddled up to you at some point during $dname and $xname's little squabble, meets your gaze and grins at you. "Never a lack of spectacle with those two around." "So I noticed," you reply, remaining slightly baffled at what you just witnessed, but from the lack of reactions of the soldiers and mercenaries they must be used to this from their leaders. [[Continue|2.31]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.

@@.chaptertitle;ASHADŪNĀ AND THE TRIBES OF SUR@@ @@.footnote;550 years ago@@

@@.chaptertitle;THE WAR FOR THE CROWN@@ @@.footnote;242 years ago@@

@@.chaptertitle;THE LAND OF IVIA@@ @@.footnote;64 years ago@@

@@.chaptertitle;THE ASSASSINATION OF CROWN FERZAN@@ @@.footnote;15 years ago@@

[ Relationships updated | $dname's Codex updated ]<<set $metd to true>><<set $dappearance to true>><<set $dcodex to false>> General $dname turns to one of $dtheir soldiers as $dthey puts $dtheir helmet back on, gesturing to the spies that were knocked out by $aname. "Get these traitors to the dungeons in Marabad, and take as many men you need. We'll question them once we return; make sure the road to the Royal Palace has been cleared by then." "Yes, General!" Meanwhile $xname has turned toward $xtheir own mercenaries, instructing the Crescent Blades to return to Marabad as well, albeit for different reasons. “Drinks are on me! Tonight, we dine like Crowns!” The Crescent Blades cheer—you spot Şanazî whooping, punching both her fists in the air—before joining the small contingent of Imperial Guards, a few offering to help tie up the spies. Compared to the animosity between the two leaders, their subordinates seem to get along just fine. “Tûjo, Heval.” $xname turns to address $xtheir two most trusted companions, and you still have no idea which one of them ranks higher. “Accompany them, would you? Make sure they don’t go trashing the city in a drunken stupor.” “Not everyone is as poorly disciplined as you are, chief,” Heval notes in a deadpan voice as you shift a little closer to the conversation, looking on curiously. “Remember Khid?” “The port city?” you ask, trying to map out where it is. The western edge of Rojan, at the coast. You don’t remember much of it since you were very little when you visited last, but it is one of many ports from which trade with the city-states of Thallos flows constantly from across the sea. “$cxthey was so drunk that $xthey got into a brawl at one of the teahouses in Khid,” Tûjo says. “Needless to say, we were kicked out.” “That doesn’t sound that unusual,” $aname comments, voicing your own thoughts. “$cxthey slapped the teahouse owner in the face and tried to duel him,” Tûjo continues. “With a fish.” Admittedly, duel-by-fish may be slightly unusual. $aname's eyebrows shoot up. “With a—?” $xname laughs a little, rubbing the back of $xtheir neck with a surprising amount of embarrassment, and you suspect it’s mostly because of $aname being present. “It seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea at the time.” You hear Heval sigh deeply from underneath their helmet. “Let’s go, Tûjo.” They both turn to you, bowing their heads respectfully. <<if $tujotrust gte 5>>“Mezdin favor you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Tûjo adds before he follows Heval to join the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades on their way to Marabad. Considering how your life has been thus far you’re not certain how much favor you can truly expect from the Spirit of Earth, presiding over Charity and Fortune, but you appreciate the sentiment.<<else>>“Mezdin favor you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Heval adds before they follow Tûjo to join the Imperial Guards and the Crescent Blades on their way to Marabad. Considering how your life has been thus far you’re not certain how much favor you can truly expect from the Spirit of Earth, presiding over Charity and Fortune, but you appreciate the sentiment.<</if>> [[Continue|2.32]]

Once they’ve left $xname looks at you expectantly. “Time to meet $rtitle $rname, then?” “Do not tell me you are coming along,” General $dname agonizes, joining the three of you in a small circle with $dtheir arms crossed over $dtheir chest. A sizable portion of Imperial Guards yet remain—you do a quick count of twenty people—waiting for the four of you to get moving. The others are already heading down the Crown’s Road, most of the spies tied up and slung over the backs of horses for convenience. “$dname, sweet bane of my existence, I know you despise me—” General $dname makes a face at the sarcastic endearment, “—but surely you would not deny the Crown additional protection?” “$cxthey makes a good point,” $aname notes, General $dname’s glare turning on $athem, but then $dthey glances at you and lets out a deep exhale. “Very well,” $dthey gives in, jaw clenching as if the very words bring $dthem physical pain before $dthey eases and speaks to you. "Your Imperial Majesty, do you know how to ride a horse?" "Not exactly," you reply, as you would ride on a cart with either your father or your mother holding the reins whenever you needed to travel. The few times you did ride a horse as a child, you'd been riding behind one of your parents. "I prefer to walk, in any case." "Are you certain?" Seeing that you're not going to budge, General $dname nods reluctantly. “I understand. I will lead the way—with your permission, Your Imperial Majesty.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Of course,” you answer with an easy smile, and General $dname stares at you, looking almost befuddled. “Go ahead.” $aname subtly elbows General $dname in the ribs when $dthey doesn’t immediately respond, and the general almost jumps. “Right, yes, I’ll just—” $cdthey nods, flustered as $dthey turn to the soldiers who are left.<<else>>“Yes, of course,” you answer, a little puzzled by the request. “Go ahead, you’re much more capable of leading everyone than I am.” “That is- very high praise,” the general says with a flustered look, almost stammering. “I have not yet earned—” “$dname,” $xname cuts $dthem off, amused. The general shoots another glare $xtheir way, but does eventually turn to the soldiers who are left.<</if>> “Imperial Guards, we march for Kartan’s Outpost!” “Yes, general!” If the Crescent Blades were orderly, the Imperial Guards are the very embodiment of discipline with how quickly and neatly they fall in line. It’s to be expected with trained soldiers of the imperial army, but it says a lot about the way General $dname runs $dtheir subordinates. "Aren't you two going to ride a horse?" you ask $aname and $xname. "If you're walking, I'm walking," $aname replies easily, not seeming bothered by the prospect. You look over at $xname, whose smile stretches a bit too tight, eyeing cynical. "I'm not very fond of the beasts." [[Continue|2.33]]

Falling into step behind General $dname, you find $aname flanking your right while $xname flanks your left, the Imperial Guards marching behind you. It gives you a very direct view of General $dname’s armored back, and you notice a scar on the back of $dtheir neck. It’s thin but very pale, standing out against the General’s darker skintone, running in a vertical straight line across $dtheir skin. An odd place for a scar. You wonder how $dthey got it, or who $dthey got it from. “$rtitle $rname will be thrilled to see you,” $aname says to you while you follow the Crown’s Road, passing by the bushes $rtitle $rname escaped through earlier. “Though I have to wonder, why didn’t you try to find $rthem earlier? It’s been ten years since—” $aname glances at $xname, a strange pause in $atheir sentence. “Since we lost the previous Crown.” You look over at $xname, but $xthey appears unbothered, facing straight ahead while you walk. “I was curious about that too,” $xname admits, “but I figured it had something to do with the Followers of Vidarna.” “It does,” you respond, but that’s where you stop, unable to go any further. “I’d… I’d rather not talk about it. At least, not right now.” You haven’t had any time to process your parents’ deaths, and you’re afraid to grieve. Afraid of the memories it might bring back. The night it happened is a blur, blank spaces in between—you bore witness to it. You know you saw it, saw everything, but you don’t remember it. One moment you were inside an abandoned house deep within the forest, having dinner with your mother and father, and the next you’re holding your father in your arms as he speaks his last words to you, bleeding out on the floor. You don’t even know what happened to your mother except that you heard her fall, screaming and then nothing. Silence. All you can recall after that is that you ran for what felt like hours, until you reached the nearest village and passed out due to sheer exhaustion. The villagers had to carry your unconscious body to the local healer, where you woke up the next day, still in shock. It’s a wonder the assassins didn’t finish you off back then, but perhaps there were too many witnesses around. [[Continue|2.34]]

“My apologies,” $aname says, and you feel $atheir eyes on your face even as you don’t have the energy to meet $atheir gaze. “I didn’t meant to pry.” “It’s alright.” “I bet the first thing you’ll do once you reach the Royal Palace is have a long nap,” $xname remarks, trying to change the subject and lighten the mood. “That’s what I would do, anyway.” “Not bathe?” $aname glances back at you. “Ah… no offense.” “It’s fine.” You try not to cringe. “I know I probably don’t smell great.” Bathing in a cold river doesn’t exactly leave you smelling like flowers. Your father was a very hygienic man—you always wondered how he ever fell in love with your mother when she was always covered elbow-deep in dirt from farming—who passed much of his cleanliness onto you, but out in the wild there aren’t many opportunities for keeping clean. “Oh, please, you smell like roses to me,” $xname replies. “Have you ever shared a tent with a bunch of sweaty mercenaries? The stench would knock you out.” You look at $xname in confusion. “But you don’t usually share your tent, do you?” “Only when I’m feeling lonely.” <<if $res gte $flirt>>Did- did $xthey just imply— Your cheeks burn and $xname snickers at you, thoroughly amused.<<else>>You quirk your mouth up into a slight smile, intrigued by the innuendo, and $xname winks at you. $cxthey sounds like $xthey knows how to have a great time.<</if>> “I know for a fact you don’t sleep with your own mercenaries,” $aname intervenes, dispelling the notion, <<if $res gt $flirt>>though you’re already starting to feel your ears burning<<else>>to your disappointment<</if>>. “It’s a terrible idea.” “You’re right,” $xname admits, but then grins slyly. “Note that I never said it was my mercenaries I was sharing my tent with.” [[Continue|2.35]]

Banter aside, as you walk the road you realize you don’t know much about either $aname or $xname. Well, you know about $xname, obviously, but you have no idea how much of the stories are true and how much is exaggerated. You don’t really know anything about $xthem beyond that, and you know even less about $aname since you’ve only just met. In which case, you figure you might as well fill the time with some conversation, especially since the two of them appear to have known each other for a long time. Or they’re rather familiar with each other, at the very least. You think of a question to ask. <ul> <li>[['"How long have you two known each other?"'|2.36.a]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male' and $agender is 'male'>>[['"So, Xelef, about that time Azad beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'female' and $agender is 'female'>>[['"So, Xelara, about that time Ashti beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'male' and $agender is 'female'>>[['"So, Xelef, about that time Ashti beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $xgender is 'female' and $agender is 'male'>>[['"So, Xelara, about that time Azad beat you in a fight..."'|2.36.b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[["How did you become the Royal Protector, Azad?"'|2.36.c][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<<else>>[["How did you become the Royal Protector, Ashti?"'|2.36.c][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<set $shamkurstory to true>>“Far too long, if you ask me,” $aname drawls, and $xname feigns hurt at the snide remark, pressing a hand to $xtheir chest. “$aname, you wound me!” $cxthey wipes a non-existent tear from the corner of $xtheir eye before turning to you to answer your question. “Five years, give or take.” $aname scoffs. “As I said, far too long.” You get the impression $xname would have reached over and playfully shoved $aname if you hadn’t been standing in between them. “What have I ever done to deserve such cruel words, hmm?” “Someone needs to make sure your arrogance doesn’t get the better of you,” $aname replies casually, looking up at the sky and lifting a hand to shield $atheir eyes from the sunlight. When you follow $atheir gaze you see why; many large clouds are visible in the distance, slowly rolling in over the forest. “I don’t remember asking you to do that for me,” $xname whines childishly, all but pouting. Putting $atheir hand down and looking away from the sky, $aname grins at $xname. “You didn’t, I volunteered.” $xname throws up $xtheir hands in exasperation. “As if Heval and Tûjo aren’t bad enough!” “So, how did you first meet?” you cut in, pulling their attention back toward you before they devolve into more banter, even if it is entertaining to watch. $xname hums. “It was probably…” “The ghouls in Shamkur?” $aname suggests. “Eugh, yes.” $xname rubs $xtheir arms up and down, as if overcome with a sudden chill. “Spirits, I hate ghouls.” “Ghouls?” you repeat. “As in, plural?” You know of ghouls, spirits of people who could not find their peace once dead, possessing a dead body and devouring the flesh of the living instead. They’re usually known to be solitary creatures most often found in the desert. You’re thankful you’ve never encountered one in person. “There were fifty of them at least,” $xname recalls. “A massive fight had broken out in the city of Shamkur a while ago. There were disagreements between nobility about who was supposed to be the next steward, since the province of Şevan didn’t have a Mîr to choose someone for the role. A lot of people died, and some of those people—the vilest ones, naturally—ended up turning into ghouls.” “There’s no Mîr in Şevan?” you repeat, confused. “Why not?” $xname and $aname exchange a glance before $aname explains: “The Crown is the only one who can choose a Mîr, and the Mîr is the only one who can appoint stewards to the cities. Şevan’s previous Mîr passed away from old age six years ago; the whole province has been in turmoil ever since.” “Oh.” That means it’s up to you to choose a Mîr. “I see.” It’s not as if you want someone to hold your hand and tell you what decisions to make, that would be no different than becoming a figurehead for someone else’s agenda, but you are so far removed from the realm of politics that you have no idea where you would even start. “In any case,” $aname says, thankfully shifting the topic back to address your original question. “I was a lieutenant in the Imperial Army back then and got sent out to Shamkur to deal with the ghouls together with my unit. The problem proved too much for us to handle alone, so a noble from Shamkur hired the Crescent Blades to lend a hand.” “And that’s how we met,” $xname finishes, flashing $aname a teasing smile. “We briefly worked together to clear out all the ghouls. $aname here was shaking in $atheir boots, since $athey’d never fought a ghoul before.” “What an outrageous claim,” $aname retorts in a bored tone, though the amused look in $atheir eyes betrays $athem. “Are you sure you’re not projecting, $xname? I very clearly recall you lopping a ghoul’s head off and shrieking when you got its pus on your clothes.” $xname shudders. “Don’t- remind me—” “Didn’t it get in your hair as well?” “Stop it!” $xname now does reach over behind you to shove $aname. “You stop that right now! Spirits, you’re so obnoxious sometimes!” $aname laughs, swaying a bit to the side from $xname’s push before drifting back to walk beside you again, while $xname frantically <<if $xgender is 'male'>>sweeps his hands through every inch of his hair<<else>>slides her hands over her hair and feels out her bun<</if>>, as if ghoul pus could appear out of nowhere. “$xname isn’t very fond of the undead,” $aname quietly advises you while you watch $xname continue to prod at $xtheir hair. “What about you?” you inquire. “Do you mind the undead?” “I’m not particularly frightened by them,” $aname considers. “But I wouldn't go out of my way to seek them out, either. They're merely a pest.” [[Continue|2.37]]

The road to the outpost ends up being shorter than you expected, or perhaps it merely feels that way with how easily the conversation between $aname and $xname flows. You don’t participate much, having too much on your mind now that you’re all but guaranteed to be officially recognized as the Crown. As you let the two of them talk, the sound of their chatter passing through you like empty noise, you try to enjoy the scenery of the forest around you. A small patch of singing flowers among irises and tulips catches your eye, the deep blue flowers with their bell-shaped petals chiming softly whenever the breeze makes them sway. Such magical flowers are hardly an uncommon sight in the forest, though it’s not often that you’ll find any near human roads. “Want to pick one?” $aname suggests when $athey catches you staring. “Better not,” $xname advises with a slightly playful smile as you pass by the flowers. “Wouldn’t want to upset a peri.” Kartan’s Forest used to be unfriendly to humans, you remember your father telling you. Centuries ago, before the Arsurian Empire even existed, it was the sole domain of all kinds of magical creatures, chiefly among those being peris: winged spirits known for causing mischief, and naturally adept with wielding magic far more than the average human. It wasn’t until the famed magus Kartan established a treaty with the peris that the forest became safe to cross for humans, who started calling it Kartan’s Forest as a result. Apparently the peris that live here call it by another name entirely, though you’re not sure what it is. “I’ve picked singing flowers before,” you say to $xname. “Never had a peri bother me over it.” “What?” $xname frowns. “Every time I’ve tried to pick a flower I’ve had one of those oversized little insects come out of nowhere to hex me!” “Maybe they just don’t like you,” $aname proposes, amused. “Don’t be absurd.” $xname spreads out $xtheir arms. “Everybody likes me!” “I’m starting not to.” “$aname, beloved, you wound me!” “Oh, look, we’ve arrived.” $aname refuses to even look at $xname’s pouting, $atheir expression completely apathetic while you barely hold back a chuckle. You follow $atheir gaze to notice a fairly large wooden building a small distance away, two watchtowers a bit further down on either side of the road and you can just about make out two soldiers occupying them. As you approach with General $dname at the front, the door of the outpost opens and a soldier comes hurrying out to greet you. [[Continue|2.38]]

<<set $xstory to true>>“Why would you bring that up?” $xname bemoans. “Do you hate me? Is that it?” “I just wanted to know more about it,” you reply with an innocent look. “You mentioned a tomb and a corpse summoner, so I thought it would make a good story.” “Oh, it’s an excellent story,” $aname agrees, grinning broadly. “Allow me to—” “No, no!” $xname glares at $aname, though without any real heat. “If anyone is going to sing about my defeat, it’ll be me!” “Fine.” $aname looks briefly disappointed, but then adds, “Please don’t actually start singing.” $xname glances behind $xthem at the soldiers marching a small distance away from you. “There aren’t any other inner magic types in the Imperial Guard, are there?” “None with sensory abilities,” $aname answers. “Why? Are you worried about them finding out?” “No, but you clearly are.” “There’s some truth to that,” $aname admits, turning serious for a moment. “The people of Arsur needed a hero to rally behind, with the Crown being absent. It wouldn't do for me to gloat about my victory and damage your reputation, considering. That’s all there is to it.” <<if $abeggar is false>> You’re not entirely sure it was such a purely calculated move on $aname’s part, considering the way you overheard $athem defending $xname to General $dname back in Marabad, but you’re not about to point that out.<</if>> “Well, now that the Crown has been found,” $xname says, “will you start telling the story?” $aname remains silent, averting $atheir gaze for a moment. “Why don’t you tell it to $them first?” $athey deflects, nodding toward you. $xname smiles in a self-satisfied way, as if that were the only answer $xthey needed, before turning to you. “I was hired by a wealthy nobleman to recover a few precious heirlooms that were mistakenly buried in a tomb. Unfortunately, the story about the heirlooms quickly spread, drawing interest from more unsavory types who thought it a good idea to rob it.” "Did they get cursed?" $xname looks confused. "No?" Perhaps you're misremembering, but you're certain you heard $xname describe it that way last night. "I thought you said the family tomb was cursed?" $xname starts to laugh, shaking $xtheir head. "<<if $xpoints gt 0>>Aren't you darling? <</if>>I didn't mean literally cursed, I meant the cursed- you know, the damned- I meant it as an insult!" "...Oh." You almost wince at your misstep; spending so much time alone has made you a little slow on social cues<<if $blunt gt $charm>>, not that you were particularly charming before<</if>>. "Okay, so... just tomb robbers. Is that how the corpse summoner got involved?” “I thought he was just your average tomb robber.” $xname grimaces at whatever memory that passes through $xtheir mind, frowning at it. “I didn’t count on having to fight the near-decomposed corpse of a grandmother. And to complicate matters even more, the Imperial Army showed up.” “Why?” you question. “This sounds like a family matter.” “The problem was that the heirlooms the nobleman wanted so much had already been promised to the Empire in his grandmother’s will,” $xname clarifies moodily. “A fact which he neglected to inform me of when I took the job, the jackal.” “You can leave your possessions for the Empire to take ownership of?” “Of course.” “The heirlooms were magical artifacts,” $aname says, filling in the gaps for you. “As a magus, she wanted to donate them to the School of Zeratun for the students there. I was ordered to collect the heirlooms and transport them to the city, but $xname refused to cooperate.” $xname shrugs, unaffected by $aname’s critical tone. “The deception wasn’t severe enough for me to go back on my word, plus there was good gold in it. In the end it turned into a three-way battle between me, $aname and the corpse summoner. Though I must note that if it hadn’t been for my loathing of all things undead, I absolutely would have won!” “Of course you would have,” $aname says with a mocking smile. “Except you couldn’t sense—” “Shush!” $xname reaches out a hand as if wanting to place it over $aname’s mouth but falling short of reaching $athem since you’re standing in between them. “Don’t tell $them! I want to see the look of awe on $their face the first time $they <<if $gender is 'nb'>>see<<else>>sees<</if>> me fight.” $aname’s look of exasperation says all it needs to, though $xname seems unbothered by it. It does make you interested in knowing how far $xname’s sensory abilities truly go, though $xthey appears insistent on having it be a surprise. “Have the two of you fought since?” you ask curiously. $aname and $xname exchange a look. “No,” $xname says, a mischievous grin starting to unfurl on $xtheir lips. “But if you wanted a rematch, $aname—” “I refuse.” “What? Come on!” “I have no reason to fight you,” $aname answers curtly. “Unless you’re prepared to threaten $name’s life, don’t expect me to indulge you.” $xname grumbles, kicking at a small rock lying on the road and watching it bounce down the dirt. “You know I would never go that far.” [[Continue|2.37]]

<<set $astory to true>>“It’s not a very interesting story,” $aname answers. “I was one of the many to apply, though there wasn’t any indication that the Crown would be found anytime soon. The Mîr of the province of Avdin, Lîlan, sponsored me and then $dname appointed me.” That does sound fairly simple, though you suspect there's more to it than that. "Avdin?" you question, trying to remember what you were taught about Arsur's smallest region, laid at the coast. "Is that your home province?" "It is." A flicker of a smile flits over $aname's face, one with genuine warmth. "I was raised in a small town near the beaches of Ilwan, the capital. My mother was a simple fisher when she met my father and eventually moved us to Ilwan." "What about your father?" $aname's expression shutters and you instantly know you asked the wrong thing. "He took good care of us." "Oh." You stay silent for a moment, not sure what to say. $catheir reaction has definitely piqued your interest in wanting to know more, but it would be rude to keep prodding when you're barely even acquainted. "Way to make things uncomfortable," $xname says to $aname with a wry look, receiving a mild glare in return. “So, uh, why did you apply?” you ask to change the subject and leave the awkward atmosphere behind. “You said yourself that there was no certainty that you’d have a Crown. Why did anyone apply, for that matter?” $xname smirks at you. "Nice save." “The role of the Royal Protector is meant to be an apolitical position,” $aname explains while blatantly ignoring $xname, looking up at the sky and shielding $atheir eyes with a hand from the sunlight; large clouds are visible in the distance, slowly rolling in toward the forest. “However, in the absence of a Crown, the vacuum of power might allow for that to change, should the Royal Protector possess the ambition for it. “Now that you’re here, I no longer have to listen to any of $dname’s orders.” $aname puts $atheir hand down and casts a glance at $dname’s back. “I can even command $dname as well as the Imperial Army, but only in matters concerning your immediate safety as the Crown.” “In theory, $aname could even confine you should $athey have reasonable suspicion that you’re about to harm yourself,” $xname chimes in meaningfully, a slight smile as if teasing you. “But no Royal Protector has ever had the stones to exercise that power.” “I can see why someone would want it, then.” Though you don’t hope $aname will ever decide it necessary to confine you, even if you can’t think of a reason for why on earth you would ever put yourself in needless danger. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Then again, you already did by going to $xname in the first place, so perhaps there is a point to that rule.<<else>>...Okay, maybe you can think of one or two reasons, but still!<</if>> “Do you know why General $dname selected you?" you ask as a follow-up. "Not that I doubt your abilities, or anything. I’m just curious.” “Aside from my superiority as a warrior, mainly my independence,” $aname answers, refreshingly straightforward. “I’m not beholden to anyone, nor do I have any political aspirations.” “$aname is somewhat notorious for being impossible to bribe,” $xname comments, almost impressed as $xthey looks over at $aname. “The last person who tried ended up nearly choking on their coins.” “Even thinking to approach me with such a ridiculous offer is an insult.” $aname frowns deeply, mood darkening just from the topic being brought up. “Discouraging future attempts called for a heavy hand.” Mulling this over, the way $aname has been behaving so casually around General $dname is starting to make sense now. After all, General $dname isn’t actually $aname’s superior; if anything it sounds like they’re equally ranked with a few exceptions according to the circumstances. “You know, you never answered my first question,” you point out when you realize as much. “Why did you, specifically, apply?” $aname averts $atheir gaze briefly, seeming in thought, before $athey looks at you and says, “I felt like it.” You arch your brows. “It was on a whim?” “I suppose.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I don’t think I believe that,”<<else>>”I suspect there’s more to the story,”<</if>> you reply, somewhat incredulously. Who would apply for such an important position without at least thinking it through? There must be a reason that $athey doesn’t want to share with you. “Believe what you will.” $aname shrugs, and from $atheir nonchalant dismissal you can tell you won’t get anything out of $athem. “I’d rather be a bodyguard than a bureaucrat or a soldier.” $xname opens $xtheir mouth to say something when $aname sees it and cuts in with a sharp, “Or a mercenary, for that matter.” “One day you’ll come around,” $xname insists, though $xthey deflates slightly with disappointment, then looks at you. “Not that I’d want to poach $athem from you- well, actually, I do. But I can wait. Once the Empire is stable again you won’t have any need for a Royal Protector, no?” “Don’t be absurd,” $aname says. “The Crown will always need protection.” “Oh, come on!” $xname all but pleads. “You would make such a great Crescent Blade! Think about it! We have a really good banner.” “The day I take orders from you is the day the Armas Mountains topple over,” $aname scoffs. You consider asking $aname about $atheir reluctance when you first met earlier, about how $athey appeared displeased with you, but if $aname is dodging such a simple question as to why $athey applied for the position, you doubt you’d get a straight answer out of $athem for anything else. If you really want the truth, it looks like you'll have to earn $atheir trust first. [[Continue|2.37]]

“General!” The soldier—the sword wielder you recognize from before—presses their palm over their heart and bows in greeting. “At ease, Ziryan.” General $dname looks right past them to the outpost. “Where’s $rtitle $rname?” “$crthey’s inside, general,” the soldier answers. “$crthey’s, uh, boiling water for tea.” “Tea?” General $dname repeats sharply, then sighs. “In any case, tell $rthem—” “<<if $rgender is 'male'>>RÊZAN<<else>>ROZERÎN<</if>>!” $xname shouts at the top of $xtheir lungs. “COME OUTSIDE, WE’VE FOUND THE CROWN FOR YOU!” Both you and $aname flinch hard when $xname suddenly starts shouting, and then $aname hurls out a string of curses as $xname bursts into laughter, though you only catch the latter half. “Spirits spit on the grave of whoever birthed your cursed bloodline, $xname!” “I’m sorry!” $xname does not look sorry, reaching over and putting $xtheir hands on $aname's shoulders, who turns $atheir back and tries to walk away. “$aname, I’m sorry, I swear—" General $dname presses a hand over $dtheir eyes, looking like $dthey’s trying very hard not to lose $dtheir temper, which is good because you’ve heard $dthem shout and it's even louder than $xname. No one needs that right now. You rub at your ear, trying to make sure you haven’t gone deaf, when the door to the outpost opens once more. Your whole body goes tense when you see who steps outside. $rtitle $rname. [[Continue|2.39]]

You see long fabrics dyed in shades of red, the top layer an open coat of burgundy that looks more expensive than anything you've ever owned, tied down at the waist by a belt of large, golden coins. The belt compliments the necklace of smaller coins covering $rtitle $rname's chest, as well as matching $rtheir thick, golden ringed earrings. The luxurious coat covers the sheer, flowing fabric of a lighter dress worn underneath, richly embroidered with golden lines and dots at the hem, the dress pooling around $rtheir feet. Your attention finally shifts from the lavish garments to the <<if $rgender is "female">>woman<<else>>man<</if>> wearing them, and once your gaze settles on $rtheir face, all the jewelry and the clothes are immediately forgotten. The first thing you notice are the defined peaks of $rtheir lips, <<if $rgender is "female">>a touch of red from painted ocher <</if>>surrounded by the golden tone of flawless deep brown skin, cupped by a distinct chin. $crtheir thick, black hair is parted in the middle and falls down straight to $rtheir waist like a sleek curtain. It looks lustrous and well-maintained despite the simplicity of the style, contrasting with the heavy accessories covering $rtheir body. When you look up at $rtheir eyes you find them already aimed at you, hues of glacial gray like mirrors reflecting back at you, the color emphasized by the black soot painted on $rtheir lower lashline. "It's you," $rtitle $rname breathes quietly, $rtheir voice naturally hushed. "You're here." $crthey takes several slow steps forward, captivated by you as if you're the only thing $rthey can see. You find yourself similarly unable to look away from $rthem as $rthey approaches you, $rtheir brows drawn together almost as if $rthey's in pain. $rtitle $rname stands still in front of you for what feels like the longest time. You don't know what to do, what you can possibly say, and then $rthey suddenly falls down to a knee before you and takes your hand in $rtheirs. "I searched for so long," $rthey says with a tremor in $rtheir voice, pressing $rtheir forehead against the back of your hand in prostration. "One fruitless effort after another, a whole string of failures following me wherever I went... I was almost ready to give up hope, and yet here you are. You found me." $crthey looks up at you and you are at a loss; no one has ever looked at you like this before. "You found me," $rtitle $rname repeats, a smile blooming on $rtheir face as $rthey bows $rtheir head to you in deference while keeping hold of your hand, $rtheir skin soft and smooth against yours. "My Crown." Everyone and everything around you has gone silent, as if the forest itself is watching the two of you. You don’t know what you could possibly say, and just as you try to think of something, $rtitle $rname rises back to $rtheir feet, meeting your stare with a gentle smile. Although it disappears as soon as $rthey regards the others surrounding you. [[Continue|2.40]]

$xname steps forward, bowing with a flourish of $xtheir hand. “My $rtitle $rname, may I just say—” “I have never in my life,” $rtitle $rname interrupts coldly, “witnessed such a spectacular fiasco.” You hear $aname sigh deeply from beside you as you watch $xname wince slightly and straighten up again, thought $xthey keeps $xtheir head bowed. “In my defense, this was all very… ah, improvised, and…” $rtitle $rname raises $rtheir palm, and $xname falls silent. “Don’t take me for a fool, $xname, I know exactly what you were up to.” A guilty look flashes across $xname’s face, though $xthey evens it out and lifts $xtheir head to meet $rtitle $rname’s stony stare. “Then you understand I was only acting in the Crown’s best interest.” You glance between the two of them in confusion as you’re starting to lose track of what they’re talking about, but then $rtitle $rname clears it up for you in $rtheir next scornful words to $xname. “Oh, please.” $rtitle $rname narrows $rtheir eyes. “You don’t think anyone actually believes that, do you? I allowed those spies to infiltrate for a reason, though it matters little now that you’ve ruined it all to sate your personal vendetta. Do not for a moment try to pretend otherwise.” “You allowed for it?” $aname cuts in, sounding about as stunned as you feel while your eyes flit to $xname, wondering what vendetta $rtitle $rname could be referencing. “Why on earth would you do that?” “It was the easiest way to keep the Followers of Vidarna off my back while I searched for the Crown,” $rtitle $rname answers simply. “We fed them false information for months. It was the perfect plan, until you went and foiled it.” We? Who is ‘we’? Without waiting for a reply from $aname or $xname, $rtitle $rname turns to General $dname. “What of you, $dname? This was originally your idea.” Oh. [[Continue|2.41]]

“What?” $aname exclaims, turning to General $dname in shock and you think you even see a hint of betrayal in $atheir expression. “$dname, you planned this?” “I should’ve known.” $xname glares openly at $dname. “Of course you would.” “While I don’t condone $aname acting alone in this matter, I believe I would’ve decided to apprehend the spies regardless,” General $dname speaks with a neutral tone, two hands folded behind $dtheir back and you think you may have completely misjudged the general’s temperament. “The circumstances changed. With the Crown found, it would’ve only been a matter of time before the spies made an attempt on $their life; there was too much risk in keeping the Followers around.” $rname lifts $rtheir fingers to $rtheir face, tapping them to $rtheir chin in thought. “You may have a point. $aname certainly was only doing $atheir duty as the Royal Protector, and I cannot fault $athem for that.” “How gracious of you,” $aname sneers, voice dripping with sharp sarcasm, looking almost as upset as $xname. “I thank you for your understanding.” Clearly both seem to have reasons to detest the Followers of Vidarna, and while you know why you hate them, you wonder why the two of them do. $rtitle $rname appears irritated, shooting $aname an unamused look before $rthey takes a deep breath and turns to you once more. “Please forgive me for that horribly rude display, my Crown,” $rthey say, speaking to you in soft tones even while $rtheir eyes take in every detail of your face and you can’t tell what $rthey’s thinking. Are you everything $rthey hoped for, or an utter disappointment? <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“It’s fine,” you answer, not sure what to make of $rthem yet, though you wish these people could ease up on the decorum. <<else>>“You don’t need to apologize,” you answer with a reassuring smile, wishing these people could ease up a little on the decorum. <</if>>It’s making you feel like you were raised in a barn, which… granted, you were, but that doesn’t mean they need to overdo it to this extent. “Regardless, I will watch my tone from now on,” $rtitle $rname resolves, appearing embarrassed. “Allow me to formally introduce myself: my name is $rname, and I go by $rthey. I will serve as your sorcerer and advisor. Please do not hesitate to ask me for anything you may need.” $crthey’s quite formal, but at least this introduction is not as overwhelming as General $dname’s passionate declaration. It’s more measured and graceful, but it seems natural rather than carefully practiced. <ul> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Propriety aside, you would really prefer it if she used your name.|2.42.a]]<<else>>[[Propriety aside, you would really prefer it if he used your name.|2.42.a]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[You don’t mind the title, if that’s how she wants to address you.|2.42.b]]<<else>>[[You don’t mind the title, if that’s how he wants to address you.|2.42.b]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<set $rnickname to $name>><<set $crnickname to $name>>“Well, to start,” you consider, “can I ask you to call me by my name? It’s $name, and I go by $they.” $rtitle $rname appears surprised, but then smiles warmly. “Of course, but only if you would do me the same honor, $name.” “That seems fair to me,” you reply easily, finding your own smile tugging at your lips before you can help it. “Thank you, $rname.” $rname appears genuinely pleased, a joyful crinkle of $rtheir eyes as $rthey holds your gaze and it feels so natural, which is strange, because you're not used to looking people in the eyes. Yet around $rname, you feel so immediately at ease. “If you are done,” $aname chimes in, startling you as you had nearly completely forgotten that you were not alone. “Might I suggest you move this conversation indoors?” You glance around, realizing that at some point during your exchange with $rname, General $dname ordered the Imperial Guard to move on. You catch some of the soldiers heading inside the wide and low section attached to the outpost building, likely barracks, while the remainder of the Imperial Guard set up along the road. General $dname $dthemselves has wandered off to join the soldiers by the road, seeming to be briefing the group. $aname and $xname, on the other hand, have lingered by your side and watched your conversation with $rname. “That would be best,” $rname agrees with $aname’s somewhat terse suggestion, looking at you. “Shall we?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod and walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<<else>>“By all means.” You walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<</if>> It’s at that point you notice that $xname isn’t following you, and you stop to look questioningly over your shoulder at $xthem. “You go on ahead,” $xthey says. “I think I’ll stay out here and pester $dname some more.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“Have fun,” you offer wryly, and $xname winks at you. “I always do!”<<else>>You raise your brows at $xthem. "Try not to cause any more misunderstandings, would you?" "Can't make any promises," $xname replies with a wink.<</if>> [[Continue|2.43]]

<<set $rnickname to "my Crown">><<set $crnickname to "My Crown">><<if $charm gte $blunt>>"It's a true pleasure to finally meet you, $rtitle $rname," you say, not needing to fake the relief that shines through in your smile.<<else>>"I'm glad to finally meet you, $rtitle $rname," you say, the relief in your chest making it easier to breathe. You hadn't even realized how tense you were from the stress.<</if>> "My name is $name, and I go by $they." $rtitle $rname smiles warmly at you. “I feel very much the same, my Crown. Also, there's no need for you to use my title; $rname will suffice." “If that's what you want,” you reply easily, finding your own smile tugging at your lips before you can help it. “$rname, then.” $rname appears genuinely pleased, a joyful crinkle of $rtheir eyes as $rthey holds your gaze and it feels so natural, which is strange, because you're not used to looking people in the eyes. Yet around $rname, you feel so immediately at ease. “If you are done,” $aname chimes in, startling you as you had nearly completely forgotten that you were not alone. “Might I suggest you move this conversation indoors?” You glance around, realizing that at some point during your exchange with $rname, General $dname ordered the Imperial Guard to move on. You catch some of the soldiers heading inside the wide and low section attached to the outpost building, likely barracks, while the remainder of the Imperial Guard set up along the road. General $dname $dthemselves has wandered off to join the soldiers by the road, seeming to be briefing the group. $aname and $xname, on the other hand, have lingered by your side and watched your conversation with $rname. “That would be best,” $rname agrees with $aname’s somewhat terse suggestion, looking at you. “Shall we?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You nod and walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<<else>>“By all means.” You walk beside $rthem as $rthey leads you toward the outpost building, $aname trailing behind you.<</if>> It’s at that point you notice that $xname isn’t following you, and you stop to look questioningly over your shoulder at $xthem. “You go on ahead,” $xthey says. “I think I’ll stay out here and pester $dname some more.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“Have fun,” you offer wryly, and $xname winks at you. “I always do!”<<else>>You raise your brows at $xthem. "Try not to cause any more misunderstandings, would you?" "Can't make any promises," $xname replies with a wink.<</if>> [[Continue|2.43]]

[ Relationships updated | $rname's Codex updated ]<<set $metr to true>><<set $rappearance to true>><<set $rcodex to false>> As soon as you enter the outpost building $aname closes the door shut behind you while you cast your eyes around the bare interior. It's furnished with only the most basic of wooden chairs, tables, and a large desk near the back covered with a giant map. You notice stairs going up to the second floor, and another door that must lead to the connected barracks where some of the Imperial Guard just went. $rname gestures toward the small square table near the windows surrounded by four chairs, and the three of you take a seat. “We have so much to discuss,” $rname starts after you’ve sat down, folding $rtheir hands on top of the table across from you as $rtheir smile from before seems to have lingered on $rtheir lips. “This is hardly the place to be sharing anything of a sensitive nature, but before we return to the royal palace, is there anything you’d like to ask me? Perhaps I should explain what happens next?” That does seem like a good place to start, though you could also ask $rthem about quite a number of other things first. You start by asking $rthem… <ul> <li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><<else>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>> </ul>

<<set $question1 to true>>"You mentioned before that you and General $dname allowed the Followers of Vidarna to infiltrate the Imperial Guard," you recall, watching $rname's expression carefully as you build up to your question, but $rname looks perfectly composed. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"Can you explain more about that?"<<else>>"How?"<</if>> "I would also like to know," $aname joins in with a frosty look aimed at $rname. "As well as why you didn't think to inform me, the Royal Protector." "Much like with $xname, your personal history convinced me it was better to leave you in the dark." $rname's composure doesn't so much as waver while $rthey explains $rtheir reasoning in cool tones, chin raised with a hint of defiance as $rthey meets $aname's glare. "As it did not concern the Crown's immediate safety, neither I nor General $dname saw reason to inform you." "You--" $aname stops $athemselves, a frustrated clench of $atheir jaw before $athey leans back into $atheir chair with a deep exhale. "You may have a point. I have a... difficult time keeping a cool head, where the Followers are concerned." "Which is understandable," $rname considers, easing up slightly. "At least you are not as bad as $xname. I have the utmost faith you will keep <<if $rnickname is "my Crown">>the Crown<<else>>$name<</if>> safe from the Followers, precisely for that reason." Although your curiosity is piqued, you hesitate to ask $aname about $atheir "personal history", especially since $athey's pointedly looking away from you. It must be a very sensitive subject. $aname doesn't look at $rname either for that matter, but nods in acknowledgment, and $rname turns back to you to answer your question. "How much do you know about the Followers of Vidarna?" $rthey asks. You know a lot more than $rthey likely suspects that you do, but you're curious to see how $rthey would explain it to you. "Assume I know about as much as the average person." "In that case, I'll start from the beginning." $rname takes a quiet breath before $rthey begins to speak. "There is a sizable portion of Arsurians who believe that two centuries ago, the famed warrior Vidarna was denied his rightful place as the Twelfth Crown in favor of his twin brother, Ardashir. Among those Arsurians is a small section calling themselves the Followers of Vidarna, who resent the current line of Crowns descended from Ardashir." That is an accurate, if very general, summary. Though the Followers of Vidarna go much further than merely resent the Crowns; the corpses of your parents prove that much. You wish you knew how they--as well as your parents--figured out you would be next in line. "They're not as small as you might think," you reply grimly. $rname frowns. "You've had dealings with them before?" When you stay silent, $rname briefly hesitates but then thankfully chooses to move on. "In any event, Lady Zerya was already keeping a close eye on them by the time I came to be under her tutelage. They are a far more dangerous group than the public knows. If word ever got out how they--" "They assassinated Crown Ferzan, didn't they?" $rname falls silent, both $rthey and $aname staring at you in shock. "How did you know that?" $aname asks tightly. "That's supposed to be secret, I can count on one hand how many people in the Empire are aware of that." You glance toward the door leading to the barracks, and $rname notices, following your gaze and $rtheir brows raise slightly in understanding. "Let's table that particular conversation until we're at the Royal Palace," $rthey says to $aname, who appears reluctant but does let the topic drop. "As I was saying, we've been keeping an eye on them for years, identifying various members as they've tried to recruit more people for their cause. It was the simplest thing to allow them to slip in the ranks; their successful assassination of Crown Ferzan has made them arrogant." "They never got suspicious?" you wonder. "What kind of information were you feeding them?" "Mostly I tried to keep them busy, having them guard empty buildings and trivial meetings, things of that nature," $rname recounts. "General $dname fed them concerns about other soldiers becoming radicalized into Followers, goading them into trying to recruit them. The supposedly radicalized soldiers were, of course, really spies working for us all along." That is not insignificant. "You've infiltrated them?" "Not as deeply as I would like," $rname admits with a sigh. "The inner circle is still closed to us, but hopefully we'll have a breakthrough soon." <<if $calc gt $kind>>The way $rname has explained it makes sense to you and you can't say you wouldn't have done the same thing if you'd been in $rtheir position. Some might take offense at the level of secrecy involved, but to you it sounds like a necessity when dealing with a sect of this level.<<else>>While $rname does make sense and you understand $rtheir reasoning, you can't say you agree with the way $rthey lied to $aname about it. Even if $aname has personal issues with the Followers, $athey still deserved to know.<</if>> "I appreciate you telling me all this," you say<<if $question2 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>, trying to think of the next thing you want to ask $rthem. <ul> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[Ask her about her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask her about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask her about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[Ask him about his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask him more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask him about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question2 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>. "I don't have any more questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

<<set $question2 to true>>"Were you really going to give up the search?" you ask $rthem, and $rthey appears almost apologetic for it. "Not give up," $rthey clarifies. "A brief pause to clear my mind." "$crthey really needed it." $aname appears serious, but you catch the smile in the corner of $atheir mouth. "No amount of sleep could fix that." $cathey gestures to the skin beneath $rname's eyes and you only then notice the dark circles. "Beauty blemishes were the least of my worries," $rname replies, but then adds, "Although they do my skin no favors." "We couldn't have that," $aname agrees sarcastically and $rname shoots $athem a sharp glance. $aname clears $atheir throat and sits up a little straighter. "$crthey would've picked up the search again, regardless." "Yes." $rname gives you that look again, as if $rthey's trying to memorize your face, or convince $rthemselves that you're real. After a moment $rthey averts $rtheir eyes and lowers them to $rtheir hands folded on the table, $rtheir head slightly bowed. "I would have." <<if $kind gte $calc>>"It must've been hard," you say, feeling the need to comfort $rthem. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd given up."<<else>>"I wouldn't have held it against you had you given up," you tell $rthem, and you mean it. "It would've been perfectly reasonable."<</if>> "There were times where I feared that perhaps you had died and that's why neither Lady Zerya or I could find you," $rname admits quietly, then lifts $rtheir gaze to meet yours again, a little less melancholy. "But I held hope. I would've searched for you my whole life if I had to." The smile that then flourishes on $rtheir face is soft but radiant. "And now, here you are." <ul> <li>[['"Fortunately for both of us."'|2.44.b.3]]</li> <li>[[You blush, managing a small smile back.|2.44.b.1][$rpoints to $rpoints + 2]]</li> <li>[["I'm glad I found you," you reply, a slow smile spreading on your face in response.|2.44.b.2][$rpoints to $rpoints + 2]]</li> </ul>

<<set $question3 to true>><<if $blunt gte $charm>>"I'd like to know more about you," you say, and $rname looks a little taken aback.<<else>>"I'd like to get to know you better," you say with a friendly smile. "Why don't you tell me more about yourself?"<</if>> "Me?" $crthey considers you with a slight furrow between $rtheir brows, but then nods. "What do you wish to know?" <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"Let's start easy." <</if>>You think of a basic question. "Where are you from?" $rname doesn't answer immediately, seeming in thought at first, and $rtheir tone is hesitant when $rthey replies. "I'm not certain where I was born, but I remember growing up an orphan in Marabad." "You don't know who your parents are?" "No," $rname says bluntly, but $rthey doesn't look upset at your for asking. "I had others to take care of me, but they weren't much better off than I was. It was a small family, uncle Farraj and his niece and nephew who were both a couple years older than me. We weren't blood-related and they didn't have much, but they still shared everything they had with me." "They sound like very kind people," you remark, though you wonder how anyone could be so poor in a city like Marabad. Wherever you went you saw wealth flaunted in the architecture lining the streets, every stone meticulously laid. A single thread of the banners hanging from the Royal Palace could probably feed a family for a year. You yourself could be considered to have grown up poor by some, having always been on the run, but you never considered yourself such, mostly because you didn't have anyone to compare it to. It wasn't until your parents took you into the towns and villages that you realized how odd your upbringing was. "The kindest," $rname says, gaze distant. "I noticed my talent for magic far outpaced that of my peers at a very young age, and so I tried to apply to the School of Marabad. I hoped by becoming a magus and finding a wealthy patron, I could finally repay all that they'd done for me, but... the school rejected my application." Your jaw almost drops. "What? Why?" "$crthey wasn't one of the chosen," $aname scoffs, but when you stare at $athem in confusion, $athey blinks. "Don't tell me you don't know?" "Know about what?" While your parents did educate you in various subjects, they mostly neglected to tell you about how society actually functions, leaving you ignorant to most things others would consider common knowledge. It's starting to make you feel a little embarrassed. "It's not officially a rule," $rname explains, exchanging a look with $aname. "The school, or any profession for that matter, is supposed to select its students based solely on merit. It's inspired by the way the Crown is chosen, hence the term. But usually... if you don't already know an influential magus who can vouch for you, it's impossible to get into the school. That's what happened to me. "They rejected me, justifying it by saying that I wasn't one of the chosen." $rname frowns deeply, an edge of bitterness in the pull of $rtheir mouth. "I believed them, like everyone else. I thought fate had already decided for me, and went back to performing magic on the streets for coin." "Is that when Lady Zerya found you?" you guess, and $rthey smiles. "It was," $rname speaks with fondness, you can tell Lady Zerya meant a lot to $rthem. "Somehow she recognized my skill the moment she saw me perform, but she didn't whisk me away to the Royal Palace immediately. No, instead she paid a very formal visit to uncle Farraj, asking for his permission and offering a sizable monthly stipend for the family in my absence. My poor uncle, I thought he was going to faint!" You can only imagine his shock. "Do they still live in Marabad?" "They do, though their house is much bigger now." $rname smiles at you. "I'd love to introduce you sometime." <<if $adven gt $caut>>That sounds nice, better than being holed up in a Royal Palace doing... whatever a Crown is supposed to do<<else>>That actually makes you a little nervous, but you can't deny that you're curious to meet them<</if>>. "Did you ever go back to the school that rejected you?" $rname's smile fades. "No, I left that behind me." "Well, that's a lie," $aname declares, saying to you, "The first thing $rthey did once $rthey became Lady Zerya's student was invite the head of the school to the Royal Palace to make him grovel." "I asked for an apology," $rname corrects clippedly, trying to look dignified as $rthey straightens $rtheir posture and smoothes out the fabric of $rtheir coat. "I did not explicitly tell him to kiss the ground at my feet, it was not my fault he interpreted it that way." "You hinted at it." "Perhaps." $rname grins a little with a gleam in $rtheir eye, and you make a note never to cross $rthem. "So, was that enough about me to sate your curiosity, $rnickname?" "For now," you reply<<if $question1 is false or $question2 is false or $question4 is false>>, trying to think of the next thing you want to ask $rthem, which is... <ul> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question2 is true and $question4 is true>>. "Thank you for answering my questions, I think I'm done asking for today." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

<<set $question4 to true>>"It would be good to know what to expect," you say<<if $caut gte $adven>>, already feeling your nerves building from the thought of returning to Marabad as the Crown<<else>>, feeling the nerves but not being deterred by them<</if>>. "I'm not going to be coronated immediately, am I?" "Since there are currently no immediate emergencies that require the official authority of the Crown, no," $rname clarifies formally, though the implication that there are non-immediate emergencies that are expected soon does not escape your notice. "But it should still happen as soon as possible, considering the state of the Empire." The state of the Empire. You barely know the state of the province of Rojan, how are you supposed to oversee a land as huge as Arsur? Five separate provinces, all with their own problems and history? "Is it that bad?" you venture, perhaps somewhat naively as you can already foresee the disaster that's waiting for you. The Empire has gone ten years without a Crown, a whole decade. Spirits know how much damage that must've done. "Briefing you about it is one of the first things we'll be doing once we get to the Royal Palace, in fact," $rname says and you already feel overwhelmed. "Following that, I've already prepared multiple tutoring schedules and classes depending on your level of education, not to mention that the local nobility will swarm to the palace for a meeting with you, and we must make a formal declaration, perhaps organize a banquet, invite all the Mîrs, definitely the foreign ambassadors--" Now your head is starting to spin. You take a breath, but it doesn't help. Ten thousand breaths probably wouldn't help, at this point. "$rtitle $rname," $aname interferes, to your relief. "One thing at a time, for all our sakes?" $rname appears flustered, eyes flicking from you to $aname, then back to you again. "Forgive me, $rnickname, I got a little too- carried away." $aname snorts. "You don't say?" "All that aside," $rname continues, ignoring $aname and addressing you, leaning forward over the table as $rthey gazes into your eyes and you tense a little in anticipation. "The absolute first thing I would like to do once we get back and you've had a day to rest, is... I would like to get to know you better." That's not what you expected, but it does sound like a much better way to start your reign than jumping straight into the deep end. "Really?" You look over at $aname, but $athey merely shrugs. "That's all?" "It's of no small importance, $rnickname," $rname reasons, as if it were a matter of logic. "How can I serve you to the best of my ability if I do not know you? If I do not know your needs, your thoughts, your psyche?" "That sounds intimate," $aname quips with a bored expression, $atheir tone barely more than a drawl. "Should I let you two have the room?" $rname glares at $athem<<if $rpoints gt 0>><<if $flirt gt $res>>, though you take an immediate liking to $aname's implication<<else>> while you try and fail not to think about $aname's implication<</if>><</if>>. "Charming as always." $aname leans back into $atheir chair, taunting $rthem with a smirk. <<if $kind gte $calc>>"It sounds fun," you say to try and cut off an argument in the making, and $rname appears puzzled. "I mean, getting to know each other better. Not just you getting to know me." "Ah." $rname smiles lightly, small but genuine. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it." So are you, strangely.<<else>>"It makes sense," you say to try and cut off an argument in the making, and you're already mulling over topics you definitely want to avoid. "I will try to let things happen naturally," $rname says. "I can be a little overeager, as you might have noticed, and would not want to force you to tell me anything you did not want to." That does reassure you a little bit.<</if>> <<if $question1 is false or $question2 is false or $question3 is false>>"I have another question for you," you start, opting to ask $rthem... <ul> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how her search was going before you found her.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question2 is false>><li>[[...about how his search was going before you found him.|2.44.b]]</li><</if>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question2 is true and $question3 is true>>"Thank you for telling me all this," you decide when you can't think of anything more to ask. "I don't have any other questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

$rname appears just as bashful as you, not able to hold eye-contact anymore and so $rthey looks away, fiddling with the coins on $rtheir necklace as the smile lingers on $rtheir lips. You wish you could say something, but you can't seem to find the words; you're too distracted by $rname's long, elegant fingers, tracing the edge of a coin. $aname coughs, breaking up the atmosphere, and $rname almost startles as if $rthey'd forgotten that $rthey was in a conversation. $crthey looks at you again, shyly peeking at you through $rtheir eyelashes. "Did you have any other questions?" <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>Your next question is... <ul> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>"No," you answer. "That's all I wanted to know." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

<<set $flirt += 25>>$rname glances away, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind $rtheir ear, and you watch as it slides smoothly over the expensive fabric over $rtheir coat, exposing the lovely stretch of skin on the side of $rtheir neck and suddenly your mouth is dry. "For the good of the Empire, of course," you add belatedly, finding yourself staring at $rthem, at the shine of light in $rtheir gray eyes and the soft look in them. "Of course," $rname agrees quickly, nodding to $rthemselves and smoothing out $rtheir composure. "For the Empire. Now, was there anything else you wanted to ask me?" <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>Your next question is... <ul> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[...about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[...more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[...about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>"No," you answer. "That's all I wanted to know." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

"Is everything a little bit clearer for you now?" $rname looks genuinely concerned. "Perhaps I could--" $aname exhales a sigh that sounds like it was drawn from the very depths of $atheir chest. "Please, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>, have mercy." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You explained everything perfectly," you reassure $rname<<else>>"Everything is perfectly clear," you tell $rname honestly<</if>>, and $rthey breaks away from frowning at $aname to give you a pleased smile. "Besides, if I think of any other questions, I can always ask you them later on." "As you say, $rnickname." $rname rises from $rtheir seat and you follow $rtheir example. "Shall we get going then?" "What about your precious tea?" $aname inquires dryly, lifting $athemselves from $atheir chair a moment later. "Are you certain you can survive without it?" Not even $xname dared to act so casually with $rname, yet $aname seems a lot more familiar with $rthem. Which makes sense, considering the two of them must be around each other a lot more. "How many times do I have to ignore you before you stop being so annoying?" $rname wonders out loud, exasperated. "A few more times than that, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>." $aname grins, and you suspect $athey must get a real thrill out of disregarding any and all authority. "If I don't keep you honest, who will?" Unexpectedly, $rname actually smiles affectionately at $athem. "You are lucky I have a soft spot for you, Mirza." "That I am." "$crnickname." $rname gestures respectfully toward the door. "After you." [[Continue|2.46]]

"Indeed," $rname agrees pleasantly. "I must say, your timing couldn't have been more perfect, though it was quite daring of you to approach $xname for help." "I'd call it foolish." $aname shakes $atheir head. "I do hope this isn't how you plan to behave as the Crown, or I'll have my work cut out for me." "Isn't that what you're being paid for?" you point out<<if $charm gte $blunt>> sweetly<</if>>, and $aname huffs a laugh. "True enough." <<if $question1 is false or $question3 is false or $question4 is false>>That being said, you try to think of another question to ask $rname. <ul> <<if $question1 is false>><li>[[Ask about the Followers of Vidarna that infiltrated the Imperial Guard.|2.44.a]]</li><</if>><<if $rgender is 'female'>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask her more about herself, since you’d like to get to know her better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask about what happens next, as she suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><<else>><<if $question3 is false>><li>[[Ask him more about himself, since you’d like to get to know him better.|2.44.c]]</li><</if>><<if $question4 is false>><li>[[Ask about what happens next, as he suggested.|2.44.d]]</li><</if>><</if>></ul><</if>><<if $question1 is true and $question3 is true and $question4 is true>>With that conversation ended you decide that you've learned enough for now, and are ready to move on to the Royal Palace. "That's all I needed to know," you tell $rname. "I have no more questions." [[Continue|2.45]]<</if>>

As you take the lead to walk out the building, $rname continues to make conversation. "This is the first time in history that a Crown has sought out the Sorcerer rather than the other way around," $rthey comments. "I believe it is a good sign for things to come." "A good sign?" $aname repeats sardonically, stretching $atheir arms wide once you step outside<<if $apoints gte 0>>, not that you're staring at the way the light plays off the smooth skin of $atheir muscles, or anything<</if>>. "Did you miss the part where $they nearly got assassinated, or...?" "Oh, hush!" A dark cloud drifts overhead, blocking out the sun as a chilly wind sweeps across the forest. You shiver, glancing up at the sky. The blue of it is still visible through the gaps in the clouds, but the change in the air is palpable; it's probably going to rain soon. You look across the Crown's Road where you find General $dname standing close to $xname, speaking in hushed tones while the Imperial Guard is spread out and idling as they wait. The scowl on the General's face and the smirk on $xname's is a clear indication of how that particular conversation is going. "Are you cold, $rnickname?" $rname questions, noticing the way you're hugging yourself and rubbing your arms. <<if $charm gte $blunt>>"I'll be fine." You tug your cloak tighter around yourself and flash $rthem a smile.<<else>>"Nothing I can't handle." You tug your cloak a little tighter around yourself.<</if>> At that point both General $dname and $xname notice the three of you standing outside the outpost building, and General $dname hisses a few last words at an amused $xname before $dthey turns away and walks toward you. "We should move out now in case we get caught in a possible storm," $aname remarks. "Our destination is Marabad, I presume?" General $dname approaches, standing beside $rname and throwing $aname a bemused look. "Marabad?" "Our Crown is exhausted," $rname says and you self-consciously touch your cheek, wondering if you really look that miserable. "$cthey<<if $gender is 'nb'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> in no condition to spend several days on the road to Zeratun." From the way General $dname immediately concedes once $dthey takes the time to observe you, you have to conclude the state of your appearance is... dire. "Point taken," General $dname says, then addresses you. "Though I must insist you ride a horse this time, Your Imperial Majesty. Behind someone else, if not by yourself." You sigh, unable to protest due to the soreness in your feet. "Fine." [[Continue|2.47]]

General $dname whistles--and amazingly, even $dtheir whistling is loud--over at two Imperial Guards hanging around the small stables beside the outpost building. You recognize the black horse and the gray spotted horse, the ones General $dname and $rname were riding before. The Imperial Guards perk up as General $dname gestures with a hand toward the horses, then immediately head into the stables. "I'll ready the rest of the guard," General $dname states, then bows to you and marches off again before you can even get a word out. You frown slightly as you watch $dtheir retreating back. "Unfriendly, isn't $dthey?" You look up to find $xname sauntering over to you, casting a derisive glance at General $dname. "Only toward you," $aname retorts nonchalantly and $xname huffs, placing $xtheir hands on $xtheir hips and trying to stare $aname down who ignores $xthem completely. The Imperial Guards approach, leading four horses toward you, including $rname's and General $dname's horses. "$dname is exceptionally focused and dedicated," $rname says to you as you watch $aname take the reins of one of the horses, one with a brown coat. "$cdthey may come across as a bit stiff because of it, but I'm certain $dthey will warm to you quickly." You hope so; having the general of your own army dislike you would be a bad way to start off your rule. "Who would you like to ride behind, $name?" $aname asks, $rname arching $rtheir brows high at the casual use of your first name, but it's not as if you mind. "Me or $rname?" You look at $xname in question. "Definitely not me," $xname says, glancing at the horses and subtly taking a step back. "I think I'll ride behind someone else." "Can you also not ride a horse?" $rname asks you, appearing thoughtful as $rthey takes the reins of $rtheir own horse from the Imperial Guard. "Hmm, I'll have to plan some lessons for that as well." You look between $aname and $atheir brown horse and $rname and $rtheir gray spotted horse. Then again, there's also a third horse, one with a white coat and a light mane who appears to be without a rider entirely. You could try riding that one by yourself, as well. <ul> <<if $rgender is 'female'>><li>[[Ride behind Rozerîn.|2.48.a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ride behind Rêzan.|2.48.a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 2]]</li><</if>> <<if $agender is 'female'>><li>[[Ride behind Ashti.|2.48.b][$apoints to $apoints + 2]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ride behind Azad.|2.48.b][$apoints to $apoints + 2]]</li><</if>> <li>[[Try riding alone.|2.48.c]]</li> </ul>

<<set $ridebehindr to true>>"I'll ride behind $rname," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. "As you wish," $rname says with a pleased smile, mounting $rtheir own horse gracefully and keeping hold of the reigns, preventing it from moving around too much for your benefit. <<if $caut gte $adven>>After hesitating briefly, you approach the horse with caution. It turns it head slightly as if to give you a curious look, but doesn't otherwise respond to your presence. <<else>>Sizing up the horse, you approach it calmly and it turns it head a little as if to give you a curious look, but doesn't otherwise respond to your presence.<</if>> "Would you like a boost?" $rname asks, and without waiting for your reply, $rthey holds $rtheir palm out over the side of $rtheir horse. The earth beside the horse cracks and shoots up from the ground in a small, raised platform for you to step on, shaped into <<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short" or $height is "average">>two steps<<else>>a single step<</if>>. $crtheir horse must be used to magic, because much like before, it barely responds to the noise or the tremble beneath it. You stare at the platform, bewildered. Usually one would need direct contact with the earth to shape it, but $rname did it without even having both feet on the ground. Using the platform, you mount the horse much more easily than you would've without it, and settle behind $rname. The horse moves around a little once you're seated, but seems otherwise unaffected by your combined weight. You hesitate to even touch $rname let alone hold onto $rthem, as the dirt on your fingers would likely stain $rtheir beautiful coat, but falling off the horse isn't an option either. You reluctantly place your hands around $rname's sides, your touch as light as you can make it. "Hold on a little more tightly, $rnickname," $rname instructs you kindly. "I won't mind, don't worry." <<if $flirt gte $res>>"If you're sure," you reply as a mischievous smile begins to form on your lips, figuring that there is a bright side to this awkward situation. You scoot a little closer to $rthem, wrapping your arms snugly around $rtheir soft waist, though you pull back a little when you notice $rthem tensing. "I'm sorry, was that too tight?" "No, not at all, I was merely..." $rname pauses, seeming at a loss for words. "Surprised. I was surprised, that's all. We should join the others."<<else>>"If you're sure," you reply, wondering how you're going to survive the trip to Marabad this way. You keep a polite gap between the two of you, but lean forward a little to wrap your arms more securely around $rtheir soft waist. "Is this alright?" $rname doesn't respond. "Um, $rname?" "Hm... what? Oh!" $rname sounds flustered. "Yes, that's- fine. We should join the others."<</if>> $crthey directs the horse toward the Crown's Road, to join the Imperial Guards gathered there, leading you toward the center of the formation lined up there. $aname follows you on $atheir own horse, Imperial Guards both behind you and in front of you now, though there are a lot fewer of them than there were before. [[Continue|2.49.a]]

<<set $ridebehinda to true>>"I'll ride behind $aname," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. "Obviously," $aname says, mounting $atheir own horse effortlessly, though you're not sure if $athey actually owns it or if it's a random horse that $athey's borrowing. $cathey watches you expectantly. "Well?" <<if $caut gte $adven>>After hesitating briefly, you approach the horse with caution. It barely reacts to your presence. <<else>>Sizing up the horse, you approach it calmly, though it barely reacts to your presence.<</if>> $aname holds out $atheir hand to you<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, reaching down low due to your short height<</if>>, and as $athey helps you mount you feel the strength in $atheir arm when $athey pulls you up. You get the impression that even if you weren't putting any effort into it, $aname could've easily hauled you up on $atheir own. The horse moves around a little once you're sitting behind $aname, but seems otherwise unaffected by your combined weight. You place your hands lightly around $aname's sides, mostly covered by the cold metal of $atheir armor, though that grip tightens quickly when $aname directs the horse toward the Crown's Road, to join the Imperial Guards gathered there. $aname notices your grip and sighs, reaching down to grab one of your hands and pulling them around $athemselves more securely. "You'll fall off if you don't hold on properly." <<if $flirt gte $res>>Well, in that case... Wrapping your arms snugly around $aname's waist from behind, you lean lightly toward $atheir armored back<<if $height is "tall" or $height is "very tall">> and even consider resting your chin on top of $atheir shoulder, but that would be taking it too far<</if>>. "Like this?" You can hear a quiet intake of breath, one that even the indifferent tone of $aname's voice can't cover up. "That's- fine."<</if>><<if $res gt $flirt>>You're still a bit hesitant, but only because you don't want to make $aname uncomfortable in any way. If $athey says it's alright, though... Making sure there's still a polite gap between the two of you, you wrap your arms more securely around $aname's waist from behind. "Is this okay?" "...Perfect," $aname states after an odd pause, and you wish you could see $atheir expression right now.<</if>> $cathey leads you toward the center of the formation lined up on the Crown's Road, $rname following you on $rtheir own horse. There are Imperial Guards both behind you and in front of you now, though there are a lot fewer of them than there were before. [[Continue|2.49.b]]

<<set $ridealone to true>>"I can ride alone," you decide, noticing that the Imperial Guards are all starting to gather on the Crown's Road now with General $dname at the helm, one of the soldiers guiding $dtheir horse to $dthem once you've made your choice. You spot $xname sitting behind one of the Imperial Guards, grinning with $xtheir arms draped around the soldier's waist, pressed close together. The soldier <<if $xgender is 'female'>>herself<<else>>himself<</if>> is flushed from the neck up but looks very pleased and even a little smug with $xname riding behind <<if $xgender is 'female'>>her<<else>>him<</if>>. <<if $xpoints gte 0>> Not that you care, because you don't--even if you kind of wish you'd properly learned how to ride a horse, now.<</if>> "Are you certain?" $aname asks, frowning. "I thought you didn't know how to ride?" "I've never done it alone before," you clarify. $aname nods, though $athey still seems skeptical. "That should make it a little bit easier, I suppose." <<if $adven gt $caut>>As if to make a point, you walk right up to the riderless white horse, trying not to flinch when it moves its head a little at your approach<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, but that's where you run into a big problem. You're too short to mount it. $aname chuckles as $athey walks over, giving you a consoling pat on the shoulder as $athey stands beside the horse, holding out $atheir hands clasped together to give you a boost. With $atheir help you manage to mount it, if in the most ungraceful and embarrassing way possible.<<else>>. When the horse keeps still, you place your foot in the stirrup and lift yourself up, mounting it more smoothly than you expected.<</if>><</if>><<if $caut gte $adven>>You regard the riderless white horse and approach it cautiously, brushing your hand over the soft coat covering its neck<<if $height is "short" or $height is "very short">>, but that's where you run into a big problem. You're too short to mount it. $aname chuckles as $athey walks over, giving you a consoling pat on the shoulder as $athey stands beside the horse, holding out $atheir hands clasped together to give you a boost. With $atheir help you manage to mount it, if in the most ungraceful and embarrassing way possible.<<else>>. You place your foot in the stirrup, and after taking a deep breath lift yourself up, mounting it more easily than you anticipated.<</if>><</if>> "It seems there was nothing to worry about," $rname compliments you with a smile before mounting $rtheir own horse in one fluid, graceful motion, even with $rtheir dress. $aname follows suit, effortless and familiar; it makes your own attempt look clumsy in comparison. "Let's get going, then." [[Continue|2.49.c]]

With some effort you manage to direct your horse toward the formation of Imperial Guards lined up on the Crown's road, following $aname who leads you there while $rname rides behind you. At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "Nervous?" $aname asks as you take your place in the center of the Imperial Guards, surrounding you from the front and behind you, while General $dname is at the very head of it. $aname flanks your left, while $rname flanks your right. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Slightly," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Not any more than usual," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease your grip on the reins that are clenched tightly in your fists. "There's no need to fret," $rname says as $rthey gives you an encouraging smile. "We'll be with you." "And if you need to throw up at any point," $aname adds, "please do it away from my side." "$aname!" You breathe a laugh, the tension in your body seeping away, your jaw unclenching and your hands relaxing as you look ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1c]]

At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "Nervous?" $aname asks. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"Slightly," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Not any more than usual," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease the stiffness in your shoulders and your neck. "Anyone would feel nervous in your shoes," $aname says, $atheir own composure helping you feel calmer. "But you won't have to go through those city gates on your own. If you become overwhelmed, just hold onto me. I'll get you through it." $cathey's right. The tension in your body dissipates slightly, your jaw unclenching and your shoulders relaxing as you look past $athem and ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1b]]

At least the journey back to Marabad should be much shorter now that you're on horseback; it's certainly going to be a reprieve for your feet, though you're not sure about your thighs. "How are you feeling?" $rname asks. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>"A little nervous," you confess, remembering the enormous crowd back in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<<else>>"Like a walking heart attack waiting to happen," you reply in an attempt at humor, though it falls a little flat when you remember the enormous crowd in Marabad that gathered outside the Royal Palace's gates.<</if>> Will the crowd be there again once you return? General $dname did order the other group in charge of delivering the spies to clear out the road to the Royal Palace, but they couldn't prevent a leak before. There's a sizable chance that someone will talk and the whole city will gather once more to witness your arrival. The mere idea of that many people watching you makes you lightheaded. As General $dname announces your departure back to Marabad, you try to ease the stiffness in your shoulders and your neck. "It's natural to be nervous," $rname says, $rtheir soft, reassuring voice making you feel a little better, like a skittish animal being soothed. "Just remember, I am here for you. I will walk beside you every step of the way." $crthey's right. The tension in your body dissipates slightly, your jaw unclenching and your shoulders relaxing as you look past $rthem and ahead, toward the direction where Marabad awaits your return. You won't have to face it alone. [[End Chapter|3.1a]]

@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter three@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Though you can’t say it’s entirely comfortable, either. <<if $res gte $flirt>>Your hands haven’t moved from $rname’s waist, leaving you very aware of the distance between you whenever the horse’s gallop shifts you a little closer toward $rthem. You think you must look rather stiff sitting behind $rthem,<<else>>Your arms haven’t moved from where they’re comfortably curled around $rname’s waist, though you make sure not to sit too close to $rthem. The two of you probably look quite snug together,<</if>> but none of the others around you appear to notice; $aname and General $dname are both looking straight ahead, and $xname seems too busy chatting up the rider $xthey's sharing a horse with to pay you any mind. It’s not just your hold on $rname that has you feeling <<if $res gte $flirt>>nervous<<else>>distracted<</if>>. $crtheir hair is long enough that it isn’t blowing back into your face, but as you sit behind $rthem you think you detect a hint of flowery perfume, if not from $rtheir hair then perhaps $rtheir clothes. “We should arrive in less than an hour,” $rname informs you and you realize you’ve been silent for quite a while as you’ve been riding behind $rthem. $crtheir voice is raised, just about audible over the sound of dozens of hooves treading the ground. Briefly, you consider your combined weight atop the mount. “Will your horse be alright?” “Of course she will.” $rname reaches down and pats the side of $rtheir horse’s neck, who seems to have no issue keeping up with the others even with two people on its back. “These aren’t ordinary horses.” “What kind of breed are they?” “I’m not sure,” $rname responds thoughtfully. “Though breed is not what I meant. They may not look like it at first glance, but these horses are… well, let me show you.” You watch $rthem lean down, lining up with $rtheir horse, and<<if $caut gte $adven>> to your alarm<</if>> you realize $rthey’s let go of the reigns. “$rname, what are you—” “Hold on tight,” is the only warning $rthey gives you before a jolt travels through your body and locks your arms around $rtheir waist. It quickly dims into an odd buzzing sound between your ears and leaves you fascinated by the strange sensation that hums through your body. It feels familiar—$rname’s magic, flowing through you from where your hands rest over $rtheir stomach. But you’re not the only one affected by it. The horse speeds forward as if it were carried by the wind and you notice sparks dancing across its body, shuddering up your legs, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s pure energy, and before you know it you’ve left the Imperial Guards behind you. “$rname!” You’re breathless, unable to do anything but hold onto $rthem as the trees around you pass by so fast you can barely keep up. You raise a hand, watching purple tendrils of lightning dance off your fingertips. “How- what—” $crthey laughs, a grin on $rtheir face as $rthey looks over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?” “$rtitle $rname!” you hear General $dname call after you. “Please slow down and remain behind me, it is not safe!” You hear $rname sigh and after a moment the sparks disappear and the horse slows down again to a normal pace, allowing the Imperial Guards to catch up with you. The energy you felt flowing through you ebbs away, though you still feel more invigorated than you did before. “Did you just use magic?” you ask in disbelief. “On your horse?” “Not quite.” $rname sounds surprised by your confusion. “I created a bond between my magic and hers, guiding its combined force and allowing her to run faster without expending too much energy. She can do it on her own as well, but she saves it for when she’s in danger. Have you never seen an animal use magic before?” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Is that so strange?”<<else>>“No.”<</if>> You wonder if this is another one of those things you missed out on during your childhood or if it’s because $rname is so accustomed to magic. “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>My family steered clear of both people and animals, in general<<else>>I can’t say I’ve ever seen a mouse breathe fire, or something of the sort<</if>>.” “Animal magic is typically much more subtle and used more sparingly than what humans are accustomed to seeing,” $rname explains. “These horses are special because they have a particular aptness for channeling inner magic, making them much sturdier and quicker, but most animals possess at least some amount magical ability. Have you never seen a bird stun its prey with a cry?” You remember witnessing an eagle do that to paralyze a snake as a child, <<if $intel gte $intu>>but you didn’t think anything of it; you just assumed the snake had gone limp from fear. “I always thought eagles could do that without magic.”<<else>>thinking it unusual since you hadn’t seen anything like it before but you had no way of knowing what it truly was; your parents certainly didn’t think it important enough to inform you. “I have, but I couldn’t tell that it was using magic.”<</if>> “Scholars have long observed this specific type of magic ability across many different species, it is truly fascinating.” You worried your lack of knowledge and your questions might annoy someone of $rname’s caliber, but $rthey seems more than happy to answer you. “It’s most often utilized by birds of prey. Lions and wolves have been known to use it as well, albeit not while hunting. One can imagine such a cry or roar would attract unwanted attention very quickly….” $crthey pauses there, sounding a little embarrassed when $rthey speaks again. “Forgive me, it seems I'm rambling.” <ul> <li>[[Change the subject.|3.2a.2]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[Reassure her.|3.2a.1][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Reassure him.|3.2a.1][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> </ul>

@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter three@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Though you can’t say it’s entirely comfortable, either. <<if $res gte $flirt>>You find it easy to keep a good grip on $aname’s waist with your hands, seeing as how $athey’s covered in armor and probably doesn’t even feel you holding onto $athem.<<else>>You still have your arms curled around $aname’s waist, not that it’s entirely smooth with the scale armor covering $atheir torso.<</if>> Though, in truth, your seating positions aren’t the main thing on your mind. $aname hasn’t spoken a single word to you since you began the trip back to Marabad. You’re trying to figure out whether it’s because $athey dislikes you or simply because $athey’s naturally quiet, but it’s hard to tell with someone you’ve just met. You<<if $pass gt $ass>> somewhat nervously<</if>> attempt a conversation. “<<if $pass gt $ass>>Um… how<<else>>How<</if>> long until we arrive?” “An hour or so,” $aname answers, voice raised to be audible over the sound of dozens of hooves treading the ground. The silence between you resumes anew and you take it as a sign of disinterest from $athem, until $athey suddenly asks, “Are you tired?” “A little,” you respond. “But I’ll be fine. Will your horse be alright, with the two of us riding it?” “The horses used by the Imperial Guards are no mere pack animals.” “Oh.” $cathey doesn’t sound snide or derisive, merely as if $athey’s stating a simple fact, but you don’t quite know how to respond so you try for another question. “Are they a special type of breed?” “No,” $aname replies. “It’s not because of their breeding; these horses can carry far more and run much faster due to their use of magic.” “Magic?” You raise your brows, glancing down at the unassuming brown horse you’re sitting on. “This horse can do magic?” “Not the type you’re thinking of.” $aname lets out a breath that sounds somewhat like a laugh, albeit an unintentional one. “These horses naturally use inner magic to increase their physical abilities, much like human soldiers do.” “Are the Imperial Guards the only ones to use them?” “Such horses tend to be uncommon, just as how magi among humans are uncommon,” $aname considers. “There are elite cavalry forces within the Imperial Army to use them as well, but human magic is the preferred method for warfare.” $cathey certainly sounds as if $athey has studied the topic. “You haven’t fought in a war before, have you?” “There haven’t been any to fight,” $aname recalls. “Not since we quelled the revolt in Ivia, and even that could hardly be classified as a war.” “Ivia,” you repeat slowly, trying to map where its land is. You may not have been taught much worldly things, but geography was crucial knowledge when being on the run. “To the northwest of Rojan, right? Connected by the Armas Mountains?” “Yes.” $aname does not sound surprised, which is relieving in a way; at least $athey doesn’t assume you to be completely clueless. “Its status as a territory of the Empire has been uncertain for as long as I can remember, but somehow we’ve managed to avoid an all-out war by the skin of our teeth.” $cathey looks over $atheir shoulder at you, as much as $athey can with you sitting right behind $athem. “You do not seem very well-informed, generally speaking. Why is that?” “I haven’t had a very usual upbringing.” To put it mildly. “I know how to survive, but that’s about it.” “I thought so.” $aname looks back ahead of $athem again. “The average person would’ve winced at the mere mention of Ivia. It's a sensitive subject, I wouldn't recommend bringing it up in polite conversation.” “Yet you did,” you point out. “Is this a polite conversation?” $aname sounds amused. “Pardon me, <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I didn't think you the type, but I’ll watch my words from now on<<else>>I’ll watch my words from now on<</if>>.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing at $atheir round silver earrings glinting whenever it catches a stray ray of sunlight, though those are becoming fewer and fewer as clouds overhead travel closer. "Somehow I doubt that," you remark, having witnessed $aname show very little consideration to rank or station so far. Perhaps $atheir own status as Royal Protector allows $athem to treat others as equals. You admittedly don't have much knowledge about how the hierarchy within the Crown's rule works. "I am glad you don't seem to care much for royal decorum," $aname says. "I get scolded for that enough as it is." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"I can't imagine why," you tease,<<else>>"I can imagine," you state dryly,<</if>> hearing $aname huff with amusement in front of you. "If it pleases you, I could spend the rest of the journey spouting insincere compliments at you instead," $aname suggests. <ul> <li>[[Laugh, but change the subject.|3.3b]]</li> <li>[[“You don’t have to do that, I’d rather you be honest with me.”|3.2b][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]</li> </ul>

@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter three@@ The Crown’s Road makes your travel back to Marabad go much more smoothly compared to the hours you spent wandering around the forest on foot. Riding the horse on your own isn't as difficult as you thought it would be. It is a familiar motion to you, and as you travel the road and time wears on, you quickly grow accustomed to steering your horse, not that it's particularly challenging. Aside from the occasional bend, most of it is a straight path. In terms of the formation you're in, you still find yourself at the very center of it with $aname silently flanking your right, though $rname has moved back to ride behind you, with several guards surrounding you from every side. There's not much opportunity or desire for conversation. The ride helps clear your mind, though that also has the adverse effect of reminding you of what lies at the end of this road. You're not ready for it, but then again, can anyone be ready for something like this? As you silently muse on your very near future, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention as they break the formation. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red scarf wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Hello there," you greet them in a friendly manner,<<else>>"Hello," you greet them plainly,<</if>> voice raised over the noise of hooves thundering over the ground. You try not to have your teeth clatter while you speak. Ziryan deeply inclines their head to you while keeping an eye on the road. “Your Imperial Majesty, forgive me, but I only wished to give you my humblest apologies for drawing my sword on you earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head again to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy. I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look at you expectantly, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. <<if $blunt gte $charm>> “Ah…” You clear your throat. “You are dismissed, guard.” Ziryan stares at you, and you think you see their lips twitch, but they smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you.<<else>>“Go on, then,” you say, though you shoot them a smile. “Back to your guarding, or whatever it is you lot do.” Ziryan stares at you as they hide their laugh in twisting lips and a cough. They smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you.<</if>> [[Continue|3.2c]]

@@.chaptertitle;A TALE OF CROWNS@@ @@.footnote;by S. S. G.@@ <a href="https://ataleofcrowns.tumblr.com">Game blog</a> Your parents murdered and the previous Crown of the Arsurian Empire assassinated, you find yourself on the run from unseen enemies snapping at your heels. As if trying to survive wasn't difficult enough, to make matters worse, your eyes have turned gold. Only the Crown of the Empire has golden eyes. A Tale of Crowns is a high fantasy love story set against the backdrop of an ancient setting, inspired by the Middle East during classical antiquity and incorporating Kurdish influences. You can shape the personality of your Crown as you see fit, grow relationships with various characters and decide whether Arsur will thrive or come apart under your rule, all based on the choices you make. Will you maintain your rule as the Crown, or will you lead to the downfall of an empire? This story is a work in progress and will periodically update with new chapters. Check the game blog for the latest developments. [[Begin the game|0.1]] @@.footnote;<a rel="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/"><img alt="Creative Commons License" style="border-width:0" src="https://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc/4.0/80x15.png" /></a> This work is licensed under a <a rel="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License</a>.@@

“It’s fine, I actually learned a lot,” you say, though you try to think of a different subject to talk about, <<if $kind gte $calc>>hoping to alleviate $rtheir embarrassment<<else>>perhaps one that involves more practical information<</if>>. As you do, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red scarf wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Something the matter, guard?” $rname inquires coolly. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $rname, occasionally glancing back toward the road. “No, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“ As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” “You are fortunate our Crown is so forgiving, guard,” $rname comments with nonchalance, not even bothering to look at them. “I know of Mîrs who would not hesitate to remove you from your post for such a transgression.” “It is as you say, $rtitle $rname,” Ziryan agrees, eyes back on the road but their head still bowed in embarrassment. “I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look back toward you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. [[Continue|3.4a]]

<<if $res gte $flirt>>“You weren’t rambling at all,” you reassure $rthem. “It was very informative, thank you for being so patient with me. I’ve lived a very… sheltered life until now.” $rname briefly turns $rtheir head to shoot you a smile over $rtheir shoulder. “Think nothing of it. Being reminded of the simpler things is refreshing.” “I’ll be sure to ask you many more simple questions, then,” you reply, finding yourself smiling back at $rthem, though $rthey’s already turned to look ahead again. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“But don’t come complaining to me once you grow tired of it.”<<else>>“As many as it takes to keep you refreshed.”<</if>> $rname laughs, a small sound kept soft. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“I won’t, I promise.”<<else>>“How very thoughtful.”<</if>> There’s a brief silence between you, before $rthey says, “I don’t usually talk this much.” “Why not?” you ask $rthem curiously. “Most of the time I'm addressing political matters, or trying to solve yet another problem. There aren't many opportunities for me to simply... talk with someone, and I almost feared I'd forgotten how.” $rname’s voice lowers, maybe out of embarrassment, and you have to lean in a little more to make out what $rthey’s saying. “But it’s the strangest thing… even though we just met, I feel at ease with you." You realize you’re nearly close enough to where your chest just barely grazes against the coat falling down $rtheir back, and you lean away a little, conscious about the distance. “I know what you mean. I feel the same.” “You do?” $rname brushes a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear and you catch the glint of a golden armband dangling around $rtheir wrist, there and gone with the quick motion. “That’s… good. I’m glad.”<<else>>”There’s no need to apologize,” you reassure $rthem, feeling a smile forming on your lips before you can help it. “You weren't rambling. In fact, it’s a pleasure listening to you speak; I can tell how passionate you are about the subject.” You meant to be flirtatious, but it surprises you how genuine your words feel to you as you say them. From how $rname shyly bends $rtheir head down, $rthey must be able to tell how much you meant it, too. “Thank you. I don’t usually talk this much.” “Why not?” you ask $rthem curiously. “I certainly enjoy talking to you.” “Most of the time I'm addressing political matters, or trying to solve yet another problem. There aren't many opportunities for me to simply... talk with someone, and I almost feared I'd forgotten how.” $rname sounds slightly flustered, and you wonder if $rthey has a blush on $rtheir face. You wish you could see it. “But it’s the strangest thing… even though we just met, I feel at ease with you.” “I feel the same,” you confess. “You do?” $rname brushes a lock of $rtheir hair behind $rtheir ear and you catch the glint of a golden band around $rtheir wrist, there and gone with the quick motion. “That’s… good. I’m glad.”<</if>> [[Continue|3.3a.1]]

As you ready to say something more to keep the conversation going, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red scarf wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Something the matter, guard?” $rname inquires coolly. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $rname, occasionally glancing back toward the road. “No, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply, thinking it prudent to avoid any harsh judgments toward one of the people in charge of keeping you safe. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” “You are fortunate our Crown is so forgiving, guard,” $rname comments with nonchalance, not even bothering to look at them. “I know of Mîrs who would not hesitate to remove you from your post for such a transgression.” “It is as you say, $rtitle $rname,” Ziryan agrees, eyes back on the road but their head still bowed in embarrassment. “I shall return to my duties, with your leave.” They look back toward you, and you realize they’re waiting for you to dismiss them. [[Continue|3.4a]]

<<if $blunt gte $charm>> “Ah…” You clear your throat. “You are dismissed, guard.” Ziryan stares at you, and you think you see their lips twitch, but they smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you. “Wasn’t that a little harsh?” you ask $rname once the guard is out of earshot. “It was an honest mistake.” “Ziryan is one of our newest appointees, only recently nominated,” $rname replies factually. “I like to keep them on their toes, especially now that you’re here. The Imperial Guards will have very little room for error.”<<else>>“Go on, then,” you say, though you shoot them a smile. “Back to your guarding, or whatever it is you lot do.” Ziryan stares at you as they hide their laugh in twisting lips and a cough. They smooth out their expression and nod in response before falling back with their horse again, somewhere in the line of Imperial Guards riding behind you. “Were you being serious?” you ask $rname once the guard is out of earshot. “Yes.” $rname certainly sounds serious. “Ziryan is one of our newest appointees, only recently nominated. Now that you’re here, the Imperial Guards will have very little room for error.”<</if>> “Who is in charge of them?” $rname glances over $rtheir shoulder at you. “Well, you, of course.” “Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to you yet. “And aside from me?” “That would be $aname.” $rname looks over to where $aname rides a few feet ahead of you, right behind General $dname. “Both the Imperial Guards and the Royal Protector are nominated by the Mîrs and usually appointed by the Crown, but since we didn’t have one, the task fell to $dname instead.” So, $aname was nominated by $atheir Mîr and appointed by $dname. <<if $intel gte $intu>>How does one even make appointments? Based on what criteria?<<else>>How did $dname make that decision? How will you, once you’re officially the Crown?<</if>> You don’t know anything about how the Empire functions, how are you supposed to choose? It hits you then, an ache so sharp it surprises you because you thought you had already moved past it. You wish your parents were here. [[Continue|3.5a]]

<<if $intel gte $intu>>“What’s the difference between a Mîr and a regular satrap, anyway?” you wonder out loud, trying to distract from the tightness in your chest. “I know they all used to be called satraps a few centuries ago, but I never understood where the change came from.”<<else>>“When did satraps end up becoming Mîrs, anyway?” you wonder out loud, trying to distract from the tightness in your chest. “It sounds like a much more elevated position, but their role is still the same, isn’t it?”<</if>> Your parents certainly wouldn’t have any answers for you on matters like these, as the workings of royal houses and society in general was usually beyond them. Sometimes you forget you weren’t the only person isolated from the rest of the world; your parents were as well. $rname laughs. “$crnickname, are you certain you would like to spend the ride to Marabad discussing the politics of terminology? Your tutors can answer these questions much better than I can, I’m afraid it isn’t my area of expertise.” “Right, I’ll just…” You feel a yawn coming up, too quickly for you to suppress. “Sorry.” “Tired?” $rname sounds concerned. “We’ll be there soon, try and rest. As much as you can on a horse, in any case.” Soon, $rthey said. <<if $caut gte $adven>>You didn’t know how much you truly dreaded that word until you heard it a moment ago, but the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not that you’ll ever show it.<</if>><<else>>You didn’t know how much you truly anticipated that word until you heard it a moment ago; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, excited by the possibilities.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so tired of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.6a]]

The scenery of the forest passes you by in a blur now that $rname is no longer keeping you distracted with $rtheir conversation, but you’re too exhausted to think of any more questions to ask. The only thing keeping you from falling off the horse is <<if $caut gt $adven>>the anxiety at the thought<<else>>anticipation<</if>> of returning to Marabad and having people know who you are. You wandered the forest for so long in search of $xname that the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. $rname guides $rtheir horse around the bend in the road, revealing the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. “$rname,” you say, fingers squeezing lightly around $rtheir waist when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “If you wish,” $rthey answers thoughtfully. “There would be no shame in it and I would never judge you for it, but it is a personal decision. One I will leave up to you.” <ul> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7a.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7a.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. A soft hand presses gently over the one you have curled around $rname’s waist. “Close your eyes,” $rthey says, “and hold onto me.” You wish you were above it, but you aren’t, not when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut just as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, fading away into the screaming. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You feel shame when you shift your hold on $rname and wrap your arms around $rthem more firmly, but you have no other choice. You’re afraid to let $rthem go and become lost to the noise surrounding you in the darkness of your eyelids, so you press your forehead against $rtheir shoulder. A moment later, $rtheir hand envelops your own where it rests on $rtheir belly. $crthey squeezes your fingers once and keeps $rtheir hand there. You breathe easier, just a little bit. After a while you start to pay attention to the sound the hooves of the horses make; you can tell when the dirt road changes into stone and back again. Focusing on that sound makes it easier to ignore the crowds around you. The horses slow down a little, angling slightly upwards—up a hill, most likely—but then they resume at the same speed again with ease. “We’re almost there,” you hear $rname say and you squeeze $rtheir hand back to let $rthem know you’ve heard $rthem. Daring a peek from over $rname’s shoulder, the first thing you see are the colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $rname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8a.1]]

You have to; if not now, then when? You’ve spent your entire life hiding in the darkness, hidden away until you forgot what it was like to look someone in the eyes and you’re tired of it. After all these years, there’s nothing more you crave than the sunlight. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has you breathing more easily, like a weight that had been sitting on your chest this entire time finally dropped away. The wind blows across your face, the rays of the sun soak into your eyes and you wish you could capture this moment in a bottle to hold onto forever. “I won’t hide,” you decide. “Not anymore.” “As you wish,” $rname replies, but then motions one of the Imperial Guards toward $rthem with $rtheir hand. Once the guard has pulled up beside you on their horse, $rthey says, “Let the guards know that the Crown will not be hiding $their eyes.” The guard bows their head. “Yes, my <<if $rgender is 'female'>>lady<<else>>lord<</if>>.” You watch them hurry ahead on their horse, toward the city gates in the distance that gradually draw closer and closer. <<if $kind gte $calc>>”If it’s a bother, perhaps I should hide them after all,” you offer when you realize how much more difficult you’ve made the situation for the guards in charge of protecting you. $rname turns $rtheir head toward you to smile at you. “Your consideration speaks well of you, but there’s no need. It is their duty to protect you; they may as well become accustomed to it early.”<<else>>“Will they be able to handle it?” you wonder when you realize how much your appearance will likely affect the crowds in Marabad. “There’s hardly any time for the guards to prepare.” “I am thankful for your prudence, but there’s no need to worry, $rnickname,” $rname reassures you. “It is their duty to protect you at a moment’s notice; they may as well become accustomed to it early.”<</if>> $crthey pauses. “Besides, there are many more people protecting you than mere city guards. If not the Imperial Guards and General $dname, then surely $aname or $xname will keep you safe, and if all else fails, there’s still me.” As you near the city gates and the echoes of the crowds first reach your ears, you begin to think you might need as much protection as $rname is offering you. It is a deafening sound. Even the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through, quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. There are people everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $rname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8a.2]]

The golden gates of the Royal Palace are there to greet you when you become brave enough to look past $rname, and you cling to their image as the horse carries you toward them, slowly but surely. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak and your heart skips in fear, but when you turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a girl who looks younger than you. “Please, $rtitle $rname!” It was not you who she looks for, but you’re struck by the strength of her grip, as if she were afraid of drowning were she to let go of your cloak. $rname turns $rtheir head, frowning when $rthey can’t quite turn enough to see what’s going on. “Who is that?” “You must do something about the steward,” the girl begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs her by her elbow, dragging her away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the girl and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $rname’s horse has already moved on. “$rname, did you hear that?” you ask $rthem. “That girl, she said something about the steward of Marabad.” $rname shakes $rtheir head, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “Tell me about it later,” $rthey replies and you can barely hear $rthem over the din of the crowd that seems to shout even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even uses magic to summon a translucent shield, the blue tinge glowing softly in the sunlight as it stands as a barrier between the guard and the citizens pounding their fists and slapping their palms against it. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9a.1]]

You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $rname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “$crnickname?” You look back at $rname again who has turned $rtheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $rthey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $rname follows suit, dismounting elegantly as the coins on $rtheir belt and $rtheir necklace jingle slightly; if pure wealth could be captured in a sound, you think it would be that. [[Continue|3.10a.1]]

It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding behind $rtitle $rname, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you suddenly feel $rname’s hand grab onto yours. You shift your grip, wrapping your fingers around $rtheirs, hoping to ground $rthem as $rthey has grounded you, when the first shout shatters everything into pieces. “IT’S THE CROWN!” It’s an explosion erupting into your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones were built upon were all crying out to you. You squeeze $rname’s hand as tightly as $rthey squeezes yours, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and yet you’ve never felt so alive. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a girl who looks younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of her grip, as if she were afraid of drowning were she to let go of your cloak, and when you meet her gaze her lower lip trembles. She looks so small, standing below you. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the girl begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs her by her elbow, dragging her away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the girl and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $rname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for her name. “$rname, did you hear that?” you ask $rthem, turning back to sit straight behind $rthem. “That girl, she said something about the steward of Marabad.” $rname shakes $rtheir head, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “Tell me about it later,” $rthey replies and you can barely hear $rthem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the man manages to haul his arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse behind $rname and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what he was saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the man's arms reach out to you, much like the girl clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9a.2]]

As you try to think of something to say to keep the conversation going, a soldier pulls up their horse to ride beside you, catching your attention. It’s the sword wielder from before, the one whose partner nearly assassinated you. If you remember right, General $dname called them Ziryan. They have their helmet off, revealing the thick mess of brown curls atop their head, spilling out from under a thick red scarf wrapped around their forehead. It bounces along with the gait of their horse, making you wonder how they manage to fit all that under their helmet without it getting uncomfortable. “Guard," $aname greets them neutrally, merely just to acknowledge their existence and nothing more. Ziryan’s eyes flit between you and $aname, occasionally glancing back toward the road, before they deeply incline their head to $aname. “Royal Protector, I only wished to offer $ctheir Imperial Majesty my sincerest apologies for drawing my sword on $them earlier. If- if I had known—” <<if $kind gte $calc>>“It’s alright,” you reassure them quickly. “I don’t hold it against you.”<<else>>“As you said, you had no way of knowing until I revealed myself,” you reply casually, knowing that earning the favor of your guards can only benefit you. “No harm done.”<</if>> Ziryan’s tight grip on their reins visibly relaxes as they bow their head deeply to you. “Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, I am not worthy.” They raise their head again and peer uncertainly toward $aname, who does not look at them when $athey says, "Back to your post, guard." Ziryan lightly inclines their head and pulls their horse away, back into formation where they were riding a few feet behind you. [[Continue|3.4b]]

“Give it a few days,” $aname replies in a nonchalant tone, though you catch the edge of a smile dimpling $atheir cheek. “You’ll come to regret telling me that soon enough.” <<if $charm gte $blunt>>“Have you always been this… ah—” “Irreverent?” $aname suggests. “Disrespectful? Impertinent? Don’t misunderstand, unlike $xname I don’t find any particular joy in mocking those of a higher station—this is how I speak to my equals as well—but it’s only…”<<else>>“You might be more blunt than I am,” you note dryly, drawing a chuckle from $aname. “Don’t misunderstand,” $athey says. “Unlike $xname I don’t find any particular joy in mocking those of a higher station, but it’s only…”<</if>> “Only?” $aname hesitates briefly. “I’m used to speaking informally with others.” <<if $intel gte $intu>>The odd choice of wording does not escape your notice. What does $aname mean with usually?<<else>>The way $athey shifts around uneasily on the horse does not escape your notice. What’s making $athem so uncomfortable about the topic?<</if>> “Even the Mîr who nominated you?” you question. “Do they not take offense at being addressed as an equal?” “I suppose not.” $aname’s ambiguous answer isn’t entirely helpful, but you would not want to force $athem to talk about something $athey doesn’t wish to speak of. Though in your silence, $athey must’ve sensed your lingering interest, because then $athey says, “Do remember that you are my Crown, so you can rest assured I will inform you about my personal circumstances should the need ever arise.” “But there’s no need for it now,” you infer. “No,” $aname confirms. “It wouldn’t change anything, and… I’d rather not speak of it, if I can avoid it.” You think on it for a while, then nod. <<if $blunt gte $charm>>“I understand. I won’t push you for an answer, or hold it against you.”<<else>>“I know all about not wanting to speak about certain things, so don’t worry. I won’t mistrust you because of it.”<</if>> In front of you, $aname’s shoulders ease and you only then realize how tense $athey’s been during the entire conversation. The relief is almost palpable in $atheir voice when $athey responds. “Thank you.” [[Continue|3.3b]]

"Ziryan is fortunate," $aname muses after the soldier has left you two alone, or as alone as you can be with Imperial Guards surrounding you on nearly every side. "You could easily dismiss them from your service for such a transgression, should you want to." <<if $kind gte $calc>>You shrug. "They made an honest mistake and their intentions were pure; they were just trying to keep $rtitle $rname safe." "Mercy it is." $aname is silent for a moment. "Is that the kind of ruler you wish to be? A merciful one?<<else>>You smile lightly. "No point in agitating the people in charge of keeping me safe when I haven't even been formally crowned yet." "A wise decision." $aname is silent for a moment. "Is that the kind of ruler you wish to be? A wise one?"<</if>> <<if $intel gt $intu>>"I don't know if that's what I wish to be," you consider thoughtfully. "I haven't even had a chance to learn what it means to be the Crown yet. It's simply what comes most naturally to me." "It might be why you were chosen," $aname offers. "Though only the Spirits would know with certainty."<<else>>"I think so," you answer, going off what your gut tells you. "If that's what I am, then that's what I'll be." "I suppose you would be," $aname comments, quiet for a while as if pondering your words. "Perhaps that's why you were chosen, though only the Spirits would know with certainty."<</if>> It's not something you've given much thought to, considering your circumstances. "What kind of ruler would you want me to be, $aname?" $aname turns $atheir head slightly to glance at you, seeming not to have expected the question. $cathey looks ahead of $athemselves again, taking the time to think before $athey says, with some uncertainty, "The kind this Empire needs, though I could not tell you what that is." It's a conundrum. Were you chosen because of who you were, or because of destiny? Is your path laid in stone, or changeable? Would you have been chosen if you had been raised with different values, grown a completely different personality from the one you have now? It hits you then, an ache so sharp it surprises you because you thought you had already moved past it. You wish your parents were here. [[Continue|3.5b]]

Much of the rest of your ride with $aname passes in silence, but it does not feel as uncomfortable as it did before. You're starting to learn that perhaps $aname simply enjoys the silence, which you appreciate, especially considering how tired you are. When you start to yawn, $aname breaks the silence. "Rest your head on my shoulder if you're tired," $athey tells you. "Though I'm not sure how comfortable it'll be." <<if $res gte $flirt>>"Oh! Um..." You're flustered at the offer. "That's- that's alright, I'm not--"<<else>>You arch both brows at the offer, feeling a mischievous smile pull at your lips. "Are you sure that's appropriate? What would other people--"<</if>> "My Crown," $aname interrupts, and you realize it's the first time $athey's called you that, the purposeful use of the title creating some distance between you<<if $res gte $flirt>> that sets you more at ease yet makes you more uncomfortable at the same time<</if>>. "I insist." You eye the thick shoulder piece with its silver scales with <<if $res gte $flirt>>apprehension, but the thought of letting your head rest is difficult to resist<<else>>a frown, feeling mildly disappointed<</if>>. <<if $res gte $flirt>>"Okay."<<else>>"Fine."<</if>> Bending forward a little, you lean your temple against $aname's armored shoulder. The metal from the silver scales feel harsh but cool against your skin, and you exhale in relief at being able to give your body some reprieve. Before you know it your eyes fall shut, the rhythmic sounds of the hooves from the horses on the earth allowing you to empty your mind from any stressful thoughts and simply listen. "Try not to fall asleep," $aname cautions you, $atheir voice lowered. "You might tumble off the horse, and I'm not in a position to catch you if you do." "Mmm," is your only reply, and you hear $aname chuckle before a hand wraps around yours, pulling your arm around $atheir waist more tightly. You barely even react, too tired to bother now that you've closed your eyes. The world seems so much softer from behind your eyelids. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Seeing as how you'll be facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler very soon, you'll need all the rest you can get. Being hunted for so long has taken its toll on your health.<<else>>As tired as your body is, your mind is less so; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, excited by the possibilities. Still, being hunted for so long has taken its toll on your health.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so tired of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.6b]]

You somehow manage to keep yourself awake, mostly thanks to the <<if $caut gt $adven>>the anxiety at the thought<<else>>anticipation<</if>> of returning to Marabad and having people know who you are. Having walked the forest for so long in search of $xname, the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. $aname guides $atheir horse around the bend in the road, the movement causing you to open your eyes. You lift your head off $aname's shoulder to look ahead of you, spotting the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. A thought occurs to you. “$aname,” you say, fingers squeezing lightly around $atheir hand still linked with yours when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “It would make travel through the city safer," $aname replies. "Then again, the citizens have been waiting for a Crown for quite a long time. Either way, I cannot make the decision for you." <ul> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7b.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7b.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. $aname's hand holding yours feels like an anchor in the midst of a storm at sea, and you feel $atheir fingers squeeze reassuringly around yours. “It's alright,” $athey promises you. "I won't let anything happen to you." You want to believe $athem, but your faith wavers when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut just as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, fading away into the screaming. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You feel shame when you shift your hold on $aname and wrap your arms around $athem more firmly, but you have no other choice. You’re afraid to let $athem go and become lost to the noise surrounding you in the darkness of your eyelids, so you press your forehead against $atheir shoulder again. Somehow, above the horrible sound of the crowds, you hear $aname's voice in a soothing murmur. "I've got you," $athey says with another squeeze around your hand, and this time, you believe $athem. After a while you start to pay attention to the sound the hooves of the horses make; you can tell when the dirt road changes into stone and back again. Focusing on that sound makes it easier to ignore the crowds around you. The horses slow down a little, angling slightly upwards—up a hill, most likely—but then they resume at the same speed again with ease. “We’re almost there,” you hear $aname say and you squeeze $atheir hand back to let $athem know you’ve heard $athem. Daring a peek from over $aname’s shoulder, the first thing you see are the colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $aname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8b.1]]

You have to; if not now, then when? You’ve spent your entire life hiding in the darkness, hidden away until you forgot what it was like to look someone in the eyes and you’re tired of it. After all these years, there’s nothing more you crave than the sunlight. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has you breathing more easily, like a weight that had been sitting on your chest this entire time finally dropped away. The wind blows across your face, the rays of the sun soak into your eyes and you wish you could capture this moment in a bottle to hold onto forever. “I won’t hide,” you decide. “Not anymore.” “I understand,” $aname replies, but then motions one of the Imperial Guards toward $athem with $atheir hand. Once the guard has pulled up beside you on their horse, $athey says, “The Crown will not be hiding $their eyes. Warn the city guards, they will need to take additional security measures.” The guard bows their head. “Yes, Royal Protector.” You watch them hurry ahead on their horse, toward the city gates in the distance that gradually draw closer and closer. <<if $kind gte $calc>>”If it’s a bother, perhaps I should hide them after all,” you offer when you realize how much more difficult you’ve made the situation for the guards in charge of protecting you. $aname turns $atheir head toward you. “You're the Crown, nothing you could ever do or want would be considered a bother to anyone.”<<else>>“Will they be able to handle it?” you wonder when you realize how much your appearance will likely affect the crowds in Marabad. “There’s hardly any time for the guards to prepare.” “Your concern is not necessary,” $aname reassures you, albeit bluntly. “To protect you, even at a moment's notice, is their duty as guards.”<</if>> $cathey pauses. “But should all else fail, I will be your shield.” As you near the city gates and the echoes of the crowds first reach your ears, you begin to think you might need as much protection as $aname is offering you. It is a deafening sound. Even the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through, quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. There are people everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. $aname’s horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. The Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers fighting for your attention and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8b.2]]

“Will you not take off your hood?” $rname suggests. “You are safe from the crowds here.” Glancing behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, you realize $rthey’s right. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted,” $rname helpfully supplies when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]

“What are you coming along for, $xname?” $rname questions, pulling your attention back to $xname and General $dname. “That’s what I want to know.” General $dname looks thoroughly annoyed with $xname’s presence, swatting away an arm $xname tries to throw around $dtheir upper back. “For the celebration, naturally,” $xname says, unaffected by General $dname’s rejection. “There will be a celebration now that the Crown has arrived, no? How could I possibly miss out on that?” “Not tonight.” $rname regards you with some worry furrowed between $rtheir brows. “Our Crown needs some rest first, I think. How about a bath?” That sounds heavenly-- “Perfect!” $xname agrees, turning to you with a grin. “You won’t mind if I stay over for a night or two, will you?<<if $xpoints gt 0>> I am very good at warming beds.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>$cxthey winks, causing a heart palpitation in your chest. Who does that with a mere wink?<<else>>$cxthey winks and you arch an amused brow, smiling despite yourself.<</if>><<else>> Plenty of space for little old me, I’d say.”<</if>> Without even waiting for your answer, $xname pats you on the shoulder and swaggers off toward the apadana. $aname sighs, $rname rolls $rtheir eyes and General $dname lifts $dtheir head to face the sky while mumbling a few words, one of them sounding suspiciously like “strangle”. “Shall we, then?” $rname says, and you take a deep breath as you look up at the palace that towers over you, wondering if you’re worthy to fill it. Whether you are or you aren’t, it’s not something you can avoid now that you’ve reached this point. You take your first step. [[Continue|3.12]]

$rname walks on your right while $aname flanks your left, General $dname trailing a step behind you as you head toward the stone stairs. When a pair of servants stop to greet your companions, likely having recognized them, they both halt dead in their tracks at the sight of your eyes. You note they’re carrying a thick, colorful cloth not unlike the ones hanging down the edge of the palace’s roof, between the columns. “Back to your duties,” $rname orders, startling them out of their shock and the two deeply bow their heads before scurrying off again, casting wayward glances back at you. General $dname huffs. “Now you can be sure the entire palace will hear of the Crown’s arrival within the hour.” “All the better,” $rname replies, unconcerned. “They should know who their new master is as soon as possible.” Right, you’re going to be served now. By people- no, by strangers who will cook your food for you, clean for you and attend to your every whim without complaint. The thought is outright bizarre, and difficult to parse as you begin the surprisingly long walk to the audience hall. You’ve seen paintings of various palaces before, but none of them did any justice to what it truly looks like to see one with your own eyes. “How many servants are there?” you wonder out loud as you eventually reach the short stairs and start climbing its stone steps. $rname answers. “In this Royal Palace? Currently a hundred or so.” You nearly trip over a step. “A hundred?” “Have you seen the size of it?” $aname points out to you. “It takes at least a hundred people to keep it clean and maintain it, and that’s when there isn’t a Crown present. Past Crowns have been known to amass several hundreds of people in their service.” Casting a curious glance back to the front of the palace, you only intended on seeing whether the servants are still hurrying around. Could there really be a hundred of them here? It did look busy at first glance, busier than you’d expected. You nearly freeze in place when you realize no one is running around anymore. Buckets of water, brooms, cloths in need of cleaning, even a small cart full of fresh fruit—the servants that were carrying them have all abandoned them in favor of standing around and staring at you, clustered in small groups as they whisper among each other. A few are even chatting to a guard standing watch at the bottom of the stairs, and others have approached the Imperial Guards who are still at the stables, likely to fill them in on why $rname has returned. Your companions take note as well. “An hour, you said?” $aname mutters dryly to General $dname, who scowls at the gossiping servants who seem fascinated by you, but are much too fearful to approach. “I’ll take care of this,” $rname reassures you, placing a hand on your arm before turning to the servants and the lone guard guilty of being distracted by them. $crthey clears $rtheir throat and opens $rtheir mouth, but does not manage to speak as a voice from behind you interrupts. [[Continue|3.13]]

"What's all this commotion?" You turn around to see someone dressed in white approaching the top of the stairs, stepping out of the shade inside the apadana and passing by the columns. At first you think it must be a servant, but from the way the other servants and the guards go silent at their appearance they must be someone of some importance. Considering the wide, golden band of their necklace and the matching gold bracelets and earrings they’re wearing, you assume that whoever they are, they aren’t a mere servant. They certainly look quite a bit older than the others with their gray hair thinning at the edges, but their amber brown skin has few wrinkles and blemishes, the most prominent ones the laugh lines at the corners of their olive green eyes. It makes it difficult to guess how old they are. “Keko,” $aname greets them with a smile, which they return as well as a bow at their waist. Turning to you, $aname gestures for you to walk up the stairs as $athey introduces them, “This Master Keko, the head servant in charge of the Royal Palace in Marabad. He has faithfully served both Crown Ferzan as well as the Crown before him. You won’t find anyone better.” You step up to the top of the stairs until you’re level with Keko who has held his bow, his head still lowered in front of you. “I am honored to receive such kind words,” Keko replies dutifully. “Keko,” $aname says, speaking in a formal tone, “you stand before your new ruler, the Twenty-First of $their line, Crown $name.” “Chosen Crown,” Keko speaks, not moving an inch from his bow. “Your arrival will bring this nation much joy. After ten long years of being without a master, I thank you, and I welcome you to this palace with great relief.” You glance at $aname, then back at Keko. <ul> <li>[[You smile. “Thank you for the kind reception. I will try my best to live up to your expectations.”|3.14b][$charm to $charm + 25]]</li> <li>[[“Hello.”|3.14a][$blunt to $blunt + 25]]</li> </ul>

$aname subtly looks away and presses $atheir hand over $atheir mouth to hide $atheir smile while $rname’s brows arch up to $rtheir hairline and General $dname simply stares blankly at you. “Should I have said something more?” you ask plainly, looking around at your companions before your gaze lands on Keko, who has straightened up from his bow and is smiling at you. “Not at all, Your Imperial Majesty,” he responds warmly. “I am reminded of our late Crown Ferzan, in fact. He was also not someone to waste words.” “That’s putting it nicely,” $aname murmurs. “You must have just returned from quite the journey,” Keko continues, politely ignoring $aname’s comment. “Would you prefer to retire to your rooms early?” Your first instinct is to look at <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>> for what to do, but this isn’t something <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> can decide for you. “I’d like a bath first,” you state, though you’re somewhat afraid you might actually fall asleep while bathing with how tired you feel. Keko bows deeply. “Of course, my Crown.” He turns toward the nearest servants at the bottom of the stairs who have been looking on—and doubtlessly listening in as well—while you were making your introductions. Folding his hands in front of him, Keko looks out over the front of the palace. “At my old age my eyes must be deceiving me, as I could not imagine witnessing servants loitering when there are chores to be done,” he says, speaking kindly, but his eyes razor sharp. The servants nearly all incline their heads, a few among them muttering apologies before picking up their discarded items and hurrying along. [[Continue|3.15]]

Though General $dname looks on indifferently to the exchange, $rname shoots you an approving smile, which means that at the very least you can manage a simple introduction to your servants. “As you can see, Keko,” $aname comments dryly, “we’ve ended up with quite the amiable Crown this time around.” “Was the previous Crown not amiable?” you question, looking between $aname and Keko, the latter of which straightens up from his bow with a slight smile. “Crown Ferzan was a man of many exceptional talents,” Keko answers diplomatically. “But as a former army commander, his patience for social etiquette was not among them.” “Ah.” You nod, wondering what it would’ve been like to meet Crown Ferzan. If he hadn’t been assassinated, he would’ve been the one to receive you at the Royal Palace. “You must have just returned from quite the journey,” Keko says when you remain silent. “Would you prefer to retire to your rooms early?” Your first instinct is to look at <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$aname<<else>>$rname<</if>> for what to do, but this isn’t something <<if $apoints gt $rpoints>>$athey<<else>>$rthey<</if>> can decide for you. “Could you have someone draw a bath for me?” you ask, though you’re somewhat afraid you might actually fall asleep while bathing with how tired you feel. “I’d like to clean up before resting.” Keko bows deeply. “Of course, my Crown.” He turns toward the nearest servants at the bottom of the stairs who have been looking on—and doubtlessly listening in as well—while you were making your introductions. Folding his hands in front of him, Keko looks out over the front of the palace. “At my old age my eyes must be deceiving me, as I could not imagine witnessing servants loitering when there are chores to be done,” he says, speaking kindly, but his eyes are razor sharp. The servants nearly all incline their heads, a few among them muttering apologies before picking up their discarded items and hurrying along. [[Continue|3.15]]

<<if $blunt gt $charm>>[ @@.stattext;Blunt@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Charming@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> “I should mention, <<if $rgender is 'female'>>Lady Sorcerer<<else>>Lord Sorcerer<</if>>, that the steward is waiting for you in the reception hall,” Keko says to $rname, whose expression immediately cools into an icy look at the mention of Marabad’s steward. “He apparently had some urgent matters to discuss regarding the treasury.” “I will get rid of him,” $rname replies. “Make sure he does not hear the news of our arrival; Crown $name <<if $gender is 'nb'>>do<<else>>does<</if>> not need that vulture circling around $them when $they <<if $gender is 'nb'>>haven’t<<else>>hasn’t<</if>> had a chance to recuperate.” <<if $rpoints gt 0>>$rname’s gaze softens again when $rthey<<else>>$rname<</if>> turns to you. “Please excuse me, $rnickname, I will return to you shortly. Keko will attend to you in the meantime.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>You nod<<else>>“Until later,” you reply,<</if>> watching as $rname gives you a slight bow before parting from you, heading further into the audience hall with $rtheir outer robe fluttering behind $rthem. You didn’t realize how staggeringly huge the apadana really was until watching $rname move through it. On its own, it looks like the largest building you’ve seen in the city so far; it would easily fit several houses in it. $rname treads the stone tiles of the floor, decorated with patterns of red and gold, and walks toward a tall gate fit for a giant. That must lead to what you assume is the residential area, walled off from the open hall “I must also leave you for a short time,” $aname announces. “The Imperial Guard requires instruction now that you’re here. You’ll be safe enough with Keko, though perhaps $dname should keep you company as well, just in case?” “Me?” General $dname says, unable to contain $dtheir surprise though $dthey quickly schools $dtheir features. “Of course, if that’s what the Crown requires.” If you wanted to feel as secure as possible, especially after that attempt on your life a mere few hours ago, you suppose it would be a good idea to have someone like General $dname around. Then again, you could also go look for $xname instead. After some thought, you choose… <ul> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[…General Dara.|3.16a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 3]]<<else>>[[…General Delal.|3.16a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 3]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[…Xelef.|3.16b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[…Xelara.|3.16b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> </ul>

"If you don't mind," you start, looking at General $dname who inclines $dtheir head. "Of course." Up until now, you haven’t had a chance to speak much to General $dname. Namely because the <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> has been keeping $dtheir distance from you, though you figure that’s to be expected. $cdthey probably doesn’t know what to make of you yet. You appeared so suddenly before $dthem as the Crown, the one person $dthey and everyone else had been waiting on for ten years; it must have been quite the shock. You yourself haven’t even processed it yet. “Your Imperial Majesty?” General $dname gives you a dubious look, and you realize you’ve just been standing there staring at $dthem, lost in thought. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, don’t mind me,” you say quickly, hiding your embarrassment with an easy smile and a wave of your hand even while you feel an ache building between your ears from the exhaustion. “I became lost in a fog for a moment there! I must be more tired than I thought.”<<else>>“I’m tired,” you state honestly, rubbing your forehead with your fingers as you can feel an ache building between your ears. “Can I lie down somewhere?”<</if>> “Allow me to show you to a sitting area,” Keko suggests. “Would you like one in the shade, or in the sunlight? Perhaps one with a view of one of the gardens?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”The nearest one is fine, thank you,”<<else>>“Whichever one is nearer,”<</if>> you answer while wondering how many sitting areas and rooms this palace complex has, to allow you a choice like that. “As you wish.” Keko inclines his head. “If you would follow me, Your Imperial Majesty.” He turns and walks into the audience hall which you hadn’t even truly looked at before, aside from its size. While it looks clean, it is completely bare of any furniture. The most interesting thing about it are its columns, though even those don’t possess any details of note aside from the craftsmanship of its carvings. “Is this hall not in use anymore?” you ask, thinking Keko might answer, but it’s General $dname who does. “Not since Crown Ferzan passed,” $dthey says, walking a single step behind you as you both follow Keko through the apadana. “It was where the Crown would typically accept tributes from their subjects, namely the Mîrs of the provinces and the stewards of major cities. It was often used for the Fire Festival as well.” A sizable new year’s festival would certainly fit between the columns of this hall, though clearly meant only for the most important people in the Empire. “Do all Royal Palaces have an apadana such as this one?” “No,” General $dname replies. “Only the Throne of Ashadūna and the Seat of the Crown do.” You frown. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“The what?”<<else>>“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”<</if>> General $dname looks at you questioningly, before spreading out $dtheir arm and gesturing to the hall. “This palace is also called the Throne of Ashadūna, after the First Crown who built it, while the Royal Palace in Zeratun is called the Seat of the Crown. They are the most historically significant, and the most grandiose.” You think you detect a hint of disdain there, but $dtheir tone is even and you can’t make out much of $dtheir expression, which seems to be stuck in a perpetual but subtle frown. [[Continue|3.17a]]

"I'll go look for $xname," you decide, and General $dname nods. "In that case, I should join $aname and the Imperial Guards." $cdthey inclines $dtheir head in a short bow. "Your Imperial Majesty." You watch General $dname turn around and walk away, yet you find yourself already musing about what $xname is up to. It's not strange for you to wonder; you would say you know $xname the best out of everyone else currently at the palace, though that isn't saying all that much considering you've only met each other a day ago. Even so, you have a general idea of what you can expect from $xname, and if you're completely honest you're curious to find out more. What you witnessed at the Crescent Blades camp the other day, the way $xname seemed to draw people toward $xthemselves merely by being around--you find you're not immune to its effects, even when $xname isn't present. Perhaps it's a foolish thought on your part. $cxthey's a mercenary and you were a client, nothing more. But after being alone for so long, is it so bad to long for a connection with someone? “Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko prompts you, and you realize you’ve just been standing there staring off into the distance, lost in thought. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, don’t mind me,” you say quickly, hiding your embarrassment with an easy smile and a wave of your hand even while you feel an ache building between your ears from the exhaustion. “I became lost in a fog for a moment there! I must be more tired than I thought.”<<else>>“I’m tired,” you state honestly, rubbing your forehead with your fingers as you can feel an ache building between your ears. “Can I lie down somewhere?”<</if>> “Allow me to show you to a sitting area,” Keko suggests. “Would you like one in the shade, or in the sunlight? Perhaps one with a view of one of the gardens?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”The nearest one is fine, thank you,”<<else>>“Whichever one is nearer,”<</if>> you answer while wondering how many sitting areas and rooms this palace complex has, to have a choice like that. “As you wish.” Keko inclines his head. “If you would follow me, Your Imperial Majesty.” He turns and walks into the audience hall which you hadn’t even truly looked at before, aside from its size. While it looks clean, it is completely bare of any furniture. The most interesting thing about it are its columns, though even those don’t possess any details of note aside from the craftsmanship of its carvings. “Is this hall not in use anymore?” you ask. “Not since Crown Ferzan's time,” Keko answers as you follow him through the apadana. “It is where the Crown is meant to accept tributes from their subjects, namely the Mîrs of the provinces and the stewards of major cities. It was also often for the fire festival as well.” A sizable new year’s festival would certainly fit between the columns of this hall, though clearly meant only for the most important people in the Empire. “Do all Royal Palaces have an apadana such as this one?” “Ah, no,” Keko replies. “The Throne of Ashadūna and the Seat of the Crown are the only royal residences that do.” You frown. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“The what?”<<else>>“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”<</if>> "Forgive my poor manners, Your Imperial Majesty," Keko says after a slight pause, probably beginning to realize how sheltered you are. “This palace is named the Throne of Ashadūna, after the First Crown who built it, while the palace in Zeratun is called the Seat of the Crown. It is also more commonly known as the Imperial Palace, to distinguish it from the other palaces spread around the Empire.” Good to know, you suppose. [[Continue|3.17b]]

The golden gates of the Royal Palace are there to greet you when you become brave enough to look past $aname, and you cling to their image as the horse carries you toward them, slowly but surely. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak and your heart skips in fear, but when you turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a girl who looks younger than you. “Please, wait!” You’re struck by the strength of her grip, as if she were afraid of drowning were she to let go of your cloak. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the girl as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "She's harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the girl's face catches your attention. “You must do something about the steward,” the girl begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs her by her elbow, dragging her away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the girl and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem. “That girl, she said something about the steward of Marabad.” “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to shout even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even uses magic to summon a translucent shield, the blue tinge glowing softly in the sunlight as it stands as a barrier between the guard and the citizens pounding their fists and slapping their palms against it. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9b.1]]

You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $aname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has turned $atheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $aname follows suit, dismounting in such a fluid motion that you can't help but stop and stare for a moment. $catheir movements and the control $athey has of $atheir body is effortless, making you wonder how much $athey must have trained over the years. [[Continue|3.10b.1]]

You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. $rname guides your horse to the side, and you tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has turned $atheir head to look at you expectantly, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. $aname follows suit, dismounting in such a fluid motion that you can't help but stop and stare for a moment. $catheir movements and the control $athey has of $atheir body is effortless, making you wonder how much $athey must have trained over the years. [[Continue|3.10b.2]]

“You can take off your cloak now,” $aname prompts. “You'll be safe here." Glancing behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, you realize $athey’s right. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “Protected with magic,” $aname supplies when $athey notices you staring. “Invisible shields will keep anyone from doing damage.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. When you look at $aname you see $athem surveying the palace with a critical eye, which is not what you were expecting. When $athey notices you staring, $athey smiles with a faintly mocking twist to $atheir lips and says, "Much too gaudy for my tastes." Before you can reply, you are joined by the others. “Wait for me, now!” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $rname, spotting $rthem following the other two a moment later. "How was your journey?" $rthey asks you immediately, concern visible on $rtheir face. "I hope the crowds weren't too unpleasant." "I'm just glad it's over with," you answer honestly, and $rname smiles with sympathy. [[Continue|3.11]]

You glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted,” $rname helpfully supplies when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]

You glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “Protected with magic,” $aname supplies when $athey notices you staring. “Invisible shields will keep anyone from doing damage or getting past.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. When you look at $aname you see $athem surveying the palace with a critical eye, which is not what you were expecting. When $athey notices you staring, $athey smiles with a faintly mocking twist to $atheir lips and says, "Much too gaudy for my tastes." Before you can reply, you are joined by the others. “Wait for me, now!” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $rname, spotting $rthem following the other two a moment later. "How was your journey?" $rthey asks you immediately, concern visible on $rtheir face. "I hope the crowds weren't too unpleasant." "I'm just glad it's over with," you answer honestly, and $rname smiles with sympathy. [[Continue|3.11]]

It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding behind the Royal Protector, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you suddenly feel $aname's hand squeeze around yours. "There's no going back," you hear $athem say. "Just remember that I'm with you." It's a good thing $athey reassures you then, because the very next moment, your life changes forever. “IT’S THE CROWN!” It’s an explosion erupting into your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones were built upon were all crying out to you. You squeeze $aname’s hand tight, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and yet you’ve never felt so alive. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a girl who looks younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of her grip, as if she were afraid of drowning were she to let go of your cloak, and when you meet her gaze her lower lip trembles. She looks so small, standing below you. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the girl as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "She's harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the girl's face pulls your attention back to her. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the girl begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs her by her elbow, dragging her away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the girl and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for her name. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem, turning back to sit straight behind $athem. “That girl, she said something about the steward of Marabad.” $aname nods, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the man manages to haul his arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse behind $rname and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what he was saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the man's arms reach out to you, much like the girl clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9b.2]]

Conversation stalls there as you’re unsure what to ask $dthem. $xname appeared to know how to crack through General $dname’s stoic appearance with $xtheir teasing words, but you don’t know the general well enough to try joking around with $dthem in the same manner. Although, $dthey did seem flustered when you made a comment to $dthem before. You wish you could remember what you said. <<if $kind gt $calc>>At the very least, you decide to show your appreciation to General $dname for agreeing to stay with you. Keko seems nice enough, but you’ve only just met and you’re not sure how comfortable you’d be on your own. While it’s true that you also met the general only a very short while ago, the sincere vow $dthey made to keep you safe—as dramatic as it was—did set you at ease. <<else>>At the very least, showing some appreciation to General $dname may be wise; as the Crown, it’ll be imperative for you to build good relationships with people in high position such as the General of the Imperial Army. $cdthey will be one of the people closest to you, after all.<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I hope I’m not keeping you from any important business, seeing as how you are the Empire’s General,” you say, drawing a startled look from $dthem. “I thank you for keeping me company, all the same.”<<else>>“Thank you for staying with me,” you say outright, drawing a startled look from $dthem.<</if>> “It’s not—” General $dname clears $dtheir throat. “Not an issue. It is my honor, in fact- no, my duty to ensure your safety! I may not be a, Imperial Guard, but there is no one more important to me than you.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Did… did $dthey just…? You avert your gaze, unsure where to look and your face feels flush with heat, even more so when Keko shoots a long look at the both of you over his shoulder, and a moment later General $dname appears to realize the way $dtheir words came across. “As the Crown!” $dthey exclaims, shoulders stiff with tension. “My- ah, the Empire’s Crown! Because I am the general of your army! I did not mean to- that is, please do not mistake my intentions!” “Yes, right.” You’re unsure where to look, sneaking a glance at General $dname’s face only to see that $dthey’s avoiding your eyes as well. “It’s, ah, it’s fine, I know what you meant.” Keko averts his gaze when you look at him, pretending as if he hadn’t been curiously looking on, though you very clearly hear him muse, “Ah, to be young again!”<<else>>Oh, how darling. “My, my,” you say, the mischievous curve in your lips widening into a smile. “You are quite forward, general! I do expect you to catch me if I end up swooning in your arms now.” General $dname’s eyes widen in realization. “I did not- that was not—” You lift your palm and $dtheir mouth snaps closed. “Say no more, you'll ruin the moment." Watching the entirety of General $dname’s face slowly turn a dark shade of red up to $dtheir ears is a treat, but at this point even Keko takes pity on the poor <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>>. “Your Imperial Majesty, I implore you not to tease the poor general too much,” Keko says to you, his tone respectful though as he glances over his shoulder at you, you catch a playful twinkle in his eyes emphasized by his crow’s feet. “We have need of $dthem yet.” You tuck away your grin and nod, like a very serious person. “I will try my best.”<</if>> General $dname’s sigh following that can only be described as the hollow sound of wind rushing through a cave as $dthey hides $dtheir eyes behind $dtheir hand, rubbing at $dtheir forehead. “At least $xname isn’t here.” The throwaway remark catches your attention. <ul> <li><<if $dgender is 'male' and $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him about his relationship with Xelef.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'female' and $xgender is 'female'>>[[Ask her about her relationship with Xelara.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'male' and $xgender is 'female'>>[[Ask him about his relationship with Xelara.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>><<if $dgender is 'female' and $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask her about her relationship with Xelef.|3.18a.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18a.2]]</li> </ul>

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I don’t meant to pry,” you start, taking a nonchalant tone even as General $dname’s attention focuses back on you. “It’s only, you and $xname seem to have quite the antagonistic relationship. Did something happen in your past?” “Nothing in particular,” $dthey answers. “We simply don’t get along.”<<else>>“Why do you hate $xname so much?” you ask $dthem outright, and General $dname does a doubletake at the sudden question, but $dtheir surprise doesn’t last long. “Hate is too strong of a word,” $dthey answers. “We simply don’t get along.”<</if>> You suppose some people are naturally incompatible, but the way General $dname immediately turns $dtheir gaze away from you after answering your question makes you wonder if there isn’t something else going on. But before you can think of a way to question $dthem further, you notice you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. “Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,” you recite, then give Keko and General $dname a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Do you not know the history?” General $dname questions. “Vaguely.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you hesitate to go too much into depth. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war by uniting the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “That would be the simplified version,” General $dname considers. “I suppose your tutors will teach you the rest soon enough.” [[Continue|3.19a]]

You decide to stay quiet about the topic, using the time of your walk through the enormous audience hall to look around instead. The way the sunlight plays off the columns and falls across the stone tiles lends to the majesty of the palace. Many Crowns before you have walked this hall, and it feels a little surreal. Almost mythical figures you have only heard of in stories and history retold, and now you're here walking the very same path. Before you know it you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. “Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,” you recite, then give Keko and General $dname a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Do you not know the history?” General $dname questions. “Vaguely.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you hesitate to go too much into depth. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war by uniting the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “That would be the simplified version,” General $dname considers. “I suppose your tutors will teach you the rest soon enough.” [[Continue|3.19a]]

<<if $caut gt $adven>>[ @@.stattext;Cautious@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Adventurous@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> Passing through the gates, you step into a large but simple rectangular hall without any furniture to speak of, although there is plenty to look at. There are other tall gates almost identical to the one behind you going straight ahead, as well as on your left and on your right. The floor, much like the one in the apadana displays tiles arranged into the shape of a single large, golden sun at the center of the room. Meanwhile the ceiling of the room is quite high up, high enough to allow plenty of space for the two long red banners hanging above two of the gates. The banner on your right displays the golden image of the Arsur Empire, the familiar eye inside a sun, while the banner on your left shows a black symbol you recognize as being Rojan’s and by extension Marabad’s, a snake wrapped around a mountain. The interior thus far is certainly much more colorful compared to the even-toned beige and white exterior. Keko stands in the middle of the hall, right on top of the sun, and gestures to the gates one by one as he beings to explain. “The northern gate leads to the record rooms, the library and the offices of the highest officials and scholars in Rojan appointed by you. “The western gate leads to your personal vault, the armory, the guard barracks and the servant’s quarters. “The eastern gate leads to the throne room as well as your private residence, including the kitchens, rooms for esteemed guests and visiting dignitaries, and a personal Spirit Temple attended by priests for you to make use of should you wish.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>”That’s… quite a lot,” you reply, stupefied at the implication of the size of this palace complex. “I have a personal temple?”<<else>>“I’ve already forgotten half of what you’ve said,” you state in a deadpan tone, “except… I have a personal temple?”<</if>> “It can be repurposed depending on your preference,” Keko answers. “The Nineteenth Crown used it as a Water Temple as he enjoyed studying and conversing with the water spirits within, if memory serves me right. Some Crowns less inclined toward the magical have been known to use it as a personal space for meditation instead, such as Crown Ferzan. Others yet have used it for religious purposes, such as prayer.” “I see.” Yet another thing you’ll have to think about, now that you’re Crown. “I suppose I can go sit down somewhere in my own residence?” “This way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko respond, motioning toward the eastern gate before he takes the lead and you follow him. [[Continue|3.20a]]

You were expecting a hallway, anticipating more walking, but as soon as you turn your attention toward the eastern gate, without even passing through it you can see it isn’t a hallway that’s awaiting you. Instead it is the single largest and most imposing room you’ve ever been in, though it is only a quarter of the size of the audience hall at the entrance. “This is the palace’s reception hall,” Keko duly informs you as he leads your feet down a short set of stairs and onto a plush and intricately woven red carpet that you feel bad for even stepping on at all. The carpet stretches nearly the entirety of the reception hall, which looks more like a throne room were it not for the massive stairs diverging north and another set that continues east. There are large red columns framing the stairs that lead north, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, where the snake busts you’ve seen before are colored blue, contrasting with the red in a way that makes the hues burst. The stairs leading east, on the other hand, have shorter and thicker columns to leave space for carvings on the wall above it. The corridor itself is guarded by two massive bronze statues of winged beasts on either side, their bodies shaped like lions while their heads are of eagles, peering through stone eyes as if keeping watch on the reception hall. The carvings on the walls remind you of the gates you just passed, depicting richly colored images of royal figures dressed in reds and golds. You feel supremely out of place. “Are those shirdals?” you ask Keko, pointing at the two statues. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “They live at the top of the Armas Mountains, but I believe the palace will suffice with an artistic rendition.” “Where does that corridor lead?” “Your personal residence and the guest rooms, which includes the royal gardens and private baths.” Keko pauses. “The northern corridor here leads on to the throne room. The two are connected by a smaller corridor only for you to use, to allow you to travel quickly between your rooms and the throne room.” You find the split between the two sections a bit odd. “Is there any reason why the throne room and my personal rooms weren’t built closer together?” Keko and General $dname exchange a look. “The throne room is absurdly huge,” General $dname states when Keko remains silent. “This reception used to be the throne room in Crown Ashadūna’s time, but Crowns after her expanded the palace over time to suit their tastes.” “I would not recommend heading to the throne room if Your Imperial Majesty wishes to rest,” Keko comments politely. You agree, and Keko leads you up the stairs heading east, into your personal residence. [[Continue|3.21a]]

Every room seems to be more decadent than the next. The smaller entrance hall greeting you ahead the rest of your personal rooms seems to be a miniature version of the larger reception hall, but it may as well have been gilded entirely from gold. The hallway that follows has large, open windows on either side, displaying the royal gardens that Keko mentioned before that are filled with the most carefully and beautifully arranged flowers and flowering trees that you’ve ever seen. Ponds run along either side, neatly constructed on the edge of stone pathways and you wonder if there’s any fish in the water or if it’s just for decoration. Perhaps you could swim in it on a hot day, or would that be unbecoming? But then what’s the point of all that water if you can’t fish or swim in it? Keko leads you into the first room you come across at the end of the hallway which, much like everything else in this palace, is simultaneously foreign and familiar. You recognize the low table in the corner of the room, large, soft cushions arranged around it for people to sit on. Most teahouses in smaller towns and villages use furniture like this, as chairs and higher tables are more often reserved for wealthier places. There are low couches near the walls as well, for lying down or more comfortable sitting. What you don’t recognize are the expensive purple fabrics on the pillow, the intricate weaving of the rugs covering the floor and hanging off the walls, the craftsmanship of the wood that details expertly carved curves into the legs of the couches and the table, golden statuettes almost casually placed on shelves filled with handsomely bound tomes you would be scared to so much as touch for fear of staining them. You are so taken by the richness of the room that you only notice the two servants near the windows when one of them almost drops the rolled up curtain they’d been carrying at the sight of you. “Would you like something to drink while you wait for your bath, Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko asks you, ignoring the two servants who watch with wide eyes. Now that he’s asked, you realize you are rather thirsty. “Tea would be nice.” “What kind of flavor would you like?” You stare at Keko in bewilderment. “Just… normal tea?” “Black tea, then.” Keko smiles and turns to General $dname. “And you, General?” “The same,” General $dname answers curtly, gazing around the room with faint curiosity. “Very well.” Keko turns toward the two servants near the windows. “Did you hear that? The servants straighten up, one of them clutching the roll of curtain they’d been replacing tightly to their chest as they simultaneously bow. “Yes, head servant, at once!” You shuffle out of the doorway to let them through and watch somewhat confused as they continue to bow profusely in your direction as they pass you—one of them nearly trips over the rug in the hallway in their hurry to get out. One would think you were a manticore out for their flesh with how quickly they scramble to leave now that you’ve arrived. “I suppose I should get used to that,” you mutter as you<<if $pass gt $ass>> hesitantly<</if>> walk into the room, deciding to settle down in the very corner beside the window, on top of a pillow by the table. With your back comfortably pressed against a wall and the doorway clearly visible in your line of sight, you feel much more at ease. General $dname settles down beside you, to your surprise. There is still a pillow in between you, so you don’t feel literally backed into the corner, but much like you $dthey leans back against the wall and appears to ease a little. “Please don’t hold it against them, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko asks you kindly. “None of us could have anticipated your arrival; it will take us poor servants some time to adjust.” “You seem to be adjusting just fine,” you point out, and Keko smiles enigmatically. “Such is the benefit of experience that comes with my old age, my Crown,” he answers. “With your permission, I shall take my leave to prepare your bath.” “Go ahead.” Keko bows once, deeply, before straightening up again and departing the room a moment later, leaving you alone with General $dname. [[Continue|3.22a]]

General $dname looks at you. “What do you think of the palace so far?” You are somewhat startled when $dthey is the first to make conversation. From what little you know of $dthem so far, you assumed $dthey would prefer silence over conversation. $cdtheir tone is rather brusque, but you can tell from the way $dthey looks at you—giving you $dtheir full attention while patiently waiting for an answer—that it’s not out of disrespect, but rather the way $dthey naturally speaks. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s quite big, isn’t it?” you reply in a lighthearted manner, glancing around the opulent sitting room. “I’m at a loss for what to do with all this space, to be honest.”<<else>>“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with all this space,” you answer bluntly, glancing around the opulent sitting room.<</if>> “I imagine you can do whatever you damn well wish with it,” General $dname replies thoughtlessly, before a look of horror crosses $dtheir face. “I mean- please forgive my vulgar language—” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You laugh. “Don’t worry about it! I wasn’t exactly raised by royalty myself, and I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to speak naturally around me.”<<else>>“It’s fine,” you state, smiling lightly. “I prefer it to all the flowery speak I’ve been hearing up until now.”<</if>> General $dname gives you a doubtful look. “Nevertheless, as your general I cannot be seen acting improperly toward you; it would be all but giving permission to others to do the same.” You consider $dtheir words with some thought, then look around the empty room. “Then, what about when we’re alone?” “I… suppose that’s less of an issue,” General $dname admits, shifting around a little uncomfortably where $dthey sits cross-legged on the pillow, as if having just realized that there’s no one else in the room but the two of you. Which is also what you realize the very same moment. <ul> <li>[[Keep it friendly.|3.23a.1]]</li> <li>[[Blush and look away.|3.23a.2][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]</li> <li>[[Tease a little.|3.23a.3][$dpoints to $dpoints + 2]]</li> </ul>

<<set $res += 75>>The atmosphere becomes tense, a little uneasy now that you sit in the silence hanging between the two of you. You avert your gaze down to your lap, partly irritated that you’re so easily affected by something so minor, and partly embarrassed by your own shyness. Why is this so hard? You were speaking to $dthem without any issue before, but now it seems your mouth has clamped shut and refuses to open. The mere implication of being alone with someone—an attractive someone—in a room holds such power over you that you are overcome with a faint sense of helplessness and frustration. You wish you could say something, but your mind is completely blank. Instead you simply sit there, feeling the sunlight pouring through the window radiating warmth onto the skin of your cheeks, already burning from the blood rushing to your face. General $dname is just as quiet as you are, perhaps uninterested in continuing the conversation. You dare a glance at $dthem, expecting to find $dthem staring off into the room, which is why you freeze when you see $dtheir earth-dark eyes are on you instead. $cdthey’s staring at you, but startles belatedly when $dthey finds you staring back at $dthem. “I was—” $cdthey quickly looks away, crossing $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. “Just- your complexion. It looks…” $cdthey clears $dtheir throat, coughing awkwardly behind a fist. “Pleasing.” Dumbstruck, you press a hand to your cheek, not even realizing you’re doing it until General $dname’s eyes flit to your fingers and you see $dthem swallow before looking away again. You quickly remove your hand from your face. “I- um, thank you,” you murmur, looking back down at your lap again<<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length" or $haistyle is "past your shoulders" or $hairstyle is "down to your waist" or $hairstyle is "down to your hips">> and letting your hair fall in between the two of you like a curtain<</if>> to hide your face. $cdthey thinks your complexion is pleasing. It is such a clumsy compliment, but it was so very genuine, that look in $dtheir eyes as if $dthey could sit there and stare at you forever. "I hope that was permissible for me to say," General $dname speaks after a moment of silence. "I would not want for you to- to mistake my intentions. It was just an observation, nothing more. I would never want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse the- the situation. In fact--" You pause at that statement. "If anything, would it not be easier for me to abuse the situation than you?" Only now are the consequences of your new title beginning to sink in, not just for yourself but also for your interactions with others. What if you, even be it unintentionally, ended up pressuring someone into doing something they didn't want? Made them uneasy without knowing it, because they'd be too afraid to speak up? The sudden shift in your status and all that it changes is almost difficult to wrap your mind around, but it is something you will have to be conscious of from now on. General $dname frowns slightly. "I... suppose. It is not a thought that has ever occurred to me." Of course it hasn't, why would it? Who in the Empire would be in the position to take advantage of a general, the highest ranking military official? It could be possible for someone else to do so, but it would be easiest for the Crown. "Maybe it should," you point out to General $dname. "I would not want to make you uncomfortable either, and I promise to be mindful of that." For a moment, General $dname stares at you again, but there's a look of wonder to $dtheir gaze now. "You... are being considerate of me? I..." $cdthey trails off briefly, averting $dtheir gaze bashfully. "You are too kind, Your Imperial Majesty." [[Continue|3.24a]]

<<if $res gt $flirt>>[ @@.stattext;Reserved@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Flirtatious@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> It is at this point the servants return, both holding a metal tray and seeming slightly out of breath as if they had run the whole way to fetch your tea as quickly as humanly possible. You recall Keko telling you that the kitchens should be in this part of the palace complex as well, so hopefully they didn't have to run too far. "Your- Your Imperial Majesty!" The one on the left holds two cups of tea, while the one on the right carries a plate of fruit and a small basket of bread. They both bow as best they can while holding their respective items, and you notice the one on the right is shaking, if the rattling of the plate of fruit on their tray is any indication. General $dname raises both brows at the servants but makes no further comment. <ul> <li>[[Compliment the servants; treating them kindly would be wise.|3.25a.1][$calc to $calc + 25]]</li> <li>[[Thank them and tell them to take it easy; you do not want them to be afraid.|3.25a.2][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<set $flirt += 75>>“I hope you don’t mind being alone with me, general,” you say, twisting your tone into something considerate even while a mischievous grin forms on your face and General $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at you in suspicion. You do mean it, which is probably why General $dname is having such a difficult time trying to figure out your intentions. “Why would I mind?” $dthey questions you dubiously, frowning slightly when you place your elbow on the table to lean a little closer, though you make sure not to breach $dtheir personal space. While $dthey doesn’t move away from you, the way $dtheir eyes widen slightly is quite rewarding. “Because of propriety, of course,” you answer, keeping the serene smile on your face even as the corner of your mouth curls a little with amusement. “Are you- are you implying something improper is happening?” General $dname sputters, offended and embarrassed in the same breath. “Your Imperial Majesty, I am the very picture of proper! I would never dream of- of abusing such a situation!” “What if I’m a willing participant?” you remark almost casually, and General $dname’s slightly-widened-eyes turn into the size of saucers. "Hypothetically." “A willing participant in what?” $dthey all but shouts. “Nothing- NOTHING is happening here! Hypothetically or otherwise! I have never- this isn’t—!” General $dname’s verbal flailing causes you to quickly pull away. You meant to test $dtheir boundaries, see how much teasing would be alright for you to do, but it appears the general's tolerance is even lower with you than it is with $xname, although the result is slightly different. Rather than get angry, General $dname is having a meltdown instead. "I'm sorry," you say with sincerity, realizing that the idea of General $dname abusing such a situation, as $dthey mentioned earlier, is unlikely for more than one reason. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It was a thoughtless jest." Were you anyone else, it might have been different, but you're the Crown now. The single most powerful person in the Empire, even above a general. Only now are the consequences of your new title beginning to sink in, not just for yourself but also for your interactions with others. What if you, even be it unintentionally, ended up pressuring someone into doing something they didn't want? Made them uneasy without knowing it, because they'd be too afraid to speak up? The sudden shift in your status and all that it changes is almost difficult to wrap your mind around, but it is something you will have to be conscious of from now on. You notice the silence that has fallen between you two and assume you've truly gone and made General $dname uneasy, when you see the way $dthey's is staring at you. $cdtheir gaze is filled with something akin to wonder, captivated by something $dthey sees in you, but $dthey startles belatedly when $dthey finds you staring back at $dthem. “Something on my face?” you tease. “Yes- well, no- I mean—” $cdthey quickly looks away, crossing $dtheir arms over $dtheir chest. "Nothing. It was nothing." When the general continues to avoid your gaze, the smile falters on your face. "Tell me honestly, does the teasing bother you?" General $dname makes a curt and dismissive gesture with $dtheir hand. "If it did, you would know." "Oh?" Your smile brightens again with the reassurance. "That is good to know. Even so, I promise to be more mindful of it in the future." "You... are being considerate of me." General $dname speaks slowly, with that same look of wonder on $dtheir face again. "That is not necessary." You frown deeply. "It's very necessary, all the more because I'm the Crown." General $dname appears bashful again as $dthey avoids your eyes. "You... you are too kind, Your Imperial Majesty." [[Continue|3.24a]]

As you cross the enormous audience hall with Keko walking a step ahead of you, you wonder if it really is possible to get to know $xname in the way you want to. $cxthey's a little like a story in that way, the ones told by skilled orators either through music or through spoken word. You don't know where the story is from, or why it is structured the way it is, only that it is being told. Like a performance, maybe. $xname might be a performer. It looks so natural, the way $xthey is, but for someone like you <<if $adven gt $caut>>who has so longed to be able to express yourself freely but not being permitted to, you almost feel envious<<else>>who has had to hide for most of your life and has grown used to the shadows, you can hardly grasp how $xname could enjoy the light the way $xthey does<</if>>. So, you conclude, $xthey must be putting on a show. It's a flimsy theory, held together only by your own perspective of the world, but it's also your excuse to wander a little closer, to test with your own hands whether the flame is really as hot as it seems or if it's simply an imitation. You glance ahead at your guide who seems content to let conversation rest in silence, and you suppose if you were truly curious you could ask Keko what he knows about $xname. But is it safe to show your interest? $xname is beloved by the people, not the upper classes. You've seen wanted posters of $xthem around in a few towns in Rojan, always posted by some furious noble $xname supposedly has personally slighted. You wouldn't want to start any undue rumors. <ul> <<if $xgender is 'male'>><li>[[Ask Keko about Xelef.|3.18b.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li><li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18b.2][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li><<else>><li>[[Ask Keko about Xelara.|3.18b.1][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li><li>[[Keep quiet; it may be a sensitive subject.|3.18b.2][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li><</if>> </ul>

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Say, Keko,” you start, taking a nonchalant tone as Keko glances over his shoulder at you. “What can you tell me about $xname?”<<else>>“Keko, what do you know about $xname?” you ask Keko outright, and he glances over his shoulder at you with slightly raised brows, but at least doesn't look judgmental.<</if>> "Only what is most widely known, Your Imperial Majesty," Keko answers simply as he faces forward again. "$cxthey is a very famous mercenary, one of great skill. The Crescent Blades, though few in number, are an army in their own right." "But you haven't had any personal dealings with $xname?" There's a slight pause. "No, Your Imperial Majesty. Might I inquire about the nature of your curiosity?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You probably haven't heard, but $xname was the one who helped me find $rtitle $rname," you explain. "Without $xthem I wouldn't be here right now."<<else>>"$xname helped me find $rtitle $rname," you explain. "Without $xthem I wouldn't be here right now."<</if>> "Ah, how fortuitous!" Keko looks back to smile at you. "Then the Empire owes $xthem a great debt. I assume your intention is to reward $xthem for this deed?" "I was thinking about it," you admit, especially now that you have the treasury of the wealthiest nation in the world at your disposal, although $xname did also use you for $xtheir own purposes. You haven't forgotten that little fact, yet. But before you can think of a way to question Keko further, you notice you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize but cannot read. “Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,” you recite, then give Keko a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist. How much do you know of the history of the founding of the Empire, my Crown?” “Only a little.” With only the limited knowledge of your parents to go off of, you'd rather not go too much into depth, but you are certain about what you do know. “Crown Ashadūna prevented a war and united the lands of Ardia, Hathura and the tribes of Sur into… well, the Empire we live in now.” “Yes, fundamentally you are correct,” Keko answers. “Rest assured your tutors will do their very best to teach you everything else." [[Continue|3.19b]]

You decide to stay quiet about the topic, using the time of your walk through the enormous audience hall to look around instead. The way the sunlight plays off the columns and falls across the stone tiles lends to the majesty of the palace. Many Crowns before you have walked this hall, and it feels a little surreal. Almost mythical figures you have only heard of in stories and history retold, and now you're here walking the very same path. Before you know it you’ve almost arrived at the tall doorway leading into the rest of the palace complex. It is an incredibly tall, stone gate, with colorful reliefs carved around it. Keko guides you through it, but you halt near the right side of it to study the engravings. You see the image of a tall figure, holding a golden staff and dressed in red long robes, so detailed that you can even make out the golden jewelry around their neck and decorating their headwear. Their dark hair is quite long, trailing behind them as they’re followed by smaller figures with outstretched hands dressed in white robes, holding what looks like baskets. Likely servants. The figure also has golden eyes. The inscription below the carving catches your attention. You read through the short lines of the familiar—if archaic—Ardian script, but there are two others below that you recognize, but cannot read. “Ashadūna, the Crown of the Empire, beloved by the Spirits, Mother of the Mountains, built this palace,” you recite, then give Keko a curious look. “Why is it also written in Hathur and Surrian?” “Hathura and the tribes of Sur are what formed the foundation for the Empire, united by the ancient kingdom of Ardia,” Keko clarifies patiently. “While the names of their lands have changed over time, their people, as well as their languages, still exist.” “Hmm." You eye the engravings curiously for a moment longer, before you and Keko move on. [[Continue|3.19b]]

You were expecting a hallway, anticipating more walking, but as soon as you turn your attention toward the eastern gate, without even passing through it you can see it isn’t a hallway that’s awaiting you. Instead it is the single largest and most imposing room you’ve ever been in, though it is only a quarter of the size of the audience hall at the entrance. “This is the palace’s reception hall,” Keko duly informs you as he leads your feet down a short set of stairs and onto a plush and intricately woven red carpet that you feel bad for even stepping on at all. The carpet stretches nearly the entirety of the reception hall, which looks more like a throne room were it not for the massive stairs diverging north and another set that continues east. There are large red columns framing the stairs that lead north, stretching all the way up to the ceiling, where the snake busts you’ve seen before are colored blue, contrasting with the red in a way that makes the hues burst. The stairs leading east, on the other hand, have shorter and thicker columns to leave space for carvings on the wall above it. The corridor itself is guarded by two massive bronze statues of winged beasts on either side, their bodies shaped like lions while their heads are of eagles, peering through stone eyes as if keeping watch on the reception hall. The carvings on the walls remind you of the gates you just passed, depicting richly colored images of royal figures dressed in reds and golds. You feel supremely out of place. “Are those shirdals?” you ask Keko, pointing at the two statues. “Indeed, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “They live at the top of the Armas Mountains, but I believe the palace will suffice with an artistic rendition.” “Where does that corridor lead?” “Your personal residence and the guest rooms, which includes the royal gardens and private baths.” Keko pauses. “The northern corridor here leads on to the throne room. The two are connected by a smaller corridor only for you to use, to allow you to travel quickly between your rooms and the throne room.” You find the split between the two sections a bit odd. “Is there any reason why the throne room and my personal rooms weren’t built closer together?” “The throne room is quite large,” Keko replies after some thought. “This reception used to be the throne room in Crown Ashadūna’s time, but Crowns after her expanded the palace over time to suit their tastes. In any event, I would not recommend heading to the throne room if Your Imperial Majesty wishes to rest." You agree, and Keko leads you up the stairs heading east, into your personal residence. [[Continue.|3.21b]]

Every room seems to be more decadent than the next. The smaller entrance hall greeting you ahead the rest of your personal rooms seems to be a miniature version of the larger reception hall, but it may as well have been gilded entirely from gold. The hallway that follows has large, open windows on either side, displaying the royal gardens that Keko mentioned before that are filled with the most carefully and beautifully arranged flowers and flowering trees that you’ve ever seen. Ponds run along either side, neatly constructed on the edge of stone pathways and you wonder if there’s any fish in the water or if it’s just for decoration. Perhaps you could swim in it on a hot day, or would that be unbecoming? But then what’s the point of all that water if you can’t fish or swim in it? Keko leads you into the first room you come across at the end of the hallway which, much like everything else in this palace, is simultaneously foreign and familiar. You recognize the low table in the corner of the room, large, soft cushions arranged around it for people to sit on. Most teahouses in smaller towns and villages use furniture like this, as chairs and higher tables are more often reserved for wealthier places. There are low couches near the walls as well, for lying down or more comfortable sitting. What you don’t recognize are the expensive purple fabrics on the pillow, the intricate weaving of the rugs covering the floor and hanging off the walls, the craftsmanship of the wood that details expertly carved curves into the legs of the couches and the table, golden statuettes almost casually placed on shelves filled with handsomely bound tomes you would be scared to so much as touch for fear of staining them. You are so taken by the richness of the room that you only notice the two servants near the windows when one of them almost drops the rolled up curtain they’d been carrying at the sight of you. “Would you like something to drink while you wait for your bath, Your Imperial Majesty?” Keko asks you, ignoring the two servants who watch with wide eyes. Now that he’s asked, you realize you are rather thirsty. “Tea would be nice.” “What kind of flavor would you like?” You stare at Keko in bewilderment. “Just… normal tea?” “Black tea, then.” Keko smiles and turns toward the two servants near the windows. “Did you hear that? The servants straighten up, one of them clutching the roll of curtain they’d been replacing tightly to their chest as they simultaneously bow. “Yes, head servant, at once!” You shuffle out of the doorway to let them through and watch somewhat confused as they continue to bow profusely in your direction as they pass you—one of them nearly trips over the rug in the hallway in their hurry to get out. One would think you were a manticore out for their flesh with how quickly they scramble to leave now that you’ve arrived. “I suppose I should get used to that,” you mutter as you<<if $pass gt $ass>> hesitantly<</if>> walk into the room, deciding to settle down in the very corner beside the window, on top of a pillow by the table. With your back comfortably pressed against a wall and the doorway clearly visible in your line of sight, you feel much more at ease. “Please don’t hold it against them, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko asks you kindly. “None of us could have anticipated your arrival; it will take us poor servants some time to adjust.” “You seem to be adjusting just fine,” you point out, and Keko smiles enigmatically. “Such is the benefit of experience that comes with my old age, my Crown,” he answers. “With your permission, I shall take my leave to prepare your bath.” “Go ahead.” Keko bows once, deeply, before straightening up again and departing the room a moment later, leaving you alone. Though, your solitude does not last very long. [[Continue|3.22b]]

What feels like mere moments after Keko has left, someone else appears through the open doorway of the sitting area. "There you are!" $xname strides inside with an air of complete ease, somehow appearing natural both in the wilderness of a forest as well as surrounded by the wealth of a room like this. It is a stark contrast to you, who feels foreign and out of place, ill at ease sitting on something more expensive than your clothes. "I heard you were looking for me," $xname comments as $xthey sits down directly across the table from you on top of a pillow, elbows leaning onto the carefully polished wood. "Two servants panicking about getting tea for the Crown tipped me off. Did you miss me already?" You smile a little. "Am I that obvious?" "It's not as if you're trying your best to hide it," $xname points out playfully. "Not that I can fault you. With company like mine, what else could a Crown want for?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Tea sounds pretty good."<<else>>"Tea, probably."<</if>> $cxthey snorts. "I'm more partial to beer, myself." You figured as much. "A big drinker, are you?" <<if $xgender is 'male'>>"A big everything, really," $xname responds, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggeration at you and you barely smother your laughter. "Did you just call yourself a big cock?" you say,<<if $res gt $flirt>> too amused to get flustered by the implication as you otherwise might,<</if>> and the grin disappears from $xname's face. "Wait--" The realization dawns on him, though his smile returns to his face when you start laughing even harder than before. "Hold on, hold on now! You know that's not what I meant!"<<else>>"Naturally," $xname responds, a mischievous curl to her lips as she wiggles her brows with exaggeration. "I can go all night long." You pause<<if $res gt $flirt>>, too amused by the implication to get flustered as you otherwise might have--it helps that $xname is making a joke of it as well<</if>>. "So, you're addicted to beer, is what you're saying?" "Wait--" $xname frowns as she realizes it, but smiles again when you start to laugh. "Hold on, hold on now! You know very well that's not what I meant!"<</if>> "Oh, I'm sure." You're about ready to let it go, but then it occurs to you that this gives you an opportunity to tease $xname back a little, should you wish to. <ul> <li>[[Perfect.|3.23b.2][$flirt to $flirt + 75]]</li> <li>[[You could not; the very thought makes you blush.|3.23b.1][$res to $res + 75]]</li> <li>[[You would rather keep things friendly.|3.23b.3]]</li> </ul>

The conversation between you two was flowing so nicely, but when the silence falls and you ponder over $xname's flirtatious comments, you find yourself retreating. When it comes to romance you have always been shy, and having to hide for the majority of your life hasn't helped with that. Casual teasing is not something you're used to, especially the kind you're not entirely certain is honest. "What's wrong, $xnickname?" $xname says, noticing how quiet you've suddenly gotten. You avert your gaze. "Nothing, I was only... thinking." "Hmm." $xname falls silent, and when you glance at $xthem you see the beginnings of a smile forming on $xtheir face as $xthey looks at you. "You look pretty when you're thinking." <<if $charm gt $blunt>>It's terrible. Where the words usually flow so easily from you, you now find yourself at a loss on what to say, where to look, what to do with your hands--you're flailing, eyes shifting around the room, looking anywhere but at the stunning <<if $xgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> eyeing you from across the table.<<else>>You remain quiet as the blood rushes through your cheeks, frozen like a statue on your seat. It's not as if you're much of a talker usually, preferring to get straight to the point, but the problem here is that you're not sure that there is a point to get to beyond blurting out an embarrassing admission about how talking to a gorgeous <<if $xgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> makes you nervous.<</if>> "I apologize." Your temporary panic simmers down at the unexpected words, and you work up the courage to look $xname in the eyes. "I've made you uncomfortable," $xthey observes with a regretful smile.<<if $charm gt $blunt>> "No, it's..." You flounder, your usual charm faltering as you're not sure how to put it into words, but then it occurs to you--didn't you already put it into words?<</if>> You take a deep, steadying breath<<if $charm gt $blunt>> and try again<</if>> to speak. "I'm shy. That's all. I don't know what to say or do when someone<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, ah,<</if>> compliments me in<<if $charm gt $blunt>>... in<</if>> that way." Thumbing at the edge of the table, you notice a small scratch in the wood which seems absolutely fascinating compared to facing the intent gaze pinned on you. "I don't mind," you continue quietly. "The flirting, that is. So long as you're not expecting a coherent response." The subtle sound of a chuckle tempts you into looking, and you find $xname's elbow resting on the table with $xtheir chin resting in $xtheir hand, watching you with a soft smile. "What?" you say bemusedly, wondering what you could've done to deserve such a look. $xname sighs. "You are a treasure." "I-" Your cheeks glow with heat. "I'm sorry?" "How am I supposed to sleep at night?" $xname continues, a tone of accusation though $xthey keeps smiling at you and it's starting to mess with your head. "Knowing that the Crown is such a darling thing, it'll make me want to take $aname's job from $athem!" "Please don't," you emphasize, somewhat worried $xthey actually might, which draws a laugh out of $xname. "I would never," $xname promises solemnly, though you spot the mischief glinting in $xtheir eyes. "Though you make it a very tempting idea." [[Continue|3.24b]]

"You're rather bold, aren't you?" you remark playfully, though you can't help but be slightly impressed at how completely immune $xname seems to be to any rules of decorum. So far, most other people you've met--with the exception of $aname perhaps--and revealed your eyes to have immediately begun to treat you with deference befitting your station. $xname, however? Even before you revealed your eyes to $xthem, $xthey has acted no differently around you than $xthey has with $xtheir mercenaries. It's reassuring, in a way. "Do you mind?" $xname questions, lips curving in something almost like a challenge, and <<if $adven gt $caut>>you've never been one to back away from those<<else>>while you're not typically the adventurous sort, you are quite confident when it comes to flirtation<</if>>. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Does it look like I do?" you reply,<<else>>"Not at all," you say,<</if>> reflecting $xname's challenging tone back at $xthem. "Though you'll have to try harder than that to impress me." $xname chuckles, a low but pleasant sound. "For you, I'll try my very best." You smile, and then you're almost surprised at how much fun you're having. Even when your parents were still alive entire days would pass without you laughing once, a fact your mother often lamented. She always would try to get you to laugh, until one day she was gone and with her so did any joy you had left. Being here in the palace now, finally where you're supposed to be, you cannot help but hope that maybe things will get better.<<if $caut gt $adven>> That's not to say that your guard is down, however, as even now--perhaps especially now--you prefer to be cautious, but it feels good to have a reason to smile again.<</if>> "Thank you, $xname," you say with such a naked sincerity that it surprises you as much as it does $xname, equally shining through in your smile. "This was just what I needed." "Oh, well..." $xname laughs a little, averting $xtheir eyes from you almost suddenly, and perhaps you're projecting but $xthey almost seems flustered. It is rather subtle, but the restless sort of way $xname glances at you and then away again is much less composed than $xthey usually is. "I'm sure I don't deserve such gratitude, but you're welcome all the same." [[Continue|3.24b]]

Lighthearted banter aside, you're not interested in pursuing anything of a romantic nature. It's not the time for it, especially considering you haven't had a chance to adjust to your new life yet. While you wanted to chat more with General $dname to get to know $dthem better, right now all you want is to drink some tea and have a nice conversation with another person without complicating things. That's not to say you have no desire for romance whatsoever. It's simply been so very low on your list of priorities that you don't even know what romance would look like for you. Nevertheless, you have had some romantic experiences in the past; you did occasionally visit a village, after all, even while hiding from the Followers of Vidarna. Running into people of your age was unavoidable, though such encounters were few and far in between. Even if everything else is in doubt, at the very least you know yourself. As such, if this situation with General $dname had been romantic, you most likely would've... <ul> <li>[[...blushed and looked away.|3.24a][$res to $res + 75]]</li> <li>[[...had some fun flirting.|3.24a][$flirt to $flirt + 75]]</li> </ul>

Lighthearted banter aside, you're not interested in pursuing anything of a romantic nature. It's not the time for it, especially considering you haven't had a chance to adjust to your new life yet. While you wanted to chat more with $xname to get to know $xthem better, right now all you want is to drink some tea and have a nice conversation with another person without complicating things. That's not to say you have no desire for romance whatsoever. It's simply been so very low on your list of priorities that you don't even know what romance would look like for you. Nevertheless, you have had some romantic experiences in the past; you did occasionally visit a village, after all, even while hiding from the Followers of Vidarna. Running into people of your age was unavoidable, though such encounters were few and far in between. Even if everything else is in doubt, at the very least you know yourself. As such, if this situation with $xname had been romantic, you most likely would've... <ul> <li>[[...blushed and looked away.|3.24b][$res to $res + 75]]</li> <li>[[...had some fun flirting.|3.24b][$flirt to $flirt + 75]]</li> </ul>

<<if $res gt $flirt>>[ @@.stattext;Reserved@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Flirtatious@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> It is at this point the servants return, both holding a metal tray and seeming slightly out of breath as if they had run the whole way to fetch your tea as quickly as humanly possible. You recall Keko telling you that the kitchens should be in this part of the palace complex as well, so hopefully they didn't have to run too far. "Your- Your Imperial Majesty!" The one on the left holds two cups of tea, while the one on the right carries a plate of fruit and a small basket of bread. They both bow as best they can while holding their respective items, and you notice the one on the right is shaking, if the rattling of the plate of fruit on their tray is any indication. $xname appears amused at the servants, but makes no comment. <ul> <li>[[Compliment the servants; treating them kindly would be wise.|3.25b.1][$calc to $calc + 25]]</li> <li>[[Thank them and tell them to take it easy; you do not want them to be afraid.|3.25b.2][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> </ul>

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You did well," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, I'm surprised you managed not to spill anything with how much you must have hurried." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. "Can I convince you to join me at the table?" you suggest.<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You hum, keeping your expression unaffected and neutral even as you're entirely unconvinced of the servant's flailing excuses. "Thank you for the tea, you look like you really hurried trying to get it to me." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. Deciding this is as good an opportunity to get them on your side, you say, "Come sit down."<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice General $dname staring at you with a frown from the corner of your eyes, and you wonder if $dthey disapproves of your approach. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $gender is 'male'>>son<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>daughter<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me." Your words may be truthful, but that doesn't mean they're not a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it." Your words be truthful, but that doesn't mean they're not a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young girl to blush a little. "My name is $name, but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"Anything but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "What's wrong with the formal address?" General $dname questions, bemused. "It is the proper form." You wave your hand as a response, causing $dthem to huff, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands, and General $dname, who had just been taking a sip from $dtheir tea, almost chokes on it at hearing your language.<<else>>You stare at them. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?"<</if>> Siham looks horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26a]]

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"There's no need to be so nervous," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, but in the future, please take your time. Waiting a little won't kill me!" All of this is so new to you. Being attended to like this by total strangers who look at you with a mixture of awe and intimidation is so bizarre, and rather uncomfortable. It feels unequal, because by its very nature it is unequal, and you're not used to that. You're not sure you even want to get used to it. You'd rather have friends. The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bows, presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Your smile falters a little, but then you clear your throat and try again to set them at ease. "Please, put the trays down! Would you perhaps like to sit with us?"<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You frown slightly, unconvinced. "Thanks for the tea, but next time, take it easy. I don't mind waiting." The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Starting to grow uneasy with these two people frozen like statues in front of you in some sort of perpetual bow, you say, "Do you want to sit down, or are you going to keep bowing at me for an eternity?"<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice General $dname staring at you with a frown from the corner of your eyes, and you wonder if $dthey disapproves of your approach. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $gender is 'male'>>son<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>daughter<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me."<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. Having done your best to be ignored by others, being treated with such reverence is jarring to say the least. It makes you uneasy, to hold such power over people due to conditions you had no control over, that you didn't choose let alone ask for. Reverence is uncomfortably close to fear, and you don't want anyone to fear you. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light, dotted with freckles across her nose and cheeks while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young girl to blush a little. "My name is $name- but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"Anything but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "What's wrong with the formal address?" General $dname questions, bemused. "It is the proper form." You wave your hand as a response, causing $dthem to huff, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands, and General $dname, who had just been taking a sip from $dtheir tea, almost chokes on it at hearing your language.<<else>>You stare at them. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?"<</if>> Siham looks horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26a]]

It is at this point that Keko returns to the room, bushy eyebrows arching up in surprise at the sight of Siham and Ishrah sitting at the table. The two of them freeze for a moment at the sight of him, then simultaneously jump to their feet. “Master Keko, we didn’t mean to—” “We were just about to leave—” “Oh, do calm down,” Keko says with a laugh. “If the Crown <<if $gender is 'nb'>>themselves<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>herself<</if>><<if $gender is 'male'>>himself<</if>> permitted you to sit down, I am in no position to scold you.” Ishrah eases up with a relieved sigh, though Siham looks less convinced as they shift around uneasily on their feet. Keko turns to you. “Your bath is ready, Your Imperial Majesty.” He glances at the two servants present, a smile spreading on his lips. “Why don’t you two accompany the Crown?” “Us?” Siham says with surprise. Ishrah, on the other hand, smiles brightly. “Of course, we’d be honored to!” You suppose whether being escorted by Keko or by other servants doesn’t make much of a difference. At least they’ve all been pleasant and welcoming so far, though you suppose they wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. That’s still a strange thought to consider; others being obligated to pay you deference. “Do you mind?” you ask General $dname, who waves $dtheir hand dismissively. “Go on,” $dthey says, arms crossed and back straight as $dthey sits in perfect form on the pillow. “I will wait here.” “Right this way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says as they and Ishrah take the lead out of the room. You follow along, getting an encouraging smile from Keko when you pass him and leave the room to enter into the long corridor you came from. [[Continue|3.27]]

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"You did well," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, I'm surprised you managed not to spill anything with how much you must have hurried." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. "Can I convince you to join me at the table?" you suggest.<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You hum, keeping your expression unaffected and neutral even as you're entirely unconvinced of the servant's flailing excuses. "Thank you for the tea, you look like you really hurried trying to get it to me." While you don't understand the reverence these people are showing you, that won't prevent you from taking advantage of it as best you can. You didn't survive this long from being squeamish of using others, and while you may have gained some protection from the assassins after your life, you're not naive enough to believe everything will go smoothly from this point on. You'll need every advantage that you can get, and befriending the palace's servants--who are everywhere and see everything while being ignored by those considered above them--seems like it would be invaluable to you. "It- it is my pleasure to serve you, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant stammers, sounding overwhelmed by your words as they keep their head bowed steadfast. Deciding this is as good an opportunity to get them on your side, you say, "Come sit down."<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice $xname staring at you from the corner of your eyes, appearing amused for some reason, and you wonder if it is the mocking kind. You hope not. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you, it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $gender is 'male'>>son<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>daughter<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me." Your words may not be a lie, but that doesn't mean they're a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you either; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it." Your words may not be a lie, but that doesn't mean they're a convenient means to get these servants to relate to you either; they're likely not from wealthy families, considering their rank, so you figure bonding over similarities in your background is your best bet.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young girl to blush a little. "My name is $name, but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"Anything but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "Agreed," $xname chimes in with a grin. "It's so dreadfully formal. And boring!" "I think it being formal is the point," you comment <<if $charm gt $blunt>>with some humor<<else>>dryly<</if>>, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands while you hear $xname snort loudly at your choice of words.<<else>>You stare at them quizzically. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?" "Just look at them," $xname says with amusement. "Does it seem like they're capable of teasing?"<</if>> Siham<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, as $xname pointed out,<</if>> appears horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26b]]

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>"There's no need to be so nervous," you say to the trembling servant, smiling reassuringly. "Thank you for bringing my tea, but in the future, please take your time. Waiting a little won't kill me!" The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Your smile falters a little, but then you clear your throat and try again to set them at ease. "Please, put the trays down! Would you perhaps like to sit with us?"<<else>>"Are you alright?" you ask the trembling servant. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, I'm fine!" You frown slightly, unconvinced. "Thanks for the tea, but next time, take it easy. I don't mind waiting." The two servants exchange looks while still lowered in their bow and presenting the trays of food and drink to you like an offering. They appear unsure of your words at best. Starting to grow uneasy with these two people frozen like statues in front of you in some sort of perpetual bow, you say, "Do you want to sit down or are you going to keep bowing at me for an eternity?"<</if>> The servants look up at you in surprise, though at least you've gotten them to break their bow. You notice $xname staring at you from the corner of your eyes, appearing amused for some reason, and you wonder if it is the mocking kind. You hope not. "We could not possibly, Your Imperial Majesty," the servant holding the fruit sputters, the same one who was trembling before. "For us to share a table with you--it is not done!" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"According to whom?" you reply politely. "Is it written into law?"<<else>>"Says who?" you question. "The law?"<</if>> "Well, no," the servant admits nervously. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"If it makes you uncomfortable, then please feel free to leave," you clarify. "I just thought I'd like to get to know you better, that's all. Before I was chosen as the Crown, I was a farmer's <<if $gender is 'male'>>son<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>daughter<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>child<</if>>, you see, and all of this is still so unfamiliar to me."<<else>>"Look," you state, "I might be the Crown now, but before that, I was a normal person. My mother was a farmer, I used to get my hands dirty helping her all the time. All of this- bowing and the titles, I don't get it and I'm not used to it.<</if>> "Truly?" The servant holding the tea, who had been quiet until then, gazes at you with a newfound understanding. "My uncle is a farmer!" You smile, this time in relief as the servant slowly approaches the table, setting down the tea. They glance at you with some hesitance, and when you nod, they give you a small smile back and sit down across from you, shifting the long hem of their white dress out the way as they do. "Ishrah!" the other servant hisses, almost flinching when you glance over at them. "Don't be so uptight, Siham," Ishrah responds cheerfully. "The Crown asked us, so I'm sure it's fine!" "Your name is Ishrah, then?" you note. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!" They bow their head. "I go by she." She looks quite young, perhaps younger than twenty now that you get a good look at her. Her complexion is smooth and light while her dark eyes appear almost black in her youthful face, long locks of dark red curls neatly pinned back in a low ponytail. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It's a very pretty name," you comment, causing the young girl to blush a little. "My name is $name- but I understand you could not easily call me that."<<else>>"I'm $name," you reply, thinking it only fair to give your name in exchange for theirs. "Though I guess you couldn't call me that."<</if>> "Crown $name, then?" Ishrah suggests thoughtfully. "Would that be a fitting compromise, Your Imperial Majesty?" <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"Yes!" you all but exclaim, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant. "Much better!"<<else>>"Anything but 'Your Imperial Majesty' is an improvement," you state, relieved to be free from your official address with at least one servant.<</if>> "Agreed," $xname chimes in with a grin. "It's so dreadfully formal. And boring!" "I think it being formal is the point," you comment <<if $charm gt $blunt>>with some humor<<else>>dryly<</if>>, before turning to the other servant named as Siham before. "What about you?" you say. "Would you not like to join, like your friend here?" Siham glances toward the door, then back at Ishrah, and after some hesitation and shuffling around they finally approach the table, setting down the tray of fruit and bread and taking a seat beside Ishrah who grins brightly at them. They appear slightly older than Ishrah, perhaps more approaching your age. Unlike their companion, their eyes are brighter in the blue of their irises, though their skin is browner and tanner than Ishrah's, and their dark hair is neatly shaved, as short as can be without being completely bald. "My name is Siham, Your Imperial Majesty," they speak, though they do not meet your gaze. "I go by they, or he." "Will you not call me Crown $name, then?" "No, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers quickly. "I would not want to be scolded by Your Imperial Majesty's head servant, Your Imperial Majesty." <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at them. "Are you taking the piss?" Ishrah bursts into giggles, very poorly hiding her laughter behind her hands while you hear $xname snort loudly at your choice of words.<<else>>You stare at them quizzically. "Are you teasing me on purpose, Siham?" "Just look at them," $xname comments with amusement. "Does it seem like they're capable of teasing?"<</if>> Siham<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, as $xname pointed out,<</if>> appears horrified<<if $charm gt $blunt>> at the implication<</if>>. "I- I would not dream of it, Your Imperial Majesty!" [[Continue|3.26b]]

It is at this point that Keko returns to the room, bushy eyebrows arching up in surprise at the sight of Siham and Ishrah sitting at the table. The two of them freeze for a moment at the sight of him, then simultaneously jump to their feet. “Master Keko, we didn’t mean to—” “We were just about to leave—” “Oh, do calm down,” Keko says with a laugh. “If the Crown <<if $gender is 'nb'>>themselves<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>herself<</if>><<if $gender is 'male'>>himself<</if>> permitted you to sit down, I am in no position to scold you.” Ishrah eases up with a relieved sigh, though Siham looks less convinced as they shift around uneasily on their feet. Keko turns to you. “Your bath is ready, Your Imperial Majesty.” He glances at the two servants present, a smile spreading on his lips. “Why don’t you two accompany the Crown?” “Us?” Siham says with surprise. Ishrah, on the other hand, smiles brightly. “Of course, we’d be honored to!” You suppose whether being escorted by Keko or by other servants doesn’t make much of a difference. At least they’ve all been pleasant and welcoming so far, though you suppose they wouldn’t have much choice in the matter. That’s still a strange thought to consider; others being obligated to pay you deference. “Do you mind?” you ask $xname, who arches $xtheir brows. “No, but I don't suppose I can convince you to let me tag along?” $xthey remarks casually, <<if $res gt $flirt>>then starts to laugh when $xthey notices the way you blush and avert your eyes<<else>>though $xtheir smile gains a bit of an edge when you level $xthem with a challenging look<</if>>. "Manners, $xname," Keko says wearily, and to your suprise $xname actually sits up a little bit straighter, the grin fading from $xtheir face. "Sorry, Master Keko." “Right this way, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham says, pulling your attention away from the curious scene as they and Ishrah take the lead out of the room. You follow along, getting an encouraging smile from Keko when you pass him and leave the room to enter into the long corridor you came from. [[Continue|3.27]]

In terms of facial hair... [[...you have none.|1.11][$facialhair to 'none']] [[...you are clean shaven.|1.11][$facialhair to 'shaven']] [[...you have a stubble.|1.11][$facialhair to 'stubble']] [[...you have a beard.|1.11][$facialhair to 'beard']] [[...you have a goatee.|1.11][$facialhair to 'goatee']] [[...you have a moustache.|1.11][$facialhair to 'moustache']] [[...you have sideburns.|1.11][$facialhair to 'sideburns']]

Over the years, you have also accumulated a few scars on your body, though most are small and unremarkable. As for your face, you have... [[...a scar through your eyebrow.|1.12][$scar to 'eyebrow']] [[...a scar on your cheek.|1.12][$scar to 'cheek']] [[...a scar across your nose.|1.12][$scar to 'nose']] [[...a scar on your chin.|1.12][$scar to 'chin']] [[...a scar on your temple.|1.12][$scar to 'temple']] [[...managed to avoid gaining any scars there.|1.12][$scar to 'none']]

Instead of going back the way you came, however, Siham and Ishrah lead you further down the seemingly endless hallway, their long white robes fluttering behind them, barely grazing the ground as they walk ahead of you. Their garments are pristine compared to your tattered and muddied cloak, not to mention the coarse linen you wear underneath stained with dirt and sweat. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Do you have spare clothes that I could wear?”<<else>>“If it’s not too much to ask, could I have a change of clothes after my bath?”<</if>> you say, and both Siham and Ishrah look over their shoulder at you in surprise. They exchange glances with each other, and Ishrah giggles. Even Siham looks amused before they turn their head back around to look in front of them again while Ishrah's gaze lingers on you. “Naturally,” Ishrah answers, her eyes casting a thoughtful look over your current attire. “We can fetch you any manner of clothing you desire, Crown $name, though we will have to tailor them to your measurements later.” <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>Unsurprising, considering how short you are.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>Unsurprising, considering how tall you are.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You suppose that’s only reasonable, though with how average you are of stature most clothes should fit you relatively well.<</if>> “Do you have any preferences, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks. “We have many types of robes and dresses. Or trousers and tunics.” That is a question that requires some thought on your part. Up until now you made do with whatever clothes you could find, focused on practicality rather than aesthetics, but now you have a choice on what to wear, how to present yourself to others. <ul> <li>[[You ask for long robes, typically seen as more masculine clothing.|3.28][$clothing to 'robes']]</li> <li>[[You ask for a long dress with a sash, typically seen as more feminine clothing.|3.28][$clothing to 'dress']]</li> <li>[[You ask for a pair of shalvar—wide pants cuffed tight at the ankles—and a tunic to wear on top. These are not particularly feminine or masculine.|3.28][$clothing to 'shalvar']]</li> </ul>

“As you wish,” Siham replies in acknowledgment, at which point they and Ishrah come to a stop in front of two wide, stone doors. You notice the figures of snakes carved across them, as if to bar others from entry as they block the doors from swinging open. “Please stand back, Crown $name,” Ishrah requests as both she and Siham stand off to the right side of the door, and though confused, you do as she asks and take a step back from the doors. You notice a small panel on the right side, inscribed with an old sigil that you don’t recognize, looping like two coiling snakes. Ishrah fishes for something in the pocket of her robe, pulling out a long rope with several small, stone tablets hanging off it. All of them are inscribed with sigils as well. She takes the one that matches the snake sigil on the wall, and presses her stone tablet to it. The moment she does, a bright yellow light flashes from between the tablet and the panel before the stone snakes come to life, their eyes glowing the same yellow. They slither back to unbar the doors before they then both swing open on their own. Instead of a chamber, as you expected, you find yourself in front of a set of stairs leading below the ground. The walls on either side of you are decorated with paintings of golden snakes slithering downwards, against the backdrop of what you assume to be the Armas Mountains. “The baths are in the cellar?” you question as Siham heads down the stone steps, prompting you to follow them with Ishrah right behind you. The moment you step through the threshold, the stone doors close up behind you again. “Underground it is easier to retain heat in winter and remain cool in the summer,” Siham answers. You suppose that make sense as you glance over your shoulder at Ishrah, noticing her slipping the string with tablets back into the pocket of her robe. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“The tablet you used, was that a magic key?”<<else>>"What was that tablet you used on the door?"<</if>> you question, fascinated. You’ve never seen such sigils used before, though you have heard of them; they are very expensive to buy if one does not know how to create their own, which would require an even more expensive education in magic. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“Yes, it was!” Ishrah says brightly as Siham leads the way into the chamber below. "It's much safer than a regular old lock and key. The most important rooms in the palace are guarded this way. Ah, we're almost at the baths!"<<else>>"It functions as a key, Your Imperial Majesty," Siham answers promptly as they lead the way down the stairs. You notice they are much less nervous interacting with you when answering your questions. “Especially one meant to guard the royal bathing chambers. The baths are right ahead.”<</if>> The chamber you step into at the bottom of the stairs appears to be an undressing room of sorts with a large, vaulted ceiling. There are open closets with many towels and what you assume are bathing robes stacked onto the shelves, the tiles on the floor depicting many flowers, while the walls are painted to resemble what appear to be the hills of Marabad. A touch of lavender blends in with a fresh, herbal scent that permeates the chamber, though you can’t seem to spot the source of it. Your gaze drifts over several elegant couches and stone benches covered with soft mats in the surprisingly large room. [[Continue|3.29]]

You, frankly, don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing here. Your parents took you to a few public bathhouses before, but this looks much more involved; you expected the first and only room to be a giant bath. Not an entire complex below ground. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham questions when they notice you standing still and looking around uncertainly. “Do you require assistance?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“No, that’s alright,” you reply quickly, flashing them a smile. “I can undress myself. This is just not what I expected, that’s all.”<<else>>“No,” you answer. “I can undress myself. This is just not what I expected.”<</if>> “Allow me to take your clothes, at least,” Siham says, and you relent as you take your tattered cloak off first and hand it over, and then remember the pearl dagger $xname handed to you. You pull it out of the inner pocket of your clothes, giving it to Ishrah. "Take good care of this," you say to her, and though she looks curiously at the decorated sheath, she bows her head, handling the dagger with care as she sets it aside. Meanwhile, you begin to strip out of the rest of your clothes. Siham is very polite about it, not even glancing at the ratty garments that you just handed them, but Ishrah takes one look and her eyes widen in shock. “Were you out in the forest, Crown $name?” she inquires curiously as you hand the last of your attire to Siham, who promptly hands the stack to Ishrah. “I suppose I should burn these, shall I? They’re beyond saving, I’m afraid.” Siham frowns at her. “Ishrah!” “What?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You laugh a little. “Be my guest, I certainly won’t miss them.”<<else>>“Go ahead,” you reply. It’s not as if you were planning on keeping them.<</if>> “As you wish!” Ishrah says cheekily as she drops the dirtied garments into a small basket sitting on the ground, while Siham sighs and moves toward a small closet near the corner, opening its door to reveal rows of what appear to be bottles of oil and colorful cloths shaped like gloves; all things used to clean with, which you haven’t laid eyes upon in months. You glance down at your bare body, wincing slightly when you realize for the first time exactly how filthy you are. Especially compared to the pristine condition of the chamber you’re standing in, the contrast couldn’t be more painful. [[Continue|3.30]]

Thankfully, your newly appointed servants don’t let you flounder in self-pity for much longer. Although, considering you haven’t needed any help washing yourself since you were a young child, it is a rather odd experience. They lead you into the chamber on your right, filled up with steam that makes it somewhat difficult to breathe properly. Apparently you’re supposed to relax in the sweltering heat, but after laying down on the stone bench for a while you find it a suffocating experience more than anything else. Even splashing your face with the cold water in the basin does not help. Following that, <<if $hairstyle is 'shaved'>>Ishrah gives you a scalp massage as well; being that your hair is shaved down, it doesn’t need any tending. She does do you the favor tending to the dry skin with some oil, though.<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'coily' or $hairtexture is 'curly'>>Siham wets your hair, massaging your scalp, then rubs it in with a mixture of warm oil. It's mainly olive and lavender as Siham tells you, noting your $hairtexture hair needs moisturizing more than a wash. Considering how brittle and dry it has become, they're very much correct in that assessment; you let the oil sit in your hair for quite a while before Siham washes it out again.<<else>>Siham wets the $hairtexture locks of your hair, rubbing them in with brown clay, which sounds somewhat contradictory to you. You trust them when they say it’ll help, though, and once they wash it out again while massaging your scalp, to your amazement your hair does feel much cleaner.<</if>> Next, the soles of your feet and your palms are scraped clean with pumice stones, your nails cleaned and clipped, and your body scrubbed clean with the rough, glove-shaped cloths you noticed earlier. <<if $facialhair is 'none'>><<else>>Siham even trims your facial hair for you<<if $facialhair is 'shaven'>>, making sure you’re completely clean shaven again as you’d been neglecting to do so properly on the road.<</if>>. Using a rusted blade on your own hadn’t been very effective, admittedly.<</if>> Once you’re done having your skin scrubbed raw, Ishrah gives you an extensive back massage, making displeased noises whenever she finds another knot of tension to work out. At least the oil she uses on your back is quite pleasant; it, too, smells faintly of lavender. By the time you move into the next room, where the actual baths are, you feel like a snake that has just shed its old skin. You go for a soak in the cold bath—or pool, more like, considering the size of it could easily fit a dozen people—managing not to gasp at the sudden change in temperature. Bathing in ice cold rivers the past few months have prepared you for this, at least. [[Continue|3.31]]

“Was it to your liking, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks once you’ve returned to the dressing room, reclining on one of the couches while wearing a bathing robe Ishrah offered you after you dried off. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I can’t say I was partial to the heat,” you reply, though you realize it was your first experience, and your skin does feel much smoother now; perhaps you simply need to get used to it. "It is nice to be clean again, though."<<else>>“I didn’t like the steam,” you state, “though it was very effective.” Your skin can certainly attest to that, as it feels much smoother than it did before.<</if>> Being attended to by two servants the entire time was something else entirely, however. You’re starting to understand where the accusation of sloth and indolence toward the wealthy must originate from; after being attended to like that, who wouldn’t become spoiled? <<if $caut gt $adven>>It is something you resolve to watch out for as best you can. Complacency is an incredibly dangerous foe, one you cannot succumb to if you want to live. <<if $calc gt $kind>>The pretense of complacency, though, could be a useful tool if you want your enemies to underestimate you. It is something to consider.<<else>>With so many people relying on you now—an entire empire filled with them—it is no longer simply your own survival on the line, but that of a dynasty, a nation.<</if>><<else>>You are not worried about the temptation, however. Unlike the nobles who were pampered from the day they were born, you’ve known true hardships, ones that will always burden your shoulders. <<if $calc gt $kind>>You like to think it has made you sharper, warier, and that could give you an edge; if nothing else, you’ve always been a survivor. You’ve had to be.<<else>>It is strange to compare yourself to others now, those who weren’t chosen like you were. The thought is an uncomfortable one, but all the more reason for you to consider it.<</if>><</if>> “I’m back!” Ishrah hurries down the stairs, having gone to fetch you your new clothes while you were drying off from your bath. She lays out <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>new robes for you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>a new dress for you<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalvar'>>a new tunic and shalvar for you<</if>> to wear. <<if $clothing is 'robes'>>It is meant to be worn in layers, one robe underneath with another meant to be draped over the shoulder; Ishrah even adds a cape to be worn with it, with lavish golden clasps complimenting the elegant handsewn patterns in the fabric.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>It is a decorated dress with handcrafted stitching in the sleeves and in its hem, an elegant pattern sewn into the sash. There is also a coat to be worn over the dress, not entirely unlike the style you’ve seen $rname wear.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'shalvar'>>The tunic is lavishly decorated with handsewn patterns, and the matching shalvar look very soft and comfortable while enhancing the luxurious detailing of the tunic. There is also a coat to be worn on top of it, long enough to reach the ankles.<</if>> Even the soft fabric of the shoes looks like it costs more than anything you’ve ever owned. Ishrah has also carried additional accessories with her on a large tray. A couple of bracelets for the wrists and upper arms, as well as earrings and necklaces. You even notice a few headpieces, hats and cloth and jewelry both, and the amount of choices present is nearly dizzying. At the very least, you don’t have to fuss about what to wear, although you notice even the undergarments look unjustifiably expensive. Body cleaned—and smelling much better, with the various cremes and perfumes Siham offered you—you quickly slip on your attire, declining the aid of your two servants. You’re not yet at the point where you’re comfortable being dressed by someone other than yourself. The garments on you feel foreign. <<if $caut gt $adven>>On the run, you dressed as light as you could; the weight of the fabric on you now feels more like an impediment than a benefit. “Do you not approve, Your Imperial Majesty?” Siham asks as you refrain from picking many accessories to go along with your outfit. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It’s not that,” you explain. “Far from it, everything looks magnificent. The trouble is that it’s a rather big change from what I’m used to wearing.”<<else>>“This is a lot more flashy than I’m used to,” you reply. “I’ll wear the clothes, but the accessories are too much.”<</if>> “I understand,” Siham says, exchanging a meaningful look with Ishrah, who nods. “We will be sure to keep that in mind in the future, Your Imperial Majesty.”<<else>>You admittedly enjoy the flamboyance of it, especially after years of being dressed in the most drab attire imaginable in order to hide. It feels freeing, to be able to show off like this for the first time in your life. “I’m glad to see you approve, Crown $name,” Ishrah says with a bright smile as you pick out several accessories to go with your outfit. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Who wouldn’t?” you reply as you thoughtfully hold up a necklace, draping it experimentally along your neck as you look at yourself in the mirror. “If I’m going to be the Crown, I may as well dress the part.” Seeing you succeed would infuriate your enemies as well, and if you are going to flaunt your victory you ought to at least do it in style.<<else>>“I’m done dressing in rags,” you state, decisively picking a couple of bracelets to wear around your wrist, putting them on as if you were dressing in armor in preparation for battle. Your enemies killed your family, tried to kill you, but they failed; you’re going to emerge from this ordeal victorious, and dressed the part at that.<</if>><</if>> [[Continue|3.32]]

With Siham and Ishrah in tow, you head back up the stairs and out of the bathing chambers after you've finished dressing up. Once you emerge from the underground, you notice the sun has been fully concealed behind the large clouds you saw heading toward the city back when you were still traveling through the forest. There's little wind, indicating it is likely not a storm, but it eyes a little ominous all the same. Being that you only had to walk down the corridor before, finding your way back to the sitting area is easy enough. You notice both Siham and Ishrah are walking behind you, now, a subtle act of deference<<if $caut gt $adven>> that makes you rather uneasy. You’re not used to having people following you around, and not too long ago having anyone at your back meant danger<</if>>. Returning to the room you were earlier, you notice a guard by the door who wasn’t there before. They stand there with a spear in hand like a statue, not even glancing at you as you pass by them and enter the room. Inside, you find a few more seats have been filled in your absence; the hushed conversation among the people present comes to a sudden halt once you appear. “Ah, Crown $name!” $rname is the first to greet you with a smile, sitting on a large pillow by the table beside $xname and across from General $dname and $aname. “Your new garments suit you. Have you had the opportunity to rest in the baths? I hope they were to your liking. I had been discussing dinner preparations with Master Keko before, so if you have any preferences—” “Could you give $them a moment to breathe, first?” $aname comments humorously before you can begin to answer $rname. $rname’s lips part slightly in surprise, before $rthey averts $rtheir gaze with an abashed expression. “I may have let my excitement get the better of me.” “I did not realize you were in charge of managing household chores as well,” you <<if $charm gt $blunt>>tease<<else>>say<</if>> as you take a seat at the head of the table, the only place left for you to sit. “I am not, usually,” $rname admits. “But today is a special occasion.” “You should’ve seen the $rtitle Sorcerer here fuss about the color of your drapes earlier,” $xname says to you, before flashing a playful grin at $rname. $rname frowns back at $xname, but before $rthey can protest someone else takes up the cause of defending $rthem instead. “$rtitle $rname only wishes to make the Crown’s stay as comfortable as possible,” General $dname speaks to $xname with a displeased curl of $dtheir lips, arms crossed over $dtheir chest. “Such considerations are above your notice, I’m sure.” $xname barks a laugh. “My apologies, General, I forgot who was sitting across from me! Truly, even the most loyal dog would be envious of your blind devotion. You should be proud.” “Can you two go a single conversation without bickering like children?” $aname interrupts in a bored tone as the two of them are locked in what appears to be a staring competition, although $xname appears more amused compared to General $dname’s open glare. While the both of them seem to bicker a lot, like $aname said, you don’t get the sense that it’s as serious as they pretend it to be. General $dname’s expression is fixed into a glare half the time regardless, and if anything you suspect $xname enjoys prodding $dthem. It is, however, derailing the conversation, and you still have a few things to ask. You clear your throat, all the eyes in the room refocusing on you again, and isn’t that a strange experience? Without even saying a word, all attention has shifted to you, <<if $charm gt $blunt>>but even as charming as you are you have no experience in commanding a room like this<<else>>which may not be for the better considering you rarely mince your words<</if>>. Feeling out of your depth here, you glance over your shoulder at Ishrah and Siham who have stayed by your side, standing on either side of the door like the guard in the hallway. Likely they’re lingering to attend to you, which only serves to unsettle you more. All of this feels so incredibly unnatural. Like a play, almost. As if you’re surrounded by actors, pretending that you’re someone far more important than you feel you are. You know you are the Crown, you know you’ve been chosen, but everything is still so new that you can’t seem to reconcile it with your old life. With being a runaway, a nobody, a wanderer without even a home to call $their own. "Was there something you wanted to say, my Crown?" $rname gently prompts you when you remain silent, having been too busy stewing in your own doubts to notice everyone is waiting for you to speak. <ul> <li>[[You take a deep breath, then calmly and decisively lead the conversation.|3.33a][$ass to $ass + 25]]</li> <li>[[You let the others lead the conversation and listen attentively.|3.33b][$pass to $pass + 25]]</li> </ul>

You shake off your doubts, knowing that lingering on them won’t do you any good. Whether it feels real or not, whether you think you deserve to be here or not, you have a duty to do the best you can. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I am rested well enough; the massage certainly helped with that,” you say in a nonchalant tone to $rname, returning to the initial question you were asked before $xname and General $dname started throwing jabs at each other. “Back at Kartan’s Outpost, you mentioned you’d brief me, I believe?”<<else>>“You mentioned back at Kartan’s Outpost that you would brief me on the current state of the Empire,” you say to $rname, shifting the topic of the conversation away before $xname and General $dname continue to throw jabs at each other.<</if>> $rname appears hesitant for a moment, frowning slightly as $rthey replies. “I did, though I expected to wait until the morning. Are you certain you would not rather retire to your chambers for the day?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“There’s no point in delaying the inevitable,”<<else>>“Yes, I’m certain,”<</if>> you say<<if $pass gt $ass>>, even as you can feel the sweat gathering on your palms, hands getting clammy<<else>>, managing to keep a grip on your composure.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I would rather know sooner than later.”<<else>>“It would be better if I knew sooner rather than later.”<</if>> “I understand.” $rname retreats into silent contemplation, gaze lowering to the table while you as well as the others in the room wait for $rthem to speak. The other three do not stare at $rthem as you do, tense with nerves as you are to hear about the magnitude of the mess you’ll have to try and fix as the Crown. $aname’s gaze is aimed out the window, an absent look in $atheir eyes that appear darker without the bright glow of sunlight to warm them, as if $atheir thoughts are far away. Meanwhile $xname is leaning back on $xtheir hands, attention drifting aimlessly through the room, almost a little restless as $xthey shifts to lean forward onto the table again. General $dname, in that respect, is sitting perfectly still on $dtheir pillow and waiting patiently, only $dtheir hand moving to bring $dtheir tea to the edge of $dtheir lips, sipping it almost serenely. For a <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> who speaks and gestures so loudly, $dthey’s very calm during the quieter moments. “The province of Şevan has the highest priority,” $rname finally speaks. “The Mîr passed away several years ago, and seeing as how only the Crown can appoint a Mîr, there hasn’t been a replacement since. The Council of Stewards in Şevan has been ruling the province as best they can in the meantime. There has been much infighting, and the situation has grown dire.”<<if $shamkurstory is true>> You remember Şevan from the story $aname and $xname told you about one of its cities, Shamkur. Its steward passed away years ago and it ended up being overrun by ghouls, as the nobility were apparently too busy squabbling amongst themselves about who should lead to properly address the problem. If that is in any way an example for the sort of chaos you can expect from the rest of the province, then things aren't looking very good.<</if>> “So you need me to appoint a new Mîr,” you conclude. “How do I do that?” “The first order of business is your coronation.” $rname rattles off the answer like a paragraph from a book $rthey has memorized word for word: “It must be sanctified by the High Priest, during which you will receive the Blessing of the Spirits. Only then will you have the authority to appoint a new Mîr.” You nod; the concept is not unfamiliar, as your father explained such rites to you in detail when you were younger. He performed a similar one for the steward of the village you used to live in, long ago. “My coronation would take place in the capital, then? Zeratun?” “About that,” $aname cuts in, focused on the conversation again at the mention of Zeratun. “Pardon my interruption, but I believe holding the coronation here in Marabad is much safer.” You glance at $rname, who seems unsurprised by the suggestion. “Spitting in the face of tradition, are we?” $xname chimes in, amused. “The High Priest won’t like that.” “There is a reason the High Priest isn’t in charge of protection.” “I agree with $aname,” General $dname says, though $dthey speaks directly to you instead of to the others. “The bulk of the Imperial Army remains in Zerat, but I can send for additional forces to secure Marabad.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That’s all well and good,” you reply, “but why shouldn’t the coronation be held in Zeratun, exactly?”<<else>>“Why shouldn’t the coronation be held in Zeratun in the first place?” you ask, though you suspect you already know the answer.<</if>> $aname meets your eyes with a pointed look. “The Followers of Vidarna.” [[Continue|3.34a]]

You still admittedly know little of the situation, though you've caught glimpses here and there of how dire things really are. It would be better to take in as much knowledge as possible and then form a judgment. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I am rested well enough; the massage certainly helped with that,” you say in a nonchalant tone to $rname, responding to their earlier question before $xname and General $dname interrupted. "But no, I have nothing in particular to say. I'd much rather hear your opinions on what to do next, actually."<<else>>“I would like to hear what all of you think we should do next,” you say to $rname, shifting the topic of the conversation away before $xname and General $dname continue to throw jabs at each other.<</if>> "Are you certain about that?" $aname drawls, shooting a glance at $xname and General $dname. "With these two in the room, chances are they'll just start arguing again." $xname lifts $xtheir palm over $xtheir chest in a solemn oath. "I promise to be on my best behavior." "Let's just take turns," General $dname grouses. "I trust $xname as far as I could throw $xthem." "I imagine you could throw me quite a distance," $xname interjects smoothly, unaffected by the glare General $dname gives $xthem. "What? Have you seen your muscles?" “I'll go first,” $rname cuts them both off before $rthey retreats into silent contemplation, gaze lowering to the table while you as well as the others in the room wait for $rthem to speak. The other three do not stare at $rthem as you do, tense with nerves as you are to hear about the magnitude of the mess you’ll have to try and fix as the Crown. $aname’s gaze is aimed out the window, an absent look in $atheir eyes that appear darker without the bright glow of sunlight to warm them, as if $atheir thoughts are far away. Meanwhile $xname is leaning back on $xtheir hands, attention drifting aimlessly through the room, almost a little restless as $xthey shifts to lean forward onto the table again. General $dname, in that respect, is sitting perfectly still on $dtheir pillow and waiting patiently, only $dtheir hand moving to bring $dtheir tea to the edge of $dtheir lips, sipping it almost serenely. For a <<if $dgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> who speaks and gestures so loudly, $dthey’s very calm during the quieter moments. “The province of Şevan has the highest priority,” $rname finally speaks. “The Mîr passed away several years ago, and seeing as how only the Crown can appoint a Mîr, there hasn’t been a replacement since. The Council of Stewards in Şevan has been ruling the province as best they can in the meantime. There has been much infighting, and the situation has grown dire.” <<if $shamkurstory is true>> You remember Şevan from the story $aname and $xname told you about one of its cities, Shamkur. Its steward passed away years ago and it ended up being overrun by ghouls, as the nobility were apparently too busy squabbling amongst themselves about who should lead to properly address the problem. If that is in any way an example for the sort of chaos you can expect from the rest of the province, then things aren't looking very good.<</if>> “Dire is an understatement," $xname mumbles,<<if $shamkurstory is true>> reflecting your own thoughts on the matter,<</if>> though $rname ignores $xthem and continues. “The first order of business is your coronation.” $rname rattles off the answer like a paragraph from a book $rthey has memorized word for word: “It must be sanctified by the High Priest, during which you will receive the Blessing of the Spirits. Only then will you have the authority to appoint a new Mîr.” You nod; the concept is not unfamiliar, as your father explained such rites to you in detail when you were younger. He performed a similar one for the steward of the village you used to live in, long ago. “My coronation would take place in the capital, then? Zeratun?” “About that,” $aname cuts in, focused on the conversation again at the mention of Zeratun. “Pardon my interruption, but I believe holding the coronation here in Marabad is much safer.” You glance at $rname, who seems unsurprised by the suggestion. “Spitting in the face of tradition, are we?” $xname chimes in, amused. “The High Priest won’t like that.” “There is a reason the High Priest isn’t in charge of protection.” “I agree with $aname,” General $dname says, though $dthey speaks directly to you instead of to the others. “The bulk of the Imperial Army remains in Zerat, but I can send for additional forces to secure Marabad.” When $aname notices the mild confusion on your face at why the coronation can't be held in the capital, $athey meets your eyes with a pointed look. “It's because of the Followers of Vidarna.” [[Continue|3.34b]]

“They have a strong foothold in the province of Zerat,” $rname elaborates for you without having to be asked. “Unfortunately, the capital may be the most dangerous place in the entirety of the Empire, particularly for a Crown who hasn’t ascended the throne yet.” “Why<<if $charm gt $blunt>> is that<</if>>?” “The Followers know how to fuel the wrong ambitions.” $rname exchanges a look with $aname, who nods in agreement and continues on. “It has been a decade since we’ve had a Crown.” $catheir expression is serious, perhaps even slightly annoyed as $atheir brows furrow while $athey speaks. “The Mîrs of other provinces have been locked in a power struggle for most of it, unwilling to let any single person lead or make any compromises. Anyone hungering for a little more wealth or reputation has looked at the past few years not as a crisis, but as an opportunity.” “Simply put, it’s the backstabbing nobility you need to watch out for,” $xname summarizes rather aptly for you. “The easiest way to do that is to avoid the city altogether. At least until you’ve gained your footing.” “Some may indeed be stupid or greedy enough to try for an assassination attempt, particularly on a Crown who hasn’t officially ascended the throne yet,” General $dname scoffs with a look of disgust. “They’ve gotten used to the absence of a ruler.” “Then we should have the coronation as soon as possible,” you state, certain of your decision, and thankfully the others share your perspective. “It is our priority at the moment,” $rname agrees, General $dname nodding in acquiescence. “Planning security for such an event is a headache,” $aname remarks, “but it cannot be delayed. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be for you.” $cathey turns to look at $xname. “I don’t suppose the Crescent Blades would be any help with that?” Lips spreading wide in a satisfied grin, as if $xthey was waiting to be asked all along, $xname leans forward with an elbow on the table and speaks to the room, “For the right price, I’ll give you any help you need.” General $dname scoffs. “As opportunistic as always; you never see anything but gold.” “I do like the color, I admit,” $xname replies, unperturbed, though the conversation changes direction once more as $rname pointedly clears $rtheir throat. “Do you have any other matters you wish to address, my Crown?” $rthey asks you, brow furrowed slightly as $rtheir gaze flits over your face. “Perhaps it would be wise to retire for the day.” It is an unpleasant reminder of the weariness that’s settled into your bones like an old friend, and you let out a deep sigh to exhale some of the tension that has fused with your spine. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” [[Continue|3.35]]

“I’ll escort you to your chambers,” $aname volunteers. From behind you, Ishrah approaches, keeping a respectful distance as she comes to stand by your side. “Would you like supper served in your room, Crown $name?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No, thank you,” you state,<<else>>“It is thoughtful of you to offer, but no, that won’t be necessary,” you reply,<</if>> rising to your feet and ready to get out of here and find a bed you can sleep away your fatigue for the night. As unhealthy as it is, your body has grown used to skipping meals; you can endure till the morning in terms of hunger, but the risk that you might keel over from exhaustion is very real. Strangely, though, the moment you get up from the table, so do all the others. You look around at them in confusion. “Are you all going somewhere?” While $aname at least tries to hide $atheir amused smirk behind $atheir hand, $xname makes no effort whatsoever to cover up $xtheir loud snorting. “Are you all going somewhere, $they <<if $gender is "nb">>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>.” $cxthey shakes $xtheir head. “Adorable.” General $dname does not even snap at $xname over it, merely rolling $dtheir eyes heavenward as if to ask the Spirits for patience. “It is merely a rule of etiquette,” $rname explains, the only one kind enough to do so it seems, though even $rthey appears amused at your confusion before $rthey bows low at the waist, palm pressed over $rtheir heart in a fluid and graceful motion. “Sleep well, my Crown.” $xname’s short bow seems much more mocking in comparison, an exaggerated sweep of $xtheir arm as $xthey mimicks $rname’s posture, while General $dname’s movements are quick and precise. The only one who does not bow is $aname, who is to guide you to your chambers. $cathey walks around the table and passes by you without another word, leading the way. You glance back at the others<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, flashing them all a smile that feels a little weak on your face<<else>>, and for an instant you have never felt as much out of your depth as you do then<</if>>. “Good night.” [[Continue|3.36]]

Following behind $aname, you are trailed by Siham and Ishrah who dutifully remain behind you to attend to you as you head down the corridor once more, past the stone doors that lead to the bathing area underground. <<if $clothing is "robes" or $clothing is "dress">>The edge of your $clothing barely grazes the colorful blue and gold decorated stone tiles beneath your feet, soft as it brushes against your skin,<<else>>Your shalvar feel soft around your legs as you walk and the fabric brushes against your skin,<</if>> and it’s much different from the rough garments you were wearing before. It helps that the shoes feel so very comfortable as well, as if you were walking on clouds compared to the ratty sandals you used to own before Ishrah promised to burn them. Ahead of you, $aname is silent. It makes you wonder why $athey insisted on escorting you, though perhaps $athey did it out of a sense of duty as your Royal Protector. It might be for the better; you’re not sure you would make for good conversation with the weary state of your mind<<if $blunt gt $charm>>, and that’s saying a lot considering even when you’re fully awake and alert you’re not exactly a charmer<</if>>. Eventually you reach an intersection in the corridor that leads into three different directions. $aname guides you to the left, and before you can consider asking where the other two paths lead to, you’re distracted by the grand golden doors looming ahead of you at the end of the short hallway. $aname does not take you inside, however. $cathey halts in front of the doors, glancing at Siham and Ishrah before looking toward you. “A word, Your Imperial Majesty?” The use of the imperial address makes you pause; you were almost certain $aname would do $atheir best never to refer to you as such. $aname appears entirely serious, however, and so you look at Siham and Ishrah. “We shall go on ahead and prepare your chambers,” Siham decides, taking the hint and having to tug at Ishrah’s sleeve to make sure she follows them and doesn’t linger, what with the open curiosity on her face. Much like before, Ishrah uses a tablet to open the golden doors, which appear even heavier than the ones that lead to the bathing chambers, engraved with two large wings of a bird with a long tail that looks faintly familiar. A magical creature that you’re sure you’ve seen depicted on several occasions, but its name escapes you. Siham leaves the golden doors open on a slight gap as they and Ishrah retreat inside to get everything ready for you. Now that you have privacy, you turn to $aname. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“What did you want to talk about?”<<else>>“What is it?”<</if>> you ask, suspecting that this must be at least part of the real reason $aname asked to escort you. [[Continue|3.37]]

$aname glances toward the small opening between the doors, as if to make sure Siham and Ishrah aren’t eavesdropping on your conversation before $athey turns back to look at you. $cathey remains silent for a moment, gaze trailing over your face. “There are some things you haven’t told us yet,” $athey speaks at length, the tension returning to your body as you recall the conversation you had with $athem and $rname back at the outpost. “Matters of import. I will never press you to divulge anything against your will, but…” “But?” $aname averts $atheir gaze for a moment, thinking, then looks back at you and says, “But I would ask you to consider the consequences. If your life is in danger, beyond what we already suspect, then I need to know.” When you don’t respond immediately, your thoughts drifting toward the darker corners of your memories, $aname adds, “I know you have no reason to trust me, but if nothing else, trust that I would not be in this position if I didn’t want to do right by my country. I’m not expecting an answer right at this moment, but the longer you wait, the more precarious of a position you could be putting yourself in.” You cannot tell whether this is out of a genuine concern for your wellbeing, or whether it is simply $aname performing $atheir duty. $cathey keeps $atheir cards too close to $atheir chest for you to guess; you haven’t known $athem long enough to understand what that furrow in $atheir brow means, nor the tightness in the corner of $atheir lips. “I understand,” you say, and you do understand. As difficult as it will be to recount everything that’s happened to you, at the very least, $aname needs to know in order to be prepared for what the Followers of Vidarna might do when they find out you’ve reached your destination. Besides which, you’re too tired to keep this conversation going for much longer. A fact $aname appears to realize as $athey nods once and then takes a step back. “I’ll let you get some rest.” $cathey bows formally, a perfectly practiced and trained posture. “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as $aname turns around and walks back the way you came, disappearing around the corner, before you turn toward the doors of your bedchamber. You pull one open, and step through the doorway. [[Continue|3.38]]

While you can see the sun setting through the windows, offering some natural illumination to your surroundings, you can barely muster up the attention to focus on anything but the huge bed covered in silks and large pillows, waiting for you on the other side of the room. Siham and Ishrah have laid out another garment for you on the bed, an audaciously expensive formless robe far too decorated for something you’re only supposed to be wearing to bed. You’re too tired to consider the outrageous habits of the wealthy, however, and let them help you out of your clothes and into your night robe. You decline any offers <<if $hairstyle is "shaved">><<else>>to tend to your hair or <</if>>to have another massage, too bone-tired to stay on your feet for a moment longer as you pull the covers on the bed back and crawl beneath the sheets. A glimpse of your bedroom—the size of a modest house—barely registers as you let your head hit the pillows beneath. You faintly hear Siham and Ishrah bid you good night, but now that you’re embraced by the comfort of the softest bed you’ve ever had you cannot even bring yourself to mumble a reply. Before you know it, your eyes slide shut. [[Continue|3.39]]

First, it is a memory. Your house is engulfed in a plume of smoke. The basket drops from your limp hand, strikes the ground to scatter blood-red fruit like the bloodstains on the hardwood floors. In front of you lies your father, unseeing eyes staring up at the flames licking at the ceiling. The old wood groans above you, warning of a collapse and you know you should run, run before it’s too late, but then you feel your father’s hands on your shoulders, hear his voice in your ear as you stare down at his corpse. “Baba,” you say to the corpse, tears streaming down your face. “Why do we always have to run?” “Someday, when you’re older,” his voice speaks, the lips of his body mouthing along to the words, “I will tell you everything.” “Why not now?” you ask, playing out a memory inside a dream of another memory—it’s a nightmare, you think. Just a nightmare. You close your eyes and try to wake up. It doesn’t work. You can’t run anymore. “Your mother and I, we’ve done things we’re not proud of,” the corpse says with lifeless eyes, sliding down from the ceiling to look right at you. “Things we regret." You hear your mother scream in another room. Above you, the ceiling caves in. [[Continue|3.40]]

You wake in the dead of night with your mother’s scream still stuck in your mouth, trying to escape but choked back by your gasps for breath as you weep. The heat is unbearable. For a moment you think you’re burning among the flames when you realize it’s the covers wrapped around you like a cocoon that are stifling you, overheating your body. You sit up in a bed too large for you as your eyes sting from your tears, luxurious sheets worth more than all the coins you’ve spent in your entire life, rich perfume lingering in the air like the scent of gold and you feel like an intruder as you struggle to breathe, someone never meant to be here. These soft robes clinging to your skin are so unlike the feeling of your mother’s rough hands where the calluses on her palm would touch against yours as she held your hand when you were little, teaching you how to sow seeds in the earth until the hem of your clothes was stained with dirt up to your knees. Your mother looked so scared when she first saw the change in your eyes. She called it a curse, but not to blame you. To warn you. Once you reunited with your father and found a safe place to hide from the Followers who were still searching for you, she held you throughout the night. Even when her arms must have gotten tired she did not let you go. You don’t even remember how she died, what happened to her body after you fled, whether it was left to burn— Your breath hitches as her screams echo in your head. There is a knock on your door. From the other side, you hear someone call out to you. It’s… <<if $agender is "male">>[[...Azad.|3.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...Ashti.|3.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<</if>> <<if $rgender is "male">>[[...Rêzan.|3.41b][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...Rozerîn.|3.41b][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>> <<if $dgender is "male">>[[...Dara.|3.41c][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...Delal.|3.41c][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<</if>> <<if $xgender is "male">>[[...Xelef.|3.41d][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...Xelara.|3.41d][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>>

<<set $comfortbya to true>>“Majesty.” $aname’s voice is muffled slightly by the thick golden doors, though $athey makes no effort to step inside, instead choosing to stay out. “May I intrude?” Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. Opening your mouth you try to speak, but your throat is empty of sound, words choked down by a force you can’t control. “I…” It’s barely a whisper. Your whole body shakes as if wracked with uncontrollable shivers, your fingers clenched into the sheets. Even so, somehow, $aname hears you. The door opens slowly, quietly, on a gap just wide enough for $athem to slip inside. $cathey closes it behind $athem again immediately before turning toward you. The pale moonlight casts silver figures across $atheir skin, falling into $atheir eyes as $athey crosses the room to your bedside as silently as a shadow, sitting down at the edge while facing you. “I… I can’t…” You gasp and sob through your words, trying to tell $athem, and $athey extends both $atheir hands to you, offering. You grab hold of them, clinging to them like a lifeline. “This will pass,” $aname says to you, steady and comforting. “Everything will be fine. You’re safe. This will pass.” You feel it in $atheir words and in $atheir palms against yours, the presence of $atheir spirit like the soothing touch of cool water to a burn. It reminds you of the gentle tide of the sea rolling onto a beach, that rhythmic sound of its waves, like a never-ending lullaby. You focus on that sensation, on that calm as $aname keeps holding your hands, $atheir quiet reassurances guiding you out of the storm as you repeat them to yourself in your head. This will pass. This will pass. This will pass. “Try to breathe through your belly,” $athey instructs when you’re not gasping frantically anymore, clearheaded enough to do as $athey says as you try to ease your breaths, to center them where they don’t feel as desperate. “Inhale through your nose, then out between your lips… slowly… that’s it. Take your time.” Your breaths are shaky, but not as frantic. The tightness in your chest eases, like a pressure being lifted. It feels as if hours pass, only the sound of your gradually calming breaths filling the silence. $aname says nothing more, but $atheir presence here is all you really need, $atheir hands anchoring you. Knowing that you’re not alone is enough. [[Continue|3.42a]]

<<set $comfortbyr to true>>“$crnickname?” The concern in $rname’s voice is clear even as it is muffled through the thick golden doors. $crthey waits a heartbeat, and when you don’t reply—can’t reply—$rthey opens one of the doors. The sight of you has $rthem freezing up, only for a moment, before $rthey quickly steps inside, closing the door behind $rthem. “$crnickname, what’s wrong?” You open your mouth to try and speak, but no sound comes out. Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. “I… I can’t…” You gasp and sob through your words, your whole body shakes as if wracked with uncontrollable shivers, your fingers clenched into the sheets. $rname hurries to your side in quick strides, sitting down on your bedside facing you and placing $rtheir hands on your shoulders as if to steady you. “It’s alright, I am here. I’m right here with you. You’re alright.” $crtheir voice is gentle, coaxing you to focus on $rthem instead of your own fear that has spiraled out of control, choking up your throat. You look into $rtheir eyes, the gray glimmering silver in the moonlight, and $rthey reaches up a hand, $rtheir soft palm cupping your cheek as $rtheir thumb wipes away the tears sliding down your skin. You lean into it, the tender caress alleviating a need inside you didn’t even realize you had; when was the last time anyone comforted you like this? Touched you like this? “See?” $rname says with an encouraging smile as you find the pressure on your chest easing little by little, lifting $rtheir other hand from your shoulder to cup your other cheek as well and when your eyes flutter shut this time, you don’t see the flames anymore. “It’s over already. All you need to do is breathe. In and out. Slow and steady.” You reach up and cover one of $rtheir hands with your own, reaching out to $rthem as $rthey does to you, and when you connect, $rthey feels… different from what you expected. $crtheir magic is so bright. Like sparks, fireworks, lighting up the darkness behind your eyes. Banishing the shadows of your fear, glittering like a star. It grounds you to $rthem, giving you the certainty that you need; you’re not alone. “Oh.” $crtheir surprise is a quiet breath exhaled between the two of you, and when you open your eyes again you notice the tightness in your chest has eased, your breaths still quick and shallow, but also gradually slowing down. “What?” you ask, your voice hoarse. $rname smiles at you in wonder. “You feel like sunlight.” [[Continue|3.42b]]

<<set $comfortbyd to true>>“Your Imperial Majesty.” General $dname’s voice cuts through the silence suffocating you, through the desperate wheezing sound of your own breath, and $dthey does not hesitate. “Please forgive the intrusion!” One of the golden doors is pushed open to reveal the general, still dressed head to toe in armor, something you might have commented on were it not for the ache in your chest. It is a painful tightness, one that worsens your shortness of breath. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your erratic breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. General $dname takes one look at you before $dthey quickly closes the door shut behind $dthem and crosses the room to your side in quick, long strides. $cdthey sits down right beside you on the edge of your bed and you feel $dtheir hand settle on the center of your back, like a weight to anchor you. “You are safe,” $dthey says to you, and $dtheir calmness and steadiness helps ground you, $dtheir palm slowly running up and down your spine as if to ease the panic that has filled your lungs out with just a touch, and it almost seems to be working. “Nothing is going to hurt you, I promise. You will make it through this.” You wouldn’t have thought General $dname capable of speaking in such soft tones. It’s not quite gentle, but that’s fine, because gentle isn’t what you need right now. It’s reassuring, but it’s also firm in how certain $dtheir voice sounds, making it easier for you to believe. To trust $dthem to guide you through this. “Keep your lips close together,” $dthey instructs, and when you do as $dthey says it lessens the amount of air that you’d been sucking in all this time. The instinct to gasp burns in your throat, but you suppress it as best you can. Your breaths are unsteady, and sometimes you falter. Even if it helps even out the rhythm, it also hurts in your chest and you grab at the fabric of your robe, fingers clenching into it as you try and endure. Another hand settles on top of yours and you almost startle before you realize it’s $dname, $dtheir calloused skin rough but warm. “You’re doing well,” $dthey encourages, one hand on your back and the other on your chest, gently holding you steady, keeping you from hunching over into yourself. “I know it’s hard. Take your time.” It’s much easier to push down the thought of those hungry flames, the image of your father’s body, the sound of your mother’s screams when you have something else to focus on. When you close your eyes this time, you have $dname to talk you through it. You try to block out everything else save for $dtheir voice and the weight of $dtheir hands on you, your magic—whether on instinct or by fluke—reaching out to $dtheirs. Just as what happened with $xname in the forest, connecting to $dname’s spirit is a disorienting but not unpleasant experience, although it takes a lot longer for you to understand what you’re feeling. $cdthey feels so… faint, almost. Difficult to sense, like there’s a wall in the way. You almost have to purposefully reach out to find $dtheir signature; $dthey must not be in tune with $dtheir magic if $dthey has kept it buried this deep. But then you sense $dthem. [[Continue|3.42c]]

<<set $comfortbyx to true>>“$name?” $xname calls out. “Everything alright in there?” $cxtheir voice is slightly muffled by the heavy golden doors, but it’s loud enough for you to distinguish the note of concern. $cxthey must’ve sensed your distress, just as $xthey did when you had that nightmare in $xtheir tent, but this one is different. Your chest feels tight, painfully tight. When you close your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, you can still see the image of flames burning against the back of your eyelids. The room starts to spin around you, a lightheaded feeling that only exacerbates the desperation to breathe like a horrible cycle you can’t seem to snap out of. It’s like a crack in a dam, bursting with water you can’t seem to keep back anymore. You feel like you’re drowning. You feel like you’re dying. Opening your mouth you try to speak, but your throat is empty of sound, words choked down by a force you can’t control. $xname doesn’t wait very long for you to reply before $xthey opens one of the doors, lips parted to speak when $xtheir eyes fall upon you and $xthey freezes in the doorway. It only lasts for an instant, as if $xthey were confronted with something completely unexpected, before $xthey quickly steps into the room and closes the door behind $xthem. “Hey now, my darling, why all the tears?” $cxthey crosses the room to your bedside, sitting down on the edge facing you as if it were the most natural thing in the world and the two of you had done this a thousand times before. With the side of $xtheir finger $xthey catches a tear on your cheek, wiping it away. “Come, dry your eyes. There’s no need to cry!” “I… I can’t…” You try to tell $xthem, but then your inability to speak frustrates you even further, increasing your sense of being overcome, and you only end up crying louder. It startles $xname, $xtheir eyes going wide as $xthey stares at you, appearing completely at a loss on what to do. It appears neither of you have any idea of what’s happening to you. Even so, $xname shifts closer to you on the bed, seeming to refocus as $xthey watches you, before understanding dawns in $xtheir eyes and $xthey says, “You’re not sad, but… afraid?” Fear. That’s what it is, that gaping maw inside your chest, those racing thoughts inside your head, that feeling of being paralyzed. You’re afraid. You’re scared to death. You reach out for $xname, fingers grasping at $xtheir tunic, tugging at it and feeling like a child, but there’s no judgment in $xname’s gaze. $cxthey moves closer to you on the bed and wraps $xtheir arms around you, <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>holding you against $xtheir chest. You feel small, but it’s not a bad feeling, not when you’re enveloped in $xtheir embrace. If anything, it makes you feel safe, calming you down slowly but surely.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>holding you close, your cheek leaning against $xtheir shoulder as $xtheir hand rubs soothingly up and down your back. $cxtheir even breaths tickle your neck, and the rhythm of them helps calm you down, slowly but surely.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>holding you close, $xtheir chin resting on your shoulder while you hide your face against $xtheir neck. $cxthey runs a hand down and then up your back again, settling it on the nape of your neck in a protective gesture, and you feel yourself calming down, slowly but surely.<</if>> “I’m here, $name,” $xthey mutters softly. “There’s nothing for you to fear.” As $xthey holds you the two of you connect, just like you did in that forest clearing when $xthey grabbed your chin and looked you in the eyes, but then you freeze. You freeze, because you remember the flames, but $xname’s flames don’t burn the same. They don’t howl like beasts, hungrily licking at your heels for a taste. These flames spread their warmth into your very bones, as if you were a traveler finding refuge in a temple of fire, one blissful moment of peace to get you through a long journey. [[Continue|3.42d]]

“Better?” $aname asks, a slight furrow between $atheir brow as $atheir eyes regard your tear-streaked face. The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Yes.”<<else>>“Yes, much better.”<</if>> You let go of one of $atheir hands, wiping your face clean with the sleeve of your robe. The other one, you hold tight. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, $aname.”<</if>> $aname nods, not letting go of your hand either, like an unspoken understanding between the two of you. $cathey squeezes it unexpectedly in a reassuring gesture, and after a surprised pause, you squeeze back. You think you see $atheir lips twist into a smile, but it lasts only for a moment before it’s gone again. “It sounded as if you were having a nightmare,” $aname notes, tilting $atheir head slightly as $athey looks at you. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You attempt a smile back at $athem, though it feels wan on your face. “Just some bad memories. <</if>><<if $blunt gt $charm>>You avert your gaze, staring down at your hands laying on the bed between the two of you. “<</if>>It’s nothing, I’m used to it.” Which isn’t entirely a lie. You’ve had nightmares before, although none so intense and extreme as this one. The most frustrating part of it all is that you have no idea what set this one off; you are safe in the palace, protected. So why now, when you thought you had finally found some measure of peace? When you finally had a moment to let your guard down? $aname frowns at you, seeming unconvinced, but instead of pressing the issue $athey asks, “Do you need me to get you anything? A cup of water might do you good.” “Please,” you agree, not realizing how parched you are until $athey mentions it. $cathey rises to $atheir feet, your hand slipping out of $atheirs as $athey moves away from the bed. You watch $athem part from you anxiously, uneasy as the vast size of the room around you becomes more noticeable, making you feel small and vulnerable. Now that you’re no longer in the grip of your panic, as you regard $athem move about the room you notice for the first time that $athey's not wearing $atheir armor. $cathey has traded it on for a long two-layered robe not unlike the ones you’ve seen the palace guards wear, revealing the wide and straight line of $atheir shoulders. You can’t quite tell the color in the moonlight, but you think it might be green. $aname approaches a low table on the other side of the room you hadn’t even noticed before, a sitting area inside your bedroom near the windows. $cathey picks up a pitcher, pouring water into a cup and carrying it back to you. $catheir footsteps are nearly completely silent, but $athey walks with purpose, so unlike you who is used to slinking around in the shadows, always looking over your shoulder. Sitting down by your bedside again, $athey hands it to you without comment, merely observing you quietly as you take the cup and quickly swallow down its content, draining it of water. You lower the empty cup with a satisfied exhale, already feeling much more like yourself. “Will you be alright?” $aname asks, watching you carefully as $athey takes the empty cup from you and sets it aside on your nightstand. “Do you need anything else?” “No, only…” You hesitate<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, your usual eloquence failing you<</if>> as you struggle with the sense of being so vulnerable before someone else. A stranger, really, one you’ve barely known for a day, yet one who doesn’t judge you. Someone who’s simply there, asking you what you need. “Only?” $aname repeats when you remain silent for too long. “Will you…” You twist up the silk fabric of the sheets draped over your legs, struggling with your fear on having to rely on someone else for safety, but you also find yourself longing for it. While you might be scared of being vulnerable, being alone terrifies you more than anything else right now. “Could you stay for a while?” “Of course.” $aname doesn’t even blink at your request, looking around the room until $atheir gaze settles on a chair by the windows, overlooking the gardens outside. $cathey moves off your bed and settles down on the cushioned seat. You lie down facing $athem, pulling up the sheets to your shoulders, and watch $athem get comfortable in the chair, reclining a little as $athey stares out the windows to the garden. The ease with which $athey settles down makes you wonder if $athey has gotten any sleep yet, or if $athey’s planning on staying up all night to watch over you. While $athey must be used to it, it is a concerning thought, and you think you should probably tell $athem to get some rest but your eyelids feel heavy. The last thing you see is the sight of $aname peering calmly out the window before you fall asleep, your heart at ease. [[Continue|3.43a]]

The nightmares keep their distance. You wake to the sun, greeting you gently by its warmth on your skin. The silk cover around your pillow feels smooth beneath your cheek, your heartbeat calm, your breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in a long time, though there is still a lingering weariness in your body; you are used to waking with the sunrise, but perhaps you could use a bit longer to sleep in this time. Eyes opening, you roll over onto your side toward the windows, then breathe a laugh at what you find there. $aname is still there in $atheir chair, appearing asleep. $cathey looks as if $athey has barely moved, though $athey is facing you now instead of the windows, hands settled on the armrests of $atheir chair. At the sound of your chuckling, however, $athey opens $atheir eyes as if $athey has been awake all along and lifts $atheir head, looking at you. “What’s so funny?” $athey asks, and you wouldn’t have known $athey was sleeping had $atheir voice not been rough with it as $athey blinks a few times, sitting up a little straighter. “I didn’t expect you to still be here,” you admit, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn as you rub a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “Did you… get any sleep?” “I did.” $aname rises from $atheir chair, rolling $atheir shoulders, as if trying to force the stiffness out. “You look like you could use a few hours more.” “Mmm.” You can’t argue with that, turning to lay onto your back again and closing your eyes. “Maybe.” Now that you’re awake, though, your mind recalls the unfortunate incident that deprived you of some sleep before, and you almost wince at the embarrassment that comes over you. In the moment all you had been thinking of was your need to be comforted, but you must’ve made for quite the sorry sight. Although, there is one interesting thing you discovered during your episode. When $aname took hold of your hands and the two of you connected, you sensed $athem. $catheir magical signature, more specifically. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You felt like the sea,”<<else>>“The sea,”<</if>> you say thoughtfully. “Pardon?” You lift your head up a little and find $aname still near the chair, though $athey has moved closer to the windows, looking at you in question. The sunlight brightens $atheir eyes into a green to match the soft shade of $atheir robe, and you find yourself staring a beat too long when $athey arches a single brow at your silence. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>I meant your signature<<else>>Your signature<</if>>,” you clarify belatedly, heat spreading to your cheeks at the <<if $charm gt $blunt>> uncharacteristic <</if>>misstep as you lower your head back down onto your pillow. “I take it your affinity is to water?” “It is.” “What about mine?” You know you don’t have an affinity yet, but back in the forest when you first met $xname and connected to $xthem, $xthey felt something. You know $xthey did, even if it wasn’t an affinity. “How would you describe it?” $aname hums, silent in thought for a while before $atheir gaze is drawn toward the windows. “It was… strange. Almost like that of a child. Underdeveloped, like raw energy without a form.” “Ah.” Disappointing, but understandable. You are about to settle for waiting, until $aname continues unexpectedly. “But there was something distinct about it, as well.” You push yourself up into a sitting position to look at $aname, finding $atheir eyes already on you in a contemplative expression. “If I had to put it into words,” $athey says, “I would say… the sun.” “The sun?” you repeat curiously. $aname looks away, out the windows again where the light shines the brightest—a spot $athey seems to favor, from how $athey lingers by it. “It feels like standing in the sun.” That is new. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. It is as if the Spirits themselves are shouting your destiny at you from the beyond, and yet it still doesn’t feel real. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I liked yours,”<<else>>“If I’m completely honest, I think I prefer yours to mine,”<</if>> you say to $aname, who looks at you with surprise flashing across $atheir face, then a slightly wry smile. “I’m glad to have your approval,” $athey comments. “It figures, really. I was raised by the shore.” <<if $astory is true>>You remember $athem mentioning that before. "A small town near Ilwan, right?" "Yes." $aname appears surprised, as if $athey didn't expect you to remember. "That's right." "I'd like to hear more about it, sometime," you venture. "If you were willing." $aname frowns slightly, looking away as the dimmed look in $atheir eyes turns contemplative. "Perhaps. It has been a long time since I spoke of it. Longer still since I last saw it." $cathey shakes $atheir head, as if to shake $atheir memories off,<<else>>$cathey shakes $atheir head, the wryness in $atheir smile softening for a moment, as if $athey were remembering something nice,<</if>> before $athey addresses you again. “You should sleep a while longer. The servants will wake you if necessary.” “Thank you, $aname,” you say earnestly, and $athey lifts a hand in a half-hearted wave as $athey moves toward the doors. “Spending the night in the finest chambers of the palace was hardly a burden,” $athey remarks with some amusement, pulling one of the heavy doors open with ease. “I should be thanking you, really.” You watch $athem leave as $athey closes the door behind $athem again, but being alone this time doesn’t feel as oppressive as it did before. Shutting your eyes, this time you welcome your slumber, and it isn’t long before you fall asleep once more. [[End Chapter|4.1]]

<> <<if $hairstyle is "short" or $hairstyle is "very short">><<set $hairlength to "short hair">><</if>> <<if $hairstyle is "shoulder-length" or $hairstyle is "past the shoulders" or $hairstyle is "down to your waist" or $hairstyle is "down to your hips">><<set $hairlength to "long hair">><</if>> <<if $hairstyle is "done up" or $hairstyle is "braided">><<set $hairlength to "tied hair">><</if>> <<if $haircolor is "black" or $haircolor is "deep brown" or $haircolor is "chestnut brown" or $haircolor is "honey brown">><<set $haircoloravg to "brown">><</if>> <<if $haircolor is "ginger red" or $haircolor is "ruby red" or $haircolor is "auburn">><<set $haircoloravg to "red">><</if>> <<if $haircolor is "ash blond" or $haircolor is "sunny blond" or $haircolor is "dark blond">><<set $haircoloravg to "blond">><</if>> <>@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter four@@ <<if $comfortbya is true or $comfortbyr is true>>When the day greets you a second time, there is no one there to soothe you with their presence, nor a whisper of sunlight to caress your skin while you peacefully come to awareness. It is not a gentle awakening. <<else>>When the day greets you after a restless slumber during a long night you thought would never end, it is not the gentle awakening you hoped it would be.<</if>> Instead, it is a whirlwind. Or rather, Ishrah is a whirlwind. “Crown $name!” she calls out to you, her voice slightly muffled through the doors. “Crown $name, please, it is urgent!” Blearily, you blink your eyes open as you hear the sound of a fist pounding against metal. Though slightly dazed as you’ve been startled into waking up, you quickly sit upright in your bed as a familiar tension settles in your muscles, senses alert. It is a wariness you are accustomed to. The events of last night, particularly the nightmare, you push down into the farthest recesses of your mind as you focus on the here and now. “What is it?” you call out, and Ishrah takes it as a signal to enter. One of the heavy golden doors swings open with surprising force, and Ishrah doesn’t waste time as she rushes inside, looking to be in a state of panic. “The- the nobles!” she gasps, her face flushed and locks of her curly red hair askew, having escaped from her ponytail. “Practically- all of the- upper houses in Marabad! They’re in the audience hall, demanding to- to see you!” You stare at her in surprise, but before you can even think to reply, Siham suddenly appears through the doorway, carrying a giant metal platter filled with food. The scent of freshly baked bread quickly fills the room, and you see drinks sloshing in several different cups as Siham stands there with their arms shaking, looking almost as harried as Ishrah. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they say, trying to bow while holding the tray but thinking better of it when dishes begin to slide forward precariously. “I was not aware of your preferences for breakfast, and so I brought as much as I could.” “We have no time for that!” Ishrah insists, beginning to pace up and down the room. “The steward is here, and I’ve heard he has sent word to Mîr Behram as well!” Your gaze passing back and forth between your two anxious servants, you find yourself at a loss as they both stare at you with anticipation. No one has ever looked at you like that before. The weight of their expectations hits you suddenly, like a splash of cold water to your face as you realize there is no one else to turn to. You are in charge. <<if $pass gte $ass>>The urge to leave the decision to someone else is a foolish one, though in your discomfort you can’t help but long for it. A thought passes through your mind, of asking someone with more knowledge concerning matters of the court for advice, but then you remember something Heval told you yesterday.<<else>>It isn’t discomfort that has you hesitating, not at all. In fact, having been put in this position you realize you’re not altogether afraid of the authority, of the feeling of being in command. What makes you pause is something you remember Heval saying to you yesterday.<</if>> "$cxthey leads us and we follow, provided we have faith,” they said of $xname. “Anything that would shake that faith is something $xname cannot afford, and neither can you." <<if $pass gte $ass>>You cannot show your unease.<<else>>It is not enough to be comfortable.<</if>> More than that, you must seem in command. Exude confidence. <<if $caut gt $adven>>It is not natural for you to do so when you’ve become so at ease with hiding yourself, but that means getting used to it quickly is that much more important.<<else>>If nothing else, you are sure of yourself, though projecting that to others is a different matter entirely when you’ve become so used to hiding.<</if>> There’s no more time to prepare; you are the Crown now. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You make a decision, and steel yourself with a smile. “Ishrah, do me a favor and sit down, you look like you’re about to faint.”<<else>>You make a decision, and steel yourself. “There’s no need to panic, Ishrah. Take a moment to calm down.”<</if>> Ishrah blinks at you. “But… but Crown $name, the nobles—” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Will wait.” You take a slow breath to get a measure of yourself, and when you feel nothing but calm, you turn to address Siham. “You can put the tray down, Siham. Thanks.”<<else>>“Are nobles, whereas I am the Crown,” you point out, and merely saying the words makes you feel more confident. “There are plenty of sitting areas in the palace if they insist on waiting, but I won’t hurry myself on their account. Siham, thank you for the breakfast, but please put the tray down before you hurt yourself.”<</if>> You cannot start your reign by being at the beck and call of total strangers. If you are to be the Crown, the sole and supreme ruler of the land, then you must act like it. [[Continue|4.2]]

The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant now. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. You would ask about $rname’s comment, about how you apparently feel like sunlight, but your mind feels too full to have that conversation right now. Just the fact that you’re not falling apart anymore is a miracle. “Let me fetch you some water,” $rname says when $rthey can see your breaths have evened out and you’re no longer crying, pulling $rtheir hands back and getting up to $rtheir feet to cross the room. You watch $rthem part from you anxiously, uneasy as the vast size of the room around you becomes more noticeable, making you feel small and vulnerable. $rname approaches a low table on the other side of the room you hadn’t even noticed before, a sitting area inside your bedroom near the windows. $crthey picks up a pitcher, pouring water into a cup as $rthey continues to speak. “Shall I light the candles?” $rthey suggests. “Or get you some more pillows? I can call the servants to…” $crthey trails off when you don’t reply, staring at $rthem blankly as you don’t quite know if any of those things would help you feel better. $rname smiles apologetically, carrying the cup of water back to you. “Never mind.” $crthey settles down back at your bedside again, handing you the cup, and you’re not embarrassed about the way you gulp down its contents when you realize how parched your mouth feels. “You must be exhausted. Perhaps rest is the only thing you need.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It was kind of you to offer,” you say as you hand $rthem back the empty cup, not wanting $rthem to feel bad for trying to be helpful. “It’s only… my comfort is not the issue. I’m not sure what the issue is, if I’m honest.”<<else>>“Thank you for offering, but I don’t think whatever this is can be fixed with an extra pillow,” you reply as you hand $rthem back the empty cup, not wanting $rthem to feel bad for trying to be helpful.<</if>> “It’s the nightmare, is it not?” $rname says, frowning with worry as $rtheir eyes flit over your face, taking in your exhausted expression while $rthey puts the cup aside on your nightstand. “Does this happen often?” You ponder the question, but can’t remember ever waking up like you did just now, so you shake your head. “Usually I sleep through my nightmares, and if I do wake up, it’s not this intense.” $rname hums, giving you a troubled look, but then places $rtheir hand over your wrist in a reassuring gesture. “There are ways we can deal with it if it becomes a regular problem, but for tonight, try to go back to sleep. I would not want you to wake up tired tomorrow.” “Right.” You rub a hand down your face, the thought of tomorrow already making you feel fatigued with all the talking you’ll no doubt have to do. “I’ll try.” “Do you want me to stay?” You blink, lowering your hand and looking at $rname in surprise. “Stay?” “Only until you fall asleep.” $crthey averts $rtheir gaze, seeming fidgety for a moment as $rthey removes $rtheir hand from your wrist, pulling at the sleeve of $rtheir dress instead. “I thought… that is, whenever I have a nightmare it’s easier for me to fall asleep when I have someone near me, but I see now it was presumptuous of me to think—” “$rname,” you interrupt gently before $rthey can apologize. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I would like it if you stayed. Thank you for thinking of me.” “I will always think of you,”<<else>>“Please stay.” “You need never plead for that,”<</if>> $rname replies softly, and even though the rational part of you thinks $rtheir care for you must be because you’re the Crown, as you look into $rtheir eyes you can’t help but want to trust the sincerity you see there. $rname smiles at you after moment, a little uncertainly, perhaps having noticed the conflict in your head reflected in your expression. $crthey stands up again and walks along the wall to a bookcase, perusing one of the shelves before picking out a small but thick tome, then approaches a chair near one of the windows across the room. $crthey sits down with $rtheir book in hand, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ll be right here,” $rthey says reassuringly, right in your view as you settle your head back onto the pillow and lie on your side facing $rthem, pulling up the covers to your shoulders. “Sleep well, $rnickname.” “Good night,” you reply quietly, watching as $rname opens up $rtheir book, angled toward the moonlight to read. It gives a blueish hue to the black of $rtheir hair, soft as silk as $rtheir long locks are draped around $rtheir shoulders. The tome $rthey holds in $rtheir slender fingers looks to be the size of a book of poems, but you can’t be certain as you are unable to read the title from the cover. You wonder if $rname likes poetry. It’s the last thought on your mind as you fall asleep, your heart at peace. [[Continue|3.43b]]

The nightmares keep their distance. You wake to the sun, greeting you gently by its warmth on your skin. The silk cover around your pillow feels smooth beneath your cheek, your heartbeat calm, your breathing even. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in a long time, though there is still a lingering weariness in your body; you are used to waking with the sunrise, but perhaps you could use a bit longer to sleep in this time. Eyes opening, you roll over onto your side toward the windows. The chair that $rname was sitting on before is now empty; $rthey must have returned to $rtheir own room once you fell asleep. That is what you assume, at least, until you sit up in your bed and are treated to an unexpected sight. On the other side of the room, lying on $rtheir back with $rtheir book held to $rtheir chest, $rname lies sleeping on a long couch you hadn’t even noticed before, one of its pillows tucked beneath $rtheir head. $crthey stayed, even after you fell asleep. You smile, touched by the gesture, then slip out of bed. The marble floors of your bedroom feel cold against your bare feet, inducing a slight shiver as you cross the room. Approaching the couch where $rname appears oblivious to your presence, breathing in and out softly through the slight parting between $rtheir lips, you kneel down beside $rthem. “$rname?” you call softly. $crthey hardly even stirs. “$rname,” you try again, a bit louder this time. $crthey hums, turning $rtheir head to the side, facing you. You give $rthem the time as you watch $rtheir brows furrow briefly, before $rthey inhales a deep breath and $rtheir eyes flutter open, blinking twice in that sleep-dazed way before they settle on you. “$crnickname?” $crtheir confusion lingers only for a moment longer as $rthey glances around, gaining $rtheir bearings, appearing almost startled. “Did I fall asleep here?” “You did.” $crthey sits up, taking the book off $rtheir chest as $rthey glances toward the windows. “It’s still early,” $rthey notes, then shifts $rtheir gaze to you, assessing you in the sunlight. “Perhaps you should sleep for a few hours more.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Do I look that bad?” you tease,<<else>>“I must look pretty haggard,” you agree,<</if>> and $rtheir eyes widen in mortification. “No, not at all, you look radiant!” $rthey insists, saying it so earnestly <<if $res gt $flirt>>that your heart flutters<<else>>that you can’t help but be endeared by it<</if>>. “I only meant to ensure you would get enough rest, for your health.” “It’s okay, $rname,” you reassure $rthem, smiling lightly. “I know what you meant, and it is a good idea. I don’t feel fully rested yet.” You stand back up again and $rname follows your lead, $rtheir book clutched in $rtheir hand. $crthey's not meeting your eyes, embarrassed, or perhaps bashful due to $rtheir outburst. During the night $rthey seemed so sure of $rthemselves as $rthey guided you through your panicked breaths, and that thought makes you remember something in particular that has lingered in your mind. When $rname placed $rtheir hand on your cheek and the two of you connected, you sensed $rthem. $crtheir magical signature, more specifically. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Last night, I could sense you,”<<else>>“Your magic feels unusual,”<</if>> you remark, building up to your question, but from the way $rname looks at you with anticipation, $rthey must guess at your meaning already. “What was it like?” $rthey asks, $rtheir tone mild but $rtheir curiosity eager. “I’ve heard it described to me before, but I wonder what you make of it.” You think on it, trying to recall it, which takes very little effort. It was so peculiar that you can almost still feel the phantom sensation of it. “It felt like holding a star cradled in my hands,” you answer, and after a flicker of surprise flashes across $rname's face, $rthey smiles brightly at you. “Do you like poetry, $rnickname?” $rthey asks, a pleased gleam in $rtheir eyes. “I think you would do quite well at it.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>Your cheeks warm at the suggestion as you look away, a slightly nervous chuckle leaving your lips. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Who knows, I might pick it up as a hobby.”<<else>>"Maybe."<</if>> $rname appears oblivious to your reaction, however, as $rthey continues to speak.<<else>>You chuckle, lips curving with amusement and suggestion. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“For you, I think I could give it a try.”<<else>>“Perhaps I could write you a poem.”<</if>> $rname's flustered expression looks so very pretty on $rthem. “Oh. That is… you are far too kind.” $crthey averts $rtheir eyes, changing the subject even as you see the smile playing subtly in the corners of $rtheir mouth.<</if>> “In any case, it used to be that my signature reflected lightning, which was my affinity. After I succeeded Lady Zerya, however, my affinity changed. Or evolved, I should say. It is uncommon, but it does happen from time to time.” Now you think about it, there was something akin to lightning in $rtheir signature that you couldn’t quite put your finger on before. That pure energy, flickering in and out of existence, all-consuming or nothing. “It is not so different from yours, in that respect,” $rname notes, giving you a knowing look as $rthey has likely guessed why you asked in the first place. “Although you have no affinity yet.” $crthey said you felt like sunlight. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. $rname was certainly right about how similar you are in that. "Do you suppose that might be my affinity, then?" you venture. "Light, or something of the sort?" "It's possible," $rname speculates. "Or it could change, like mine did." You think on the matter, pondering what it means that your signature seems to be split into two different sides. One, raw magical energy without an affinity to any elements, and the other a peculiar link to something that may or may not end up being your affinity. What would an affinity to light even look like? “We can speak more about this later, if you wish,” $rname says, pulling you out of your musings, seeming faintly amused by your contemplation. “For now, I should let you go back to sleep.” You hesitate briefly, not sure if you'll be able to fall back asleep with so many thoughts going through your head, but $rname is right. It is best you rest as much as possible before you have to start the new day; you have a feeling it'll be even more hectic than today has been. “Thank you, $rname,” you say, and $rthey smiles at you with warmth, inclining $rtheir head. "Your happiness and your comfort is the most important thing for me," $rname replies. "You need not thank me for that." You watch $rthem leave as $rthey closes the door behind $rthem. Being alone this time doesn’t feel as oppressive as it did before as you make your way back to your bed, slipping beneath the covers. Shutting your eyes, you welcome your slumber, and it isn’t long before you fall asleep once more. [[End Chapter|4.1]]

The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, becomes distant. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. “There we are.” $xname pulls back and smiles at you, mostly to reassure you, but you think you see a flicker of relief in $xtheir eyes as you’ve calmed down. “All good now, I hope?” “Yes, I…” You wipe your face clean with the edge of your sleeve, sniffing as you dry the last of your tears. “I don’t know what came over me.” “It’s not the first time you’ve had a nightmare,” $xname remarks knowingly, giving you a long look that makes you feel bare before $xthem, even though there is no judgment in $xtheir eyes. “Although last time, it didn’t feel this serious. I was out for a walk when I noticed, and for a moment I thought you were being attacked, but I couldn’t sense anyone near you aside from the guards. Even so, there are assassins—though rare—who can cloak their presence—” “You were out for a walk?” you repeat, barely having listened to the rest of $xname’s commentary as your thoughts lingered on that single statement. “In the gardens, I suppose?” $xname laughs a little, strangely self-conscious as $xthey averts $xtheir gaze. “Not in the gardens, no, though I did pass through them on my way here.” “Where?” “Oh, you know.” $cxthey makes a short waving motion with $xtheir hand in a general direction. “Out and about. In the city.” “In the city?” You stare at $xthem. “How did you… $xname, did you run all the way over here from outside the palace?” “Let’s not exaggerate, I didn’t run,” $xname replies quickly, as if embarrassed by the idea that $xthey would ever care so much as to hurry $xthemselves on your account, even though that is exactly what $xthey did. “It was a brisk walk at most! Besides, I knew within moments you were not in any real danger. $aname is right down the hallway, $athey would’ve noticed had anyone tried to get inside. I passed $athem on my way here, you know. $cathey knew you were having a nightmare.” “But $athey’s not the one who came,” you point out before $xname can keep chattering on to change the subject, refocusing on $xthem. “You did.” $xname rubs at the back of $xtheir neck as $xthey looks away. “I’m only doing my duty to the Crown, as any good citizen should. Don’t read too much into it.” You smile with amusement at $xtheir deflection, though it does leave you curious as to how $xtheir sensory abilities work. According to $xname, $xthey sensed you all the way outside the palace gates, and even then $xthey didn’t specify how far away from the palace $xthey truly was. “How did you sense me?” you ask $xthem, and $xname almost seems relieved at the change in topic as the cocky grin returns to $xtheir face and $xthey leans $xtheir weight against your mattress with $xtheir hand. “Oh, it was easy,” $xthey boasts, a playful glint in $xtheir eyes as $xthey flicks a stray lock of hair out of $xtheir face. “While you might not have an affinity, your signature is rather unique. It makes it easier to sense you even across a large distance.” “Unique how?” “There is something pure about it,” $xname describes. “Untouched, or unformed. Like a piece of clay that hasn’t been molded yet, except for one thing. Most people’s signatures are kept inside of them, held close to their spirit. Some inner magic types can learn how to deliberately push it out for magical purposes, but you… you just radiate it outwards. Like sunlight. That’s what it feels like.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>You eye $xthem <<if $caut gt $adven>>suspiciously<<else>>with some humor<</if>>. “You’re not just saying that to flirt with me, are you?” $xname’s grin is a sly one as $xthey leans closer toward you on the bed. “And if I am?” Unable to hold $xtheir gaze, you look away flustered as $xname laughs with delight at your reaction, patting you comfortingly on the knee.<<else>>“A poetic choice of words,” you reply, lips quirking into a subtle smile. $xname grins back at you. “While I may be a hopeless flirt, I also know how to be romantic from time to time.” You hold $xtheir gaze for a moment longer, and $xname’s grin almost seems to soften a little as $xthey stares back at you, before $xthey seems to remember $xthemselves and glances away, clearing $xtheir throat.<</if>> “In all seriousness,” $xthey says, “I wasn’t exaggerating. Your signature does feel a lot like sunlight; it’s why I gave you the benefit of the doubt.” That makes sense. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. No wonder $xname was convinced so easily. “Speaking of the sun.” $xname glances toward the windows, where the moon still shines bright. “I should let you get back to sleep.” $cxthey gets up to $xtheir feet, startling you with $xtheir sudden decision to leave. Granted, you’re no longer in a panic and speaking to $xname has made you much calmer, but you still don’t like the idea of being alone again so soon. $xname seems to read some of the reluctance from your face, and for a rare moment $xthey looks hesitant, before $xthey reaches out and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Sweet dreams, $name.” The disappointment stings, but $xname pulls away from you, physically putting distance in between and you can’t bring yourself to ask anymore, so you let $xthem go. You watch $xthem leave, and as $xthey closes the door quietly behind $xthemselves, you sit in bed and stare at it for a while longer. Remembering the warmth of $xtheir embrace makes your room feel much colder now $xthey’s gone. It takes a long while before you’re able to fall asleep again. [[End Chapter|4.1]]

Solid, earth beneath your feet. While in the grip of your panic that has you in freefall, you have never felt a more comforting sensation. You lean into it, craving that sense of safety, of security, and when you do you feel $dname’s hand tighten briefly around yours, hearing a soft breath exhaled in surprise. It brushes against your cheek, and when you open your eyes to look you find $dthem closer than $dthey was sitting before with a dazed look on $dtheir face, as if $dthey were drawn in by you just as you were by $dthem. Once you meet $dtheir gaze, however, $dthey seems to snap out of it and quickly pulls $dtheir hands off you, moving back again with embarrassment. “Please forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty,” $dthey speaks, lowering $dtheir head. “I… I overstepped.” You barely notice how much you’ve calmed down when you open your mouth to reply to $dthem, and suddenly realize your breaths have eased enough for you to speak. The nightmare that overwhelmed you, swelled up your fears inside your chest until you woke up gasping for breath, is distant now. A specter in the corner of your eyes, gradually retreating. It’s not gone forever—it never will be, you suspect—but its presence is much smaller now. You reach up with the edge of your sleeve to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, trying to compose yourself before you address $dthem. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“There’s…” Your voice is hoarse, forcing you to clear your throat before you try again. “There’s no need to apologize. You helped me through… well, whatever it was that came over me. I’m fine now.” The smile on your face is somewhat forced as you try to smother all the lingering unease and fear back down where you kept it buried before,<<else>>“It’s fine,” you say, finding your voice so hoarse it almost breaks on the last word, forcing you to clear your throat before you continue. “You helped a lot. I’ll be alright now.” You keep your tone as casual as possible, almost dismissive,<</if>> which is not received very well by $dname who frowns deeply at the sight. “My liege,” $dthey says, and it sounds different from the way $dthey uses your formal address. Softer, somehow, like the way $dtheir dark eyes look into yours. “I hope, in time, I will prove myself to you as someone you need not hide from.” You cannot hold $dtheir gaze, feeling somewhat foolish. It is a nonsensical thing you’re trying to do, writing off the nightmare as something childish while you’re still reeling from the panic it induced, but you don’t know what else you can do without risking falling apart again. Yet $dname is beside you, a stranger offering you safety, <<if $caut gt $adven>> and it scares you. The way you relied on $dthem, let $dthem in so easily when you were at your most vulnerable now leaves you incredibly anxious in part because of how desperately you long for it. You want to trust $dthem, yet you’re unable to because you’re paralyzed by the fear of what might happen if you do. If $dthey fails you, or you fail $dthem, or something else happens—<<else>>and the fear that emerges inside you at the thought of accepting it frustrates you beyond words. You want to trust $dthem, or anyone. Anyone at all, just to know that you’re not as alone as you might think, might feel when that inescapable despair has its grip on you, but you can’t do it. You just can’t do it. Like a lump in your throat, smothering your voice no matter how many times you swallow. Like smoke in your lungs, suffocating you as the fire around you burns violently bright. Like something broken, something dead—<</if>> Fingers clenching into the sheets, you close your eyes and inhale slowly through your nose, through your belly just like $dname taught you. You focus on your breaths, only your breaths. In the darkness of your eyelids, you think you can almost sense $dname again. That sensation of being held steadily, of solid ground beneath your feet, unchanging even as the sky falls down around you. “Your Imperial Majesty?” A concerned touch on your shoulder, prompting you to open your eyes again, feeling a little calmer as you look at $dname. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t use magic very often, do you?”<<else>>“I can sense very little magic from you,”<</if>> you say, finding something to distract yourself with. $dname’s brows arch slightly, seeming somewhat surprised by the remark, but thankfully $dthey seems willing to move the conversation along. “It is not a skill I’ve mastered, no,” $dthey admits, leaning back from you a little, keeping a more formal distance. “I’ve never had the talent for it.” “Your affinity is earth, isn’t it?” “Yes.” $dname stares off into the distance, seeming lost in $dtheir thoughts, or perhaps in $dtheir memories. “When I was a child it would frustrate my tutor endlessly. She said it was as if I kept it fused to my body, like armor. Nothing she tried could force it out of me.” $cdthey suddenly looks up at you again, wearing a thoughtful expression. “It appears that we are polar opposites, in that respect.” You’re still contemplating the admission that $dname apparently comes from a good enough home for $dtheir family to afford a tutor, when $dtheir comment throws you off. “We are?” “Since you lack an affinity, it’s difficult to detect,” $dname elaborates. “Especially for someone as poor at magic as me, let alone sensory magic. But unlike me, your magic glows out of you. It’s… like the sun.” It is an unexpectedly poetic description, but $dname’s intent doesn’t seem to be to flatter you. $cdthey appears entirely serious, which leads you to think $dthey must be speaking the truth, as strange as it sounds. You were a child when your eyes first turned gold, and so your signature had not been shaped yet. Even once you matured your father insisted he could sense no affinity from you whatsoever, which was likely the truth, describing you as something of a blank slate. But sunlight, that is a very peculiar signature to have, especially without having an affinity. Usually signatures, much like the affinities they mirror, are confined to elements of the earth; the sun and the stars, and all celestial bodies like it, are considered sacred, far beyond the reach of humankind. When you open your mouth to reply, $dname interrupts by averting $dtheir gaze from you and rising to $dtheir feet. “I’ve imposed on you long enough,” $dthey decides, and you can almost feel the space between you two, the physical distance $dthey puts there deliberately, as if you can’t tell what $dthey’s doing. “You’re leaving?” The words escape you before you can think better of them; you might have calmed down quite a bit, that doesn’t mean you like the idea of being alone again so soon. $dname peers down at you, the moonlight glinting off the golden scales of $dtheir armor but not quite reaching $dtheir neck, leaving $dtheir face covered in shadow. The short silence that follow betrays $dtheir own hesitation, but then $dthey says, “It is best if I do not linger.” The meaning behind $dtheir words does not escape you. $cdthey is your general, and you are $dtheir Crown; spending the night here would be improper, something $dname cannot abide by. You might have only just met, but if there’s anything you know about $dname by now it’s that $dthey would never want to impugn your honor. “I understand.” Your disappointment stings, but you’ll cope. For both your sakes. “Good night, $dname.” $cdtheir eyes widen slightly after you say $dtheir name without $dtheir title, lips parting in flustered silence, before $dthey composes $dthemselves again and bows to you. “Until tomorrow.” $cdthey makes no mention of your name or your title in return, and you think this is about as informal as $dthey dares to be before $dthey straightens up again and turns away from you. You watch $dthem leave, and as $dthey closes the door quietly behind $dthemselves, you sit in bed and stare at it for a while longer. Remembering the steadiness with which $dthey held you makes you feel unmoored now that $dthey’s gone. It takes a long while before you’re able to fall asleep again. [[End Chapter|4.1]]

“They have a strong foothold in the province of Zerat,” $rname elaborates for you without having to be asked. “Unfortunately, the capital may be the most dangerous place in the entirety of the Empire, particularly for a Crown who hasn’t ascended the throne yet.” “The Followers certainly know how to fuel the wrong ambitions.” $rname exchanges a look with $aname, who nods in agreement and continues on. “It has been a decade since we’ve had a Crown.” $catheir expression is serious, perhaps even slightly annoyed as $atheir brows furrow while $athey speaks. “The Mîrs of other provinces have been locked in a power struggle for most of it, unwilling to let any single person lead or make any compromises. Anyone hungering for a little more wealth or reputation has looked at the past few years not as a crisis, but as an opportunity.” “Simply put, it’s the backstabbing nobility you need to watch out for,” $xname summarizes rather aptly for you. “The easiest way to do that is to avoid the city altogether. At least until you’ve gained your footing.” “Some may indeed be stupid or greedy enough to try for an assassination attempt, particularly on a Crown who hasn’t officially ascended the throne yet,” General $dname scoffs with a look of disgust. “They’ve gotten used to the absence of a ruler.” You give yourself a moment to take it all in, mind working through everything you’ve just been told. The most important thing would be to have the coronation, as without that you have effectively no true power. Strange, as you always assumed that merely having golden eyes would be enough to prove you the Crown without having to waste time on ceremonies. “Then we should have the coronation as soon as possible,” you conclude. Having listened to the conversation and given the time to think, you think you've arrived at a pretty obvious conclusion, but you still harbor some anxiety about it until it appears that the others agree with you. “It is our priority at the moment,” $rname agrees, General $dname nodding in acquiescence. “Planning security for such an event is a headache,” $aname remarks, “but it cannot be delayed. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it will be for you.” $cathey turns to look at $xname. “I don’t suppose the Crescent Blades would be any help with that?” Lips spreading wide in a satisfied grin, as if $xthey was waiting to be asked all along, $xname leans forward with an elbow on the table and speaks to the room, “For the right price, I’ll give you any help you need.” General $dname scoffs. “As opportunistic as always; you never see anything but gold.” “I do like the color, I admit,” $xname replies, unperturbed, though the conversation changes direction once more as $rname pointedly clears $rtheir throat. “Do you have any other matters you wish to address, my Crown?” $rthey asks you, brow furrowed slightly as $rtheir gaze flits over your face. “Perhaps it would be wise to retire for the day.” It is an unpleasant reminder of the weariness that’s settled into your bones like an old friend, and you let out a deep sigh to exhale some of the tension that has fused with your spine. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” [[Continue|3.35]]

<<if $xpoints gt 0>>After Ziryan has left you again, you find your eyes drifting toward $xname for what must be the hundredth time in the span of an hour. Just as when you first left, $xname seems comfortable enough riding behind an Imperial Guard, arms circled around their waist, though $xthey's not nearly as flirty anymore. If anything $xthey looks vaguely exasperated, a slight furrow in $xtheir brows; $xtheir discomfort with horses must have caught up with $xthem. Briefly you wonder if you should've offered $xthem to ride behind you instead, but then promptly dismiss that thought; you would've likely steered your horse straight into a tree, having $xname's hands all over you. <</if>>You look toward your left, where $aname rides $atheir horse in silence. "$aname," you call, getting $atheir attention as $athey glances toward you. "How much longer until we're back in Marabad?" "Not long now," $aname says, gesturing toward another bend in the road ahead of you. "As soon as we turn the corner it'll be a straight shot to the city." <<if $caut gte $adven>>You didn’t know how much you truly dreaded it all until now, but the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly queasy. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>Not that you’ll ever show it.<</if>><<else>>You didn’t know how much you truly anticipated it all until now; the prospect of facing a city full of people looking toward you as their new ruler has you feeling slightly restless, a little nervous, but also excited by the possibilities.<</if>> There was a time you weren’t on the run, when you were very young. Too young to form any lasting memories beyond little glimpses you sometimes catch in your dreams, when you aren’t having a nightmare. Your mother used to speak of it, of the small patch of land she owned where she thought she would settle down and live out the rest of her life alone, until she met your father and had you. For a while, the three of you were happy; you can almost remember the village where you and your mother would sell your produce when you were little, while your father would attend to the village’s only temple of worship as its priest. But one day, that changed. You were younger than ten years old, you think, maybe seven or eight, but you clearly recall the night you were whisked out of bed by your father while your mother hurriedly gathered some bags. And now you’re whisked away again, off to a palace that is now yours, in a city that you are now the master of. <<if $caut gte $adven>>Part of you desperately wants to run, but you are so tired of running.<<else>>In spite of it all, you almost feel eager at the prospect.<</if>> [[Continue|3.3c]]

Having walked the forest for so long in search of $xname, the hours started feeling like days, but now your destination seems all too eager to greet you. You guide your horse around the bend in the road, the movement causing you to open your eyes. As soon as your view shifts you immediately spot the stone of the city walls peering back at you in the distance. It stands like a towering monolith, especially now that you have a view of it from afar. The trees on either side of you obscure most of the stretch of wall you know is there, but even this far away the looming metal of the gates look like teeth. A thought occurs to you. “$aname,” you call out to $athem again when you notice the guards stationed outside—eight of them, six more than there were when you left last night. “Should I hide my eyes?” “It would make travel through the city safer," $aname replies. "Then again, the citizens have been waiting for a Crown for quite a long time. Either way, I cannot make the decision for you." <ul> <li>[[Hide them; you are too anxious to face the crowds this soon.|3.7c.1][$caut to $caut + 25]]</li> <li>[[Show them; you are not afraid.|3.7c.2][$adven to $adven + 25]]</li> </ul>

You can’t do it, not now, not when you haven’t had the chance to gather your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s about to fall apart, your mind is a haze of barely suppressed emotions cracking gently through the thin shell you’ve built to keep yourself safe. The trees around you taper away until you’ve left the forest and the wide open space of the grass fields around you has your stomach twisting in on itself. You snatch the hood of your cloak up, pulling down as far as it will go over your head until you can’t see the approaching walls of Marabad anymore. "Stick close to me," $aname tells you, as $athey must have noticed your decision, or your shaking hand as you pulled your hood up and over your eyes. "I'll keep you safe." You want to believe $athem, but your faith wavers when you hear the sound. Crowds, shouting against the walls like a horrible tide crashing against the rocks. Panic tightens in your chest, solidifies into something cold and hard until it’s difficult to breathe. You wish you could close your eyes as you hear the horrible groan of the iron gates, pulled upward to allow you to pass through before it quickly fades away into the screaming. As soon as the gates are opened, people begin to stream outward like a river flooding past its banks. They're everywhere, crying out in an indistinguishable cacophony. Names are all you can make out, $rname’s name and then $xname’s name too, barely distinguishable from the cheering and the yelling surrounding you from every side. You see so many colors. Luxurious finery and glimmering jewels among ragged cotton stained with dust and dirt, plain dresses and elaborate headpieces, red-painted lips and mud smudged across cheeks, dark and light and bright and oh so loud. Heart pounding in your chest, you keep a tight grip on your hood and pray your horse won't get spooked and throw you off its saddle; maneuvering it with a single hand is far from ideal. “$rtitle $rname!” “$crthey’s returned, thank the Spirits $rthey’s returned!” Hands, reaching past the guards trying to force the crowds back, as futile as trying to imprison the waves of a sea. Your horse is slowed down among the commotion, trying to get past the people pushing in toward you from every side. $aname and the Imperial Guards on either side of you form a kind of barrier, shielding you from the onlookers and perhaps beyond it all, that’s what strikes you the most. The desperation. [[Continue|3.8c.1]]

Your mind cannot grasp the amount of people present, and only the fear of being thrown off your horse keeps you from shrinking into yourself. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd at bay, through it takes a great amount of effort. From beside you, you catch $aname's eyes, and $athey give you a firm nod; $athey's the picture of calm, helping you stay calming by example. As you listen to the crowd around you, your hands shaking when you let go of your hood to take the reins of your horse in a white-knuckled grip, you start to make out more than names. "Banish the steward!" you hear someone shout. "Throw him in the dungeons!" It is something you hear many times more. Pleas and demands in equal measure, some calling for justice, others for an execution. It's not what you expected to hear; why would the steward of Marabad be so detested? As you distract yourself by pondering this, it feels like an eternity passes before you reach the hill that leads up to the palace. As you ride up, the golden gates finally come into view. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the man manages to haul his arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting $rname and crying out to $rthem. You wish you could hear what he was saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the man's arms reach out. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9c.1]]

It is almost strange how easily you become accustomed to the mass of people around you. Or perhaps it’s not that you’re becoming used to it, but rather that your mind simply cannot process the amount of people present. There are so many of them, and yet you can’t make out a single face. You hear only the noise, you see only the colors. They may as well be phantoms. It’s when someone first notices your eyes that things change. “Is that—” “Those eyes!” “They’re riding next to the Royal Protector, does that mean…?” For one instant, you can almost hear the silence beneath the whispers that travel through the crowd. The shouting lowers to build into something much greater, and as you look around you and find more and more eyes aimed at you, it erupts. “IT’S THE CROWN!” It’s an explosion in your ears; you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before. The whole city screams at the top of its lungs, as if the very walls and the arches and the buildings and the hills and the stones were built upon were all crying out to you. You heart pounding like a drum in your chest, and yet you’ve never felt so alive. From beside you, you catch $aname's eyes, and $athey give you a firm nod; $athey's the picture of calm, helping you stay calming by example. It feels like an eternity passes before you reach the hill that leads up to the palace. As you ride up, the golden gates finally come into view. Around you the city guards are employing magic to keep the citizens at bay. You see several translucent shields erected between the guards and the crowd like small walls, their blue-tinged glow lighting up the streets. It keeps much of the crowd pushed back, but not all of it. Something grabs at the edge of your cloak. You quickly turn around you see dirt stained beneath fingernails, belonging to a hand of a girl who looks younger than you. “Please, Your Majesty!” You’re struck by the strength of her grip, as if she were afraid of drowning were she to let go of your cloak, and when you meet her gaze her lower lip trembles. She looks so small, running along below you. "Don't worry," $aname assures you, apparently already aware of the girl as $athey motions at one of the city guards. "She's harmless." You want to ask how $athey's so sure of that, but the expression on the girl's face pulls your attention back to her. “If- if you are truly the Crown, you must do something about the steward,” the girl begs, staring up at you with wide, desperate eyes. “After everything he’s done—" One of the city guards grabs her by her elbow, dragging her away. “Get away from there, you insolent child!” You open your mouth to call the guard off, but before you have a chance both the girl and the guard are swallowed up by the chaos sweeping the streets and $aname’s horse has already moved on. You wish you could've asked for her name. “$aname, did you hear that?” you ask $athem, turning back to sit straight behind $athem. “That girl, she said something about the steward of Marabad.” $aname nods, and you hear the screech of the gates opening to let you pass. “I'm not surprised,” $athey replies cryptically and you can barely hear $athem over the din of the crowd that seems to cry out even louder now that you’ve almost reached your destination. “Stay back!” You watch the city guards try their best to keep the citizens at bay—one of them even extends their magic shield into a wall, connecting with the shield of the guard standing beside them. As the wall forms, citizens pound their fists and slap their palms against it. One of them tries to climb over it, lifted by the others. You watch in amazement as the man manages to haul his arms over the edge of the see-through wall, spotting you on your horse behind $rname and crying out to you. You wish you could hear what he was saying, but you can't understand a single word from among the noise filling the city. All you can see is the way the man's arms reach out to you, much like the girl clung to your cloak earlier. The sight disappears as soon as you pass underneath the golden gates, hanging menacingly above your head as if you were traveling into the belly of a beast through its mouth. When you finally lay eyes on the front of the Royal Palace in front of you, you realize that comparison may actually be rather apt. [[Continue|3.9c.2]]

You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. You tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has already gotten off $atheir horse, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. [[Continue|3.10c.2]]

You remember catching a glimpse of the pillars and the roof of the palace before, but seeing it unobstructed by the walls surrounding it is an entirely different experience. It stands on a raised platform, stone steps leading up to the massive pillars topped by the statues of snakes you noticed before. Now that you can see it in its entirety, you realize the palace is not so much a single building as it is a complex of multiple buildings connected together by the apadana and its impressive columns; it is an audience hall that would make even the richest Thalloi rulers envious. There are details, carved reliefs of images around the edge of the flat roof that you can barely make out. People and animals, snakes being predominant, as well as carvings of what you assume to be Armas Mountains that always loom in the distance. The swirling patterns on the red banners hanging down between the fluted columns give off a serpentine impression as well. Turning your attention back to the overall architecture, the sides of the palace complex stretch out to the east and to the west behind the apadana, enclosed by walls with open windows rather than an open hall supported by columns. There is greenery surrounding it as well, carefully planted grass and bushes and flowers, many roses of reds and pinks in particular. Stationary guards stand watch at the edge of it, but you spot a lone soldier on patrol here as well, following the stone path that leads toward the western part of the palace that seems to go on forever. How big is this palace? You have the feeling you’ve barely caught a glimpse of its full size. You tear your gaze away from the gargantuan palace to notice the large stables built near the walls, blinking when you suddenly see all the people either hurrying around or standing perfectly still. The guardsmen, who belong to the latter group, wear uniforms in the same style—a wide, formless robe hanging down their torso, over the long skirt covering their legs—though the patterns and colors are different from soldier to soldier. They all however hold spears and large shields in a rounded rectangular shape, similar to what you’ve seen the armored guards on the outside of the palace wield. Some of them hold daggers and short blades that are tucked into a cloth belt wrapped around their waist, held right below their chest instead of near their hip. Compared to the people hurrying around, who you assume to be servants, the guardsmen look far more colorful. The servants are all dressed in white, though the form of their garments varies. Some wear long, loose robes while others wear long dresses, or shorter dresses with pants underneath. “Are you planning on getting down any time soon?” You look back at $aname again who has already gotten off $atheir horse, and you realize $athey's waiting for you to dismount. The Imperial Guards around you have all already gotten off and are either leading their horses into the stables or handing them off to the stable hands. “Oh!” You hurriedly get off the horse first, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet when you land on the ground, but thankfully your thighs aren’t too sore. [[Continue|3.10c.1]]

As $aname leads $atheir horse away, leaving you standing by yourself, you glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted.” $rname, having also dismounted $rtheir own horse, walks up to you when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it. You can take off your hood, if you wish.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you slip the hood of your cloak off your head and turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You slip the hood of your cloak off your head, turning to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]

As $aname leads $atheir horse away, leaving you standing by yourself, you glance behind you to the golden gates you just rode through, wondering how they're managing to keep out so many people. The gates have closed shut again after you passed them, though you notice a faint golden glow to them that there wasn’t before. For some reason the citizens pushing up against the gate aren’t able to touch it, let alone exert force onto it. “It’s enchanted.” $rname, having also dismounted $rtheir own horse, walks up to you when $rthey notices you staring. “The gate will project an invisible shield should anyone try to force their way through it.” <<if $blunt gte $charm>>Nodding to show you’ve understood, you turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<<else>>“I see.” You turn to face the Royal Palace once more.<</if>> It looks so massive, you cannot imagine what you’re supposed to do with all that space. $rname smiles brightly at you when you catch $rtheir gaze, already pinned on you, and $rthey gestures toward the palace with $rtheir hand as if to show it off. “Impressive, is it not? Would you care for a closer look?" “Wait for me, now.” $xname saunters unhurriedly toward you from the direction of the stables, followed closely by General $dname who aims a glare at the back of $xname's head. You look around for $aname, and flinch in surprise when you turn to your left and find $athem already standing there with $atheir hands behind $atheir back, standing a polite distance away from your personal space. “Did I startle you?” $aname’s expression seems completely neutral, though you swear you see the corner of $atheir mouth twitch. “My apologies.” You frown at $athem. “How do you keep doing that?” $aname smiles enigmatically, perhaps a touch smug, but does not reply. [[Continue|3.11]]

@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN SPIRITUALITY@@ THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD MAJOR SPIRITS -bemal; intent and focus, purity of thought / to guide the WATER (hathurian name; Frāmmu) -waram; truth and unwavering will / to hold the FIRE (hathurian name; Asha) -shefid; conscience and awareness / to bond to the AIR (hathurian name; Ishu) -mezdin; generosity and charity / to give oneself to the EARTH hathurian name; Enurā -verehena; triumph over evil, victory / to embrace the WORLD hathurian name; Nis -zal; corruption / to reject the WORLD hathurian name; Khur MINOR SPIRITS In Nature In People RITES AND CUSTOMS The Blessing of a Crown Bonding Rituals

@@.chaptertitle;LESSONS IN MAGIC@@ RULES OF MAGIC MAGIC SYSTEMS Affinities and Signatures Inner Magic and Outer Magic The Disciplines of Magic Aura Sensing Enhancement Elemental Healing Summoning Signs Alchemy Ritual Exorcism Necromancy MAGIC IN NATURE Flora & Fauna Mythical Creatures REGARDING MAGI

While Siham nods in acknowledgment and carries the tray to a low table at the far end of your bedroom, Ishrah settles down on a nearby chair beside the bookcases lining the right side of your walls. One of her legs begins to jump up and down, jiggling with barely suppressed nerves. “I must stress the urgency, Crown $name. The steward was in no mood for waiting.” You give her a curious look. “What did the steward say to you?” “He and the other nobles were rather upset to not have been informed of your arrival earlier.” She chews on her lower lip. “$rtitle $rname is currently speaking to them to try and placate them, but they are demanding to see you, and…” “And?” Ishrah winces slightly, before admitting, “$rtitle $rname is not popular among their circles.” You raise your brows in surprise. That wasn’t entirely what you were expecting to hear. $rname’s manners seem so well-polished and elegant that you assumed $rthey fit right in at court, but apparently this is not the case. Although, thinking back on it, you do remember $aname mentioning yesterday that $rname made the head of Marabad’s school grovel before $rthem for rejecting $rtheir application years ago. If that is any indication of how $rname deals with nobility as well, that might explain why Ishrah is so nervous. You pull the covers back and slide out of bed, deciding you may as well go see for yourself. “Alright, I’ll go get ready.” Glancing over at the large tray of breakfast now sitting on the table, you look back at Ishrah and Siham. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Why don’t you two take a seat? There’s far too much for me to eat on my own, and I wouldn’t want to waste it.”<<else>>“You should grab a few plates. I’ll join you shortly.”<</if>> Before Siham can even open their mouth to protest, Ishrah perks up immediately. “We’d be honored, Crown $name! You are most generous!” All her previous anxiety seems to evaporate as she gets up and skips over toward the table, settling down on one of the pillows and eagerly digging into the plates of food. Siham stares at her with a mixture of mortification and resignation, before heaving a deep sigh and joining her. [[Continue|4.3]]

When you ask where you can freshen up, Ishrah points you to a separate door on the other side of your room that you hadn’t even noticed before. Entering it, you find an unusual room made of pure white stone that reminds you of the bathing chambers below ground. There’s a tall mirror directly across the door, and you watch yourself walk inside before your attention is pulled toward the large stone bath in the corner on your left, big enough to fit four people. It’s devoid of water now, but you suspect it’s meant only for your private use, should you want a simple bath rather than the elaborate cleansing of the bathing chambers. You also spot what looks like a rounded stone chair with a hole in it in the furthest corner of to left. Intended for waste, you presume. On your right, you find something else entirely. There is a perfectly normal countertop made of stone, and you spot various soaps, perfumes and face paints sitting on it for your personal use, but also a square shape cut out into the center of it. You assume it’s meant to be a basin to hold water, except there’s a hole in it. For drainage, you suspect, though you wonder why. Beside the mysterious hole in the countertop, you notice a small symbol engraved as a basic sign for water, small waves that are empty of magic. Above the countertop, in the wall, is a horizontal slit in the stone. How peculiar. Curiously you look back down to study the water symbol, wondering what it could be for. Reaching out, you channel a bit of magic into your fingertips, and touch the symbol. It lights up a vivid blue, and then water comes bursting out of the slit in the wall. Out of reflex you duck to avoid getting sprayed with a surprised shout, but then realize the water isn't hitting you. It’s pouring down into the stone basin. Then you understand what it is. “Majesty, are you alright?” You look up to find $aname standing in the doorway, frowning at you. “I heard you shouting.” $cathey's not wearing $atheir armor, you notice. <<if $comfortbya is false>>Instead, $athey dons a robe you've seen on the other palace guards, though $atheirs looks more expensive. The fabric is a soft shade of green, with $atheir neckline and the edge of $atheir sleeves trimmed with a tasteful gold. $cathey looks more like a noble $athemselves than a guard.<<if $apoints gt 4>> Tearing your gaze away from $atheir flattering new robes--especially the way it frames $atheir shoulders and waist--you turn your attention back to the marvel of magic you just discovered.<</if>><<else>>$cathey's wearing the same soft green robe you remember seeing last night, when $athey came into your room to comfort you after your nightmare. Being awake now, you get a better look at the details of it, at $atheir neckline and the edges of $atheir sleeves trimmed a tasteful gold. $cathey truly looks more like a noble than a guard.<<if $apoints gt 4>> Tearing your gaze away from $atheir flattering robes--especially the way it frames $atheir shoulders and waist--you turn your attention back to the marvel of magic you just discovered.<</if>><</if>> “$aname, look!” you say, amazed as you turn back to watch the water pour out of the wall, landing in the basin in the counter and draining away through the hole. “It’s a waterfall!” $aname narrows $atheir eyes at you, and you hear Ishrah laughing loudly in your bedroom. “Yes,” $aname says slowly. “A… waterfall. Let’s call it that. If you’re not in any mortal peril, would you mind washing your face without shrieking this time? You nearly gave the guards stationed outside your door a heart attack.” <<if $intel gte $intu>>“I wonder how it works,” you muse, ignoring $aname for a moment as you look at the stone with the symbol carved in it. Where does the drained water go? The palace is on top of a hill, so you suppose it must flow down somewhere.<<else>>Ignoring $aname for the moment, you touch the symbol again, draining your magic from it and watching with wonder as the water stops pouring. You touch it again, infusing it magic, and water begins to pour once more.<</if>> “Majesty,” $aname interrupts, lips twisted in amusement as $athey observes <<if $intel gte $intu>>your fascination<<else>>as you experiment<</if>> with the rune. At the very least, you're thankful $athey has opted for the shortest possible form of your official address; it almost sounds like a nickname, with how casually $athey says it. “You’re wasting water.” “Oh, sorry.” You<<if $hairlength is 'long hair' or $hairlength is 'tied hair'>> quickly tie your hair up with one of various ribbons you find on the stone counter and<</if>> cup your hands together, catching the water in your palms before splashing it into your face. It’s quite cold, making you shiver but also chasing away the last of your drowsiness. When you're done you touch the symbol again, draining the magic you've stored in it, and the water stops. You resist the urge to press it again, marveling at the convenient invention. Grabbing a nearby towel off a rack, you dry yourself as you look questioningly at $aname. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Good morning. <</if>>Why the sudden appearance?” “What do you mean?” $aname frowns slightly in confusion as $athey watches you pat your face down with the soft, fluffy towel that feels heavenly to your skin. “I heard you shout, so I came to see what the commotion was about. As a Royal Protector should, in case you’ve forgotten.” You put the towel back, eyeing $athem uncertainly. “But what exactly does being a Royal Protector entail? Are you going to be watching me the entire time?” Understanding alights in $aname’s eyes, and $athey quickly shakes $atheir head. “Not unless you’re in immediate danger. My primary task is to eliminate any threats; at times this may necessitate me to leave your side, which is why you have the Imperial Guards at your disposal." “I see.” You notice $aname didn't clarify whether that meant the Imperial Guards will be watching you in $atheir place instead. Being watched by someone is an entirely unpleasant sensation, one you’ve been conditioned to associate with danger. Will you have no more privacy? While the thought makes you uneasy, it does seem only logical to keep a close watch at all times, especially considering the last Crown was assassinated. You suppose it's a small price to pay for not being murdered, as uncomfortable as the prospect makes you. “I’ll wait outside until you’re ready to head out,” $aname decides, <<if $apoints gt 4>>already halfway to turning around when you stop $athem. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Would you like to join us for breakfast?”<<else>>“Want to join us for breakfast?”<</if>> you ask before $athey can leave. In a palace filled with strangers, $aname may not be far off from being one $athemselves, but there’s something about $atheir presence that’s comforting to you. Maybe it’s the calm $athey exudes; beneath the sarcastic comments and bored demeanor, $atheir composure is immaculate. Whereas both Siham and Ishrah have been just as nervous—if not more so—than you about the impending meeting with the nobles, $aname is peace itself. Or perhaps unimpressed with the whole thing is a better description. $cathey gives you a long look, glancing over $atheir shoulder at the breakfast table. “I ate earlier.” “Oh.” Your disappointment must be visible on your face, because $athey stares at you for a moment, then sighs and amends $athemselves. “Perhaps some tea.” "Great!" You smile at $athem, but when $athey turns around to leave, you quickly call out, "Oh, can you close the door behind you? <<if $blunt gt $charm>>I really need to take a piss<<else>>I need to pee."<</if>><<else>>turning around to leave when you stop $athem. "Can you close the door behind you?" you ask. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"I really need to take a piss."<<else>>"I need to pee."<</if>><</if>> $aname stares at you for a moment, then starts to laugh. When you frown at $athem in confusion, $athey merely shakes $atheir head as $athey leaves the room, still laughing while $athey closes the door behind $athem. [[Continue|4.4]]

Freshening up and eating breakfast doesn’t take all that long; neither Ishrah or Siham rush you as you pick your way through the freshest fruits and most delicious breads and pastries. Even the tea tastes so much better than what you would’ve been served at your average teashop, sweet blends of herbs that warms your throat pleasantly as you swallow it down. <<if $apoints gt 4>> Conversation is somewhat stilted, however. $aname isn’t very talkative, and even Ishrah seems a little intimidated by $atheir presence, never venturing further than polite small talk that $aname only responds to in single syllables, mostly. With Siham and Ishrah here as well you don’t speak to $aname as easily as you normally would’ve. Besides which, Ishrah seems more than happy enough to fill the silence up with her nervous chatter while you enjoy your breakfast.<</if>> As soon as you’re done eating, however, your servants’ patience ends. They hurry you through the process of dressing you up<<if $apoints gt 4>> after $aname excuses $athemselves and leaves the bedroom to wait for you outside<</if>>. <<if $clothing is 'shalvar'>>Even though you chose the simple style of tunic and shalvar partly because of how much easier it is to move around in, Ishrah insists upon additional layers of shawls and an elaborate outer robe that’s heavy around your shoulders, but at least feels warm. The glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look pretty, admittedly.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'dress'>>The belt she wraps around your waist for your dress is weighted down with golden coins sewn into the cloth, not unlike what you’ve seen on $rname. The outer robe is made of much heavier cloth as well, but the glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look pretty, admittedly.<</if>><<if $clothing is 'robes'>>The layers of robes draped around you flow more elegantly, but they also weigh you down quite a bit. If nothing else, the glimmering golden patterns on the red fabric do look rather pretty.<</if>> Somewhere out there some poor tailor has doubtlessly worked through the night to get you these clothes. Once finished dressing in your red and gold garments, <<if $hairlength is 'long hair' or $hairlength is 'short hair' or $hairlength is 'tied hair'>>Siham styles your hair for you while Ishrah offers you various salves and perfumes<<else>>Ishrah offers you various salves while Siham picks out several perfumes for you to peruse<</if>>. The entire process is still rather dizzying. “Normally there would be several more servants here to help with this,” Siham comments when you wonder at the two of them having to do all this work to get you ready. “But since it is your first day in the palace, Master Keko thought you would be more at ease with only Ishrah and I to help.” You’re actually surprised at the consideration for your comfort, making a note to yourself to thank Keko for that later when Ishrah takes yet another small, ornate pot of something out of one of the drawers. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I don’t need another skin salve, Ishrah,”<<else>>“Please tell me that’s not another skin salve,”<</if>> you say tiredly, but when she removes the lid off the pot you are stunned by what you find inside. “It’s not a salve, Crown $name,” Ishrah replies with a bright smile, though it’s not bright enough to compare to the pure gold powder she holds in the small pot. “What is it for?” Ishrah and Siham exchange a look, and then Siham answers. “Your eyes, Your Imperial Majesty.” You frown at them both. “I don’t understand. You’re going to put that in my eyes?” “What?” Siham looks horrified, while Ishrah starts to laugh. “No!” “It’s face paint,” Ishrah elaborates with a grin. That makes a lot more sense than what you initially thought. Siham clears their throat. “Traditionally, Crowns do not wear headpieces to denote their status. Rather, this powder is painted around their eyes and face. It emphasizes the gold.” “Really?” You look from one servant to the other, remembering the engravings on the pillars you noticed yesterday. “Ashadūna was wearing a headpiece in the carvings I saw before.” “It was not yet a custom during her time,” Siham explains. “At some point, there must have been a Crown who decided they would rather paint their face than wear a headpiece.” Whoever that Crown is, your neck will certainly thank them for the change. [[Continue|4.5]]

You sit perfectly still on a chair and keep your eyes closed while Ishrah delicately traces shapes and figures around the skin of your eyes, over your eyelids and between your brows with a thin, soft brush. You do your best not to accidentally inhale any as she works with concentration on her face, until she finally finishes. “All done!” she declares excitedly. “I hope I got the patterns right, I spent all night practicing!” “You did well, Ishrah,” Siham praises. Curious to see how it looks on you now, you open your eyes. You hear a sharp gasp and look up at Ishrah and Siham both standing in front of you, seeming stunned. They both stare at you as if mesmerized, and you notice a soft golden glow bathing their skin. At first you think it’s the sunlight from outside, but you realize it doesn’t reach far enough back into the room; they didn’t have this glow on them a short while ago. Is it coming from you? You rise to your feet, which seems to snap both Ishrah and Siham out of their trance. <<if $kind gte $calc>>“Are you two alright?”<<else>>"What is it?"<</if>> Siham ducks their head, lowering it immediately, while Ishrah flushes a deep pink, glancing up at you hesitantly but averting her gaze again, as if you’re too bright to look at for long. “It’s- it’s just…” She’s stammering, searching for the words, but quickly gives up on explaining when they don’t come to her. “That is, you should see for yourself, Your Imperial Majesty.” The imperial address gives you pause, as you thought you and Ishrah agreed she would refer to you as Crown $name, but you decide not to comment on it. Perhaps your new appearance made the formality a necessity. You don’t need to head back into the washing room to find a mirror; there’s one near your bed, held by a carved wooden frame. Unsure of how to interpret Siham and Ishrah’s reactions, you step toward it, but as soon as you move in front of it to see your reflection, you freeze. For a moment, you see a stranger. Someone from a different world, a different realm, as if plucked from a myth and dropped into the mirror where your reflection should be, if only you could recognize it. The garments alone would’ve been a big enough change, but in truth they end up becoming a mere afterthought. You are entranced by the golden light that shines back at you, like twin suns captured in a perfect sunrise and locked away into your eyes. The golden powder glitters on your face like stars, painted like the rays of the sun glowing outward from your face. It is you. It has to be you, but it’s also more than you. Your eyes have never shined like this before. After all, you did your utmost to hide them as much as possible, but the powder brings them out, making them impossible to ignore. While estranged from yourself, peering into the mirror and seeing someone you don’t know, part of you thinks the effect might very well work in your favor once you meet the nobles. If Siham and Ishrah’s responses to your face paint are anything to go by, it’s going to leave quite an impression. On the other hand, how are you supposed to have a normal conversation with people when you look like this? The glow of your eyes is so bright you almost have to squint just to look at yourself, but just as you wish it wouldn’t shine so intensely, the golden light suddenly dims until it’s comfortable to look at again. You turn toward your servants. “Is this powder magical?” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” Siham speaks, though they still do not make any eye contact with you, keeping their head lowered. “It is made from a special type of gold ore only found in the caves of the Armas Mountains.” “That sounds quite rare.” “It is.” Unlike Ishrah, Siham does not so much as glance at you. “Ordinarily, those caves are guarded by Şahmaran and her serpents, but she has always allowed the Crown to make use of them. Most Crowns, in any case.” “Şahmaran?” you repeat faintly, about to ask if Siham who that’s supposed to be—King of Serpents is a rather impressive title, all things considered—when Ishrah anxiously cuts in. “Crown $name, I would not want to rush you, but…” She glances toward the doors. “If you are ready?” You almost forgot about the nobles, clamoring to meet you. As unprepared as you feel, you hope your new appearance will go a long way in satisfying their demands. “Yes.” You take a deep breath. “I’m ready.” [[Continue|4.6]]

As promised, $aname waits for you right outside your bedroom. You find $athem speaking to an Imperial Guard in the hallway, talking in hushed tones when Ishrah and Siham push both your doors fully open, and $athey halts the conversation to turn $atheir head in your direction. $catheir eyes widen at the sight of you ever so slightly, but it’s not a look of awe like you saw on your servants’ faces, and like you see on the face of the guard $athey was speaking with. If anything, you think you see $athem wince. The movement is a flash, so quick you’re not entirely certain if what you saw was real or not as $aname’s poise looks perfectly maintained the very next moment. $cathey bends into a gracious bow low at the waist while the guard beside $athem all but falls to their knees, hands crossed onto the ground in front of them and forehead pressed against the stone tiles. Neither of them speaks, not even $aname. You’re somewhat puzzled by $atheir sudden silence, when you realize $athey’s probably waiting for permission from you in order to address you properly. <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You don’t need to keep bowing,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what the proper way to tell people to stop bowing is, and from the way $aname’s brows arch up you know it’s definitely not the right way. “Dismissed,” $athey tells the guard kneeling beside $athem who is still staring up at you with big eyes, startling at being addressed. The guard quickly scrambles up to their feet to bow to you again, then to $aname, before hurrying away down the hall. $aname looks at you again. “In the future, rather than offering a tepid suggestion, command people to raise their heads. It’ll make you seem less terrified.”<<else>>“At ease,” you say carefully, not certain if it’s the right command to use to get people to stop bowing, but it’s what you’ve heard guards say to each other before. From the way $aname gives you an entertained arch of $atheir brows, though, you’re certain it’s not entirely right. “Dismissed,” $athey tells the guard kneeling beside $athem who is still staring up at you with big eyes, startling at being addressed. The guard quickly scrambles up to their feet to bow to you again, then to $aname, before hurrying away down the hall. $aname looks at you again. “In the future, unless you want people to mistake you for a misplaced army commander, telling them to raise their head will suffice.”<</if>> Now you’re the one who almost winces at your misstep, but $aname’s lips bend into what almost looks like a smile, and $atheir aloof gaze softens the slightest bit. “All you need to do is show up,” $athey says, and while there’s nothing particularly gentle about $atheir factual tone, you realize the words are rather reassuring to hear. “Leave $rname and $xname to do the talking.” That, you didn’t expect to hear. “$xname is here as well?" $aname snorts at your alarmed tone, turning around and beginning to walk down the hallway. You make to follow, though you turn around to Ishrah and Siham left behind in your bedroom, and you smile at what you see there; the former is waving at you cheerily, while the latter is bowing so deeply their upper body is parallel to the ground. “As if $xthey would pass up the opportunity to annoy the nobility," $aname speaks as $athey walks ahead of you, not having stopped to wait. You quicken your step to catch up with $athem. "With luck, $xthey’ll chase them out the palace before $rname gets it in $rtheir head to light their robes on fire.” You eye $aname’s back, unsure of how to take the remark. “$rname wouldn’t do that. Would $rthey?” $aname glances over $atheir shoulder at you. “Trust me when I say that $xname is not the one you need to worry about. Although…” “Although?” $cathey doesn’t respond for a short while, and you’re about to let the subject drop when $athey suddenly adds, “Don’t be surprised if $xthey speaks out of turn in there.” Well, that’s reassuring. [[Continue|4.7]]

$aname guides you to the throne room. Unlike all the servants and guards who collapse to their knees at the sight of you, $athey seems less affected by your appearance. It probably helps that $athey has $atheir back turned to you as $athey leads you through the hallway, though you suspect from $atheir earlier reaction $athey would not have been affected much by it either way. As you walk with $athem you try to keep a mental map of the palace, an important skill to have in case you ever need a way to escape. From your room, it’s down the corridor to the intersection, then the hallway on your right which is a straight path past the bathing chambers and the sitting area you were in yesterday. The interior of the palace seems much simpler to navigate so far than you assumed, if this is what you can expect from the rest of the complex. You estimate that if you continue to follow this corridor, you should eventually reach the reception hall of the palace—the room with the big statues of shirdals—but suddenly $aname takes a turn right. Befuddled, you look around at the corridor you’ve just entered, but you don’t recognize it at all. You estimate it runs through the center of your personal residence, no windows on either side. Was there a hallway here before? You can’t remember seeing any yesterday. $aname glances at you again, noting your confusion. “Did Keko not mention the passageway between your rooms and the throne room?” He did. You think you recall him saying as much. “I don’t remember this hallway being here before,” you reply as $aname leads you toward a set of stairs on the right side of the corridor, going up a floor. You follow $athem up the steps, ending in yet another corridor. “That’s because it wasn’t,” $aname responds, which only increases your confusion. “What do you mean?” $aname shrugs. “The palace has a foundational structure, but everything outside of that can adapt to the wishes of its residents. Well, those that are authorized, anyway.” $cathey fishes out a small tablet from $atheir pocket, the same sort you've seen Ishrah walk around with; you catch a glimpse of a golden symbol shaped in a delicate, circular pattern on its clay. "Passageways will appear or disappear according to your need of them. At days when it's particularly busy in the palace, don't be surprised if you hear a distant noise of stone moving around." You had no idea magic was capable of feats like this as well. It's impressive, to say the least. "Can I have one of those, too?" you ask, nodding to the tablet in $aname's hand before $athey slips it back into the pocket of $atheir robe again. "Once it's safe enough for you to wander around without an escort, perhaps," $aname replies evasivly. You assume that means no. For now, at least. [[Continue|4.8]]

Eventually $aname comes to a stop, and when $athey does instead of a door you notice the left wall of the corridor ends here, replaced by a long row of red curtains. There are no windows nor torches here, leaving you in the dark; the familiarity of the shadows you’ve become so accustomed to navigating is almost comforting. The only illumination comes from the soft sunlight glowing through the gap between the curtain and the floor. You hear voices on the other side, though you can’t make out what they’re saying because they’re all talking over each other, and you don’t recognize any of them. Walking past $aname, you reach out a hand to push the curtains aside and take a peek, when $aname holds out $atheir arm to stop you with a cautioning look. “That leads to the throne room.” The warning gives you pause, and you nod at $athem in understanding. $cathey lowers $atheir arm, folding $atheir hands behind $atheir back and averting $atheir gaze from you, standing beside the curtains in perfect posture, and for the first time $athey looks like one of the Imperial Guards. You appreciate the small amount of privacy as you take a breath and try to collect your thoughts, noticing the soft glow of gold your eyes shine against the back of the curtains. <<if $adven gt $caut>>While you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you might, you still have no idea what you should say to them, or how to act without embarrassing yourself.<<else>>Your hands are trembling lightly with your nerves, and you clasp them together in an effort to steady yourself, breathing quietly in and out.<</if>> “What am I supposed to say to them?” you ask out loud, feeling completely ambushed by the situation. You thought you would have more time to prepare for a public appearance, though you're not sure this one qualifies. $aname looks at you from the corner of $atheir eyes while the cacophony of chatter continues on in the background. “Nothing, really.” “Nothing?” you repeat incredulously. “You’re the Crown,” $athey points out to you, looking straight ahead again, eyes fixed dutifully on the wall across from $athem. “You can tell them whatever you want.” The reminder actually helps. Somehow, you keep forgetting the magnitude of your station, but thinking it through logically, why do their opinions even matter to you? They are total strangers, even if nobility, and you’re the Crown.<<if $apoints gt 4>> “You'll be alright.” You look up, surprised at the soft tone $aname speaks to you with. $cathey meets your eyes, soft brown staring back into your gold, and you find yourself unable to look away. It's as if being swept away in a current, but not in an unpleasant way. Not at all.<</if>> Just then, a single voice cuts through the disarray of conversations out in the throne room<<if $apoints gt 4>>, as well as interrupting your moment with $aname as you quickly glance away and $aname clears $atheir throat, averting $atheir gaze as well<</if>>. “Honored guests!” $rname’s voice, usually soft and low, reminds you of the cold dismay $rthey addressed $xname with when you first met $rthem. $crtheir commanding tone is a notable contrast to how much gentler $rtheir words are when meant for you. “I assure you that shouting your complaints at the throne will not make the Crown appear any sooner.” “If you’d like us to be patient, Sorcerer, the least you could do is tell us where $ctheir Imperial Majesty is,” someone replies irritably, calls of agreement joining them in their demand. “The Crown’s whereabouts are none of your concern, nobleman.” $rname’s speech is slow, perfectly calm yet sharp, like the slow bite of frost. You've never heard anyone sound so gracefully condescending before, and you’re beginning to understand what $aname was talking about earlier; the disdain is dripping from $rname’s every word. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty will arrive when <<if $gender is 'nb'>>they are<<else>>$they is<</if>> ready.” “Seems like <<if $gender is 'nb'>>they're<<else>>$they's<</if>> ready, then.” $xname, as irreverent as ever, no doubt having sensed your arrival. Still, even if the statement causes a wave of murmurs to rise from the waiting crowd of nobles, you actually appreciate it. The declaration gives you the perfect moment to enter, and you half-wonder if $xname did that intentionally as you take one last breath, then reach out to grab the curtain. $aname, however, beats you to it. $cathey grabs the edge of a curtain as your eyes meet, lips lifting in a faint but reassuring smile as $athey waits for your signal. You won't be alone in there. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Even while your heart pounds in your throat, you find the courage to<<else>>Heart pounding with anticipation, you<</if>> nod, and $athey pulls it aside. [[Continue|4.9]]

Sunlight shines into your eyes. It comes from above as you step out from behind the curtain, finding yourself at the top of a platform with a tall set of stairs. Right in front of you there is a stately dark-wooden chair, bigger than you anticipated with its sharp edges, the back of it ornately carved into round patterns resembling the sun. For a moment the voices and the expectations and the sunlight and the rest of the room all fade. Your eyes are fixated on the chair. The throne. Your throne. It isn’t until you take your first step toward it that you realize the throne room has fallen into complete silence. Everything seems so still. You look up toward the ceiling, realizing there is a hole right above the throne where the sunlight is falling through and down on you, leaving the rest of the room in the dark. Placing one foot in front of the other, you approach the throne, until you step out from behind it and the rest of the room comes fully into view. You look down at the crowd gathered below, at the foot of the stairs that look so very tall from up here. Bathed in the light, you cannot even make out their faces, but you hear them gasp, see them fall to their knees as you step in front of your throne. Even the guards stationed at either side of the noble crowd, and the servants--among them, Master Keko who stands at the sidelines--prostrate themselves in your presence. There you stand at the very edge of your platform like you were atop the highest peak of the Armas Mountains, peering down at the earth like the sun itself. It is dizzying. Intoxicating. Overwhelming. Your earlier worrying about not knowing what to say seems silly now; you doubt you could speak even if you wanted to. A glimmer of silver in the shadows draws your eye, and then you see $rname, standing halfway up the steps and turned toward you, staring up at you. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>$crtheir gray eyes shine beautifully bright as they reflect the sunlight.<</if>> You wonder what $rthey sees. Unlike the naked look of reverence you’ve received from others, $rname looks at you with $rtheir eyes not wide in shock or awe, but with something else entirely. Something that weighs so much heavier. Hope. [[Continue|4.10]]

Reality comes crashing back into you like a ruthless tidal wave, sweeping away any wonder you might’ve felt; you are indeed the Crown, but for a reason. One you cannot forget. Below you, $rname breaks out into a brilliant smile and then bows $rtheir head to you. Locks of $rtheir long silky black hair fall over $rtheir shoulders, and you notice small silver chains draped around $rtheir head, matching similar silver jewelry to compliment the deep blue dress $rthey wears. <<if $rgender is 'female'>>The touch of paint on her lips is purple instead of red today.<</if>> It’s a perfect contrast to your red and gold. You wonder if $rthey did that on purpose. As with $aname and the guard from before, this time you are much quicker to understand that $rname will need your permission to speak first when $rthey does not say a word and lingers in $rtheir bowed stance. You resist the urge to clear your throat and pray to the Spirits your voice remains steady as you part your lips to speak. “$rtitle $rname.” Thank goodness. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $rthey speaks, all the hostility you heard before gone from $rtheir voice. “Crown $name, the Twenty-First of your line, I present to you the noble houses of Marabad.” You squint your eyes the slightest bit as you peer down at the figures still kneeling at the foot of your stairs, ill at ease at being unable to see their expressions, and remember $aname’s advice. “You may raise your heads.” The nobles do so, though they remain on their knees before you. All of them are dressed in various different color schemes, clearly distinguished from each other, though you have no idea who any of them are, whose houses they belong to, or which houses even exist in Marabad in the first place. Though they have raised their heads, allowing you to see their faces, the nobles still refrain from making direct eye contact with you. That is, save for one of them. Someone dressed in yellow and green, their head lifted toward you, meeting your eyes without flinching when your gaze falls upon them. You stare back at them, trying to keep your facial features set in impassive lines as you wonder whether to take this as a sign of disrespect. The warnings from yesterday ring in your head, about arrogant nobles who have grown possessive of their power in the absence of a Crown, and you begin to feel uneasy. Suddenly you hear an impressed whistling sound coming from somewhere beyond the crowd. It breaks up the staring contest between you and the noble, pulling your attention toward the rest of the throne room which—as you notice for the first time—is almost as big as the apadana you walked through at the front of the palace complex. Before you contemplate the size of it, however, you look for the source of the whistling first. [[Continue|4.11]]

You find $xname, leaning back against a pillar a few feet away from the rest of the crowd at the ground floor. Even in the dark you can make out the green of $xtheir eyes, and $xthey grins brazenly when you meet $xtheir stare, pushing off the pillar and approaching the foot of the throne. “Crown $name, I must say you look resplendent,” $xthey speaks, drawing several outraged noises and indignant huffs from the nobles who have to shuffle aside for $xthem as $xthey walks right through the crowd with a cheeky smile. “I like the red. It compliments your eyes.” $cxthey doesn’t kneel, does not bend $xtheir waist, does not even lower $xtheir head as $xthey stares right at you, looking you in the eye, undaunted. Perhaps even taunting you. Is $xthey challenging you on purpose? $aname warned you that $xname might speak out of turn, but you hadn’t anticipated this. All too aware of the nobles watching you, you consider your options. Do you react to $xtheir disregard and make a show of dominance, or remain dignified and ignore it? Which would be better? You frown slightly, remembering $aname’s words. You are the Crown; what you do or say is entirely up to you. That doesn’t help you in figuring out what the best course of action is, unfortunately, nor is it a particularly comforting thought. But if nothing else, you are in control. <ul> <li>[[Impress the nobles with your composure. |4.12b][$pass to $pass + 50]]</li> <li>[[Show the nobles that you are in charge.|4.12a][$ass to $ass + 50]]</li> </ul>

You don't wish to posture during your first appearance in front of the nobles; you have always been more impressed by those who could keep their cool under pressure. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>As for $xname, you expect that $xthey has a good reason for doing this. Though you haven’t known $xthem for long, <<if $calc gt $kind>>$xthey agreed to help protect you for your coronation. It wouldn’t make sense for $xthem to put you in danger by making you seem weak in front of the nobles.<<else>>you think of $xthem as a good person. Someone who would not want to endanger $xtheir country, at the very least.<</if>><</if>> “$xname,” you say, trying to imitate that endless patience your father would speak to you with whenever you got out of line, which always made you feel like a child in comparison. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I'm surprised to find you in this meeting."<<else>>“Are you here for a reason?”<</if>> You look at $xthem as if $xthey were a visitor who ended up lost on $xtheir way out the door. It has the intended effect: $xname laughs a little, but appears distinctly less bold than $xthey did a moment ago. “I'm here to pay my respects to Your Imperial Majesty, of course," $xthey responds dutifully, still a little bit cheeky but not nearly as audacious. "Oh, I see." You nod benevolently. "Go ahead." $xname appears to fidget a little, rubbing the back of $xtheir neck with a somewhat embarrassed smile. <<if $xpoints gt 4>> You wish you knew what $xthey was thinking.<</if>> Every pair of eyes in the room is glued to the exchange. In the silence, you can hear the blood rushing through your veins, heart beating fast, and $xname does not disappoint. After a long moment, the Pale Sword lowers $xtheir head. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>For you.<</if>> It is a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. You've never taken charge, let alone been looked at as a leader by anyone else. That suited you fine, as you've never been one to make the decisions unless forced to by your circumstances. You could’ve never imagined anyone bowing to you, let alone someone known throughout Arsur as a great hero, and yet here you are. In truth, it makes you a little bit uneasy. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname speaks, keeping $xtheir head bowed, and you’re surprised at how well $xthey keeps to $xtheir performance. “It was my great honor to escort you to Marabad. I hope you will allow me to serve you in the future as well.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You let a smile grace your lips, and even as you’re relieved at the reply, you remind yourself to keep the tone of what you think a Crown would sound like. “A most generous offer. I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of it.”<<else>>Relief floods through you; speaking gently has never been your strong suit, and it’s better to move on before you say something rude. “Of course.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.13]]

Whatever $xname’s motivations, if you let $xthem address you like this in front of the nobles, you’ll appear weak; you'll be as good as undermined. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>Still, you suspect $xthey has a reason for doing this. Though you haven’t known $xthem for long, <<if $calc gt $kind>>$xthey agreed to help protect you for your coronation. It wouldn’t make sense for $xthem to put you in danger by making you seem weak in front of the nobles.<<else>>you think of $xthem as a good person. Someone who would not want to endanger $xtheir country, at the very least.<</if>> But none of that matters in the moment. <</if>>“Mercenary,” you say, not even deigning to use $xtheir name. The grin lingers on $xname's lips, but it looks sharper. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Are you here to pay your respects?”<<else>>“Will you pay your respects?”<</if>> “Of course!” $xname declares without hesitation, though $xthey makes no move to bow. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Then do so.”<<else>>“Then do not make me wait.”<</if>> You keep your tone perfectly even but your stare is intent, and just as you hoped the light of your eyes that is enhanced by the magical powder shines brighter on $xthem; unlike the nobles around $xthem, $xname does not even squint at the radiance. $cxthey simply keeps staring up at you. <<if $xpoints gt 4>> You wish you knew what $xthey was thinking.<</if>> Every pair of eyes in the room is glued to the exchange. In the silence, you can hear the blood rushing through your veins, heart beating fast, and $xname does not disappoint. After a long moment, the Pale Sword lowers $xtheir head. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>For you.<</if>> It is a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. Your life was always in the hands of others, dependent on your parents to keep you safe, dependent on the kindness of strangers willing to take your family in when you couldn’t find a safe place to sleep. You could’ve never imagined anyone bowing to you, let alone someone known throughout Arsur as a great hero, and yet here you are. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>You can even feel your heart racing a little.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty,” $xname speaks, keeping $xtheir head bowed, and you’re surprised at how well $xthey keeps to $xtheir performance. “It was my great honor to escort you to Marabad. I hope you will allow me to serve you in the future as well.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>You let a smile grace your lips, and even as you’re relieved at the reply, you remind yourself to keep the tone of what you think a Crown would sound like. “A most generous offer. I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of it.”<<else>>Relief floods through you; speaking gently has never been your strong suit, and it’s better to move on before you say something rude. “Of course.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.13]]

<<if $pass gt $ass>>[ @@.stattext;Passive@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass>>[ @@.stattext;Assertive@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> You finally turn your attention back to $rname<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, even managing a smile that you hope doesn’t seem as stiff as it feels on your face. “Now then, shall we return to the introductions, $rtitle $rname?”<<else>>, deciding not to waste any more time with pleasantries than you already have, though you suppose they are unavoidable. “The introductions, $rtitle $rname?”<</if>> $rname inclines $rtheir head, smoothly picking up where you left off before $xname interfered. $crthey peers toward the rows of nobles kneeling at the foot of the stairs, addressing them coolly. “Make no mistake, this is not an audience,” $rname states. “You are to introduce yourself and the house you represent to the Crown, but that is all. Everything else can wait until after $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s coronation.” While $rname speaks you gingerly take a seat upon your throne. The soft cushions feel quite comfortable, <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'average' or $height is 'short'>>and the size of the chair suits you surprisingly well<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>though you wish the chair itself could’ve been a little wider. You feel somewhat cramped due to your stature being much taller, and as a result bigger, than most. At least you have plenty of room to stretch your legs<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>though you wish the chair itself could’ve been a little less wide. You feel somewhat swallowed by its size due to your stature being much shorter, and as a result smaller, than most. At least your feet aren't dangling off the edge; that would've been embarrassing<</if>>. “Steward Welat,” $rname says as you’ve just settled down, instantly pulling your attention at the mention of the title. “You may speak first.” You remember the events of yesterday, when you returned to the city late in the afternoon and found endless crowds of citizens shouting in the streets. One of them, crying out about the steward of the city himself—you’re more than curious to finally lay eyes upon him, though as you follow $rname’s gaze to the steward in question, he is not what you expected. A tall, slender man rises to his feet from among the kneeling nobles. Unlike the richly embroidered garments and glimmering jewelry surrounding him, the steward himself is dressed in very plain red robes, at first glance seeming nothing more than an old man you might come across walking down the street. The streaks of gray in his long dark hair and beard indicate he must have quite a few years on him, but when he looks up at you, there is nothing of his age in his eyes. You can’t make out the color but even in the shadows they seem bright, sunlight reflected sharply within. He bows before you once more after he stands, and holds the position while he speaks, head lowered and gaze aimed to the floor as his palm presses against his chest. “Your Imperial Majesty.” His voice is deep, slightly gravelly yet loud enough for you to hear at this short distance, seeming to echo against the walls of the throne room. “It is my great honor to present myself to you as your humble servant, addressed as he. I am the steward of this city, entrusted to me by the late Mîr of Rojan, now her son Mîr Behram, and belong to no noble house. I hope to serve you as faithfully as I have served Crown Ferzan, as well as Crown Piruz before him.” You consider the man before you, not certain what to make of him. From what you heard yesterday, he has invoked the ire of the people, but he may just as well be a scapegoat for the frustration that has built up until now with the absence of a Crown for these past ten years. Glancing at the rest of the nobles around him, waiting their turn, you decide to settle on a nod <<if $blunt gt $charm>>to acknowledge him and nothing more. The less time you waste here, the better. Steward Welat returns to kneeling on the floor after you acknowledged him, and while you can’t tell what he thinks of your response, the nobles around him appear nervous as they glance around at each other and begin to fidget. They seem intimidated.<<else>>and a graceful smile to acknowledge him. You cannot get overtly friendly with people meant to serve you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t charm them a little. Steward Welat returns to kneeling on the floor after you acknowledged him, and while you can’t tell what he thinks of your response, the nobles around him appear to be more at ease as several of them dare to glance at you now, as if to catch a glimpse of your smile. Their postures don’t seem as stiff anymore.<</if>> The introductions continue. [[Continue|4.14]]

It may as well have been a list of names presented to you on a sheet of parchment, for all the use it has. Aside from Steward Welat, none of the nobles after him leave much of an impression; nothing can quite compare to the splendor of the Royal Palace, no matter how lavishly they dress or how brightly their jewels glitter. It is a struggle to remember the names with the faces as soon as they kneel down once more to blend with the rest: Lord Farrukh of House Barwen, Lady Tavan of House Ghishad, Noble Nûdem and Lady Dilnia both of House Suvid… <<if $charm gt $blunt>>your smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks with how long you have to maintain it,<<else>>your nods are starting to get stiffer with every introduction,<</if>> until $rname calls out to one noble in particular. “Lady Naza,” $rthey introduces, and a woman in yellow and green rises from among the others to her feet. Out of all the nobles, she seems the most fearless. You noticed her for the way she was staring at you so openly before, but now you take another look at her you realize even if she hadn’t stared at you, she would’ve still stood out. Her yellow robes accentuated by a tasteful pink set her apart from the darker colors surrounding her, which adds to her stature—almost as tall as Heval and just as big—and makes her impossible to overlook. Her hair is pulled up into an elaborate topknot wrapped with silver strings and green gemstones, flattering her round face and indicating her status; clearly she is not afraid to draw eyes. Which makes sense considering the way she watches you, even as she bows. “I am Naza of House Ishtal,” she states, and you are not the only one who notices she neglects to use the imperial address upon first speaking to you, like the other nobles did. $xname, who has remained standing at the very front of the crowd, watches her closely while her peers look on with indignation and looks of annoyance. You cannot see $rname’s face from where you sit as $rthey has $rtheir back to you, but you notice $rtheir fingers twitch from where they peek out from underneath $rtheir wide sleeves. Lady Naza straightens out of her bow, raising her chin and does not offer you her loyalty nor her service. Instead, she says, “I look forward to seeing how our new Crown will rule.” This draws shocked noises from the crowd of nobles around her, not that she seems to care about their opinion. Her eyes are only on you, a taunting smile on her lips. “Lady Naza, that is the Crown you are speaking to!” one of the nobles—Noble Nûdem if you remember correctly—scolds her heatedly, almost standing up from their bow. “We have not had a Crown in ten years, and this is how you receive $ctheir Imperial Majesty? Have you no sense of decorum?” “Has the coronation happened yet?” Lady Naza asks calmly. “I…” Noble Nûdem glances up at you unsurely, the anger among the rest simmering down. “No, but—” “Then why are we all gathered here groveling at the feet of some whelp who did not even know our names until now?” she replies, the sharpness of her words the only thing indicating her insult as her manner is perfectly serene, even as her declaration finally draws the ire of the one $aname told you to watch out for. “A whelp?” $rname repeats in a pleasant tone even as the air drops in temperature, a chill settling over you as well as everyone else if the way the nobles begin to shiver is any indication; your thick garments are the only thing protecting you from the cold, drawn forth by $rname’s magic. “A whelp, you say? What a daring accusation from a dog who cannot even seem to recognize her own master.” The entire room falls into silence. You’re not sure what awes you more: the sheer density of magic crackling in the air, freezing it over and almost making it harder to breathe, or the fact that $xname truly is better behaved than $rname. Until $xname begins to clap, that is. “Good one,” $xthey says approvingly, grinning up at you shamelessly when you glare at $xthem. $aname was wrong. Neither $rname nor $xname are worse than the other; they are both a disaster, albeit in different ways. At this point you’re not sure whether having someone challenging you openly in front of the nobility is better or worse than someone defending your honor in the worst way possible. All eyes turn to Lady Naza for her reaction to the blatant insult, but she does not respond the way you thought she would have. The laugh that leaves her mouth fills up the throne room. She presses her palms to her belly, as if to cradle the hearty sound in her hands as she throws her head back. “Well done, $rtitle Sorcerer!” she praises, but her amusement only seems to infuriate $rname even more. “And here I thought you were a spineless little mageling who had been hiding behind Lady Zerya’s skirt all this time.” “Oh!” $xname grins widely, turning $xtheir head to look at $rname. “Are you just going to take that, $rname?” You press your palm to your face in mortification. $rname’s voice retains its perfectly pleasant tone, while the cold in the air intensifies with $rtheir unspoken fury. "Take what? All I hear is toothless howling, $xname." When Lady Naza laughs once more, you think you see sparks start to flash in the air. If you do not intervene now, the situation will doubtlessly get out of hand. $xname seems far too entertained by the debacle to interfere, prodding the two instead, and so you make to rise from your seat, until someone beats you to it. [[Continue|4.15]]

“$rtitle $rname, Lady Naza.” Steward Welat gets up to his feet, bowing to you once. “My deepest apologies for interfering, Your Imperial Majesty. However, as crass as Lady Naza’s words were, I do not believe she said them with any intentions of showing disrespect to the throne. We all have very high expectations for Your Imperial Majesty. I would beg of you, as well as of $rtitle $rname, not to take Lady Naza’s words to heart.” You understand at once how this man came to be a steward. He has a firm grasp of diplomacy and commands the room with ease even as he assumes a subservient role, choosing the exact right words that will cool tempers. While you notice Lady Naza huff, giving the steward a disdainful glare, she does not raise her voice any further. He does much better than you would have, in any case; handling introductions is one thing, but trying to diffuse a building fight when your entire life you have been running away from confrontation might be a hill too steep for you as you are now. <<if $ass gt $pass>>Though that does not mean you are not still frustrated that someone else took control of the situation before you could. You ought to take it back.<<else>>Part of you is even relieved that someone else took control of the situation before you had to. Still, you ought to take it back; it would not do to appear weak.<</if>> <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“It is already forgotten,” you reply, making a dismissive wave with your hand which may be a bit of a curt gesture, but in truth your patience has completely run out. “$rtitle $rname, if you would continue?” The nobles seem quite relieved to be able to move on, though $xname appears disappointed. $rname does not look at you, but the chill gradually lifts from the air.<<else>>“It is as you say, Steward Welat,” you reply gracefully. “I realize I am a complete stranger to you; no doubt you all must be nervous about what kind of person has taken the throne. In that respect, I cannot hold Lady Naza’s skepticism against her. I hope to prove to her, as well as to all of you, that I am worthy of being your Crown.” The steward, as well as all the nobles—save for Lady Naza—bow to you once more in acknowledgement of your words, and many of them seem pleased, if not reassured. $xname appears to be the only one who’s disappointed, and while $rname does not look at you, the chill $rthey caused earlier gradually lifts from the air. “Now, $rtitle $rname, if you would continue?” you say to $rthem, hoping $rtheir temper has cooled.<</if>> $rname is silent as the tension drains from $rtheir posture, though $rthey keeps $rtheir shoulders straight. When $rthey turns $rtheir head to face you, in the faint glow of the sunlight, $rthey appears embarrassed. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty, please forgive my insolence. I will—” "One moment." You nearly jump in your seat when you suddenly hear $aname's voice from beside you, and when you look over you find $athem standing next to your chair as if $athey has been there this entire time. How does $athey keep sneaking up on you like that? [[Continue|4.16]]

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>You eye $aname curiously, wondering about the intricacies of how the titles of Royal Protector and Crown are supposed to interact with each other. Though $athey is supposed to serve you by protecting you, you can’t call $athem a servant. If anything, $athey may be the closest thing to an equal you have right now. “Is something wrong, $aname?” you ask, briefly drawing $atheir eyes to you before $athey looks off into the throne room again, beyond the nobles toward the gates at the other end.<<else>>You eye $aname questioningly, beginning to wonder about how the titles of Royal Protector and Crown are supposed to interact with each other, but then decide you can’t find it in yourself to give a damn. It hasn’t even been a full day yet and you’re already sick of courtly etiquette. “What is it, $aname?” you ask, briefly drawing $atheir eyes to you before $athey looks off into the throne room again, beyond the nobles toward the gates at the other end.<</if>> “Visitors,” $aname states, exchanging a meaningful look with $rname. "Took you long enough to notice," $xname comments nonchalantly, studying $xtheir nails in apparent boredom. It’s at that moment someone walks through the tall gates that serve as the entrance of the throne room, heading toward you in long strides. The glint of gold on $dtheir armor gives $dthem away. It’s General $dname, flanked by two Imperial Guards. It says a lot about the size of the throne room that it takes a short while for them to make their way over, the nobles who have remained on their knees turning their heads to look as the general approaches. Having moved aside for $xname earlier, the gap among them allows General $dname and $dtheir guards to march right through their center, before finally reaching the foot of the stairs where they kneel down and bow before you. General $dname doesn’t so much as blink at the light in your eyes; $dthey seems entirely unaffected. <<if $dpoints gt 4>>You feel almost a little disappointed by that. Not that you would've wanted $dthem to fixate on your title any more than $dthey already has, but maybe a part of you might've liked to see $dthem at least a little impressed, or flustered, or something of the sort.<</if>> “Your Imperial Majesty.” “General $dname,” you greet $dthem, sitting up a little straighter as you feel slightly on edge by $dtheir sudden appearance. “What is it?” “The princess of Kartan’s Forest is here to see you,” $dthey says after sitting up from $dtheir bow, though $dthey keeps kneeling as $dthey looks up at you. $cdtheir words sound completely nonsensical to you—what princess, and since when has royalty been living in the forests of Rojan?—until $dthey clarifies, “She is an ambassador for the peris, accompanied by a small retinue to make introductions.” So, a mythical being has decided to show up at your doorstep. Considering you own a palace now where you had been mostly sleeping beneath trees before, you suppose this isn’t even the most baffling thing to have happened to you in the past two days, though perhaps the numbness you feel may be partly due to shock. The nobles don’t look particularly surprised, either; being that they live in a city bordering on the forest where the peris live, they must have had more dealings with them than anyone else. You yourself have never come across one, as peris are known to avoid humans as much as possible, though you do know of them. Mainly, that it is impossible to know what to expect when dealing with them; peris are by nature notoriously fickle, though those that earn their favor are said to gain great wealth in return. Those that draw their ire, however, seldom experience happy endings. [[Continue|4.17]]

You find your hands clenching around the armrests of your throne. Being made the Crown is one thing, you’ve had years to prepare yourself for the possibility, but meeting others of royalty is something else entirely. You haven’t even had a single lesson in proper etiquette before; what if you embarrass not only yourself, but the nation you now speak for? $rname heaves a deep sigh at General $dname’s declaration, to which $aname glances at $rthem. “Did you not sense the peris before, $rname?” $athey asks. “The palace’s protections are supposed to alert you as well, are they not?” “They’re flying about the palace like a swarm of locusts, breaching nearly every ward along the way,” $rname replies irritably, waving $rtheir hand about, and it strikes you how relaxed both of them seem while you’re tensed up with nerves. “Of course I have sensed them.” “Can locusts fly?” $xname wonders out loud, still standing around a little to General $dname’s left, arms crossed over $xtheir chest as $xthey peers up at $rname. “I thought they could only jump. Like grasshoppers?” You give $xname a confused look. “Aren’t locusts a kind of grasshopper?” “Are they?” $xname replies with genuine cluelessness. “What else would they be?” General $dname interjects, giving $xname a puzzled frown. “They look exactly like grasshoppers! Have you never seen a locust before?” “If I knew anything about locusts, I obviously wouldn’t have asked,” $xname responds dismissively in turn, earning $xthemselves a glare from the general. “Yes, locusts can fly,” $rname points out in what you assume is supposed to be a diplomatic manner, but in the moment $rthey seems more like a schoolteacher patiently explaining the concept of insects to a five year old. “How else do you think they migrate such long distances?” $xname hums, tapping $xtheir chin in thought. “Does that mean grasshoppers can fly too?" “Enough!” $aname pinches the bridge of $atheir nose between $atheir fingers, and you blink in surprise when you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the crowd of nobles still kneeling, having been staring up at you and following the derailed conversation with bemusement. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” Without even noticing it, you find yourself having almost been put at ease by the slightly ridiculous conversation. You look down at $xname, who catches your gaze and winks. Did $xthey do that on purpose? The darkness soaking up the rest of the room made it easy to forget, considering the sole source of light is shining down on you. It makes it more difficult for you to see, as well. The light shining from your eyes only illuminates it to an extent; if you’re not looking purposefully at the crowd, you can hardly make out their faces from where you’re seated. Which brilliant Crown thought such an inconvenient design for the throne room was a good idea? [[Continue|4.18]]

“Your Imperial Majesty,” $aname speaks to you in a low tone so only you may hear, apparently the only one with any measure of sensibility—or perhaps $athey simply wishes to get this whole ordeal over with as quickly as possible. “I should warn you, peris don’t abide by human customs, particularly their royalty. The princess will address you as her equal, and expect you to do the same.” “That’s actually a relief,” you mutter, and $aname gives you a lopsided smile. “I wouldn’t speak so prematurely, were I you.” Before you can question $athem further, $rname clears $rtheir throat to get your attention. “They’ve arrived, my Crown.” Standing up from your throne to receive your guests, you peer curiously toward the gates leading into the throne room as you wait for someone to appear. You’ve heard many tales of what peri look like; it is a favorite among storytellers whenever they run out of material. Some say they appear as frightening spirits of flame and lightning, while others describe their peerless beauty as glittering stars, even lovelier than the famed nymphs of Thallos. The accounts have differed so widely across each and every story that the only thing scholars agree on is that their appearance is incredibly fluid, shaped entirely by their will. If nothing else, all of the tales you’ve heard agree only on two points: firstly that whatever form they may take, a peri will always have wings, and secondly that they are born from the elements much like any other spirit found in nature. You are musing on the descriptions still when something comes floating through the gates of the throne room. Or rather, many somethings. Little floating stars drifting toward you, yet doing so swiftly and playfully as they twirl around in the air. One of them, glowing a bright orange, leads from the front while several others—smaller ones in various shades of green—follow them. Soft laughter fills the throne room, echoing quietly against the walls of your palace. As the stars come closer toward you, in the glowing light enveloping their forms you can make out the faint shapes of their wings, until they float right above the crowd of nobles who are also staring up at them. Steward Welat’s composed expression hasn’t changed as he calmly looks on, while Lady Naza appears mildly interested at best. They must have seen peris before, unlike you, as this will be your first time meeting any. You gaze uncertainly at the little balls of light, but before you can address them, the bright orange one at the front speaks. “My, it seems the humans truly did find a new Crown.” [[Continue|4.19]]

Much like the laughter from before, their voice has an echo to it as the orange one floats closer and closer toward you, until $aname suddenly takes a step forward. “That’s close enough,” $athey warns, and the orange peri laughs once more. “Ah, $aname, don’t be so uptight!” the peri teases, though they remain hovering in place, a few feet in front of your throne. “The Crown has nothing to fear from little old me.” “I would beg to differ.” You cast $aname a curious glance at $atheir apparently being acquainted with the peri, but then the peri wanders off toward $rname. “$rtitle $rname, my dear,” the peri speaks playfully, and $rname appears entirely unimpressed. “You look even lovelier than the last time we met. Did you do something new to your hair?” “Kham,” $rname replies frostily. “Do greet the Crown in a proper fashion. Surely Queen Nis’ thirdborn can manage that much, unless it is your intent to disgrace your esteemed mother?” Ah, this must be the princess. “Thirdborn?” Lady Tavan, one of the nobles watching from below, voices her indignation. “The queen sends her thirdborn to greet our Crown?” “Oh, don’t take that to heart,” the peri called Kham replies airily. “I am mother’s favorite, I assure you.” $xname lets out a mocking huff, at which point Kham turns sharply in the air in $xname’s direction; the bright light engulfing her burns a more vivid orange, bordering a fiery red. “What is $xthey doing here?” Kham says in disgust. “$cxthey is the Crown’s honored guest,” $xname replies with an obnoxiously smug grin, and Kham seems to tremble for a moment, before heaving a deep sigh. “Ugh.” Kham flits about restlessly, clearly displeased. “I had hoped the new Crown would have better taste in company, but I suppose everyone has flaws. Oh, is that General $dname I see? Why, hello, general! You look quite strapping today—” “Kham,” $aname intervenes while General $dname shifts a little on $dtheir knees, appearing visibly flustered at Kham's blatantly flirtatious overtures. “Get to the point of your visit before I haul you out of here by your wings.” “How rude!” Kham nonetheless flits closer to you again. “Would you like some advice, Crown? Get a bodyguard that’s less moody. This one ruins all the fun!” You feel slightly foolish for being so nervous to meet with Kham. When General $dname informed you of her visit, you did not imagine this. Peris have lifespans that can stretch well into several centuries, and so you anticipated someone who would be dignified and gracious and wise. Someone who would make you feel like a complete child in comparison. Truthfully, you should probably thank Kham for being the polar opposite of what you expected. You are much calmer now than you were moments ago. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I am $name, I go by $they” you state. “$rname called you Kham?”<<else>>“$aname means well,” you reply, giving the peri your most winning smile. “You may call me $name, there’s no need to refer to my title. I go by $they. $rname called you Kham?”<</if>> “That would be my name, yes,” Kham replies. “But where are my manners! I should at least greet you in my physical form.” “Wait!” $rname calls out in alarm, but $rthey is already too late to intervene. From the ground, breaking through the tiles of the stone floor, giant roots sprout upwards. [[Continue|4.20]]

Through the shattered stone you watch as the dark roots reach up, wrapping themselves around the ball of light that is Kham, engulfing her and beginning to take shape. You see a torso form around where Kham’s spirit was, spreading outwards into long limbs. Several roots press and curl against each other to form her arms and legs, from which smaller roots sprout to be her fingers and toes. Her head is formed in a similar way, though the roots leave room for two holes from which bright orange light shines through, functioning as her eyes. Another hole below is shaped to form her mouth, curved into a smile. Long roots hang down the crown of her head like hair, while colorful red and orange flowers begin to bloom along the crevices and gaps. From her back, sharp branches spread out into the shape of wings, forming the outlines and appearing almost skeletal. The same orange light visible in Kham’s eyes spreads out between the branches to fill in her wings, though they do not move or flap as ordinary wings might. Once finished, the roots that sprouted from the ground break off and retreat underground again, leaving behind deep holes and shattered stone in their wake. You lift your gaze back up to Kham, floating there in the air with a smile still formed on her face, the orange glow of her eyes—if you can qualify two balls of light as such—aimed toward you. The green peris behind her do not undergo the same astonishing transformation, but instead their spirits expand outwards and take shape into human-like figures with large wings, their features indistinct and formed by nebulous energy, similar to clouds. “Pardon my guards for not transforming,” Kham says nonchalantly, and it surprises you somewhat to see how fluidly she can move as she gestures toward the other peris. It makes more noise than a hand of flesh might, roots shifting and rubbing against each other, and your eyes are glued on the way it moves with fascination. “Such magic is the sole domain of the Royal Family.” “I take no offense,” you say faintly, blinking as your eyes trail over Kham’s new body once more. Of all the bedtime stories your parents would tell you of beings such as the peris, none ever made mention of such an appearance created from the earth itself, and yet it makes sense. They are born from nature, after all. Kham notices your stare, wooden mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Are you impressed? You’re impressed, I can tell. But this modest body of mine is nothing compared to my siblings, or indeed, my mother. I am but a single flower blooming in a great forest!” “There’s nothing about you that’s anywhere near as delicate as a flower,” $aname mumbles, looking thoroughly annoyed as Kham continues to rattle on. “In any event, I did not mean to interrupt your ceremony,” Kham states, casting a pitying glance down toward the nobles still kneeling on the ground below her. “Poor things.” “Then what is the purpose of your visit?” $rname speaks, seeming equally exasperated as $aname, but nowhere near as irritable as $rthey was toward the nobles. Although, $rthey is glaring very pointedly at the holes Kham’s roots left in the floor. You think you see $rtheir jaw clench. “My mother wishes to know what kind of Crown has taken residence in Ashadūna’s palace,” Kham answers nonchalantly. “She has sent me to observe. I do hope you prove to be interesting, or it'll be a dull few weeks for all of us. Ah, but first!” You watch as Kham sweeps into a bow, giving you another glimpse at the frame of wooden wings at her back that somehow keeps her hovering in the air without any movement. “I am Princess Kham, the youngest daughter of Queen Nis who rules over all the peris in Anshan,” Kham introduces herself, straightening up from her bow. “Or what you humans call Kartan’s Forest, that is.” You consider your approach to the princess, thinking of what the best way to respond to her would be. This visit seems to be a diplomatic gesture of goodwill, though the princess has been very honest that it is also an assessment. You could focus on leaving a good impression, or use this opportunity to glean more information about your apparent neighbors. <ul> <li>[[Welcome her to the palace with sincerity.|4.21a][$kind to $kind + 25]]</li> <li>[[Subtly inquire about the queen’s intentions.|4.21b][$calc to $calc + 25]]</li> </ul>

Inclining your head in a <<if $blunt gt $charm>>stiff but proper<<else>>graceful<</if>> bow of your own, you meet her introduction with a smile. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Well met,” you state without wasting words, which seems to amuse Kham for some reason. “Be welcome in the palace.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” you say kindly, and it’s not a lie; meeting a peri is a pleasure, or maybe more like a wonder as you never thought you would encounter one, let alone royalty. “Be welcome in the palace.”<</if>> “Hmm.” Kham tilts her head slightly as she looks at you, and what sparse wooden facial features she possesses are difficult to read. “I will make certain to do so. But it seems you are a far more gracious a host than I am a guest! I should let you get on with your, ah, gathering.” Careful not to show too much relief on your face, you look for someone who can point Kham and her retinue to appropriate chambers, when you suddenly remember Master Keko being present. He all but faded from your awareness while you had been occupied with other things; a trait that is desirable in a servant, you suppose, though it makes you frown a little. You do not enjoy it when people become invisible to you, even if it is the proper thing to ignore them. Partly because it sets your teeth on edge, and partly because it seems inconsiderate to do so. But now is not the time to ponder such things. “Keko,” you call, and your servant rises to his feet immediately, bowing all the while. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms, if you please.”<<else>>“Can you show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms? With a view of the gardens, perhaps.”<</if>> Somehow, even while already bowing, Keko manages to incline his head further. “At once, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kham grins with a mouth empty of teeth. “I will see you at dinner then. Be sure to have a storyteller present, they are so amusing.” Without waiting for your response, she turns her back to you, peering down at Keko. “Princess Kham,” he speaks to her calmly but not unkindly. “If you would follow me?” Kham sighs deeply. “If I must!” She descends, her guards floating down with her, but her feet do not touch the ground. Instead she continues to hover right above it as she and her guards follow Keko, head raised delicately as if so much as touching the floor might tarnish her. Despite her bold manners, she is certainly a queen’s daughter. $rname clears $rtheir throat, drawing your attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, should we resume?” You suppress the urge to sigh. [[Continue|4.22]]

It is a skill you have honed in your travels out of necessity; asking questions in such a way that they seem innocuous, all the while hiding your true intentions as you glean the knowledge you were after all along. Inclining your head in a <<if $blunt gt $charm>>stiff but proper<<else>>graceful<</if>> bow of your own, you meet her introduction with a smile. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Well met,” you state without wasting words, which seems to amuse Kham for some reason. “How did the queen assess my predecessor? I'm wondering if I could meet her standards.”<<else>>“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” you say kindly. “Be welcome in the palace. I certainly hope I'll live up to the queen's expectations.”<</if>> "That might be a challenge indeed." Kham tilts her head slightly as she looks at you, and what sparse wooden facial features she possesses are difficult to read. "She did not much like the last Crown. My mother is not easily impressed, truthfully. Ah, but I believe I've interrupted for long enough; I should let you get on with your gathering." For one who appears to chat so much, the princess is being remarkably tight-lipped about her mother. Careful not to show too much disappointment on your face, you look for someone who can point Kham and her retinue to appropriate chambers, when you suddenly remember Master Keko being present. He all but faded from your awareness while you had been occupied with other things; a trait that is desirable in a servant, you suppose, though it makes you frown a little. You do not enjoy it when people become invisible to you, even if it is the proper thing to ignore them. Partly because it sets your teeth on edge, and partly because it seems inconsiderate to do so. But now is not the time to ponder such things. “Keko,” you call, and your servant rises to his feet immediately, bowing all the while. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms, if you please.”<<else>>“Can you show Her Highness and her companions to their guest rooms? With a view of the gardens, perhaps.”<</if>> Somehow, even while already bowing, Keko manages to incline his head further. “At once, Your Imperial Majesty.” Kham grins with a mouth empty of teeth. “I will see you at dinner then. Be sure to have a storyteller present, they are so amusing.” Without waiting for your response, she turns her back to you, peering down at Keko. “Princess Kham,” he speaks to her calmly but not unkindly. “If you would follow me?” Kham sighs deeply. “If I must!” She descends, her guards floating down with her, but her feet do not touch the ground. Instead she continues to hover right above it as she and her guards follow Keko, head raised delicately as if so much as touching the floor might tarnish her. Despite her bold manners, she is certainly a queen’s daughter. $rname clears $rtheir throat, drawing your attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, should we resume?” You suppress the urge to sigh. [[Continue|4.22]]

<<if $kind gt $calc>>[ @@.stattext;Kind@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Calculated@@ character trait has been locked in. ]<</if>> The rest of the introductions continue on as tediously as they went before, no other noble aside from the few you noticed earlier piquing your interest. Even so, you are acutely aware of the way they watch you, perhaps trying to become accustomed to the sight of you. Ten years is a long time to go without a ruler, and now they have one in the flesh, without any warning. It must almost be as jarring to them as it was to you. Lady Naza especially watches you with a hawk’s eye, but she appears disinclined to cause any further commotion. Her gaze is unwavering from you, far more interested in you than she is in her peers, though that is to be expected. It leaves you unable to truly relax. You are on edge for every second of the gathering, holding tension in your body that makes it difficult to remember not to grind your teeth or clench your jaw. Especially with the light shining down on you, making you painfully visible, it is a struggle to maintain a serene façade. Thankfully, you are not wholly by yourself. $aname remains by your side, standing on your right, just a step behind the throne but remaining within the field of your peripheral vision, as calm and collected as ever. Halfway down the steps $rname keeps a sharp eye on the proceedings, and though $rtheir displeasure rolls off $rthem in waves, $rthey directs the introductions with ease. $crthey must’ve seen Lady Zerya do the same a thousand times. On the ground, $xname seems unable to keep still. $cxthey is not purposefully drawing any attention to $xthemselves like $xthey did before, but $xthey has taken to wandering around aimlessly through the throne room, casting the occasional glance toward the nobles as they speak but seeming rather bored with the entire event otherwise. General $dname has remained, the Imperial Guards who have walked with $dthem joining the palace guards on either side of the throne room, keeping watch. The only reason you can tell the difference is because the Imperial Guards are dressed head to toe in armor, much like the general $dthemselves, while the palace guards wear those long colorful robes you noticed before, holding tall spears and shields. As for their general, $dthey stands imperiously at the front of the crowd. $cdthey hasn’t quite turned $dtheir back to you—$rname is the only one who has, and you wonder if that’s another thing to do with etiquette—so you can see the side of $dtheir face, settled barely milder than a glare as $dthey keeps watch. Once the last noble has spoken, a brief silence settles over the crowd before $rname speaks. [[Continue|4.23]]

“Now that our Crown has become acquainted with you,” $rname says, generously, because you barely recall the names of even half the people in the room, “what is the purpose of this visit? Steward Welat, I trust you have a satisfactory answer for $ctheir Imperial Majesty? Keep it short.” “Indeed.” The steward glances at $rname, before shifting $rtheir heavy gaze onto you. “I would say it is only natural for servants to know their master, but that lacks the urgency that would justify our presence at a no doubt critical time for Your Imperial Majesty. My true answer, in fact, relates to your guests.” Your brow creases slightly. “The peris? In what way?” “There have been territorial disputes between peris and humans for centuries,” Welat explains. “Even so, historically, there have always been peris at the Imperial Court as ambassadors of their people. Lately, the tensions have been getting worse.” “Welat,” $rname speaks slowly, a warning tone to $rtheir voice. “This is not the time to be pleading your case.” The steward bows his head in acknowledgement. “If it is Your Imperial Majesty’s intention to remain in Marabad, I would urge you to address the conflict sooner rather than later, that is all. The way things are now, Princess Kham’s safety may be at risk.” Lady Naza’s scoff is clearly audible, but as she keeps her head angled down in a bow when not being spoken to, you decide to ignore it. More importantly, this conflict with the peris sounds serious, especially if the princess is at risk. “What do you mean?” “In my capacity as steward, I have had many interactions with the peris in Anshan in order to broker peace,” Welat explains cautiously. “The reactions from citizens have been… less than understanding.” Could that be what has drawn the ire of the people of Marabad? You look over at $rname, who frowns but does not contradict Welat’s statement. Thinking on the matter, you decide that to give this any more attention than you already have when you know next to nothing about the conflict would make you appear rash at best, clueless at worst. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Steward Welat.”<<else>>“Your concern has been noted.”<</if>> [[Continue|4.24]]

$rname’s shoulders ease into what seems like relief. “If that was all—” A mistake, as it turns out. Steward Welat takes the offered finger and claims the hand without hesitation. From the lack of shock on the part of the other nobles surrounding him—Lady Naza’s disdain almost palpable—you assume this was planned in some form. The steward appears to be speaking to their interests, as their representative. “There was something else,” he speaks before $rname can even finish $rtheir sentence. “I’m under no illusion that the Crown will have any time to spare for our concerns after this meeting.” He turns his gaze to you. “Forgive my insolence, Your Imperial Majesty, but it is quite clear to us all that you will need an adjustment period. However, these matters cannot afford to wait.” The statement tenses you even further than you thought possible, the bones in your knuckles straining beneath your skin as your hands involuntarily clench around the armrests of your throne. You thought you were doing a good enough job of it, if not passable, but from the steward’s words you’re not so certain anymore. His tone is not unkind, but it is bordering on pity, and you can’t tell whether disapproval would’ve been worse or better. Welat lets his assessment linger as if to have it sink in, and this time, there is shock from the nobles surrounding him. Uncomfortable shuffling, with some of them almost fidgeting, but none of them rise to contradict him. You don’t know what you should say in response, whether to scold him for a seemingly mild remark or whether to remain unaffected, leaving you paralyzed while the steward continues. “We need assurance from you, Your Imperial Majesty,” he states in no uncertain terms. “After a decade we have become accustomed to the absence of a ruler, but with you here on the throne—as it should be—we need to know your intentions, and we need the certainty that you will act only in the best interest of the Empire.” It doesn’t sound unreasonable, but it puts you on the spot, because these are questions you haven’t even begun to truly consider. What will you do with your newfound power? You don’t know, you don't have an answer for the steward. All this time you’ve been so focused on surviving and adjusting that you have no idea what you ought to do beyond that. A sudden, but now familiar, drop in temperature heralds $rname’s building anger as $rthey struggles to keep $rtheir temper in check. $xname looks on dispassionately, eyeing the steward, while General $dname’s gaze is on you, watching silently for what you will do. From beside you, $aname steps forward. [[Continue|4.25]]

Several of the nobles glance toward $aname, silently looming from beside your throne. You notice Lady Naza even incline her head. Steward Welat addresses $athem with deference as well. “Royal Protector, is something the matter?” Deference that is not returned. “You lot are an eyesore,” $aname replies dismissively. “Get lost.” You stare at the blatant offense, but none of the nobles or the steward seem taken aback or even truly insulted by $atheir tone. If anything, mild annoyance is the most you see reflected on the nobles’ faces. The status of Royal Protector must be even greater than you first assumed. Even $rname isn’t scolding $aname for it, merely sighing with a note of exasperation as the cold in the room begins to even out again. “We came here for a reason, Royal Protector.” The steward’s tone is patient, even as his thin brows furrow. “We—” “I truly could not care less.” $aname makes a shooing motion with $atheir hand. “You’ve monopolized $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s attention for too long already.” “However—” $aname’s expression hardens, gaze sharp enough to cut. “Entire provinces have fallen into ruin and you expect the Crown to waste time indulging you? Leave and take the rest of these court jesters with you. I won’t tell you twice.” $cathey exudes an authority that comes as naturally to $athem as breathing. You can almost feel the command in $atheir voice, one neither of the nobles nor their steward seem able to ignore. Even Lady Naza, who you assumed would be irritated at being ordered around, is smiling approvingly. She glances toward you. “Is that an order from the Crown?” While perhaps not a graceful one, it is the only escape you have. “Yes,” you reply, <<if $pass gt $ass>>relieved that $aname has taken the pressure off of you<<else>>though you are conflicted about $aname speaking for you. You didn’t give $athem much of a choice, though; $athey saved you from embarrassing yourself.<</if>> Steward Welat bows his head deeply, the nobles following suit. “As you command.” The steward and the nobles get to their feet, turning to leave in orderly lines. You cast a glance at the rows of cushions left behind on the ground; you hadn't noticed them before, covered in all the fabrics of robes and dresses while the nobles were seated, though it makes sense they'd rather not kneel on cold marble. Lady Naza lingers behind the others for a moment. She casts you a last, indiscernible look, before she too turns around and follows the others toward the gates. It isn’t until the last of them have disappeared into the corridors beyond that you exhale in relief, thankful the ordeal is finally over with it. [[Continue|4.26]]

“That took much too long,” $xname bemoans, remaining below the platform together with General $dname whose steady composure cracks into a furious scowl now that your audience has left. Behind them several servants seem to almost appear from the shadows, picking up the cushions from the floor and carrying them off. Both General $dname and $xname ignore them, which is what you're supposed to do, though you can't help but be fascinated by how quickly and quietly the servants move around. <<if $calc gt $kind>>It occurs to you that they'd make for good spies.<<else>>You wonder if anyone ever bothers to thank them for that.<</if>> From below you, $rname climbs up the steps until $rthey stands before your throne, head bowed to obscure most of $rtheir face, but it’s obvious from the draw of $rtheir shoulders that $rthey's ashamed. “Please forgive me, $rnickname,” $rname speaks regretfully, the glow of sunlight shining off the elegant silver chains draped along $rtheir hair. “I had hoped we would have the morning to prepare you for something like this, but I underestimated the steward. He managed to rally the noble houses; I had to let them inside or risk offending the entire upper class of Marabad.” “Their entitlement has gone too far,” General $dname spits while $rname rights themselves again. “We finally have a Crown again after ten years, and this is how they greet $them? Storming the palace and making demands like they own the place?” "You clearly don't know Rojan's nobility," $xname says with a snort, reaching out to pat $dthem mockingly on the back, hand swatted away by General $dname before there is any contact. “Don’t look so upset, general. Your scheme was a good one; if nothing else, $name has drawn Lady Naza’s attention.” “Scheme?” you question, glancing between the two before your gaze lingers on General $dname, who seems to flush under your attention. “It’s not—" “$cdthey's the one who asked me to act up,” $xname confesses with far too much enjoyment on $xtheir face, pointing with $xtheir thumb to General $dname standing beside $xthem, glaring a hole into the side of $xtheir head. “What?” You stare down at your general, flabbergasted. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why in the void would you do that?”<<else>>“What on earth made you think that was a good idea?”<</if>> “To leave an impression on the nobility,” $aname clarifies, shooting General $dname an annoyed look when $dtheir expression turns to one harboring guilt. “Don’t do that. If you’re going to manipulate people for their own benefit, at least have the decency not to look like a kicked puppy afterwards.” “It had to be done,” General $dname states, seeming to rally $dthemselves before looking up at you. “I regret that it caused you so much undue stress, but it was a necessity. The nobles in Rojan are different from those in other provinces; they react best to an act of authority, and respect those with a warrior's reputation. Seeing someone of $xname's stature yield to you was the best way to assure them of your suitability, if not impress them.” “What if I had embarrassed myself?” you ask, frowning. General $dname gives you a measured look, calm and self-assured as $dthey states, "I gambled that you would not. It was a calculated risk; $xname would have helped you along had $xthey sensed any hesitation on your part." You almost forgot about $xname's sensory abilities, or the extent of them. $cxthey would've been in the ideal position to notice if you faltered. You're taken aback by how much General $dname has thought this through, though you shouldn't be; clearly $dthey's the general for a reason. <<if $dpoints gt 4>> Hopefully, you'll have more opportunities to get to know $dthem better in the near future. You can't help but feel intrigued by $dthem, though part of you thinks that intrigue might also be unwise. Still, not as unwise as the way you blankly stared at Welat earlier, unable to come up with a proper response.<<else>> Now, if only you could be as competent a Crown as $dname is a general.<</if>> “Even if your plan worked out, I still nearly embarrassed myself,” you insist. “If $aname had not spoken for me, I wouldn’t have known what to say.” “You merely need time to adjust,” $rname interjects hastily, trying to reassure you, but having the exact adverse effect as you remember Welat’s words. Clear to all, he said. Your inexperience, incompetence, your not belonging—it was all obvious to him, and to the other nobles present. “Was I that bad?” you ask uncertainly<<if $ass gt $pass>>, and you hate how insecure you sound<</if>>. “No!” $rname exclaims, seeming bewildered that you even arrived at such a conclusion. “You did incredibly well! Far better than I could’ve expected, or asked for!” “There is nothing for you to be ashamed of,” General $dname agrees quickly. “You rose to the challenge admirably, considering you've never done anything like this before." $xname openly rolls $xtheir eyes at the hasty praise, but adds, “You held your own. Lady Naza would not have tested you if you hadn’t.” “That was a test?” you say faintly. “Did I pass?” “Probably.” $xname shrugs. “I suspect it wasn't so much a test for you as it was for those around you. She’s difficult to read, even for me, but she was pleased. In spite of the $rtitle Sorcerer's little tantrum." $rname's lips press into a tense line, but rather than retort $rthey averts $rtheir gaze with embarrassment. For a moment, $rthey looks young, younger than your impression of $rthem in your head. Not as flustered as a child would be, but it speaks to $rtheir inexperience. A sheltered adolescent who hasn't truly been tested until now. "Don't tease $rthem, $xname," $aname scolds, tone dispassionate but eyes warning, and $xname holds up $xtheir hands peacably with a small but amused quirk of $xtheir lips. You glance over at $aname, who has remained silent while the others reassured you earlier, only speaking to rein in $xname. When $athey meets your gaze, $atheir approval is visible from the look in $atheir eyes. “Welat is crafty,” $athey offers. “He knows how to get under people’s skin. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” You nod and look away, feeling less pressured than you did before. What disturbs you most is how easily Welat prodded at your weakness without even truly knowing you. [[Continue|4.27]]

"Speaking of getting under people’s skin," General $dname says, giving $aname a pointed look. "The prisoners are awake." Prisoners. The spies from yesterday? One of them tried to kill you and came uncomfortably close. You'd forgotten all about them, and now the recollections of it seem all too eager to return to you. The one who made an attempt on your life was called Nima. You don't know why the memory suddenly comes to you, of General $dname kneeling beside their unconscious body and breathing out their name with a flicker of hurt in $dtheir eyes, but you linger on it even as it makes you feel troubled. It seems silly to think of now, but it simply hadn't occurred to you before. That the people who killed your parents, Nazire and Harun, have names of their own. "Ah." $aname turns to you, snapping you out of your torrent of thoughts. "I am in charge of interrogation, such as it is; I doubt I'll discover anything new. I trust you do not require me here? It won’t take long.” You recall the way $athey read the assassin’s memories yesterday in what seemed like an instant, and you believe $athem when $athey say it won’t take much time. “Go ahead.” $aname descends the stairs with your permission, joining General $dname on the ground floor. The latter bows formally to you before taking $dtheir leave in quick and purposeful strides, while the former gives you a lazy wave as $athey trails after General $dname, seeming completely unhurried in comparison. “Well,” $xname speaks once they’ve left. “This has been amusing, but I’ve been cooped up in this palace for far too long. I think it’s time I head back into the city.” You give $xthem a curious look. “How long have you been here?” “About an hour?” $xname considers, and you arch your brows. “What? This whole place is filled with uptight guards and stuffy servants, not to mention government officials.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“That must’ve been a true torment,” you reply wryly. “Not the dreaded government officials.”<<else>>“Government officials,” you repeat dryly. “Really, $xname?”<</if>> “Mock me all you want, but you’ll change your tune once you actually have to hold a conversation with one of them!” “$cxthey exaggerates,” $rname reassures you, perhaps somewhat unnecessarily; you get the feeling $xname tends to be the type to get bored easily. “Will you be back?” you ask $xname, <<if $xpoints gt 4>>perhaps a little bit too eagerly though $xname doesn't seem to notice, appearing to think about the question<<else>>who looks thoughtful at the question<</if>>. “Probably not today,” $xthey responds at length. “If you’d like, you can come visit me in the city. I’ll be in the Red Lantern." That's an unfamiliar name. "The what?" "The teahouse with the red lanterns in front?" $xname describes. "Almost right across the eastern gate of the palace.” Ah, that place. You hadn’t paid attention to the teahouse nor its name when you ducked inside it a few days ago; it is where you first met the storyteller. “I know where it is, I’ll come find you.” “Is that alright, what with your eyes and all?” $xname points out<<if $xpoints gt 4>>, though $xthey does seem pleased if the broad smile on $xtheir face is any indication<</if>>. You glance at $rname, who nods. “We can glamour them. In fact, I called someone in particular to the palace in order to discuss that with you.” “I suppose it's time to make myself scarce,” $xname notes at the change in conversation. “I'll see you in the city, $name! Try not to freeze $them to death until then, will you, $rtitle Sorcerer?” “Would it kill you to use $their title?” $rname calls after $xname, though $xname has already turned $xtheir back and is sauntering out the throne room, whistling a loosely formed tune that echoes faintly against the walls. “It’s alright, $rname,” you assure $rthem. “<<if $xpoints gt 4>>I prefer $xname use my name<<else>>I don’t mind it<</if>>, at least in private.” <<if $rpoints gt 4>>$rname’s brows furrow slightly as $rthey glances at you, not at all seeming pleased by that, but remains silent as $rthey watches $xname’s retreating back.<<else>>$rname glances at you with something like curiosity, but makes no further remark on it as $rthey turns back to watch $xname depart.<</if>> Just as $xname leaves through the gates, another arrives. You have to squint through the bright ring of light surrounding you, making it difficult to see very far in the dark, but as the figure approaches you quickly realize is Keko. He must have returned from escorting the peris earlier. “Ah, Keko,” $rname greets him expectantly as Keko hurries toward the throne, and you wonder how much the man must walk day in and day out in a palace so big. “I take it Perjin has arrived?” You perk up at the mention of the familiar name. “Perjin?” you ask, thinking it must be the very same Perjin who you visited two days ago for your glamour. You remember the scent of incense in her shop, and the playful glimmer in the black of her eyes. “I think I’ve met her before.” $rname looks at you in surprise. “You have?” “I’ll tell you about it later.” You look questioningly between $rthem and Keko. “Where is she?” “Waiting for your summons in a sitting room, Your Imperial Majesty,” Keko answers. “Would you like me to fetch her?” “No need, I’ll go see her myself.” She still owes you a glamour, after all, and you intend to collect. [[Continue|4.28]]

$rname accompanies you, though $rthey insists you take the corridor along the back of the throne room, the route $aname used to escort you before. You’re not sure you understand $rtheir explanation when $rthey tells you a Crown should never be seen descending the stairs of their throne, or why that should be a bad thing, but you get the idea that it’s another one of those rules of decorum with some sort of symbolism attached to it. It makes your every movement feel heavy with meaning even when it’s not intended to be, but you cannot decide what others perceive. You can only adjust yourself to it accordingly, to try and control it as much as possible. “This will get easier,” $rname promises you, walking by your side as Keko leads the way down the stairs to the floor below. He turns and you continue along the path of the corridor that heads into a part of the palace you haven’t been before. “All you need is more practice.” “I wonder what I’ve done to deserve such faith,” you murmur, holding back a wince as you remember staring down wordlessly at Steward Welat, floundering for a response. “Don’t think of it as deserving,” $rname replies, glancing at you from the corner of $rtheir eyes. “I choose to put my faith in you because I know you will need it. I want my country to prosper, and for that, I need my Crown to succeed.” “No matter who it is?” $rname turns $rtheir head toward you now as you walk to look at you properly, seeming concerned. “What is troubling you, $rnickname?” “You barely know me.” You hesitate briefly, before at last giving words to your fear. “What if I’m not who you thought I’d be? What if I fall short of all your expectations?” $rname appears surprised, as if $rthey didn't expect that response, but then $rthey smiles. At first you worry $rthey might be pitying you, but there’s something about the look in $rtheir eyes that seems different. Something of recognition. “We have arrived,” Keko says, interrupting your conversation as he comes to a halt near the open doorway of a sitting room, one that looks very similar to the one you spent some time in yesterday. When you and $rname peer inside, however, there’s no one there. Keko sighs. “Mistress Perjin must have wandered off to the gardens, she was rather eager for a tour. I shall fetch her with your leave, Your Imperial Majesty.” “Of course.” You and $rname watch Keko hurry off, before $rname turns to you and gestures toward the sitting area. “After you.” [[Continue|4.29]]

Neither of you settle down onto the pillows; you wander toward the windows that offer a view on the other side of the gardens, looking much the same as they did from the view in your room. It's like a mirror image. $rname joins you, standing by your side before $rthey picks up where you left off as you wait for Perjin to arrive. “Do you remember what I said to you, back at the outpost?” $rthey reminds you, and while you remember the conversation, you’re not sure what its relevance is until $rthey clarifies it for you. “The first thing I wanted to do was to get to know you better. Why would I bother doing that if I already knew who you were or had expectations for you?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>You stare at $rthem, realizing $rthey’s right, and $rthey chuckles at the expression on your face.<<else>>“That… is a good point,” you admit, feeling silly that you hadn’t thought of it that way while $rthey chuckles at the expression on your face.<</if>> “If you’re afraid of disappointing me, don’t be.” $rname’s gaze on you is understanding, $rtheir voice reassuring, and you’re beginning to feel embarrassed at how much you’ve been overthinking this when $rtheir acceptance was so easily given. “How could I not be?” you reply, your eyes drawn toward the gardens where you can see a few nobles milling about on the stone paths, walking along the lake while they chat. No doubt about their new Crown. “$crnickname.” $rname pulls your attention back to $rthem, $rtheir smile replaced by a rather serious look on $rtheir face, though it is not a harsh one. “You were chosen by the Spirits, in the truest sense of the term. You are the only one alive who will ever have that certainty. Everyone else—the nobles, the magi, the Mîrs—may claim the same, but it will always ring hollow in comparison. You must do what you feel is right, no matter what anyone else may think.” “Even you?” you question, eyeing $rname with doubt. “If I were to make a decision that you would never agree with, would you truly let that stand?” $rname pulls back a little, giving you a long look, and for an instant you can’t tell what $rthey’s thinking. A flicker of a thin veil pulled over $rtheir expression, briefly there and gone again as it is replaced by another gentle smile. “That depends on whether you’d be willing to listen to my counsel, doesn’t it?” $rthey replies diplomatically, and while you realize $rthey has purposefully avoided answering, you can’t blame $rthem for it. In fact, it would’ve worried you more if $rthey did pledge blind obedience to your every whim. $crthey considered you carefully before answering; after all the talk you’ve heard about being chosen, about your title and your duty, it is nice to be reminded that you aren’t just a symbol, but a person. You don’t know when Perjin will get here, but if you wanted, you could take advantage of the opportunity and do as $rname suggested: listen to $rtheir counsel. Perhaps $rthey could put some of your worries to rest. <ul> <li><<if $rpoints gt 2>><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Confide in him.|4.30a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Confide in her.|4.30a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $rname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li>[[Change the subject and make conversation.|4.33a]]</li> </ul>

<<set $confideinr to true>>There’s something about $rname that makes you want to trust $rthem. It’s a strange familiarity that puts you at ease, and as you think back, you think you know what it might be when you remember the way $rtheir eyes flashed with shame and $rthey seemed to shrink in on $rthemselves. You’re so similar, in that respect. $rname seems so much more put together only because $rthey was raised into this role, but at the same time, $rthey is just as new to this as you are. Could $rthey relate to your doubts, your insecurities about what you are, and what you’re supposed to be? Golden eyes are definitive proof. A mark bestowed upon you by divine hands, one that cannot be imitated and one that your mother called a curse. Perhaps your reluctance is foolish, bordering on arrogant, but you can’t help thinking there must’ve been a mistake. The Empire is in crisis and you, who know next to nothing about governing, whose education extended to survival and little else, are supposed to put it back together. It seems an impossible task; with every new thing you learn you feel the weight of your ignorance threatening to drag you down. You cannot hold Lady Naza’s words against her, because if you are honest with yourself, you know that she's right. “Do you really think I’m chosen?” you ask before you can think better of it, seeming to take $rname by surprise. “That I’m meant to be the Crown?” The flustered look on $rname’s face flickers and, after a moment, gives way to a quiet smile, $rtheir gaze nostalgic as $rthey peers out over the gardens. “I used to ask Lady Zerya that all the time.” $crtheir soft tone is wistful, though $rtheir words pique your interest more. “You did?” “Of course.” $rname places a hand onto the cool stone of the windowsill, <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>> bigger than yours but also softer, with long and delicate fingers. You wonder how they would feel curled around your own.<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>similar in size to your own, though $rtheir skin seems softer, $rtheir fingers more delicate. You wonder how they would fit in between your own.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>>smaller and softer than yours, with long and delicate fingers. You wonder how it would feel to hold them in your own.<</if>> “I was little more than a street-performing orphan when she found me, you’ll recall." “You were unique,” you guess. “Perhaps,” $rname replies absently. “Lady Zerya never managed to give me a satisfactory answer, no matter how many times I asked. She said she saw me and simply knew it had to be me.” “Clearly she saw something special in you.” $crthey looks at you for a long moment, seeming to be thinking on something, before $rthey finally asks: “Do you believe in destiny?” <ul> <li>[[You do.|4.31a]]</li> <li>[[You don’t.|4.31b]]</li> <li>[[You don’t know.|4.31c]]</li> </ul>

“Speaking of counsel,” you say, eager to change the topic to something safer. “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>How do you think I handled Princess Kham<<else>>What are your thoughts on how I received Princess Kham<</if>>?” $rname frowns slightly, silent in contemplation as $rtheir eyes wander the scenery of the garden and you wait <<if $adven gt $caut>>eagerly<<else>>with a healthy amount of anxiety<</if>> for $rtheir answer. “She was certainly intrigued by you,” $rname considers. “Although I suspect it was due to your title as the Crown rather than anything you said. Her mother, Queen Nis, has always been an ally to the Empire as we have been to her. The peris in Anshan are known to be much friendlier toward humans compared to the peris in other provinces.” The many stories of a forest ruled by a benevolent peri queen come to mind. Their home is supposedly veiled with magic, and you’ve never ventured into Kartan’s Forest—or Anshan, rather—deep enough to encounter a peri. The most you’ve seen is the occasional plant or flower with magical properties, mostly good for trading for food or a bit of silver. “Is it true what Steward Welat said?” you ask. “About tensions between peris and humans?” $rname sighs wearily. “He wasn’t lying, unfortunately. Without a Crown the Imperial House has been unable to maintain diplomatic relations with the peris; the queen and her family have not been willing to speak with anyone of lower rank. As such, the steward himself has taken it upon himself to try and mediate between individual peris and humans whenever conflicts arise, but his success has been… limited.” “What about you?” you question. “Couldn’t you have gone to see the queen?” “Without a Crown, I have no power, remember?” $rname points out. “When I said that, I meant that very literally. The peris have refused to speak to anyone that is not the Crown themselves.” “That’s strange,” you remark, thinking back to your encounter with Princess Kham. “$aname told me members from the royal family like to be treated as equals.” $rname parts $rtheir lips to reply, when someone else interrupts. “Only by others who are of equal standing.” It’s a voice you’ve heard before, within a room filled with the scent of incense. “Otherwise you may as well not exist.” When you turn around, as expected, you find Perjin smiling in the doorway. [[Continue|4.34]]

<<if $charm gt $blunt>>“It would be strange if I didn’t believe in it,”<<else>>"Yes,"<</if>> you reply to $rname’s question. “Isn’t becoming the Crown my destiny?” You have to believe that it is, because you don’t want to think about what it might mean if it isn’t. The throne isn’t something you’ve aspired to, but claiming it was the only purpose you had left after your parents were killed. If the throne isn't meant for you, then what is? What would you have left? “You don’t sound certain,” $rname remarks, watching you attentively. “Not completely,” you admit as you look away from $rthem. “I can’t say that I know it to exist, no one could. But I believe it does.” “That’s exactly my point.” $rname smiles at you. “Does it matter? Whether by destiny or not, the truth of it has little relevance. You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a doubtful look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence borne out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul>

<<if $blunt gt $charm>>"No,"<<else>>"It might not make much sense considering who I am, but no, I don't,"<</if>> you answer, not having to think long on the matter as it's one you've considered before. Usually out of frustration. Whether your eyes were a mark of destiny or not, you refuse to believe yourself powerless. You were the one who survived on $their own after $their parents were killed, and you were the one who found a way to $rname despite having assassins on $their heels. Destiny doesn't get to take that away from you; not your suffering, and not your strength. "I can understand why," $rname says, $rtheir smile of sympathy not something you expected. "I'm not very fond of the idea myself." "You're not?" You give $rthem a quizzical look. "Ultimately, I think it has little relevance in the grand scheme of things," $rname elaborates. "You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true. Whether destiny exists or not is beside the point.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a surprised look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits, as they say?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence borne out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul>

You think on the question for a while, but you can't seem to arrive at a conclusion either way. Arguing for or against destiny strikes you as an exercise in futility, any reasoning and arguments you can think of trapped in circular logic. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"I'm not entirely sure,"<<else>>"I don't know,"<</if>> you confess, earning you a curious look from $rname. "Have you never considered it before?" You shake your head. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>"It hasn't been on the forefront of my mind, no."<<else>>"No, not once. There were more important things to consider."<</if>> Survival always came first. By the end of the day you would be too tired to engage in philosophical debates with your parents, who tended to be even more exhausted than you. After they were killed, it seemed pointless to think about why it happened. All that mattered was that it did, and you had to find a way to keep on breathing. "I can't fault you for that." $rname smiles at you. “It's hardly a question worth pondering, in my view. Whether by destiny or not, the truth of it has little relevance. You saw the way the nobles bowed at your feet; they chose you, as will the rest of Arsur once they see your coronation. They’ll believe it, and that belief will make it true.” It’s not a perspective you anticipated—one many a priest, including your father, would be scandalized to hear—and you give $rthem a doubtful look. “It’s that simple? What about the divine will of the Spirits?” $rname turns back to staring out the window, seeming unconcerned. “If they are displeased with your appointment, they are free to file a formal complaint.” The response is so unexpected that you cannot help but laugh, and the corners of $rname’s lips quirk up in amusement. $crthey appears pleased by your reaction, though $rtheir expression smooths again into a more serious one as $rthey turns $rtheir body to face you properly. Your laugh fades away once you notice the change. “$name,” $rthey says<<if $rpoints gt 4>> softly<</if>>, meeting your eyes with an earnest look. “Do you know what purpose a Crown’s Sorcerer serves?” The question seems a simple one. <<if $intu gte $intel>>You get the impression that the meaning behind it has something to do with that need $rname has to reassure you, all but written across $rtheir face. It is a kind gesture, though you’re not completely clear on where $rthey’s going with this. “From what I’ve heard,” you say thoughtfully, thinking back to all the stories of Crowns and Sorcerers of old your mother used to regale you with, “the Sorcerer is known for being closest to the Crown. They're the most important advisor to the Crown, if not their personal confidante.”<<else>> While your general knowledge of the world may be lacking, even you know of the Crown's Sorcerer. The exact nature or the origin of their role may elude you, you do have bits and pieces of facts that give you an idea of what to expect. "The Sorcerer can serve many purposes," you recount, trying to remember what you can from your mother's bedtime stories about Crowns and Sorcerers of old. "At times a mediator, sometimes a messenger, other times an expert on everything relating to magic... there's flexibility in the role, depending on what the Crown requires, but I believe they are most known for serving as advisors more than anything else."<</if>> $rname nods approvingly. “They tend to be, yes. It is a natural consequence born out of the nature of their position, as the Sorcerer serves the Crown alone. They’re similar to the Royal Protector in that regard, and much like $aname, before you found me I had no power of my own. Do you understand?” There’s a slight wrinkle between $rtheir finely shaped brows as you look at $rthem. The sun, yet remaining on the other side of the palace, leaves the room covered in shadow; $rname’s striking gray eyes would’ve been dark were it not for the light of your own. You see the gold reflected in the silver of $rtheir irises. Though it must be bright for $rthem to look at, $rthey doesn’t shrink away from it. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Instead, $rthey looks at you—gaze trailing over your face as $rthey waits for an answer—and soaks up the light as if $rthey has been in the dark for years.<</if>> <ul> <li><<if $ass gt $pass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You find yourself flustered as you wonder what that stare could possibly mean. “Yes, I... think I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $res gt $flirt>>[[You look away, cheeks heating as you manage a small nod; your whole head feels like it's on fire.|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $ass gt $pass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile, finding yourself drawn in by those lovely gray eyes. “Yes, I understand.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>><<if $pass gt $ass and $flirt gt $res>>[[You smile with delight as your cheeks warm, your stare openly admiring in return. “I do.”|4.32a][$rpoints to $rpoints + 1]]<</if>></li> <li>[[You appreciate the sentiment, in a friendly way.|4.32b]]</li> </ul>

<<if $res gt $flirt>>$rname doesn't appear to notice the effect $rtheir words have on you, <<if $ass gt $pass>>and you curse yourself for it because you know $rthey did not mean anything by it beyond wanting to reassure you.<<else>>which you are incredibly thankful for because you're not sure what you would do if $rname ever genuinely came onto you. Probably explode, or something.<</if>> It's so difficult, having been alone for so long. A single year passing by like a century, time crawling along at an agonizing pace as you dragged your feet across the vast plains of the north, up jagged mountains and down steep hills. Not a soul to accompany you, no one to look out for you. Going from an almost constant solitude to being surrounded by people who want to help you is nothing less than surreal.<<else>>$rname looks back into your eyes and appears almost like $rthey's caught in a trance for a moment, mesmerized by whatever $rthey sees. <<if $ass gt $pass>>When your smile curls a little in a way that isn't merely friendly, $rname glances down at your lips and you have the pleasure of watching $rthem realize what's happening.<<else>>You don't notice the way you're smiling until $rname glances down at your lips. A pleasant rush ripples through you, tempting you to lean forward, but $rname's flustered expression keeps you in check.<</if>> In the shadows you can't quite make out whether there is a blush to $rtheir cheeks or not, but the way $rthey turns $rtheir head to the side to hide behind a curtain of $rtheir hair would indicate as much. "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask gently, pulling back a little to give $rthem some space. You did not intend to scare $rthem off or make $rthem uncomfortable; you may have underestimated the effect you have on $rthem. $rname clears $rtheir throat. "Ah, yes. Forgive me, I was- distracted. I meant to simply say that as your Sorcerer, I will do everything in my power to support you, but..." You raise your brows slightly when $rthey trails off. "But?"<</if>> "I know I cannot compare to Lady Zerya," $rname says, $rtheir shoulders drawing together a little in a self-conscious way. The air around you suddenly starts to feel cooler, almost cold again, though not as icy as it did in the throne room. "Her manners were always flawless, her composure impeccable. She would've never lost her temper in front of dozens of nobles, yet even so..." <<if $res gt $flirt>> You hesitate for a moment, but at $rname's despondent tone, you reach out and touch on $rtheir elbow. It is fleeting and light, safe enough for you to dare, but it draws $rname's attention as $rthey peers at you uncertainly through $rtheir lashes.<</if>> "It's alright, $rname," you tell $rthem comfortingly<<if $flirt gt $res>>, deciding to maintain your distance so that you won't fluster $rthem again<</if>>. "You were defending me. That is nothing to be ashamed of." "I tried to defend you, but all I accomplished was to betray my own inexperience to the nobility," $rname responds, frowning deeply. "Everyone makes mistakes." You smile, recognizing so much of your own fears in $rthem. "You don't expect me to do everything perfectly, do you?" The tension in $rname's shoulders eases a little as $rthey sighs. "You are right. It's only, after so many years... I suppose I cracked under the pressure." Everyone will be watching you once you declare yourself as the Crown publicly, even more so than a regular Crown and Sorcerer. Both of you are untried and untested, the ones supposed to mentor you dead and gone. It would be a daunting task for anyone. "$rname." You wait patiently until $rthey meets your gaze again. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"We will figure this out."<<else>>"With the two of us, I'm sure we will be able to figure things out. One step at a time, if need be."<</if>> You count it as a victory when $rname's lips lift slightly, almost into a smile. "Together?" "It's the reason why the Crown has a Sorcerer, isn't it?" "Yes." $rname nods to $rthemselves, seeming a little more cheered by your encouragement. The air warms around you once more. "You're right. Thank you. I know I should not let my mistakes get to me, but it's hard to remember when..." "When you're alone?" $rname stares at you, lips parted slightly from the words you quietly stole, flustered in $rtheir silence. $crthey presses them shut again, averting $rtheir gaze downwards, and you almost wince at the sight. You've felt it too many times not to know what loneliness looks like. <<if $res gt $flirt>><<if $ass gt $pass>>Before you can think better of it, you grab the edge of $rtheir sleeve in your fingers. $crthey doesn't look at you, but $rtheir eyes are focused on your hand. <</if>>"I know you're supposed to serve me," you say, choosing your words carefully because the last thing you want is to scare $rthem off. "<<if $charm gt $blunt>>But I want to be there for you, too, as a friend you can lean on. Would that be alright?"<<else>>But I don't want a servant. I want you to be my friend. Is that alright?"<</if>><<else>><<if $ass gt $pass>>"$rname, look at me." After a heartbeat, $rname does, $rtheir gaze shy. <</if>>"<<if $blunt gt $charm>>I don't know if it's proper or not, and frankly, I don't care. I want you to be my friend, not a servant. Is that alright<<else>>I know this might not be strictly proper to ask, but even so, I would like for the two of us to be friends. Would that be alright<</if>>?"<</if>> You've never had a friend you haven't had to say goodbye to. Eventually it became easier for you to distance yourself more, then to care less, and then to not bother making friends at all anymore rather than go through the pain of inevitably parting from them. It's a little terrifying and thrilling at the same time, knowing that it's different now. That this offer of friendship you're extending to $rname will be as permanent as you can imagine. $rname's expression is disbelieving as $rthey looks at you<<if $res gt $flirt>>, and for one heart-pounding moment you wonder, perhaps somewhat irrationally, if you've crossed some invisible boundary and ruined things between you forever.<<else>> while you wait with eager anticipation, though you cannot smother that small voice in your head that wonders if you were too forward, too much for $rthem.<</if>> But then $rname smiles, a smile that turns into laughter, so airy and light that it has you smiling too as you watch $rthem, feeling incredibly silly for how happy it makes you. "Of course <<if $blunt gt $charm>>that's<<else>>that would be<</if>> alright!" $rname exclaims, eyes shining with mirth and fondness as $rthey looks at you, and then $rtheir voice softens. "I'd be honored to be your friend, $name." Your heart flutters as relief floods through you, and you can't stop yourself from grinning back at $rthem. [[Continue|4.33b]]

Being reassured by another is a sensation that has almost become foreign to you. For the longest time you only had your parents as the only constants in your life; <<if $caut gt $adven>>the few friends you did make<<else>>all the friends that you made<</if>> you always had to say goodbye to. That will be different from now on. You'll be surrounded by people, some of which will stay by your side for the rest of your reign, like $rname. "I know I cannot compare to Lady Zerya," $rname says then, $rtheir shoulders drawing together a little in a self-conscious way. The air around you suddenly starts to feel cooler, almost cold again, though not as icy as it did in the throne room. "Her manners were always flawless, her composure impeccable. She would've never lost her temper in front of dozens of nobles, yet even so..." "It's alright, $rname," you tell $rthem comfortingly. "You were defending me. That is nothing to be ashamed of." "I tried to defend you, but all I accomplished was to betray my own inexperience to the nobility," $rname responds, frowning deeply. "Everyone makes mistakes." You smile, recognizing so much of your own fears in $rthem. "You don't expect me to do everything perfectly, do you?" The tension in $rname's shoulders eases a little as $rthey sighs. "You are right. It's only, after so many years... I suppose I cracked under the pressure." Everyone will be watching you once you declare yourself as the Crown publicly, even more so than a regular Crown and Sorcerer. Both of you are untried and untested, the ones supposed to mentor you dead and gone. It would be a daunting task for anyone. "$rname." You wait patiently until $rthey meets your gaze again. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>"We will figure this out."<<else>>"With the two of us, I'm sure we will be able to figure things out. One step at a time, if need be."<</if>> You count it as a victory when $rname's lips lift slightly, almost into a smile. "Together?" "Together," you agree, adding<<if $caut gt $adven>> tentatively<</if>>, "As friends?" $rname looks at you with a surprise that doesn't last long, quickly replaced by a warm smile. "I would like that." [[Continue|4.33b]]

“So, as my friend,” you say,<<if $rpoints gt 4>> endeared by the slightly bashful smile you get from $rname,<</if>> “<<if $blunt gt $charm>>how do you think I handled Princess Kham<<else>>what are your thoughts on how I received Princess Kham<</if>>?” $rname frowns slightly, silent in contemplation as $rtheir eyes wander the scenery of the garden and you wait <<if $adven gt $caut>>eagerly<<else>>with a healthy amount of anxiety<</if>> for $rtheir answer. “She was certainly intrigued by you,” $rname considers. “Although I suspect it was due to your title as the Crown rather than anything you said. Her mother, Queen Nis, has always been an ally to the Empire as we have been to her. The peris in Anshan are known to be much friendlier toward humans compared to the peris in other provinces.” The many stories of a forest ruled by a benevolent peri queen come to mind. Their home is supposedly veiled with magic, and you’ve never ventured into Kartan’s Forest—or Anshan, rather—deep enough to encounter a peri. The most you’ve seen is the occasional plant or flower with magical properties, mostly good for trading for food or some coin. “Is it true what Steward Welat said?” you ask. “About tensions between peris and humans?” $rname sighs wearily. “He wasn’t lying, unfortunately. Without a Crown the Imperial House has been unable to maintain diplomatic relations with the peris; the queen and her family have not been willing to speak with anyone of lower rank. As such, the steward himself has taken it upon himself to try and mediate between individual peris and humans whenever conflicts arise, but his success has been… limited.” “What about you?” you question. “Couldn’t you have gone to see the queen?” “Without a Crown, I have no power, remember?” $rname points out. “When I said that, I meant that very literally. The peris have refused to speak to anyone that is not the Crown themselves.” “That’s strange,” you remark, thinking back to your encounter with Princess Kham. “$aname told me members from the royal family like to be treated as equals.” $rname parts $rtheir lips to reply, when someone else interrupts. “Only by others who are of equal standing.” It’s a voice you’ve heard before, within a room filled with the scent of incense. “Otherwise you may as well not exist.” When you turn around, as expected, you find Perjin smiling in the doorway. [[Continue|4.34]]

She looks exactly as you remember her, with a long, flowing gown—gray now instead of the purple you first saw her in—with that familiar blue shawl still draped around her shoulders. You notice the leather belt she wears around her waist this time, with a pouch attached to it. Her expression is still as friendly as you remember it, though she doesn’t hold your gaze for very long. Instead she lowers herself down to sit on her knees, bowing with her hands resting on her upper legs like the nobles did in the throne room. You notice Keko standing right over her shoulder, looking rather harried as he wipes a bit of sweat off his forehead with a small cloth. His robes are a little disheveled, and he seems out of breath; the poor man must’ve had a hard time tracking her down. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin speaks, drawing your attention back to her. “It is my honor to be at your service.” You cross the room, $rname following you as you stand before the alchemist who received you so warmly to her shop. You can make out her features better in the light of day, warming her olive skin with golden tones. The small, thick curls of her dark brown hair are styled into two thick braids, one on either side of her head, that are both pulled back into a low bun at the base of her neck. She still looks young in the sunlight, though the faint laugh lines around her eyes give her away. She must at least be in her thirties, you guess. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Please stand up, Perjin,” you request, and when she raises her head you meet her eyes with a smile.<<else>>“You can stand up, Perjin,” you say, meeting her eyes when she raises her head.<</if>> “Do you remember me?” Perjin gets up to her feet, smoothing out her robes as she looks at you with unguarded curiosity. “I had a hunch, but I must say, I’m still shocked to find out I was right! If you’d simply told me who you were before, I would’ve never accepted payment.” “You know each other?” $rname cuts in, bemused as $rthey glances between the two of you. “We met briefly,” you reply. “I asked her to brew me a glamour to hide my eyes, assuming I’d have some time to find out how to get to you without being discovered. Speaking of which, Perjin, I hope you don’t take offense to the secrecy.” “Not at all,” Perjin reassures you. “I understand why it would be necessary. But how fortunate for you, Your Imperial Majesty! I have your order here with me, just as promised.” She reaches down to the pouch tied to her belt, opening it and fishing inside. You hear the clinking of coin as well as something else, which she pulls out of the pouch: a glass bottle, just small enough to fit in your hand, filled with a deep brown liquid. “Here you are,” Perjin says as she hands it to you. “One drop for each eye will last up to a week. If you only wish to use it for a short while, say a few hours, $rname can dispel it for you.” You take it from her, noting it’s a lot more than you initially requested; she must’ve increased the amount when the order came in from the Imperial House. “Thank you.” [[Continue|4.35]]

“I notice you’re not questioning why you still need a glamour,” $rname comments, watching you as you hold up the glass bottle to the sunlight, making the liquid within almost glow a deep shade of orange. <<if $kind gt $calc>>“Generally I try not to question people giving me things at a discount,” you say with some humor, then gesture towards the table so you can all take a seat. “But that aside, it could be useful. I’m not planning on hiding in a palace for the rest of my life, but being overrun by a mob whenever I step outside doesn’t sound very appealing either.” “Quite,” $rname agrees dryly as $rthey and Perjin follow your lead, and you settle down on the pillows. $rname sits beside you, while Perjin sits across from you. “If only all I had to do was change my eye color whenever I wanted to be alone. Ah, thank you for fetching Perjin, Keko. That will be all.” Keko, having still been standing in wait for instructions at the doorway, bows gracefully to you and $rname. "$rtitle Sorcerer, Your Imperial Majesty."<<else>>“Its use is rather obvious, isn’t it?” you reply, having already considered this possibility. “If I’m to evaluate the true state of the Empire, this will help keep me anonymous. Otherwise there’s the risk people will put on facades either to appease me, or to hide their dirty business.” “You’ve thought this through,” $rname says, sounding a little impressed. “I admit, I’m a little envious. If all I had to do was merely change my eye color to spy on others, that would’ve made my life a lot easier. Ah, thank you for fetching Perjin, Keko. That will be all.” Keko, having still been standing in wait for instructions at the doorway, bows gracefully to you and $rname. "$rtitle Sorcerer, Your Imperial Majesty."<</if>> “Now, now, my $rtitle Sorcerer,” Perjin says, grinning at $rname while Keko quickly takes his leave; managing the household of an entire palace like this must be difficult. “Don’t tell me your alchemy is so rusty that you cannot manage to brew a full body glamour?” “Brewing it is not the issue.” $rname scowls with distaste. “It’s being covered head to toe in powder that I would rather avoid. Do you have any idea how difficult that mess is to wash off?” “Obviously,” Perjin replies with a nonchalant shrug. “Otherwise the slightest breeze would blow it away. Just be glad you only need an illusion and not a genuine body transformation.” The last part of her comment draws your interest; transformations, be it for the entire body or only certain areas, are even more common than illusions. “Why? Are those more difficult to make?” “They shouldn’t be for any alchemist worth their title,” $rname replies, a single finger tapping thoughtfully on the edge of the wooden table. “But there can be certain—if temporary—physical discomforts. Like oversensitivity, itchiness, becoming inexplicably ticklish… I don’t think you need me to explain how itchy eyes would be a bother.” “Mine, of course, have no such side effects,” Perjin is quick to point out, giving you a winning smile. “Even my full body transformations are flawless, I’ve tried and tested them myself—” “Perjin, please tell me you are not trying to pitch a sale to the Crown right now,” $rname interrupts with narrowed eyes. “Ahem.” Perjin tries to suppress an amused smile, without much success; you’re getting the impression she’s doing this more to tease $rname than any actual interest in selling her products. “I wouldn’t dream of it!” You consider the two of them with curiosity, wondering about the relationship between them. To you, they seem to know each other well, mainly because of… <ul> <li>[[…their body language, and the way they seem at ease around each other.|4.36a][$intu to $intu + 25]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'female'>>[[…the fact that Rozerîn invited Perjin to the palace, and knew her by name|4.36b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<<else>>[[…the fact that Rêzan invited Perjin to the palace, and knew her by name|4.36b][$intel to $intel + 25]]<</if>></li> </ul>

You’ve always been attuned to the way others carry themselves; it’s a vital skill to have when anyone you pass on the street could be a potential enemy. Though truthfully, calling it a skill may be generous. More often than not, it’s instinctual, and from the way $rname and Perjin act around each other you can tell there’s a history there. Especially considering you’ve seen how cold and aloof $rname can be towards others, $rthey appears entirely comfortable at the moment. “How do the two of you know each other?” you ask, causing both $rname and Perjin to exchange a look, though $rname’s is accompanied by a frown while Perjin’s has a smile. “Well—” “Perjin is a known guest lecturer at the School of Marabad,” $rname says quickly, and Perjin’s smile only widens with mischief. “She even tutored me, on occasion.” “Come now, $rname,” Perjin teases, leaning toward $rname with her elbows on the table. “I knew you long before I became one of your tutors.” $rname folds $rtheir arms across $rtheir chest and averts $rtheir gaze, a hint of embarrassment to the way $rthey avoids looking at you. “There’s no need to bring that up.” “I knew $rthem when $rthey was no taller than my waist, you see,” Perjin tells you, holding her hand up a little above her head, the height of a young child. “Did $rthey tell you about the magic $rthey used to perform—” “Yes, I did!” $rname interrupts, raising $rtheir voice to talk over Perjin. “Oh?” Perjin grins. “Did you also tell $ctheir Imperial Majesty about how you came to learn such spells?” “I assumed $rname puzzled it out on $rtheir own,” you comment, casting a questioning look at $rname who is now very obviously evading your stare. “$crthey did, of course,” Perjin replies, the dark of her eyes gleaming with the sunlight falling through the window. Her playful expression carries fondness with it, and even a hint of a pride as she looks at $rname. “But no matter how much of a genius $rthey is, even $rthey could not have learned advanced magic without any direction. So, naturally, $rthey stole some of my books. That’s how we met.” “You stole Perjin’s books?” you repeat to $rname in disbelief, whose deep brown skin is gaining a tint of a darkened red beneath $rtheir cheeks. “It was not my intention to steal, I merely borrowed them,” $rthey defends. “I was going to return them once I had read them all!” “Usually one would ask for permission before borrowing, yes?” Perjin comments lightly, unaffected by the glare $rname levels at her. “Honestly, $rname, had you asked me I would’ve gladly taught you all that you wanted.” $rname frowns, mumbling, “I didn’t know that back then.” “I see two of you have known each other for quite some time,” you conclude with amusement; this is definitely not a side of $rname you ever expected seeing. “Though that makes me wonder… how old are you, Perjin?” “Oh, me?” She gives you an innocent smile. “I’m turning fifty-four this year.” You stare at her in disbelief. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That’s a lie.”<<else>>“You must be joking, you look decades younger than fifty-four. I thought you were in your thirties!”<</if>> “I am an alchemist, Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin points out reasonably, though she still preens with the compliment as she smooths her fingers over one of her braids. “I take good care of my skin.” $rname sighs, deciding to cut-in, though $rtheir irritated expression eases into something more serious as $rthey speaks. “Perjin, there was something else I needed to ask of you.” “Well, yes, or you wouldn’t have summoned me to the palace,” Perjin surmises, seeming to have already anticipated this. “Go on, dear.” Unexpectedly, $rname turns toward you next. “Your Imperial Majesty, I realize this may be a bit early, but considering the circumstances we cannot afford to wait. I called Perjin here because I’d like her to be one of your tutors.” While this comes as a surprise to you, Perjin doesn’t even blink at the revelation. She smiles at $rname, the look in her eyes a little distant. Nostalgic, perhaps; she was once $rname’s tutor as well, after all. <ul> <li>[[“In magic, I presume?” you ask, wanting to consider the proposal.|4.37a][$intel to $intel + 25]]</li> <li>[[“Sure,” you agree; you have a good feeling about Perjin.|4.37b][$intu to $intu + 25]]</li> </ul>

Thinking logically, the two of them must at the very least know of each other. After all, $rname was born and grew up in Marabad when $rthey was taken in under Lady Zerya’s wing. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone like Perjin, a prominent magus in her own right, would have met $rname before. You don’t like to operate based on assumptions, however, even if you do form ideas about what might be possible, or probable. “How do the two of you know each other?” you ask, causing both $rname and Perjin to exchange a look, though $rname’s is accompanied by a frown while Perjin’s has a smile. “Well—” “Perjin is a known guest lecturer at the School of Marabad,” $rname says quickly, and Perjin’s smile only widens with mischief. “She even tutored me, on occasion.” “Come now, $rname,” Perjin teases, leaning toward $rname with her elbows on the table. “I knew you long before I became one of your tutors.” $rname folds $rtheir arms across $rtheir chest and averts $rtheir gaze, a hint of embarrassment to the way $rthey avoids looking at you. “There’s no need to bring that up.” “I knew $rthem when $rthey was no taller than my waist, you see,” Perjin tells you, holding her hand up a little above her head, the height of a young child. “Did $rthey tell you about the magic $rthey used to perform—” “Yes, I did!” $rname interrupts, raising $rtheir voice to talk over Perjin. “Oh?” Perjin grins. “Did you also tell $ctheir Imperial Majesty about how you came to learn such spells?” “I assumed $rname puzzled it out on $rtheir own,” you comment, casting a questioning look at $rname who is now very obviously evading your stare. “$crthey did, of course,” Perjin replies, the dark of her eyes gleaming with the sunlight falling through the window. Her playful expression carries fondness with it, and even a hint of a pride as she looks at $rname. “But no matter how much of a genius $rthey is, even $rthey could not have learned advanced magic without any direction. So, naturally, $rthey stole some of my books. That’s how we met.” “You stole Perjin’s books?” you repeat to $rname in disbelief, whose deep brown skin is gaining a tint of a darkened red beneath $rtheir cheeks. “It was not my intention to steal, I merely borrowed them,” $rthey defends. “I was going to return them once I had read them all!” “Usually one would ask for permission before borrowing, yes?” Perjin comments lightly, unaffected by the glare $rname levels at her. “Honestly, $rname, had you asked me I would’ve gladly taught you all that you wanted.” $rname frowns, mumbling, “I didn’t know that back then.” “I see two of you have known each other for quite some time,” you conclude with amusement; this is definitely not a side of $rname you ever expected seeing. “Though that makes me wonder… how old are you, Perjin?” “Oh, me?” She gives you an innocent smile. “I’m turning fifty-four this year.” You stare at her in disbelief. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“That’s a lie.”<<else>>“You must be joking, you look decades younger than fifty-four. I thought you were in your thirties!”<</if>> “I am an alchemist, Your Imperial Majesty,” Perjin points out reasonably, though she still preens with the compliment as she smooths her fingers over one of her braids. “I take good care of my skin.” $rname sighs, deciding to cut-in, though $rtheir irritated expression eases into something more serious as $rthey speaks. “Perjin, there was something else I needed to ask of you.” “Well, yes, or you wouldn’t have summoned me to the palace,” Perjin surmises, seeming to have already anticipated this. “Go on, dear.” Unexpectedly, $rname turns toward you next. “Your Imperial Majesty, I realize this may be a bit early, but considering the circumstances we cannot afford to wait. I called Perjin here because I’d like her to be one of your tutors.” While this comes as a surprise to you, Perjin doesn’t even blink at the revelation. She smiles at $rname, the look in her eyes a little distant. Nostalgic, perhaps; she was once $rname’s tutor as well, after all. <ul> <li>[[“In magic, I presume?” you ask, wanting to consider the proposal.|4.37a][$intel to $intel + 25]]</li> <li>[[“Sure,” you agree; you have a good feeling about Perjin.|4.37b][$intu to $intu + 25]]</li> </ul>

“I’ll help,” $rname says quickly, drawing an amused look from Perjin. “But yes, in magic. Whatever your current skill level is, Perjin has plenty of experience to teach you all that you need.” “Will I need it?” you ask, not because you are disinterested in magic, but because you can’t imagine why the Crown would need to be particularly skilled with it. Isn’t that what the Sorcerer is for, after all? “You’d be surprised,” Perjin answers. “Even if you do not plan to rely on magic yourself, it is still essential that you understand how it works and how it can be used. Not merely because it may give you an edge or a defense in certain situations, but because of who you are. The Crown is not allowed any shortcomings, least of all in such a fundamental area.” That makes sense. You figured it would be too useful a skill to ignore, though it hadn’t occurred to you how it might look if the Crown were to be incompetent in something as basic as magic. “Alright,” you decide, not seeing any reason to shoot down the proposal. Besides which, if it doesn’t work out down the road, you suppose you can always look for a different tutor. “I’d like you to be my tutor, Perjin. If that’s something you would be interested in, of course.” Perjin inclines her head without hesitation. “It would be my honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” “So, what can you teach me aside from alchemy?” you ask. You already have a rough idea of the various areas of magic, though you’ve never formally been trained in any of them. “Things like warding, summoning, healing?” “Among others,” Perjin considers, giving you a mysterious little smile. “But there will be plenty of time for us to discuss that later, after your coronation. I’m afraid I must return to my shop; I have many orders to get done before nightfall.” “You still haven’t taken on an apprentice?” $rname says with a disapproving frown. Perjin waves her hand dismissively as she gets up from her pillow. “I’ve been far too busy to worry about that.” “Yes,” $rname says slowly. “That is why you should probably look for one, especially if you’re to be the Crown’s tutor.” “Oh, fine, I suppose I should.” Perjin turns her attention back to you, and bows gracefully. “Your Imperial Majesty. I will do my utmost to serve as your tutor and teach you all that you will need, both to protect yourself as well as this country.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, Perjin,” you reply with a genuine smile. “I look forward to it.” Perjin peeks up at you from her bow, before straightening up while looking inexplicably amused. “My, $rname, you have much better luck than Zerya ever did. This time around it seems our Crown is a natural diplomat. Delightful, don’t you think?”<<else>>“Great,” you say, not giving much thought to how your reply might sound coming out of the mouth of the Crown; Perjin looks delighted while $rname arches $rtheir brows high. “What? Was I too blunt?” “Don’t worry, that has its own kind of appeal as well,” Perjin reassures you. “Isn’t that right, $rname? Delightful, don't you think?”<</if>> <<if $rpoints gte 6>>“Ah.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze, then starts to ramble. “Yes, I suppose $they could be considered as such, by some people. Delightful, I mean. Not that I’m not- that is, I would also be one of those people, but others might not—” “Breathe, dear,” Perjin says kindly while $rname has a somewhat despairing look on $rtheir face, as if $rthey were praying to physically sink through the floor and disappear.<<else>> “It was the case with Crown Ferzan as well,” $rname comments. “Some appreciated his direct manner, while others thought of him as crass.” “Oh, yes, I quite liked that about him as well,” Perjin reminisces, before looking at you.<</if>> “Now, I think it’s time for me to depart. Till we meet again, Your Imperial Majesty. Many blessings for your coronation, I am sure it will be as magnificent as you deserve.” You nod your head in reply and watch her leave. She steps around the table to give $rname a friendly squeeze to $rtheir shoulder as a goodbye, before heading out the room. <<if $rpoints gte 6>> "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask once Perjin has left, and $rname startles slightly from beside you at being addressed. "Fine." $crtheir smile seems slightly strained; $rthey does not dare to give you anything more than a glance before looking away again. "Perfect. Just wonderful." Perjin's teasing may have been a little too much.<</if>> [[Continue|4.38]]

“I’ll help as well, but—” $rname pauses when your response finally registers, and $rthey stares at you with a bemused look. “Wait, I’m sorry, did you just… agree?” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Perjin seems like an alright sort, and I trust your judgment,” you explain easily. “If you think she’ll be a good tutor, then I have no reason to doubt you.”<<else>>You shrug. “Why not? You would know better than me, and I trust your judgment.”<</if>> $rname blinks at you, as if that was the last answer $rthey expected to hear. “Oh.” From beside $rthem, Perjin starts to laugh, snapping $rname out of $rtheir daze as $rthey scowls at $rtheir old tutor. “What are you giggling about?” “Nothing!” Perjin grins with delight. “Not to worry, dear, I will make sure that our Crown’s faith in you will not be misplaced. Thank you for the honor, Your Imperial Majesty.” $rname narrows $rtheir eyes at Perjin, but does not bother to retort, likely realizing $rthey’s being baited. “So, what can you teach me aside from alchemy?” you ask. You already have a rough idea of the various areas of magic, though you’ve never formally been trained in any of them. “Things like warding, summoning, healing?” “Among others,” Perjin considers, giving you a mysterious little smile. “But there will be plenty of time for us to discuss that later, after your coronation. I’m afraid I must return to my shop; I have many orders to get done before nightfall.” “You still haven’t taken on an apprentice?” $rname says with a disapproving frown. Perjin waves her hand dismissively as she gets up from her pillow. “I’ve been far too busy to worry about that.” “Yes,” $rname says slowly. “That is why you should probably look for one, especially if you’re to be the Crown’s tutor.” “Oh, fine, I suppose I should.” Perjin turns her attention back to you, and bows gracefully. “Your Imperial Majesty. I will do my utmost to serve as your tutor and teach you all that you will need, both to protect yourself as well as this country.” <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Thank you, Perjin,” you reply with a genuine smile. “I look forward to it.” Perjin peeks up at you from her bow, before straightening up while looking inexplicably amused. “My, $rname, you have much better luck than Zerya ever did. This time around it seems our Crown is a natural diplomat. Rather delightful, don’t you think?”<<else>>“Great,” you say, not giving much thought to how your reply might sound coming out of the mouth of the Crown; Perjin looks delighted while $rname arches $rtheir brows high. “What? Was I too blunt?” “Don’t worry, that has its own kind of appeal as well,” Perjin reassures you. “Isn’t that right, $rname? Delightful, don't you think?”<</if>> <<if $rpoints gte 6>>“Ah.” $rname averts $rtheir gaze, then starts to ramble. “Yes, I suppose $they could be considered as such, by some people. Delightful, I mean. Not that I’m not- that is, I would also be one of those people, but others might not—” “Breathe, dear,” Perjin says kindly while $rname has a somewhat despairing look on $rtheir face, as if $rthey were praying to physically sink through the floor and disappear.<<else>> “It was the case with Crown Ferzan as well,” $rname comments. “Some appreciated his direct manner, while others thought of him as crass.” “Oh, yes, I quite liked that about him as well,” Perjin reminisces, before looking at you.<</if>> “Now, I think it’s time for me to depart. Till we meet again, Your Imperial Majesty. I wish you many blessings upon your coronation. I am sure it will be as magnificent as you deserve.” You nod your head in reply and watch her leave. She steps around the table to give $rname a friendly squeeze to $rtheir shoulder as a goodbye, before heading out the room.<<if $rpoints gte 6>> "Everything alright, $rname?" you ask once Perjin has left, and $rname startles slightly from beside you at being addressed. "Fine." $crtheir smile seems slightly strained; $rthey does not dare to give you anything more than a glance before looking away again. "Perfect. Just wonderful." Perjin's teasing may have been a little too much.<</if>> [[Continue|4.38]]

With Perjin having left, you turn your attention on the small glass bottle you’ve been holding onto, containing your glamour. “$rname?” “Yes?” Carefully, you set the bottle down on the table in front of you. <<if $adven gt $caut>>“If I use this glamour and get a change of clothes, it should be safe enough for me to leave the palace, right?” “With escorts,” $rname adds pointedly, but then nods. “Yes, I suppose. Although I would advise against it; an attempt on your life was made only yesterday.” “I understand,” you say. “I do, but I have to see the city for myself. Besides which, they won’t be expecting me to step outside so soon after an assassination attempt.”<<else>>“Do you think it would be possible for me to leave the palace, or would it be too risky?” “If you wish for a tour of the city, perhaps another time might be safer,” $rname says, but you shake your head. “Going outside a day after they tried to kill me would be the last thing assassins would expect,” you point out. “They probably think I’ll be locked up in the palace until my coronation. If anything that makes the palace a more dangerous place, considering it’s an actual target.”<</if>> $rname appears reluctant, but admits, “I can’t deny that you speak sense. <<if $rpoints gt 4>>Still…” “Still?” “Make sure you stick close to $aname,” $rname cautions you, brows furrowed in open concern. “Keep yourself safe. Take a weapon with you, if you must.”<<else>>While the idea of it makes me uneasy, I trust $aname to keep you safe.”<</if>> “Do you not want to come with me?” you question, as it sounds like $rthey’s intending on staying behind. You watch as $rname stands up and smooths out the wrinkles in $rtheir dress. “I cannot,” $rthey says regretfully, gesturing toward the gardens. “See those nobles walking around? Someone has to keep them occupied. I doubt they will wish to leave before witnessing your coronation in a few days’ time.” <<if $height is 'very tall'>>You look over the windowsill, barely having to arch your neck<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>You arch your neck slightly to look over the windowsill<</if>><<if $height is 'average'>>You push up on your knees a little to look over the windowsill<</if>><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>You push up on your knees to look over the windowsill<</if>> and cast a wary glance toward the nobles. Now that you look more carefully, you do see several of them cast regular glances toward your window. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“In that case, good luck. I think you’re going to need it.”<<else>>“Oh. Well. Good luck with that.”<</if>> $rname seems to be doing $rtheir best not to outright glare at the nobles who are trying to be subtle about the way they’re walking circles in perfect view of the window. “Thank you, $rnickname. I should go get $aname for you before these vultures decide to descend.” $crthey heads out the room while you try and shuffle back on your pillow out of the view of the window. You don't want to make it obvious that you’re alone in case any of the nobles get it into their head to strike up a conversation with you. Though, as you glance toward the doorway, you see an armored elbow poking out from behind the wall; no doubt an Imperial Guard standing watch. Not as alone as you thought, then. [[Continue|4.39]]

Left alone for a short while, you <<if $adven gt $caut>>amuse<<else>>occupy<</if>> yourself with trying to dodge the stares of the nobles who keep wandering closer and closer toward the window. <<if $caut gt $adven>>Meeting them earlier was nerve-wracking enough; you don’t want to risk blurting out something that will display your ignorance further.<<else>>While you’re not scared of engaging them in conversation, you’re not keen on risking embarrassment with whatever ignorant thing you’re bound to say.<</if>> Another pair of them passes by the window, a little too close for comfort. You recognize Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan from earlier, dressed in regal pink and elegant orange robes respectively. Quickly, you duck behind the wall to avoid their inquisitive stares. “Your Imperial Majesty?” Lady Tavan calls, and you keep yourself pressed low to the ground, hoping she won’t see you. “Are you still there?” Of course, $aname chooses that exact moment to walk into the room. Your eyes meet and you both freeze. $aname looks from you to the nobles, and within moments $athey paints a bored expression on $atheir face and saunters toward the window, as if nothing were amiss. $cathey stands right in front of you, leaving you just enough room to crawl over to the wall beside the window. “Something you need, Lady Tavan, Lord Farrukh?” $aname inquires with unconcealed disinterest while you sneak toward the corner of the room as quietly as you can. “We thought we saw $ctheir Imperial Majesty sitting here earlier,” Lady Tavan starts, but is unable to finish speaking before $aname smoothly cuts in again. “$ctheir Imperial Majesty has already retreated to $their chambers.” $aname arches $atheir brows at something $athey sees. “Is there a reason why you were so eager to talk to $them that you trampled all over $their flowers?” You hear Lord Farrukh laugh nervously. “We didn’t trample over anything. See? We avoided the entire flowerbed—” “Ah, so you purposefully wandered off the path in order to corner $ctheir Imperial Majesty,” $aname concludes in a very nonchalant tone, leaning with $atheir elbows against the windowsill in a relaxed pose, though from the noise that Lady Tavan makes you’re assuming the accusation is not a light one. “Is that what you’re confessing to?” “No, we would never!” Lady Tavan exclaims, her voice sounding a tad bit higher in her panic. “We only… we noticed the lack of guards around the room, that is all!” “Yes, indeed!” Lord Farrukh agrees without missing a beat, leaping on the excuse. “We approached only out of concern for $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s safety.” “Your concern is noted,” $aname says dryly, and you suddenly hear both nobles gasp. “However, it is misplaced. Merely because you cannot see the guards does not mean that they are not there.” <<if $adven gt $caut>>Your curiosity gets the better of you<<else>>Wary of a possible danger that you cannot see<</if>>, you edge toward the side of the window, daring a peek outside. You see Lady Tavan and Lord Farrukh standing there, both motionless, as if afraid to so much as twitch. Considering the tips of two spears levelled at their throat from either side, their fear is understandable. [[Continue|4.40]]

The sight of the spears gives you pause as well, albeit for a different reason. There were guards stationed outside the room? You can understand that you might not have seen them yourself, being that you have a limited view from the inside, but how did Lady Tavan and Lord Farrukh not notice them before? “That’s enough,” $aname orders, and a moment later, the spears lower again and disappear from sight, the guards remaining out of view. “Careful, Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan speaks, and you think she means to sound threatening, but the slight tremor in her voice betrays her nerves. “Merely because the Crown has appeared does not mean you can push us around as you please!” “But is that not exactly what you were planning on doing?” $aname points out mildly. “Push the Crown around, that is.” “I find it outrageous that you would paint us as villains for wishing to speak to our ruler for the first time in ten years,” Lord Farrukh erupts, incensed. “Do you have any idea how dire the situation is in Marabad, let alone the entire province? Have you even stepped down from your pedestal beside $rtitle $rname long enough to look at the state of Rojan? I suppose a fisher’s <<if $agender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>> from Avdin would not understand such a burden. What a luxury that must be!” As obnoxiously condescending as Lord Farrukh is being, you’re more focused on $aname’s silence, though it is a telling one; $atheir jaw clenches, tension pronounced in $atheir shoulders as $athey straightens up from $atheir relaxed posture. Should you intervene, or should you let $aname handle this? Keeping a distance might be the more appropriate thing to do considering your respective roles... <ul> <li><<if $apoints gt 2>><<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...but you feel protective of Azad.|4.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...but you feel protective of Ashti.|4.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...but you want to protect Azad.|4.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<<else>>[[...but you want to protect Ashti.|4.41a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<</if>><</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $aname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[...so you should let Azad handle it.|4.41b]]<<else>>[[...so you should let Ashti handle it.|4.41b]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<if $ass gt $pass>>Intervening in conflicts like this flies into the face of everything you’ve been taught not to do by your parents, but you can’t sit there and listen to $aname get berated. You get up from where you’re crouched in the corner, gathering your courage before you very loudly clear your throat. $aname turns $atheir head to stare at you in surprise as you step into the view of the window in a nonchalant manner, pretending as if you have been present for the entire conversation. Which you have been, though the two nobles didn’t know that. You see Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan gape at you, Lord Farrukh’s face slowly turning a rather vibrant shade of pink to match his robes while Lady Tavan’s orange-painted mouth is hanging open in shock. It looks a little comical. “What were you saying, Lord Farrukh?” you ask, tilting your head ever so slightly. Lady Tavan snaps her lips shut and Lord Farrukh nervously smooths over his robes before they both bow in unison. “Your Imperial Majesty,” Lord Farrukh straightens out again, the embarrassed flush on his face somehow having intensified. The man looks like he’s sweating from up close, a thin sheen of perspiration on his brow. “I meant no offense to the Imperial House.” <<if $kind gt $calc>>“I understand that you’re frustrated,” you say, frowning, “but that’s no reason to take it out on $aname and condescend to $athem as you did. If you’re going to be upset at anyone, you should be upset at me.”<<else>>“Is the Royal Protector not part of the Imperial House?” you point out with a questioning arch of your brows. “$aname is my foremost protector. Therefore any insult to $athem is an insult to me.”<</if>> “I…” Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan exchange panicked looks; clearly they did not count on the Crown being present. “I did not intend… that is…” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Apologize and be on your way,” you state, and Lord Farrukh immediately starts to bow, though he does so to the wrong person. “Not to me, Lord Farrukh. To $aname.”<<else>>“Well?” you pose expectantly. “Don’t keep us waiting, Lord Farrukh. You owe $aname an apology. After that, I trust you can find your way back onto the garden path.”<</if>><<if $apoints gte 6>> You notice $aname staring at you from the corner of your eyes. $cathey doesn’t even bother looking at Lord Farrukh bowing to $athem, and when you meet $atheir gaze you see the surprise and curiosity reflected within it. Is it really so unexpected that you would defend $athem?<</if>> Lord Farrukh glances between you and $aname, mouth twisting with displeasure, but he knows just as well as you do that he has no choice. “My sincerest apologies, Royal Protector,” he says to $aname, however reluctantly. “I… lost my temper most ungraciously.” <<if $apoints gte 6>>$aname tears $atheir gaze away from you to look at Lord Farrukh. “That you did.”<<else>>“That you did,” $aname agrees with indifference plain on $atheir face as $atheir gaze wanders. It makes Lord Farrukh frown as he stands upright from his bow, though he says nothing further.<</if>> Both Lord Farrukh and Lady Tavan bow once more to you, muttering, “Your Imperial Majesty.” You watch as they take their leave again, maneuvering around the flowerbed and hurrying along the garden path to disappear from sight.<<else>>You consider intervening, though it occurs to you that could also do more harm than good. Would it undermine $aname’s own authority to speak for $athem, even when $athey’s getting berated? Cautiously, you reach out and tug at the edge of $aname’s robe to get $atheir attention. $cathey glances at you, <<if $apoints gte 6>>a flash of surprise and curiosity on $atheir face as $athey takes in<<else>>taking in<</if>> your questioning look. After a moment, $athey minutely shakes $atheir head and turns to address the nobles again. “Lord Farrukh,” $aname speaks, $atheir posture still stiff but $atheir tone perfectly even. “You forget who you speak to.” Silence extends for several moments, until Lord Farrukh eventually states, “I stand by what I said.” “Farrukh,” you hear Lady Tavan hiss, likely trying to caution Lord Farrukh, but the man says nothing more, seeming unwilling to take back his insult. “Oh?” $aname gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you saying you could do better, then?” “I- what?” You are almost as surprised as Lord Farrukh sounds; this is not the direction you expected $aname to go in. While $atheir posture is still tense, $athey’s treating this conflict as if it’s nothing more than a minor nuisance. “You seem to have many opinions about how I’m doing my job,” $aname observes, keeping $atheir tone light even while the implication of $atheir words is anything but. “Perhaps you’d like to take over?” “That- that is not—” “What’s wrong?” $aname sneers. “I thought I was a mere fisher’s <<if $agender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>>? It should be no great difficulty for an esteemed noble from Rojan to take my place, no?” “Please forgive Lord Farrukh’s insolence,” Lady Tavan intervenes while Lord Farrukh sputters for a response. “We are well aware of your reputation, Royal Protector. That was never in doubt.” “Could’ve fooled me.” $aname gives an expectant look. “As you can see, the Crown is not here. If you are quite done haranguing me, feel free to take your leave.” You’re surprised $aname is letting them off so easily. While you’re not entirely certain of courtly etiquette yet, you know enough to understand that $aname’s rank is not one to be taken lightly for a provincial lord; Lord Farrukh’s outburst must be grounds for some sort of reprimand, at the very least. Still, if $aname is satisfied with letting them go like this, then you don’t think it your place to interfere—even though, it occurs to you, it is your place. “Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan says, and you hear nothing from Lord Farrukh before their footsteps sound through the grass, indicating they’ve left. You let out a relieved breath.<</if>> [[Continue|4.42a]]

You decide intervening could do more harm than good. It might undermine $aname's standing with these nobles, not to mention that you don't want to risk saying anything improper while defending $aname. It's best to let $aname handle this. “Lord Farrukh,” $aname speaks, $atheir posture still stiff but $atheir tone perfectly even. “You forget who you speak to.” Silence extends for several moments, until Lord Farrukh eventually states, “I stand by what I said.” “Farrukh,” you hear Lady Tavan hiss, likely trying to caution Lord Farrukh, but the man says nothing more, seeming unwilling to take back his insult. “Oh?” $aname gives him an unimpressed look. “Are you saying you could do better, then?” “I- what?” You are almost as surprised as Lord Farrukh sounds; this is not the direction you expected $aname to go in. While $atheir posture is still tense, $athey’s treating this conflict as if it’s nothing more than a minor nuisance. “You seem to have many opinions about how I’m doing my job,” $aname observes, keeping $atheir tone light even while the implication of $atheir words is anything but. “Perhaps you’d like to take over?” “That- that is not—” “What’s wrong?” $aname sneers. “I thought I was a mere fisher’s <<if $agender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>>? It should be no great difficulty for an esteemed noble from Rojan to take my place, no?” “Please forgive Lord Farrukh’s insolence,” Lady Tavan intervenes while Lord Farrukh sputters for a response. “We are well aware of your reputation, Royal Protector. That was never in doubt.” “Could’ve fooled me.” $aname gives an expectant look. “As you can see, the Crown is not here. If you are quite done haranguing me, feel free to take your leave.” You’re surprised $aname is letting them off so easily. While you’re not entirely certain of courtly etiquette yet, you know enough to understand that $aname’s rank is not one to be taken lightly for a provincial noble; Lord Farrukh’s outburst must be grounds for some sort of reprimand, at the very least. Still, if $aname is satisfied with letting them go like this, then you don’t think it your place to interfere—even though, it occurs to you, it is your place. “Royal Protector,” Lady Tavan says, and you hear nothing from Lord Farrukh before their footsteps sound through the grass, indicating they’ve left. You let out a relieved breath. Once they've gone, you come out of your hiding place as $aname turns to you with an expectant look. “So then, $rname told me you wished to head into the city?” Your gaze falls on the glamour you left sitting on the table, the glass of the bottle shining dimly in the light. “Right.” [[Continue|4.43]]

<<if $pass gt $ass>>“You can come out now,” $aname says, levelling you with an amused look. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You grin back at $athem as you stand up, straightening out your clothes as you join $athem by the window. “Thanks for the assist.” “Not like you left me much of a choice,” $aname points out. “I think Lady Tavan was just about ready to vault over the windowsill if I hadn’t intercepted.”<<else>>You return an embarrassed smile as you stand up, straightening our your clothes before you join $athem by the window. “Sorry about that, I really didn’t feel like talking to any nobles.” $aname snorts. “Can’t blame you there.”<</if>> $cathey is silent for a beat, and just as you part your lips to speak, $athey says, “Thank you.” You frown at $athem, befuddled. “For what?” “You would have intervened,” $athey says, looking at you with<<if $apoints gte 6>> that same curiosity you saw before alight<<else>> curiosity<</if>> in $atheir eyes. “As would’ve been your right. But I am glad you let me handle it.” “Would it have been bad if I had said something?” you ask. “I was tempted to.” “No, not at all.” $aname’s smile is softer than what you’ve seen before, and you find yourself staring at how beautiful $athey looks in that moment—even more than usual, like the slow bloom of a flower. “Admittedly, I may have used the opportunity to show off a little.” You raise your brows at the nonchalant admission. “Were you trying to impress me?” $aname’s smile turns a little mischievous. “Who says I was talking about you? Maybe I wanted to impress the nobles.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Oh.” Your cheeks flush with warmth as you avert your eyes before you get caught up in $aname’s gaze. “Right. I mean, of course, I didn’t assume—” The low laugh that $aname breathes out at your stammering has no business sounding as lovely as it does. “Easy, I’m only teasing.” “I-I knew that,” you mutter, resisting the urge to slap yourself in order to snap out of it lest you embarrass yourself even further. You cast a glance at $aname that you regret immediately for how it makes you blush even more. $cathey’s still smiling at you in that gentle way before $athey seems to catch $athemselves, clearing $atheir throat and smoothing out $atheir expression.<<else>>“Of course you were,” you say, deciding to play along, though you can’t help but tease a little. “Was that who the posturing was for?” $aname gives you a measured look, $atheir smile twisting into something more mischievous even while $atheir tone lowers with intention, lashes lowering. “Mock if you like, you seemed more than happy to watch me posture, Majesty. Did you enjoy the show?” Oh. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly feeling a little dry under the intensity of $aname’s gaze. You may have underestimated $athem a little. It has $aname laughing softly, before $athey puts the conversation back on track.<</if>> “In any case, there’s no need for you to start making enemies on my account. Although, enemies may be a bit exaggerated. Farrukh and Tavan are obnoxious, but far from the worst."<<else>>Now that the nobles have left, you glance at $aname, regarding the lingering frown on $atheir face. You part your lips to speak, intending to say something reassuring, when $athey beats you to it. “Thank you,” $athey says, quietly, not looking at you as $atheir gaze is fixated on the scenery of the gardens. “You didn’t have to do that.” You shake your head; in the end, it was no great risk on your part. “<<if $charm gt $blunt>>Lord Farrukh was being incredibly rude,<<else>>Farrukh was being an ass,<</if>> no one deserves to be talked to like that.” $aname looks at you now, interest reflected in $atheir warm hazel eyes. "You don’t think I could’ve defended myself?” While the question itself might have been accusatory or defensive out of another’s mouth, $aname appears genuinely interested in wanting to know. $cathey seems a little cautious about it, though. Considering how treacherous interacting with the nobility has been thus far, you’re not surprised at $atheir wariness. “I’m sure you could have,” you consider, frowning slightly. “But I wanted to do it. Should I not have?” “No, I appreciate that you did.” The smile $aname gives you is softer than what you’ve seen before, and you find yourself staring at how beautiful $athey looks in that moment—even more than usual, like the slow bloom of a flower. “It’s not often anyone feels the need to defend my honor.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“Ah.” Your cheeks flush with warmth as you avert your eyes before you get caught up in $aname’s gaze. “I’m glad you think so.” “What are you suddenly being shy for?” You dare a quick glance at $athem, and see that the smile on $aname’s face has twisted into a mischievous grin. “You were so bold in front of the nobles just a moment ago.” “That’s different,” you protest heatedly, blurting out words far more honest than you meant to as a result. “I did that for you.” The grin on $aname’s face fades a little and $athey quickly averts $atheir gaze. “Hmm, well. Thank you. Again.” Oh, but this is pathetic. You’re both avoiding looking at each other, an awkward and tense silence filling the space between the two of you until $aname eventually clears $atheir throat and speaks.<<else>>“I’ll always defend you whenever you need it,” you reply smoothly, enjoying the way $aname stares at you for a beat before $athey glances away. “You realize it’s supposed to be the other way around?” $aname remarks, trying to sound casual about it even while $athey avoids looking at you, and you can’t help but grin with delight. Seeing $aname get shy is probably a sight you’ll never tire of. “No one said I couldn’t return the favor,” you say, adding innocently, “Unless you don’t like it? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” $aname stays quiet for a while, shifting $atheir weight around from one foot to the other. Eventually, $athey mumbles something under $atheir breath, too faint for you to hear. “What was that?” “I didn’t say that,” $aname repeats, louder, then crosses $atheir arms and says nothing more, seeming determined to ignore you. The I like it goes unspoken, even though you both know it’s there. You laugh, deciding you’ve teased $athem enough when $athey stubbornly stares out the window instead. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” $aname looks at you from the corner of $atheir eyes, and for a moment you see the hint of a smile as $atheir mouth curls, before $athey moves on. <</if>>“In any case, there’s no need for you to start making enemies on my account. Although, enemies may be a bit exaggerated. Farrukh and Tavan are obnoxious, but far from the worst.”<</if>> Compared to Lady Naza and Steward Welat, you have to agree that the two of them aren’t nearly as intimidating. “I suppose.” $aname, seeming to sense your reluctance to speak on the topic any further, asks, “So then, $rname told me you wished to head into the city?” Your gaze falls on the glamour you left sitting on the table, the glass of the bottle shining dimly in the light. “Right.” [[Continue|4.43]]

Using the glamour Perjin gave you with one drop for each eye is a familiar routine, though as always the tingling takes a short while to get used to. Thankfully the lid of the bottle has a thin brush attached to the inner side, making it easier to manage than having to use your fingers. You try to wipe the golden powder off your face, which turns out to be a bit more of a challenge; by the time you’ve gotten all of it off, you’re pretty sure you’ve rubbed the skin around your eyes and cheeks raw. Meanwhile, $aname fetches you a long, well-made brown cloak that you trade your luxurious <<if $clothing is 'shalvar' or $clothing is 'dress'>>outer coat<<else>>cape<</if>> for, hiding most of the extravagant finery from sight. The edges are still visible from around your ankles, but $aname judges your appearance plain enough that you’ll be seen as merely another noble, so it is deemed safe to walk around in. “$rname wasn’t very happy with your decision, you realize,” $aname says to you as you adjust the cloak around yourself, amazed to find it already tailored perfectly to your height. “$crthey made me promise to not let you out of my sight for even a moment.” “I know,” you reply. “$crthey’s worried for my safety, which… well, I can’t blame $rthem.” $aname gives you an assessing look and you think $athey’s going to speak out about your decision as well, but then $athey says, “So long as you’re aware of the risks you’re taking.” “You’re not bothered?” “In terms of timing you couldn’t have picked a better moment.” $aname gives you a once-over<<if $apoints gt 4>><<if $res gt $flirt>> that makes you a little nervous<<else>> with a gaze that is disappointingly professional<</if>><</if>>. “Besides which, I have a visit of my own to make in the city, so it’ll be convenient to accompany you.” No wonder $athey seems so open to the idea, then. “What kind of visit?” “I witnessed a memory from one of the spies that has been troubling me,” $aname admits, frowning deeply. “It has no connection to any plans the Followers of Vidarna had for you, as far as I could tell, but if possible I’d like us to visit the Sky Temple first.” “The Sky Temple?” you repeat, the name of it unexpected. “I have something to ask of the head priest there,” $aname elaborates, seeming to misunderstand your confusion. “It may be nothing, however.” “Why is it called a Sky Temple?” you ask curiously. “Aren’t temples usually bound to elements?” $aname gives you a long look, not seeming entirely surprised, but rather thoughtful. You get the feeling this is one of those things a person with a more common upbringing would not have needed to ask. Though that is odd, considering your father was a priest. Wouldn't he have known about the Sky Temple in Marabad? Why did he never tell you about it? “Smaller temples, yes,” $athey answers at length. “Marabad has several of those as well, spread throughout various districts. The one we're heading to, however, is considered Rojan's most important temple. It's the only place in the city that allows for astronomers to watch celestial bodies, though most of it is for divination.” “Hence why it’s dedicated to the sky,” you conclude, trying and failing to imagine what it might look like; your curiosity quickly wins you over. “Alright, let’s go visit.” Having gotten approval, $aname heads for the hallway, leaving you to follow. You pass through the open door, past the guard stationed there, at which point $aname calls, “Follow from behind, Ziryan.” “Yes, captain!” you hear, glancing behind you to see the guard with a familiar name standing ready before falling into step a short distance away. “Isn’t that going to draw attention?” you wonder, looking at $aname who's a few steps ahead of you. You walk a little faster, catching up to walk beside $athem. $aname glances at you, then looks over $atheir shoulder, seeming considerate. “Sloppy, but it’ll do.” You track $atheir gaze, but when you look behind you once more, to your surprise you see that Ziryan is nowhere to be found. Confused, you look around, but you can't catch a single glimpse of them anywhere. “Where did they go?” $aname shrugs. “It’s a necessary skill for any Imperial Guard to have. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.” [[Continue|4.44]]

As you walk with $aname in silence, you’re beginning to notice that these corridors look unnervingly identical to each other. Now that the initial grandeur of the palace has lessened a little as you’re trying to become accustomed to it, you notice many the similarities in how the halls are designed; beige and white stone, with recurring paintings and carvings of snakes and mountains. You can definitely see how easy it would be to get lost in here without an escort. $aname, however, doesn’t seem fazed by any of it. Even though $athey’s not originally from here, $athey hasn't reacted to any of the extravagant architecture or interior, nor does $athey seem to care one bit for anyone with a title or wealth to their name. “You’re staring.” Caught, you <<if $caut gt $adven>>quickly look away again, though you peer at $athem from the corner of your eyes<<else>>smile apologetically, but do not bother to look away<</if>>. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I’m thinking.”<<else>>“Sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts.”<</if>> $aname levels you with a questioning gaze. <ul> <li><<if $apoints gt 2>><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Ask him why he became the Royal Protector.|4.46a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her why she became the Royal Protector.|4.46a][$apoints to $apoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $aname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li>[[Make small talk.|4.46b]]</li> </ul>

<<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why are you protecting me?” you ask, deciding you may as well get it out of the way now that you have $aname’s full attention.<<else>>“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” you start, even while you give $athem a curious look. “It’s only… I don’t understand you. I realize we’ve only just met, but you seem to hate everything about hierarchy and nobility. So why subject yourself to it? Why protect me?”<</if>> $aname gives you a long look, before $athey averts $atheir gaze again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but my reasons for protecting you have nothing to do with you.” You stare at $athem, befuddled. “That makes no sense.” “It makes perfect sense to me,” $aname replies, shrugging with nonchalance as $athey leads you through the hallways. There are so many of them that you quickly lose track of where you are, not bothering to keep your mental map updated as you’re too engrossed in the conversation with $aname. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“So explain it to me,” you say, and $aname frowns at you, until you add, “How else am I supposed to get to know you better?”<<else>>“I’m sure it does,” you say, matching $aname’s wry tone. “How about you fill me in on the secret? It would be nice if I could get to know you better, considering you’re guarding my life and all.”<</if>> "You want to get to know me better?" $aname repeats, giving you a strange look. "I do." $cathey's silent for a while as $athey walks beside you, before $athey suddenly says, “My favorite color is blue.” The sudden statement makes you blink. Was that a joke? But $aname continues, and $atheir tone is serious. “Do you want to know why? The story behind it is not all that interesting, though." "Tell me," you insist, not bothering to hide your eagerness. When was the last time you had an opportunity to get to know anyone new? Whatever $aname is willing to tell you, even if it's the smallest of details, you'll gladly listen. Cracking under your expectant gaze, $aname lets out a long sigh, drawing in another breath before $athey begins to speak. "Back in my hometown, when I sat at the edge of the shore as a child, I liked pretending to be a fisher like my mother. I would imagine hooking a sea serpent and hauling it back home as a grand prize, some sort of trophy to impress her with. I would sit at the edge of the sea at least an hour a day, usually during the sunset, and dream of what it would be like. Then, one evening, as I visited the shore as usual, the water suddenly went dark.” You listen with rapt attention as $aname guides you out of the hallways of the palace outside to the gardens surrounding it on the western side of the complex. It’s mostly empty save for a few guards patrolling, no one else present to listen to $aname’s story as you walk side by side. <<if $astory is true>>You remember $athem mentioning $atheir hometown in Avdin before where $atheir mother worked as a fisher—this must have happened before $athey moved to Ilwan, the capital.<</if>> “I thought it may have been a large cloud overhead, but the sky was sunny,” $aname says, a small twitch in $atheir lips in $atheir reminiscing. “Not a single cloud in sight. That’s when I noticed that the shadow wasn’t on the water, but in the water, and it was moving toward me.” “A sea serpent?” you deduce, and the quirk of $aname’s mouth turns into a full smile. “When it broke the water, it was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on,” $athey recounts. “The blue of its skin shimmered like nothing I had ever seen before, almost like jewels in the sunlight. The fantasy I had of catching one suddenly seemed so laughable. I wasn’t even certain if I would survive the encounter, let alone kill it. The serpent was looking right at me.” “Then what?” you urge, but $aname pauses as you approach the western gate, smaller than the one at the front of the palace. $cathey catches the attention of the guards, and makes a single upward motion with $atheir hand. “Open the gates!” one of the guards calls out. You witness the iron of the gate glow a faint blue color before it begins to move, lifted upwards through invisible magic. The sight of it is fascinating enough to distract you, if only briefly. “Nothing,” $aname states, and it takes you a moment to remember you asked a question as you pass underneath the raised gates out onto the street. “Nothing?” you question, though your gaze flits away toward the people giving you curious looks as you emerge from the palace complex. You find yourself wandering closer to $aname; if $athey notices, $athey doesn’t react. “It looked me right in the eye, then sank back into the water and disappeared,” $aname says. “The local priest from my village declared it a miracle ordained by the divine, a sign that I was chosen by the serpent for something special. The local scholars assumed the serpent did not consider eating me to be worth the effort; sea serpents don’t usually get in the habit of eating humans." “And you?” you ask. “What do you think?” “I think I had no idea what I was dealing with until it stared right at me,” $aname states. $cathey pauses, then adds, “And I think my favorite color is blue.” [[Continue|4.47a]]

Deciding to play it safe, you ask about something else you've been wanting to know. "Why do you need to see the head priest, exactly?" $aname's eyes surveys the area, still on guard even in the safe confines of the palace. "That's a topic best discussed behind closed doors, once we're back at the palace. Trust me, if I had a choice I would rather not be meeting the head priest either." Detecting the note of exasperation in $atheir tone, you ask, "Why is that?" $aname pauses as you approach the western gate, smaller than the one at the front of the palace. $cathey catches the attention of the guards, and makes a single upward motion with $atheir hand. “Open the gates!” one of the guards calls out. You witness the iron of the gate glow a faint blue color before it begins to move, lifted upwards through invisible magic. The sight of it is fascinating enough to distract you, if only briefly. "It's not that there's anything wrong with him," $aname considers as the two of you step out onto the street. "He's a kind man, attentive to everyone. A bit too attentive. He never shuts up; being a priest, though, I suppose that's to be expected." “Tell me about it,” you reply with a sigh. “My father would—” Your heart lurches in your chest as you come to a sudden halt, standing still in the middle of the street. $aname, having walked a step ahead, turns around and looks at you with arched brows. “What is it?” Your jaw clenches involuntarily as you avert your gaze<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, though you try to ease your tension and force a smile to your lips moments later. “Never mind. I already forgot what I was going to say.”<<else>>. “It’s nothing.”<</if>> Not the right time or the place. Whether there will ever be a right time or place for this kind of confession is a question you decide to ignore. For the sake of your country, you tell yourself. It wouldn't do for the Crown to fall apart in times of crisis. You suspect that excuse is one you'll be telling yourself many times more in the future. $aname does not look entirely convinced by your dismissal either, but lets the subject drop anyway. Moving on to a less painful subject, you opt to ask questions about the city itself. Mainly you inquire about its lay-out, shortcuts, important locations and other practical things, while $aname patiently answers. “Aside from the temple,” $aname recounts, “you may have come across some of the markets spread around the city.” “The lower ones, yes,” you confirm, though you didn’t do much more than sightseeing. The marketplaces at the base of the hills do have a more affordable price range compared to the expensive ones at the top, but being a wanderer you have—or had—little use for personal items; traveling light took priority. “Not the upper ones.” “You should avoid those for today.” “Too crowded?” “Among other things.” Not clarifying $atheir cryptic response any further, $aname continues. “The pleasure houses are equally as popular, however. They’re usually in the same vicinity as the public bathhouses.” “Pleasure houses?” you ask, the term foreign to you. $aname frowns slightly at you. “You usually only find them in larger towns or big cities like these. They’re meant for recreation.” That would explain why you haven’t heard of them before, as you’ve done your best to stay away from big cities up until now. “What sort of recreation?” $aname averts $atheir eyes and stares very purposefully ahead. “All sorts of things,” $athey replies evasively, and though you try your best, you can’t read anything from $atheir composed expression or $atheir casual tone. “Ask $dname about them, if you’re really curious. $cdthey’s more familiar with them than I am.” You hum thoughtfully, making a note to yourself to ask General $dname about it when you see $dthem. [[Continue|4.49]]

You think about the story for a while as the two of you fall into silence, until the walls of the palace are out of sight and you’re passing through streets less familiar. You wonder after the meaning behind the story, and what $aname’s intention was by sharing the story in the first place. As you think about it, you realize that while $aname did tell you about something important that happened to $athem as a child, $athey completely avoided answering why $athey became the Royal Protector. <<if $astory is true>>Again<</if>>. You're too impressed to be annoyed about it. “Would my sea serpent be the nobility?” you ask, deciding to respect $atheir tactful evasion of your original question by focusing on what $athey did willingly share with you. “What makes you think you even have a sea serpent?” $aname poses in return, which makes you scowl. “Please don’t turn this into ‘the real sea serpent was you all along’, or something.” $aname laughs. “I don’t think that’s applicable in your situation. It does sound like something a priest might say, though.” “Tell me about it,” you reply with a sigh. “My father would—” Your heart lurches in your chest as you come to a sudden halt, standing still in the middle of the street. $aname, having walked a step ahead, turns around and looks at you with arched brows. “What is it?” Your jaw clenches involuntarily as you avert your gaze<<if $charm gt $blunt>>, though you try to ease your tension and force a smile to your lips moments later. “Never mind. I already forgot what I was going to say.”<<else>>. “It’s nothing.”<</if>> Not the right time or the place. Whether there will ever be a right time or place for this kind of confession is a question you decide to ignore. For the sake of your country, you tell yourself. It wouldn't do for the Crown to fall apart in times of crisis. You suspect that excuse is one you'll be telling yourself many times more in the future. $aname does not look entirely convinced by your dismissal either, but lets the subject drop anyway. [[Continue|4.48]]

Much of the rest of your walk passes more pleasantly, due to the fact that both of you stay away from personal topics as you suspect you’ve both reached your limit for the day. Instead, you ask questions about the city itself. Mainly you inquire about its lay-out, shortcuts, important locations and other practical things, while $aname patiently answers. “Aside from the temple,” $aname recounts, “you may have come across some of the markets spread around the city.” “The lower ones, yes,” you confirm, though you didn’t do much more than sightseeing. The marketplaces at the base of the hills do have a more affordable price range compared to the expensive ones at the top, but being a wanderer you have—or had—little use for personal items; traveling light took priority. “Not the upper ones.” “You should avoid those for today.” “Too crowded?” “Among other things.” Not clarifying $atheir cryptic response any further, $aname continues. “The pleasure houses are equally as popular, however. They’re usually in the same vicinity as the public bathhouses.” “Pleasure houses?” you ask, the term foreign to you. $aname frowns slightly at you. “You usually only find them in larger towns or big cities like these. They’re meant for recreation.” That would explain why you haven’t heard of them before, as you’ve done your best to stay away from big cities up until now. “What sort of recreation?” $aname averts $atheir eyes and stares very purposefully ahead. “All sorts of things,” $athey replies evasively, and though you try your best, you can’t read anything from $atheir composed expression or $atheir casual tone. “Ask $dname about them, if you’re really curious. $cdthey’s more familiar with them than I am.” You hum thoughtfully, making a note to yourself to ask General $dname about it when you see $dthem. [[Continue|4.49]]

Moving on from the topic, $aname informs you of various places you’ve seen and some you haven’t, pointing some out as you walk past. The gray walls of the city guard barracks is a particularly familiar sight, but aside from that, you get a much better sense of the palace district than you did when you first came here. “The Crown’s Hill probably has the most public buildings out of any other district in the city,” $aname notes as a passing remark while your gaze drifts along various stores lining the streets, though many of them seem to be offering practical services rather than selling items. "Most other districts are majority residential." There are craftworkers, like blacksmiths and bookbinders and masons; artisans, like painters and sculptors and architects; and scholars like cartographers and apothecaries and herbalists. All of them seem to utilize magic to enhance their craft. You spot one blacksmith showing off enchanted blades that can channel fire through their steel, a cartographer advertising maps that can draw themselves throughout one's travels, and a sculptor who has put small, moving statues on display. The lifelike sculpture of a soldier, no bigger than your hand, waves at you with its sword as you walk past. Few of these places would have use to most average people, save for the occasional teahouse you see pop up here and there. You notice a lack of residential areas as well; the few houses that are present are extravagantly large, taking up the space of several stores with stone walls surrounding them. These walls seem similar to the ones enclosing the Royal Palace, though not nearly as towering. You wonder if some of the nobles you met earlier might live in these mansions. “Ah, there it is.” Attention drifting away from the streets around you, you follow $aname’s gaze toward what looks to be a city square. It's shaped like an octagon with a large fountain in the middle, topped by the statue of a familiar figure with a large snake wrapped around their body; from their elegant red dress and golden eyes you assume this must be Ashadūna. Her hair here is just as long as you saw in the carvings, reaching down to her ankles. Ostensibly, this statue does not move. You think it probably for the better; having a giant statue of the First Crown wandering about or waving at people would seem a tad bit too ridiculous. Aside from the fountain and the unmoving statue, the square is lined with many different buildings, though there is one that is unmistakable. You don’t remember seeing it before, likely because you chose the back alleys to navigate and never came close to the city square. The gigantic dome structure of the temple and its golden tones is hard to miss, even from a distance. It is quite busy as well; many people are milling about near the entrance or are coming and going, some in groups and others alone. There are so many visitors that some of them have to squeeze past others to get through the open doors. The discomfort you feel at the possibility of navigating such a busy place weighs heavy in your gut, but thankfully, $aname is of the same mind. “This may be a problem,” $aname says quietly, frowning at the crowd. “I was planning on taking you inside with me, but there are too many people.” “That would make protecting me more difficult,” you say, trying not to sound too eager as you and $aname step onto the square. Trying to distract yourself, you survey the other buildings on either side of the temple. Noting your interest, $aname does you the favor of pointing them out one by one. On the left of the domed temple is the tax office. It is flatter with only two floors, but also wider in structure, with a few people in green uniformed robes lingering near the entrance flanked by several guards. The building beside it has noticeably many more floors, making it taller than even Royal Palace; the public library. On the right of the temple there is a more modest building that serves as the Alchemists’ Guild, though this one has closed doors as its entry is more exclusive. There is a mansion beside it not unlike the ones you’ve seen before, surrounded by walls and almost as heavily guarded as the tax office. “The steward’s office,” $aname tells you with a tinge of distaste. “If Mezdin favors us we won’t run into him again.” You notice $aname staring at the Sky Temple even while $athey speaks. “Should I wait outside? Since I have Ziryan guarding me it should be fine, right?” $aname appears reluctant about the idea at best. “I’m not sure that’s… wait.” Something in the small crowd of people moving about the square seems to catch $aname’s attention, and after a moment you realize why. The golden glare of General $dname’s armor is unmistakable in the sunlight, aided by the fact that $dthey towers over nearly every other person around $dthem. [[Continue|4.50]]

$cdthey spots you almost immediately. Even from across the small distance left between you, you notice the way $dtheir gaze flits between you and $aname standing beside you, $dtheir brows lowering into a disapproving frown. When $dthey changes directions and heads right for you, the people around the general part almost instantly. $cdthey does not have to push past anyone or broaden $dtheir shoulders to be allowed space to move. You don’t know whether it’s the flashy armor or $dtheir stature, but the crowd flows around $dthem like river currents around a rock as $dthey approaches you and $aname. “What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of $dtheir mouth, which takes you aback for how blunt it is. It occurs to you $dthey can’t very well treat you as if you were the Crown out in public, as that would defeat the purpose of your disguise, but you’re still surprised at how easily General $dname adapted considering how persistent $dthey otherwise is about propriety. “$dname, your armor is as glaring as ever,” $aname remarks wryly. “$cthey wanted a tour of the city, so here we are.” “And you had to acquiesce on the busiest day possible?” General $dname says irritably, glancing toward the temple before $dtheir gaze tracks toward all the people surrounding you, plenty of them casting curious glances as they pass by or linger. $aname sighs, cutting the conversation short. “Look, I need to speak to the head priest. Can you take over?” General $dname’s irritated demeanor lightens at the mention of the head priest. “Ah. I assume it’s about that matter from before?” $aname nods once. General $dname glances at you before saying to $aname, “I expect you are not $their sole escort?” “There are seven others,” $aname confirms, and you arch your brows. “Seven?” you repeat faintly, glancing around you in an admittedly futile attempt to try and locate your guards. “So many?” $aname gives you a slight smile. “The bare minimum is four, but considering the circumstances…” You haven’t noticed anyone following you. Ziryan was the only other person you know of, but only because you saw them earlier. Where are the other seven hiding? “That will do,” General $dname decides, then looks at you. “Is there any place in particular you wish to visit?” You remember what $aname told you before. “How about the pleasure house?” General $dname’s eyes all but bug out of $dtheir head while $aname claps a hand over $atheir mouth, trying to smother $atheir poorly-hidden laughter. “The WHAT?” [[Continue|4.51]]

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$cdtheir voice booms across the square, drawing many looks from people around you, and you glance between General $dname and $aname cluelessly. “The pleasure house?” you repeat, uncertainly this time as you shoot $aname a scowl, seeing as $athey’s too busy laughing at you to correct what is obviously a misunderstanding. “$aname told me to ask you—” Red in the face, General $dname turns a furious and somewhat embarrassed glare on $aname, who is beginning to recover from $atheir teary-eyed laughter. “What, by the void, do you think you’re doing?” You frown at $dtheir scolding tone. “$cathey didn’t do anything. I was curious about it, so I asked $athem some questions and $athey answered.” General $dname halts $dtheir rant, looking more nervous than angry when $dthey turns to you. “Yes, of course, I only meant- this is clearly a ploy to embarrass me!” “Embarrass you how?” you say, though you can tell from the way $aname is grinning widely at the entire exchange that it was definitely $atheir intent. “I…” General $dname almost winces. “I am familiar with pleasure houses, but not in the way you might think. It’s merely because many of my soldiers choose to spend their money in such places, which necessitates the occasional visits to get them sorted out. But if possible, I’d prefer avoiding them.” You look from General $dname’s flustered countenance to $aname’s broad smile. “I don’t understand. What’s so embarrassing about visiting pleasure houses?” “In truth, nothing,” General $dname says hesitantly. “The artists there are fine people. It’s- it’s a personal issue of mine.” So, the people who work at pleasure houses are considered artists. That makes sense if they’re dancers and singers. There must be musicians there too, perhaps storytellers. You cannot imagine why that would embarrass General $dname. “Personal issue?” you ask, and $aname takes that opportunity to make $atheir escape. $cathey claps General $dname on the back. “Have fun with that.” You watch with bemusement as $aname raises a hand to you in a casual wave. $cathey turns around and leaves in an unhurried stroll toward the temple. General $dname glares after $athem, but once $aname has disappeared from sight $dthey unclenches $dtheir jaw and lets out a breath. “I am sorry to have to disappoint you,” General $dname says to you, a deep wrinkle between $dtheir brows, “but I absolutely cannot take you to a pleasure house. It would draw too much attention onto you as well as compromise my ability to keep you safe.” It must be something serious if that’s the case, yet $aname’s easy laughter has you uncertain about raising the question that’s on your mind. <ul> <li><<if $dpoints gt 0>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask about it; you want to know more about Dara.|4.52a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Ask about it; you want to know more about Delal.|4.52a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li>[[Talk about something else; you’re not curious enough to press the issue.|4.52b]]</li> </ul>

“What is it about pleasure houses that bothers you?” you ask, and General $dname opens $dtheir mouth as if to reply, before thinking better of it and gesturing toward a street on your left. Clearly $dthey’d rather not have this conversation in such a public place, with other people constantly passing you by. You follow $dthem as the two of you cross the square and head into the street, lined with mostly smaller residential buildings, or perhaps offices. Whichever the case, there’s much less people here compared to the square or shopping areas. “It’s not about the pleasure houses,” General $dname states while you walk. “Plenty of people request their services, but I have not…” $cdthey coughs into $dtheir fist. “I have no need for it. Still, whenever I visit one, the artists there seem very determined to sell. My presence tends to cause a ruckus.” Now you’re starting to get a little confused. “What, were they trying to badger you into sitting for a portrait?” General $dname appears equally confused by your remark. “That is… not the main thing pleasure houses are used for.” At the lingering look of puzzlement on your face, something seems to click for General $dname. “You must not know.” $cdthey clears $dtheir throat, folding $dtheir hands on $dtheir back and speaking as if $dthey were explaining a plan of attack. “The artists in pleasure houses tend to be skilled in many different areas for entertainment, but their main service is selling companionship.” <<if $res gt $flirt>>“O-oh.” You avert your gaze, starting to feel a little hot under the collar.<<else>>“Oh?” You eye General $dname with interest.<</if>> “I suppose I took the title of artist a little too literally.” “They are artists,” General $dname emphasizes. “One must have a talent for something to find work in a pleasure house. Whether it be painting, dancing, singing or playing instruments, poetry, even philosophy. The more talents an artist has, the more desired their services. Of course, you could also choose to ignore all of that when hiring an artist, but you may as well get your money’s worth.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“So, they’re eager to have you hire them, are they?” you tease, General $dname’s serious demeanor falling away. “As I said!” General $dname avoids your eyes. “I have no need of their services.” You hum in reply, smiling with amusement as you peer at the general from the corners of your eyes.<<else>>“You, uh, mentioned your presence would be a problem?” you venture, thankfully being able to keep yourself from stammering. Companionship, in all its physical aspects, is the last thing you need to be thinking about right now.<</if>> “Being seen hired by me would increase their status greatly,” General $dname elaborates<<if $flirt gt $res>>, perhaps a little too insistently<</if>>. “It would be the same if Mîr Behram walked into their establishment, no doubt.” <<if $flirt gt $res>>“Don’t sell yourself so short,” you reply, unable to resist it as you delight in how it flusters General $dname, whose eyes are flitting about as if $dthey has no idea where to look.<<else>>“You- you really don’t have to explain it to me,” you assure $dthem with a slightly awkward smile, as you quickly try to find a way to change the subject before you turn into actual rock from how tense you’re getting.<</if>> “Although, if you’re walking into a pleasure house dressed like this…” “What’s wrong with my armor?” General $dname balks. “It’s ceremonial!” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“It’s gold,” you point out wryly.<<else>>“It practically screams rich and powerful,” you say, flicking at the golden scales lined along $dtheir upper arms.<</if>> “Do you never wear actual clothes? Try putting some robes on sometime.” General $dname rolls $dtheir shoulders a little<<if $dpoints gt 4>> and briefly you find yourself distracted imagining what $dtheir shoulders look like underneath all that armor<</if>>. “…But it’s comfortable,” $dthey mumbles<<if $dpoints gt 4>>, and you can’t help but smile<</if>>. [[Continue|4.53]]

“In that case, where should we go?” you ask, and General $dname gestures for you to follow as you begin to walk, leaving the square behind for another street. “I have no particular destination in mind,” General $dname replies. “So long as there aren’t too many people around, we can go wherever you wish.” You remember $xname’s invitation from before. “How about the Red Lantern?” General $dname’s brows lower thoughtfully. “That is a rather popular tea house… then again, it is practically right next to the palace…” “$xname said $xthey and the rest of the Crescent Blades would be there,” you tell $dthem, though perhaps that’s a mistake judging from the look of annoyance that crosses the general’s face. “They can keep me safe, right?” General $dname looks like $dthey’s getting a tooth pulled as $dthey reluctantly admits, “In theory.” “In theory?” You arch your brows at $dthem. “Why else do I have seven different guards on me? Speaking of which…” You look around once more, eyes tracing the shadows of buildings and examining small alleyways, but you can’t figure out where they all could be hiding. When you look back to General $dname, you notice $dtheir amused gaze on you. “Can I meet some of them?” you ask, which wipes that amused gaze off $dtheir face rather quickly. “Meet-?” General $dname looks baffled at the idea. “Why would you need to meet them?” Personally, you’re more bemused at why this should be such a strange request. “Because I want to. They’re responsible for protecting me, aren’t they? The least I could do is meet some of them.” General $dname’s surprise is not due to $dtheir confusion this time. $cdthey eyes you pensively, as if trying to puzzle out some hidden meaning behind your words. <<if $calc gt $kind>>$cdthey’s probably right to; your reasons aren’t entirely out of the kindness of your heart, after all. Befriending your guards will give you much the same benefit as befriending your servants.<<else>>There is none, of course, as you were entirely genuine in your statement.<</if>> “If that is what you wish,” General $dname decides at length, though there’s something of hesitance in $dtheir words. “But I should warn you, they are not like most other soldiers.” That seems an obvious statement, considering they’re in charge of guarding the Crown’s life. Yet regarding General $dname’s reluctant expression, you get the distinct feeling $dthey’s not referring to ability. “In what way?” you ask <<if $caut gt $adven>>cautiously<<else>>curiously<</if>>. “Historically, gaining a position within the Imperial Guards was considered one of the highest honors,” General $dname explains. “Currently, however, it’s considered a trash heap for soldiers deemed unsuitable for the army, but who are nevertheless too talented to discard completely.” “What do you mean, unsuitable?” You’re beginning to wonder if you should rethink your idea of meeting them. “Should I be worried?” “No, no need for that—you’ll see what I mean in a moment.” General $dname stops walking, looking around to survey the utterly empty street you’re on, before $dthey calls out: “Ezo, Kaja!” You don’t hear or see anything, but you feel it instantly; the sensation of having eyes aimed at your back, suddenly pressing into your skin. [[Continue|4.54]]

“Where are we going, by the way?” you ask, noticing you seem to be wandering in much quieter and emptier streets than the ones $aname took you through. “I had no particular destination in mind,” General $dname replies. “So long as there aren’t too many people around, we can go wherever you wish.” You remember $xname’s invitation from before. “How about the Red Lantern?” General $dname’s brows lower thoughtfully. “That is a rather popular tea house… then again, it is practically right next to the palace…” “$xname said $xthey and the rest of the Crescent Blades would be there,” you tell $dthem, though perhaps that’s a mistake judging from the look of annoyance that crosses the general’s face. “They can keep me safe, right?” General $dname looks like $dthey’s getting a tooth pulled as $dthey reluctantly admits, “In theory.” “In theory?” You arch your brows at $dthem. “Why else do I have seven different guards on me? Speaking of which…” You look around once more, eyes tracing the shadows of buildings and examining small alleyways, but you can’t figure out where they all could be hiding. When you look back to General $dname, you notice $dtheir amused gaze on you. “Can I meet some of them?” you ask, which wipes that amused gaze off $dtheir face rather quickly. “Meet-?” General $dname looks baffled at the idea. “Why would you need to meet them?” Personally, you’re more bemused at why this should be such a strange request. “Because I want to. They’re responsible for protecting me, aren’t they? The least I could do is meet some of them.” General $dname’s surprise is not due to $dtheir confusion this time. $cdthey eyes you pensively, as if trying to puzzle out some hidden meaning behind your words. <<if $calc gt $kind>>$cdthey’s probably right to; your reasons aren’t entirely out of the kindness of your heart, after all. Befriending your guards will give you much the same benefit as befriending your servants.<<else>>There is none, of course, as you were entirely genuine in your statement.<</if>> “If that is what you wish,” General $dname decides at length, though there’s something of hesitance in $dtheir words. “But I should warn you, they are not like most other soldiers.” That seems an obvious statement, considering they’re in charge of guarding the Crown’s life. Yet regarding General $dname’s reluctant expression, you get the distinct feeling $dthey’s not referring to ability. “In what way?” you ask <<if $caut gt $adven>>cautiously<<else>>curiously<</if>>. “Historically, gaining a position within the Imperial Guards was considered one of the highest honors,” General $dname explains. “Currently, however, it’s considered a trash heap for soldiers deemed unsuitable for the army, but who are nevertheless too talented to discard completely.” “What do you mean, unsuitable?” You’re beginning to wonder if you should rethink your idea of meeting them. “Should I be worried?” “No, no need for that—you’ll see what I mean in a moment.” General $dname stops walking, looking around to survey the utterly empty street you’re on, before $dthey calls out: “Ezo, Kaja!” You don’t hear or see anything, but you feel it instantly; the sensation of having eyes aimed at your back, suddenly pressing into your skin. [[Continue|4.54]]

Both you and General $dname turn around to face the new arrivals. Unlike the colorful robes the guards around the palace wear, these two are dressed in identical uniform armor; Imperial Guards like Ziryan, then, rather than those of the palace. “Is the area secure?” General $dname questions, and both of them salute with a palm across their hearts. “Yes, general!” “Good.” General $dname turns to you as $dthey gestures toward the two guards, $dtheir lips parted and drawing in a breath to continue speaking when one of the guards suddenly cuts in. “Excuse me.” The broad-shouldered, stocky guard with a bush of brown curls interrupts, their tone and expression rather grave as they stare at you. “Are you the Crown?” While General $dname squints at them, you stare back at them in confusion; you have genuinely no idea how to answer that. The guard beside them, tall and slender with sleek black hair in a ponytail, sighs loudly. “Kaja, are you blind? Who do you think we’ve been guarding this entire time?” “What?” Kaja says, offended. “I have to make sure! We’re usually in charge of guarding $rtitle $rname, so….” General $dname frowns at Kaja. “Did you not see $ctheir Imperial Majesty in the throne room earlier today?” Ah, so these two must be the Imperial Guards who accompanied General $dname before. Kaja stares at your face. “Sort of? It was so bright I couldn’t see much of anything.” The other guard, Ezo, rolls their eyes before turning to you. “Forgive my partner, Your Imperial Majesty, she’s a bit of a dolt.” They bow, followed a moment later by Kaja. “I am Ezo, currently she. This is Kaja, she or that idiot. Whichever you prefer.” Kaja shoves Ezo in the side, nearly making her fall over. “Weren’t you two supposed to guard Princess Kham?” General $dname questions without blinking an eye, seeming used to their dynamic if the expectant look on $dtheir face is any indication. “We did!” Kaja says, smoothly sidestepping a swipe of Ezo’s fist. “Or, we tried to, but she just laughed at us and told us to go do something useful. She seemed pretty convinced her own guards would do a better job.” “Stuck-up brat,” Ezo mutters, fist still balled as she glares at Kaja. “Ezo,” General $dname warns, and Ezo presses her lips together in a thin line, averting her gaze but keeping quiet nonetheless. “Behave.” “Yeah, Ezo, behave,” Kaja repeats with a grin, shrieking when Ezo catches a fistful of curls in between her fingers. [[Continue|4.55]]

“As you can see,” General $dname states with visible exasperation, “they are not my soldiers any longer.” “Oh, don’t say that!” Ezo protests, wincing when Kaja finds a grip on her ponytail and yanks. “You- OW- will always be the general of my heart- Kaja, you brat, let go!” “You will always be the general of my heart,” Kaja mocks in a high-pitched, nasally tone as they both finally release each other. “Aren’t you embarrassed saying stuff like that?” You can’t help but snort a laugh, trying to cover it with your hand, though it is noticed by both Ezo and Kaja who grin at you in return. “If you two are done with your pissing contest,” General $dname interrupts, $dtheir tone sharp with an edge of warning, and the way both Ezo and Kaja’s demeanor changes almost instantly is stunning to watch. Their postures straighten out completely, any signs of teasing or mischief fading from their expressions. “That was impressive,” you comment, looking questioningly at General $dname. “I thought you said only soldiers who were unsuitable ended up as Imperial Guards? What’s unsuitable about them?” “Aside from $aname, I’m the only one they listen to,” General $dname says, shooting both guards a glare. Kaja shrinks away a little, while Ezo sticks out her lower lip in an offended pout. “They were both total nightmares to deal with for their immediate superiors, as well as their peers.” “That’s so rude, general!” Ezo complains. “We were just roughhousing!” “$ctheir Imperial Majesty looked bored to death, so we thought $they could use some entertainment,” Kaja agrees, nodding heavily. General $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at them, and when $dthey turns $dtheir body to face them both Kaja and Ezo take a nervous step back, Kaja yelping a little as she hides behind Ezo’s taller frame. “Ezo, protect me!” Ezo glares over her shoulder at Kaja who cowers at her back, shoving her toward the general. “Protect you? What about ME? I'm about to take the brunt of this scolding!” “Spirits help me, you two—” General $dname cuts $dthemselves off before whatever curse was no doubt hanging on the edge of $dtheir tongue leaves $dtheir lips. “Go. Leave! Back to your duties! Any more of your antics and we’ll attract attention!” “Yes, general,” Ezo mutters, looking rather disappointed as she bows to you and then grabs Kaja by the arm. “Your Imperial Majesty.” She starts dragging Kaja off, who hastily bows to you as well while being yanked away. “Goodbye! Enjoy your day, <<if $gender is 'male'>>Lord<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>Lady<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>Noble<</if>> Crown!” “<<if $gender is 'male'>>Lord<</if>><<if $gender is 'female'>>Lady<</if>><<if $gender is 'nb'>>Noble<</if>> Crown?” Ezo repeats disbelievingly as she hauls Kaja toward the nearest alleyway. “Who told you that you could pull a random address out of your ass? Just call $them $ctheir Imperial Majesty like everyone else, would you? I swear, the inside of your head is emptier than a gaping cavern!” “You need to loosen up your ponytail, Ezo,” Kaja retorts. They disappear around the corner, but you can still hear echoes of their argument. “All that blood being cut off from your head is making you cranky.” “There’s nothing wrong with my ponytail!” “Ah, is that a bald spot I see?” “Kaja, I swear…” Their voices quickly fade away, leaving you and General $dname in a brief silence. [[Continue|4.56]]

“I feel as if I should apologize for that display,” General $dname says to you, still glaring at the alleyway Ezo and Kaja disappeared to. <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“No need for that,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I appreciated the distraction. Are all the Imperial Guards that lively?”<<else>>“Don’t,” you say sincerely. “That was great. Are all the Imperial Guards that lively?”<</if>> “Ezo and Kaja are probably the most unruly among them,” General $dname considers, scowling as $dthey adds, “They’d be better suited to $xname’s band of misfits.” You remember Ziryan, who seemed much more restrained compared to the two of them. Normal in comparison, really, and not nearly as eager to make conversation with you beyond apologizing for the incident in the forest. They seem more similar to $aname in that respect, although… recalling the habit $aname has of openly disregarding the nobility, you think you’re starting to see a trend within the Imperial Guards. Ziryan might actually be the most well-behaved guard among them. “Shall we head toward the teahouse?” General $dname suggests when you remain silent, pulling you from your thoughts as you nod and let $dthem lead the way. Thinking about the route you took from the palace to the square and back around again, you realize you’re walking a circle through the Crown’s Hill district. Looking up at the sky, you notice the sun has already peaked and is beginning its descent; you’re well into the afternoon, which means you must’ve spent over an hour walking the district. “Are all the other districts this huge?” you ask General $dname, considering the fact the city is built on ten hills in total. Assuming the Crown’s Hill is the largest, you’d still wager that if you were to tour the whole city, it might take half a day. “No,” General $dname assures you. “The only other district that could rival the Crown’s Hill would be Kartan’s Hill, though it is smaller in size.” “Let me guess, that’s where the School of Marabad is?” you deduce, wondering about the naming convention. “Lucky Kartan. He got a forest as well as an entire district named after him.” “He was one of the founders of the school.” You fall silent as you try to keep your memories at bay, though you know it to be futile; you tried not to think about your nightmare, but the slip-up during your conversation with $aname has lingered in the back of your mind. For all the things you don’t yet know, magic—including its history—is one of the few areas your parents did their best to guide you in. Kartan is a name only familiar to you because of what your parents taught you about him. But there were so many things they didn’t teach you, things they never said and never will. Thinking about it is a physical ache, so real that it makes your breath catch. “General $dname,” you say quietly, your hand inadvertently reaching for your chest before you realize what you’re doing and let it fall to your side. “Can we… is there a temple nearby? A small one.” While you’re not looking at the General $dname, you can feel $dtheir eyes on you as $dthey hovers close, concern all but radiating from $dthem. “I believe I know of one near here. Follow me.” You don’t know when you’ll have another opportunity for this, or if it’s even a good idea in the state you’re in, but there are no other places for you to mourn. No home you can return to and reminisce. This is the closest thing you have left. [[Continue|4.57]]

General $dname does not ask you any questions on your way there. $cdthey simply walks with you in silence, guiding you away from crowded places. You’re appreciative of the silence; if pressed, you don’t know if you’d be able to keep your composure. The temple $dthey leads you to is an unassuming thing, tucked in between two large buildings as if it had been an afterthought, only barely squeezed in among decadently built mansions. It must not be a fire temple. Those require open space and are often very simple in design. This temple, however, is closed off by walls instead of supported by pillars, though its doors remain open. “It looks unattended,” you note, peering through the open doorway to catch a glimpse of the interior, but you can’t make out anything more than what looks to be an entrance hall. Definitely not a fire temple, then. “Perhaps it’s more accurate to call this a shrine rather than a temple,” General $dname replies. “While it's kept clean, there's no priest in charge of it. Mostly, it’s used by people who happen to pass by.” <<if $caut gt $adven>>You hesitate for a while as you stare at the open doors, but you have no excuse to run away from this. General $dname is with you, and there are several guards protecting you.<</if>> You move toward the doors, relieved to find there seems to be no one else inside the entrance hall, guarding the temple proper with another pair of more ornate doors. Now you know which type of temple this place is: a water temple. You can tell… <ul> <li>[[…from the aura it gives off.|4.58a][$intu to $intu + 25]]</li> <li>[[…through analyzing its structure.|4.58b][$intel to $intel + 25]]</li> </ul>

Due to the presence of spirits residing within, temples always tend to have a different kind of aura around them depending on their element. Fire temples radiate warmth and invitation to step inside, air temples make one feel light and carefree, and earth temples exude something old and unchanging that tends to intimidate all but the most unshakable of people. But now, you only feel a sense of calm, a signature of water temples. Usually it’s the most difficult to pick up on, but considering your turbulent thoughts moments earlier the serenity surrounding the temple stands out that much more. You gaze on the basins of water built into the walls, meant for you to clean your hands before you enter the temple, but then pause when you catch General $dname watching you. “Should I wait outside?” $dthey asks. <ul> <li><<if $dpoints gt 2>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Let him wait outside.|4.59b]]<<else>>[[Let her wait outside.|4.59b]]<</if>></li> </ul>

<<if $intel gt $intu>>[ @@.stattext;Intelligent@@ character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent! ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Intuitive@@ character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent! ]<</if>> <<if $flirt gt $res>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“Oh, that’s alright,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I’d rather you come with me, if you don’t mind?”<<else>>“No need,” you reply, smiling at General $dname. “I’d rather you come with me, if you don’t mind?”<</if>> “It would be my pleasure, that is—” $cdthey catches $dthemselves, almost stammering at the misstep, “—it is my duty, of course, to accompany you.” Somehow $dtheir words sound less like a response to you and more like a reminder for $dthemselves.<<else>><<if $charm gt $blunt>>“You don’t have to do that,” you say, perhaps speaking with a little too much eagerness that you quickly try to rein in. “I mean… you can come with me, if you want to.”<<else>>“You can come with,” you say, all but blurting it out and nearly wincing at how artless it sounds. “If you want to, I mean.”<</if>> “Of course I want to,” General $dname states, seeming almost puzzled that you would assume otherwise. “Right.” You take a deep breath.<</if>> “Come on, then.” Moving toward one of the basins built into the wall, you dip your fingers into the cold water. The symbols inscribed on the stone of the basin light up in a soft glow of blue, indicating you may begin to wash them. You submerge your hands fully into the water, up to your wrists as you begin to clean them thoroughly. Beside you, General $dname silently follows your example as $dthey tugs $dtheir gloves off and tucks them away, though $dthey seems familiar with the required ritual without needing any guidance from you. Your gaze lingers on $dtheir large hands, <<if $height is 'very tall'>>much like yours <</if>>not fitting very comfortably in the modest basin. You look back at your own hands, still rough and worn despite all of Siham and Ishrah's efforts to soften it. Nothing they can do will heal the calluses on your palms, earned through years of farm work with your mother. Most might consider them unsightly, but to you, they're a cherished memento. You wonder whether General $dname’s hands are as rough as yours. Once the light from the symbols dims again and you’re finished, you retract your hands from the basin and shake the droplets off. Beside you, General $dname does the same. Moments later, the inner doors of the temple swing open almost soundlessly. You step in front of the doorway to look inside the inner chamber, and as expected, even this small, hidden temple appears more elegant than any other you’ve ever been in. There are pathways of water built into every part of the structure. They originate from the back wall of the temple, pouring into the chamber through narrow slits right beneath the ceiling, though the water doesn’t fall down as it should. Instead, it flows steadily downwards, stuck to the wall as if it were on the ground. Once the pathways transition to the floor they expand from the center of it outwards into a softly glowing pond and four rings of larger circles. There are narrow tiles allowing visitors to walk to the pond at the center, which is the road you follow, mindful of your feet as you look at the quietly flowing water with wonder. The pathways continue along the other walls and, as you look directly above you, even the ceiling. The water streams back out of the same holes it pours in from, but upside down. All the other water temples you’ve visited had either a single fountain built within, or used a natural source of water like a river or a stream. You’ve never seen a temple this elaborate, or artificial. [[Continue|4.60a]]

<<if $intel gt $intu>>[ @@.stattext;Intelligent@@ character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent! ]<<else>>[ @@.stattext;Intuitive@@ character trait has been locked in. All traits are now permanent! ]<</if>> <<if $charm gt $blunt>>“I’d appreciate it,”<<else>>“Please,”<</if>> you reply. General $dname nods in understanding, casting one last look at the inner doors of the temple before turning around and stepping back outside. Whether this means you’ll actually have any real privacy is uncertain, however; you know for a fact the Imperial Guards will still keep watch. Moving toward one of the basins built into the wall, you dip your fingers into the cold water. The symbols inscribed on the stone of the basin light up in a soft glow of blue, indicating you may begin to wash them. You submerge your hands fully into the water, up to your wrists as you begin to clean them thoroughly. The coolness of the water is soothing against your skin, still rough and worn despite all of Siham and Ishrah's efforts to soften it. Nothing they can do will heal the calluses on your palms, earned through years of farm work with your mother. Most might consider them unsightly, but to you, they're a cherished memento. Once the light from the symbols dims again and you’re finished, you retract your hands from the basin and shake the droplets off. Moments later, the inner doors of the temple swing open almost soundlessly. You step in front of the doorway to look inside the inner chamber, and as expected, even this small, hidden temple appears more elegant than any other you’ve ever been in. There are pathways of water built into every part of the structure. They originate from the back wall of the temple, pouring into the chamber through narrow slits right beneath the ceiling, though the water doesn’t fall down as it should. Instead, it flows steadily downwards, stuck to the wall as if it were on the ground. Once the pathways transition to the floor they expand from the center of it outwards into a pond and four rings of larger circles. There are narrow tiles allowing visitors to walk to the pond at the center, which is the road you follow, mindful of your feet as you look at the quietly flowing water with wonder. The pathways continue along the other walls and, as you look directly above you, even the ceiling. The water streams back out of the same holes it pours in from, but upside down. All the other water temples you’ve visited had either a single fountain built within, or used a natural source of water like a river or a stream. You’ve never seen a temple this elaborate, or artificial. The water within the pathways seems to emit blue light as well; looking more closely, you identify the faint glow of symbols carved into the pathways as the cause. It must be how the water is able to stream along the walls and on the ceiling. Reaching the innermost circle, you settle onto your knees as you peer down at the clear pond of water in front of you, and close your eyes. For a moment, you can almost feel the phantom weight your father’s hand on your shoulder. From time to time your mother would tag along with you and your father as well; if she saw the water in this temple, you’re certain she would’ve complained about what a waste it is. Without realizing it, your hands ball into fists on your lap, clenched so hard you don’t notice it until even your blunt nails start digging into your palms. You take a quiet breath, trying to calm yourself as you recall the Four Elemental Principles engraved into your memory as clearly as your own name. Fire reveals, earth provides, air liberates and water— “Water reflects,” your murmur, a reminder to yourself. If your thoughts are discordant and your own spirit ill at ease, so will it be reflected in the water spirits of the temple. As tempted as you might be by the tranquility that is seemingly offered by the water, this isn’t the right time for introspection. At most, it is a moment of peace, but that is more than enough for you. [[Continue|4.60b]]

<<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $dname to 'General Dara'>><<else>><<set $dname to 'General Delal'>><</if>>While you did not intend on introspection, which would require a concord, water temples also serve to clear one's mind. It's a simple thing to close your eyes and focus on the sound of gently flowing water surrounding you from all sides. For the first time in a long time, it allows you to breathe and merely be. In truth, you were fortunate to find a temple that wasn't one dedicated to fire. The spirits that reside in fire temples value truth above all else; entering such a temple while repressing as many things as you are, you would certainly be burned. The water spirits, however, have no such conditions for entering their temple. So long as you know yourself, you are free to explore the depths of your own spirit, or let it be washed clean of your worries. For you, knowing yourself has never been an obstacle. If anything, your entire life is painful clarity. If you did not know yourself intimately, with flaws and all, you would never be so doubtful about being chosen as the Crown. But here in this temple you can let those doubts go, at least for a little while. You try to let it all go, memories and all. Unbidden, you think of fire, and your chest throbs. Below you, the water shudders. When you open your eyes, you see a deep red stain in the center of the pond. It slowly spreads outward like disease, corrupting the water with endless blood. You jump up to your feet, breathing hard as pain blooms in your chest, like someone is trying to rip your heart out. It's the memories, you realize with a gasp. You're holding on to them too tightly while the water spirits keep pulling and pulling and pulling, trying to wrench them free with the force of a flood- "I take it back!" you cry out, hands covering your heart. "I'll keep it, I'm keeping it! It's mine!" The silence in the temple is deafening, lasting for what seems like hours before the spread of red in the water shrinks as suddenly as it came. It's pulled back into the center, smaller and smaller before it eventually disappears. You're still catching your breath by the time the oppressive air in the temple eases. This is why your father told you not to take the spirits lightly. Opening yourself up to them always carries with it certain risks, some more harmful than others. Deciding it best to leave while the spirits are calm once more, you make your way toward the entrance on shaky legs, pausing against the doors to steady yourself before you push them open. $dname still waits for you outside, turning to face you as you step outside. $cdthey casts a glance at the temple behind you with a frown before looking back at you. "Is everything alright?" $dthey asks. "You seem faint." "I'm fine." You don't sound nearly as convincing as you hoped. "It's nothing. Let's go." $dname eyes the temple again, frown deepening, before $dthey leads the way as the two of you leave the temple behind. [[Continue|4.61]]

As you and General $dname enter, you realize you’ve both been quiet this entire time. <<if $pass gt $ass>>Should you speak? There are no rules that state temples ought to be silent places, but as you try to think of something to say, your mind is totally blank. It only increases your anxiety, until the silence unexpectedly breaks without your help.<<else>>Thinking about it, this actually makes for the perfect opportunity to get to know General $dname better. Just as you part your lips to speak, however, the silence unexpectedly breaks without your help.<</if>> “Do you often visit such temples?” General $dname asks, which takes you by surprise. You did not expect $dthem to start up a conversation, but when you meet $dtheir eyes $dthey appears sincerely curious. “From time to time,” you reply as the both of you reach the innermost circle of water. You settle onto your knees in front of the pond at the center of the temple, regarding the perfectly clear reflection on its surface. “It makes for a good place to clear my mind, though I don’t usually form concords with the temple spirits.” General $dname settles down beside you, gazing at you questioningly. “Why is that?” Without realizing it, your hands ball into fists on your lap, clenched so hard you don’t notice it until even your blunt nails start digging into your palms. You stare down at the pond and take a quiet breath, trying to calm yourself as you recall the Four Elemental Principles engraved into your memory as clearly as your own name. Fire reveals, earth provides, air liberates and water— “Water reflects,” your murmur, a reminder to yourself. If your thoughts are discordant and your own spirit ill at ease, so will it be reflected in the water spirits of the temple. As tempted as you might be by the tranquility that is seemingly offered by the water, this isn’t the right time for introspection. “Pardon?” You startle, having nearly forgotten General $dname’s presence. Rather than try and cover it up, you repeat it for $dthem. “Water reflects, and…” You hesitate, but then admit, “There are some things I would rather not reflect on. At least, not right now.” General $dname is silent for a beat, speaking quietly, “I understand. Forgive me for prying, Your… ah…” $cdthey stops $dthemselves, trailing off awkwardly. <<if $flirt gt $res>>You arch your brows at $dthem. “You can use my name, you know.” “I cannot,” General $dname replies immediately, attention fixed onto the pond below. “It would not be proper.” “Even in private?” You try to catch $dtheir gaze, leaning forward a little, but $dtheir stare is well and truly glued onto the gentle blue glow of the pond, reflected in $dtheir dark eyes. A thought occurs to you, one that makes you smile mischievously. “Will you not use my name, $dname?” It has the intended effect: $dname’s eyes snap to yours, $dtheir lips parting slightly but no sound coming out. $cdthey simply stares at you as it takes a while to sink in, leaving $dthem in a flustered silence. “Should I not call you that?” you ask innocently. $dname takes a breath, shaking $dtheir head as $dthey abruptly breaks $dtheir stare. “You may call me whatever you wish. It is my name, after all.” You smile with satisfaction. “$dname it is. Please, call me $name in return. I’ll feel bad if you don’t.” With a long sigh, $dthey reluctantly gives in. “Very well.” "Very well?" $cdthey frowns back at you, realizing your intentions, before looking down at the pond again and murmuring, very softly, “Very well, $name.” Oh, but you like the way your name rolls off $dtheir tongue far too much.<<else>>“If you want, you can use my name,” you suggest carefully, suspecting General $dname won’t be very fond of the idea. “It’s less of a mouthful compared to the- uh, the other thing, at least.” “I cannot,” General $dname replies just as you expected, $dtheir attention fixed onto the gently glowing pond below. “It would not be proper.” You wonder how to go about convincing $dthem, hesitating when you consider simply telling $dthem the truth, but General $dname seems to sort who would appreciate that more than a persuasion tactic. “I would appreciate it if you did,” you say, though you can’t look $dthem in the eye as you say it. “At least when we’re alone. I know this might sound strange, but… I want to hold on to my name as much as I can.” While your gaze is averted from $dthem, you can see General $dname look at you from the corner of your eyes. $cdthey lingers in silence, making you think that perhaps $dthey would rather uphold the proper address after all. “Then I will,” $dthey says, giving in so easily you turn your head to meet $dtheir gaze and find it lacking any of the indignance you expected. If anything, it has softened in understanding. “So long as you do me the honor of using mine, as well.” That seems like a fair trade. “Of course. Thank you, $dname.” Oh, but you like the way it rolls off your tongue far too much.<</if>> You decide not to linger too long on it, however, before you become distracted.<<if $dpoints gte 6>> Your eyes meet. It was meant to be a mere glance, but you can’t seem to look away from the light gleaming in $dname’s eyes. They seem so expressive, reflecting an unexpected thoughtfulness as they gaze upon you. It stands out from the otherwise stony features of $dname’s face, which yield nothing. Even the subtle furrow of $dtheir brows gives nothing else away. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“$dname,” you say, just to test it. $dname regards you attentively. “Yes?” You grin brightly, pleased by how natural it feels. “Nothing, never mind.”<<else>>When $dname’s eyes wander from yours, trailing over your face instead, you break the stare and look away, feeling oddly exposed. After a long moment $dname does the same, leaving the two of you seated in tense silence.<</if>><</if>> Now that conversation between you has paused, you decide to take the opportunity and do what you came here to do in the first place. [[Continue|4.61a]]

While you did not intend on introspection, which would require a concord, water temples also serve to clear one's mind. Even with $dname sitting beside you, it's a simple thing to close your eyes and focus on the sound of gently flowing water surrounding you from all sides. For the first time in a long time, it allows you to breathe and merely be. In truth, you were fortunate to find a temple that wasn't one dedicated to fire. The spirits that reside in fire temples value truth above all else; entering such a temple while repressing as many things as you are, you would certainly be burned. The water spirits, however, have no such conditions for entering their temple. So long as you know yourself, you are free to explore the depths of your own spirit, or let it be washed clean of your worries. For you, knowing yourself has never been an obstacle. If anything, your entire life is painful clarity. If you did not know yourself intimately, with flaws and all, you would never be so doubtful about being chosen as the Crown. But here in this temple you can let those doubts go, at least for a little while. You try to let it all go, memories and all. Unbidden, you think of fire, and your chest throbs. Below you, the water shudders. "What's happening?" you hear $dname say, $dtheir hand on your shoulder a weight that steadies you through the pain. "Are you alright?" You open your eyes and see a deep red stain in the center of the pond. It slowly spreads outward like disease, corrupting the water with endless blood. "I-" You can barely get a word out, breathing hard as pain blooms in your chest, like someone is trying to rip your heart out. "I'm fine, it's just-" The memories, you realize with a gasp. You're holding on to them too tightly while the water spirits keep pulling and pulling and pulling, trying to wrench them free with the force of a flood- "I take it back!" you cry out, hands covering your heart while the grip $dname has on your shoulder tightens. "I'll keep it, I'm keeping it! It's mine!" The silence in the temple is deafening, lasting for what seems like hours before the spread of red in the water shrinks as suddenly as it came. It's pulled back into the center, smaller and smaller before it eventually disappears. You're still catching your breath by the time the oppressive air in the temple eases. This is why your father told you not to take the spirits lightly. Opening yourself up to them always carries with it certain risks, some more harmful than others. "What was that?" $dname questions, glancing down at where your hands are still clutching your chest. "It was my fault," you murmur regretfully, winded by the force of magic that just wreaked havoc on your poor heart. "I asked too much of the spirits, but it's alright now." $dname frowns at you, seeming dissatisfied with that answer, but unwilling to push you on it. You regard $dname's unaffected state with curiosity. "You didn't feel any of that?" "I saw you doubling over in pain and the water running red," $dname answers. "But I did not feel anything, no." Odd. Usually even people with very little talent for magic would be able to sense such changes in the atmosphere, but it seems as if $dname is shielded from it. "We should leave," $dname states as $dthey gets up to $dtheir feet, staring down at the now still pond as if $dthey could intimidate the spirits merely by glaring at the water. "I'm not well-versed in magic. I cannot protect you should the spirits change their minds." That would be a problem. "Alright." <<if $dpoints gt 4>>You slowly get up to your feet, your legs feeling a little shaky, and when your knees buckle a little $dname catches you by the arm. "Careful," $dthey cautions you, $dtheir grip surprisingly gentle as $dthey supports you, letting go when you're standing upright. "Thank you," <<if $flirt gt $res>>you say with a smile, which only grows wider when $dname huffs and averts $dtheir gaze.<<else>>you say quietly, trying not to think about $dtheir long fingers curled around your arm.<</if>> "You need not thank me for that."<<else>>You're not very keen on lingering here either. Slowly, you get up to your feet. Your legs feel a little shaky, and your knees buckle a little but you catch yourself in time, easing yourself upright. "Let's go."<</if>> [[Continue|4.61]]

The road to the teashop is blessedly uneventful, allowing you to compose yourself by the time your arrive. $dname exhales a long, drawn-out sigh as $dthey leads you toward the entrance of the Red Lantern, the people hovering near it quickly stepping aside to let you pass. “Is the entire teashop plagued by these idiots?” Not a moment after you’ve stepped over the threshold do you hear $xname’s voice. “Plagued?” You turn your head and find $xthem leaning against the wall beside the doorway, arms crossed in a nonchalant pose. “Careful with such accusations, general. We’re paying customers.” $cxthey catches your eyes and winks at you, <<if $xpoints gt 3>>coaxing a smile from your lips<</if>> before $dname cuts in. “So long as you’re not my headache to deal with.” You look toward the rest of the shop, all the tables and seats filled mostly with $xname’s Crescent Blades with a few others who aren’t wearing black robes scattered in between. $xname pushes off from the wall, sauntering over and prodding $dname in the side with $xtheir elbow. “Don’t act coy! You missed me, didn’t you? That’s why you’re tagging along with $name here. I’m flattered, $dname, but you must know I can never return your feelings—” “Spirits grant me patience,” $dname breathes out, grabbing the offending elbow prodding $dthem in $dtheir side, and shoving $xname away. “For reasons I cannot fathom, $name wished to see you. Understand that I will be the first to sharpen my blade should you fail to keep $them safe.” “So dramatic,” $xname says with an exasperated sigh. You arch a brow at $xthem. “Really? You’re calling $dthem dramatic?” $cxthey waves dismissively with $xtheir hand. “There’s an art to exaggeration. Neither of you would understand.” $dname takes a moment to massage $dtheir temples. “I… should take my leave before I do something regrettable. $xname, I’m warning you—” Right as $dname takes a step toward $xname, $dthey walks right into someone who had been passing through the entrance into the teashop, causing them to run right into $dtheir armor-clad chest. This someone, however, is a very familiar figure to you; a bright green scarf wrapped around a head of black hair, carrying a tembûr on their back. It’s <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin, the storyteller who pointed you in $xname’s direction<<else>>the storyteller who pointed you in $xname’s direction<</if>>. “Oh, pardon me!” <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin<<else>>The storyteller<</if>> twists around, looking up at $dname and flashing $dthem an apologetic smile. “Sorry, <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>, I didn’t see you there.” $dname gawks at them. “<<if $dgender is 'male'>>Uncle<<else>>Auntie<</if>>?!” You slap a hand over your lips to smother the laughter bubbling up to your mouth. Beside you, $xname shares no such reservations and lets out a howl as $xthey claps <<if $ervinsent is true>>Ervin<<else>>the storyteller<</if>> on the shoulder. “Exactly right!” $xthey agrees, nodding sagely as $xthey barely keeps $xtheir grin under control. “You have to show more care toward you elders, Ervin! Please forgive him for the misstep, <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>.” “You—” $dname sputters with indignation, looking like $dthey wants to tear into $xname for a moment before $dthey addresses—or rather, scolds—Ervin. “Don’t call me <<if $dgender is 'male'>>uncle<<else>>auntie<</if>>! I’m only two years older than $xname!” Ervin tilts his head slightly. “So, <<if $dgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>, then?” $dname starts to nod. “Yes- wait, no!” $cdthey scowls as you snort against your palm and $xname starts to laugh even louder. “Don’t act so casual! Who do you think I am?” “<<if $dgender is 'male'>>Uncle<<else>>Auntie<</if>>, keep your voice down,” $xname says. “You’re causing a scene. Poor Ervin didn’t mean it, don’t be so hard on him!” “I’m leaving!” $dname declares, though before doing so, $dthey points a finger right in $xname’s face. “If even a single hair on $name is out of place when I see $them again, it will be your head!” $cdthey turns to you, anger briefly disappearing from $dtheir face. “Do be careful.” With one last glare shot toward a grinning $xname, $dname turns away and sweeps out the teashop like a storm, nearly running over a few mercenaries who were just entering the shop. [[Continue|4.63]]

If the basins of water built into the walls didn’t give it away, the curling patterns of waves on the inner doors surely would. The presence of a door at all is a clear indicator; unlike other temples, ones dedicated to water are the only ones with an entrance hall that requires one to wash their hands before stepping inside. Besides which, the fact that it was built so near to other buildings rules out fire and air, and for it to have been an earth temple it would’ve been built on pure natural ground, not the artificial stone tiles lining the streets. That only leaves one other possibility. You make to clean your hands in one of the basins, but then pause when you catch General $dname watching you. “Should I wait outside?” $dthey asks. <ul> <li><<if $dpoints gt 2>><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Ask him to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Ask her to accompany you.|4.59a][$dpoints to $dpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $dname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Let him wait outside.|4.59b]]<<else>>[[Let her wait outside.|4.59b]]<</if>></li> </ul>

Ervin frowns at $xname after $dname has left. “What mischief have you gotten me into this time, $xname?” $xname shrugs, appearing far too pleased with $xthemselves. “Don’t worry about $dname, $dthey’s full of hot air. Have you met my friend yet?” Placing a hand on your shoulder, $xname pulls you away from the entrance to stand beside $xthem. You expect it’s so you’re no longer blocking the path for other people entering and leaving the teashop, but even once you’re no longer in the way $xtheir hand lingers. <<if $xpoints gt 4>>You can feel the warmth radiating from $xtheir skin, even through your layers of clothes. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Glancing at $xname from the corner of your eyes, you can’t help but smile,<<else>>Even as you try to keep your composure, you feel your heart beating faster,<</if>> though you know $xname doesn’t mean anything by it. $cxthey tends to touch people around $xthem, even $dname. This is no different.<<else>>You look at $xname’s hand placed comfortably on your shoulder, and as $xname notices your stare, $xthey releases $xtheir grip with an apologetic smile.<</if>> “Let me introduce you,” $xname says to Ervin, who turns his gaze onto you and frowns when your eyes meet. "This is $name. $cthey<<if $gender is 'nb'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>>-" “Do I know you from somewhere?” Ervin guesses before $xname can continue, and you’re surprised he’s able to recognize you at all, considering most of your face was covered up beneath the hood of your cloak at the time. $xname glances between the two of you, curious. “You’ve met before?” “Two days ago,” you respond, deciding to clarify this mystery for the both of them. “I asked Ervin where I could find you; he pointed me in the right direction.” Ervin’s eyes light up with recognition. “Ah, now I remember! Has your problem been resolved, then?” You and $xname exchange a look, $xname smirking as $xthey says to Ervin, “You sent $them to me, didn’t you? Of course $their problem was resolved. I should thank you for the opportunity, Ervin; you’ve made me a very rich <<if $xgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>>.” $cxthey must have already been paid by the Imperial House with quite a sum, from the sounds of it. That thought sits uneasily in your stomach, as you recall everything that occurred at the time, including the way $xname used you. $xname gestures for you and Ervin to follow as $xthey guides you through the teashop, moving between the tables scattered around with mercenaries drinking either tea or alcohol, enjoying a meal and chatting amongst themselves. You spot a few musicians in the corner, playing a lively tune on a flute and tembûr, adding to the cheerful atmosphere. Instead of being caught up in their merriment, however, each and every table immediately notices and greets $xname as $xthey passes. “When are you going to sing for us, chief?” $xname laughs as $xthey takes you up the stairs. “Are you trying to get us kicked out, Gulîn?” When you reach the upper floor, all the mercenaries seated there instantly take note of $xname's arrival. “Here’s to you, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brother<<else>>sister<</if>>!” $cxthey grins as one table all raise their glass at the sight of $xthem. “Don’t indulge too much, friends, there’ll be more work in the morning.” “Let me buy everyone a round, chief, since you’re not going to do it!” “With whose coin?” $xname mocks playfully. “Buy yourself a bath instead, Ferhat, I can smell you from here!” More raucous laughter erupts from among the tables. <<if $adven gt $caut>>You find yourself drawn in by the spirited, celebratory air that has overtaken the building, enjoying the noise and presence of people all around you now that you have little to fear. It’s freeing.<<else>>You find yourself sticking close to $xname, not partial to the almost hectic nature of such celebrations. It can’t all be merely due to habit; part of it is merely your nature, favoring quieter places over such busy noise.<</if>> [[Continue|4.64]]

$xname leads you toward a table near the inner balcony, overlooking the lower floor. You notice two people already seated there when you arrive; Tûjo you recognize, still clad in black robes that hide everything save for his eyes, but the other one seems a stranger. They’re clad in heavy armor, though their face is revealed. You can't help your curious look at their appearance. The light of the sun colors their short, choppy hair in a warm tint of red and highlights the lighter brown of their eyes, their skin a deep golden shade. They have soft facial features, a broad but flat nose and a round jawline, but a stern line in their lips. “There you are,” the stranger says, and when you hear their voice it finally clicks. “Where did you suddenly run off to?” You catch their eyes as they look at you. “Heval?” “Ah.” Heval blinks in recognition. “Well met. What… are you staring at?” $xname snorts as $xthey and Ervin each take a seat at the table, $xname pulling an empty chair from another table for you to sit between them. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“I wasn’t prepared to see your face,” you answer honestly, leading Heval to frown at you while $xname starts snickering. “Why is that something you need to be prepared for?” Heval turns to glare at $xname. “Stop laughing.” “You look prettier than what I imagined, is all.” Ervin agrees. “More delicate, no?” Heval sputters. “Pretty? Delicate?” "Should we not call you that?" you question, and Heval lowers their head, seemingly oddly shy. "N-no, uh…" Heval clears their throat. "It is a compliment. Thank you." You squint, staring at the darkening red just visible on Heval's cheeks and forehead. "Heval, are you blushing?" Heval raises their gloved hands to cover themselves from view. "Don't look at me!"<<else>>“I was surprised to see you with your helmet off, that’s all,” you explain as you sit down. “Not what you expected?” $xname ventures with a mischievous grin, and you consider Heval’s face once more. “Definitely prettier than I thought,” you consider. Ervin agrees. “More delicate, no?” Heval sputters. “Pretty? Delicate?” "Should we not call you that?" you question, and Heval lowers their head, seemingly oddly shy. "N-no, uh…" They clear their throat. "It is a compliment. Thank you." You squint, staring at the darkening red just visible on Heval's cheeks and forehead. "Heval, are you blushing?" Heval raises their gloved hands to cover themselves from view. "Don't look at me!"<</if>> While Ervin and $xname laugh you don't bother smothering your smile, agreeing to their feeble request and looking over at Tûjo instead, who seems to have anticipated your question. “I don’t take it off in public,” he replies, pointedly picking up his teacup and tugging a layer of cloth around his mouth just far enough to fit the cup beneath without showing any skin, taking a small sip. “Tûjo is from the south of Şevan,” Ervin clarifies helpfully, and you remember hearing about a custom like that before. You’ve never seen anyone else adhering to it, however, considering how far away from Şevan you are; it’s on the opposite end of Arsur, after all. “You only take it off in private?” you ask Tûjo. “Among loved ones.” “So, the Crescent Blades?” Tûjo averts his gaze, eyes sliding off to the side while $xname starts to coo. “Ah, Tûjo, are we your loved ones?” $xthey teases, reaching over $xtheir chair to throw an arm around Tûjo’s shoulders. “I’m so touched!” Tûjo glares at $xname. “I will throw you off this balcony.” “How is that surprising?” Heval says to $xname, seeming to have recovered from their previous embarrassment with a confused look on their face. “Of course we’re his loved ones. Who else would be?” Tûjo’s eyes widen slightly, and while you can’t see his skin, you can tell from the heated tone of his voice that he must be flushing beneath his robes. “I will throw you both off this balcony.” “What did I do?” Heval protests while $xname wipes a nonexistent tear off $xtheir cheek, patting Tûjo on the shoulder before finally releasing him. "$name, is it your intention to make all of my mercenaries flush like children?" $xname says to you, drawing murderous looks from both Tûjo and Heval this time. “I believe that’s my cue to play a song,” Ervin announces, smoothly slipping off his chair and taking his tembûr with him toward the center of the floor where there seems to be a designated space for musicians, with a few empty chairs already waiting for him. Seems like you’re in for a lovely time. [[Continue|4.65]]

“Come now, Tûjo, no need to be shy,” $xname coaxes, catching the eye of one of the servers and motioning for a cup of tea before turning to you. “We’re all among friends here. Something to drink, $name?” “I’d like some black tea,” you answer, thinking it best to keep sober. “Thanks.” Tûjo huffs and turns his head to face away from $xname, choosing to watch Ervin tune his tembûr instead while a few mercenaries at tables nearby call out song requests. “Crown Dila and the Peri Queen!” someone shouts out. One of their companions kicks at their chair. “You request that every time we come here, enough’s enough!” “Do The Tale of the Barber and His Seven Brothers!” Several people groan and protest, Heval shooting the suggestion down immediately. “We’ll be here all week if we have to listen to that!” “How about <<if $xgender is 'female'>>Nitocris’ Lament<<else>>Meryatum’s Lament<</if>>?” $xname picks up a teaspoon and hurls it across the room, hitting the offending mercenary in the forehead while the others laugh. “Shut up, Nebez!” The name of that particular song—or rather, the <<if $xgender is 'female'>>woman<<else>>man<</if>> it’s about—is one you’ve heard before. Recalling an earlier conversation between you, $xname and Tûjo, you recognize it as the name of the Qatheshi <<if $xgender is 'female'>>princess<<else>>prince<</if>> that was once one of $xname’s lovers, although it didn’t end well. <<if $xpoints gte 6>>“Is it really that sore of a subject?” you ask $xname. Tûjo and Heval both stare at you the moment the question leaves your lips, which makes you reconsider whether it was a safe thing to ask. $xname, however, smiles wide and leans against the table with an elbow as $xthey turns in $xtheir chair to face you. “$name, are you asking me if I’m available?” <<if $pass gt $ass>><<if $res gt $flirt>>“What?” You panic. “No! I was just- it was out of curiosity! You don’t need to answer.” “Oh, you poor thing.” $xname moves away again, leaning back against $xtheir chair with a grin. “Now I feel bad. Don’t worry, I was only teasing.” “I knew that,” you mumble, distinctly embarrassed at your overreaction.<<else>>You grin back at $xthem. “Don’t flatter your ego, I was only curious.” $xname presses a hand over $xtheir heart, exaggerating an injury. “Oh, you are ruthless! I really do have a type.” “I don’t know whether I should be insulted or flattered,” you consider playfully.<</if>><<else>><<if $flirt gt $res>>Seeing through the game $xname is playing with ease, you mirror $xtheir pose as you turn your body to face $xthem. “Well, are you?” $xname looks intrigued, though $xthey keeps a playful tone as $xthey replies, “For you? I’m always available.” Your eyes trace the subtle curve of $xname’s lips, before they flit up to meet $xname’s with a challenge. “I’ll keep that in mind.” $xname’s gaze darkens, but before anything more can come of it $xthey shakes $xtheir head and breaks the moment.<<else>>Blinking at the apparent misunderstanding, you reply, “No, I was only curious.” $xname all but pouts, visibly disappointed. “That’s it? No other reason?” “What other reason would there be?” you say, confused. Heval snorts while $xname hangs $xtheir head in defeat. “Looks like your usual tactics aren’t going to work, chief.”<</if>> “To answer your question,” $xname says, putting the conversation back on track. “It’s not a sore subject—” “Liar,” Tûjo says. “But,” $xname continues, shooting a glare at Tûjo, “that doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about it. That goes for any of my previous lovers, by the way; I prefer not to live in the past.”<</if>><<else>>You decide not to ask about it, however, as you also recall $xname being rather sensitive about the topic the last time Tûjo brought it up. Besides which, you’re not curious enough to pry in $xname’s personal history.<</if>> [[Continue|4.66]]

At this point a server for the teahouse arrives, balancing your and $xname’s cups of tea on a tray. You accept your own cup with a <<if $charm gt $blunt>>smile and a <</if>>word of thanks, whereas $xname takes $xtheir cup and casually flicks a gold coin onto the server’s empty tray. The server gapes at it. “<<if $xgender is 'female'>>Mistress<<else>>Master<</if>>, this is far too much for only two cups of tea!” “No, no, that’s for you, not the tea,” $xname clarifies, though $xthey barely seems to be paying attention to the server as $xthey watches Ervin string an ambient tune together on his tembûr. “I’ll pay for the tea when I’m done drinking.” “Chief, will you please be more careful about spending your coin?” Heval says in exasperation while the dazed server bows in thanks and wanders away with their tray in both hands, staring down at the gold. “You’re going to burn through your allowance before the month is over.” “$cxthey has an allowance?” you interject, bemused that the leader of a mercenary band wouldn’t have full control over its finances. “It’s self-imposed,” $xname admits, smile a little awkward as $xthey rubs the back of $xtheir neck. “What can I say, I’m a generous <<if $xgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>>.” “For all that $xthey likes making coin, $xthey has no idea how to handle it properly,” Tûjo muses while you take your cup of tea to your lips, blowing on it before taking a sip. “What’s the use of having wealth if you can’t spend it?” $xname argues, and both Heval and Tûjo stare $xthem down. “When we were in the marketplace earlier, you wanted to buy forty different smoking pipes,” Heval points out. “So?” “Chief, you don’t even smoke!” “That’s not the point!” Under any other circumstances you might’ve been amused by the display, but that uneasy feeling from earlier resurfaces as you think about what happened in the forest yesterday. The reason $xthey was paid at all. $xname used you as bait. Thinking through it you can see why $xthey did it, and you more than anyone understand the personal vendetta $xthey seems to hold against the Followers, but to know that $xthey used you so easily bothers you. $xname regards the scowl building on your face. “What’s the matter? Worried I’m going to bankrupt the national treasury?” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“No,”<<else>>“No, nothing like that,”<</if>> you answer honestly, the lines between your brows deepening as you stare back at $xname and wonder how much $xthey really cares. “Whatever it is, it’s leaving you in a rather foul mood.” “I’m not in a foul mood.” “There’s hardly any use lying to me, $xnickname.” $xname smirks at you, and for the first time you think you understand how $xthey manages to drive $dname up the wall like $xthey does. “I have sensory magic, remember? You just went from sunshine on a spring day to storm clouds blocking out the sun. Tell old $xname what’s bothering you. I can’t say I’m a great listener, but…” <ul> <li><<if $xpoints gt 2>><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Ask why he used you to get rid of the spies.|4.67a][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Ask why she used you to get rid of the spies.|4.67a][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $xname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li>[[Let it go and change the subject.|4.67b]]</li> </ul>

<<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Why did you use me as bait?” Heval and Tûjo exchange a look, before both of them rise from their seats and promptly walk away, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. $xname almost winces, $xtheir smile turning a little awkward. “You really don’t like to dance around the issue, do you?” You frown back at $xthem, your gaze expectant, and $xname breaks. “Okay, okay—look, $name, it’s…”<<else>>“What are you celebrating here, exactly?” you ask, keeping your tone as mild as possible as you trace the rim of your cup with the tip of your finger. “The Crown’s appearance? Or perhaps how smoothly your little plan back in the forest went?” The smirk fades from $xname’s face. “Ah.” Heval and Tûjo exchange a look, before both of them rise from their seats and promptly walk away, not even bothering to come up with an excuse. “Ah?” you repeat, arching your brows. “That’s all you have to say?” “I knew this would come up eventually—look, $name, it’s…”<</if>> $cxthey sighs, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>running a hand through his hair<<else>>brushing a few stray locks of her hair behind her ear<</if>>. “It wasn’t personal.” “Not toward me, maybe,” you retort. “But it was personal for you, wasn’t it? That’s what $rname said.” A dark look crosses $xname’s face before it’s smoothed out and $xthey meets your eyes again. “$crthey’s right. It was… is personal for me. I did what had to be done, and it kept you safe. Without those spies lurking among your guards, you can—” “Safe?” you say incredulously, remembering the arrow aimed between your eyes. “I was almost shot. If it weren’t for $aname, I might’ve gotten killed.” $xname cringes at that, so at least $xthey has the decency to feel some measure of shame, but even so $xthey still insists, “Tûjo wouldn’t have let that happen.” “You don’t know that.” “No, I don’t,” $xname admits, but offers nothing more. $cxtheir shoulders are tense, but the look in $xtheir eyes is steady, and you wonder how deeply this grudge of $xtheirs runs for $xthem to take such a risk. Perhaps it’s similar to your own. [[Continue|4.68a]]

"It's nothing important," you respond dismissively, managing a smile as you evade an honest answer. "I've had an eventful day, that's all." "Right." Neither $xname nor Heval appear convinced, while Tûjo narrows his eyes slightly in skepticism, yet $xname does you the favor of moving on. "Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to? I didn’t expect to see you tagging along with $dname.” You drink your tea and fill the three of them in about your sightseeing. Omitting the part about pleasure houses to spare $dname some dignity, you commiserate with Tûjo and Heval about the sheer size of the city. "I've yet to see all of it," Heval says. "The hills make it a pain to navigate. It has great views, however." Tûjo hums in agreement. "Apparently most of the city is visible from the roof of the public library. It is, of course, restricted." You make a note to inquire after access, as a view like that is one you would very much like to see. While you continue telling them about your day, $xname listens for the most part. $cxthey appears a bit distracted, in fact, gaze occasionally straying from you to wander about the teahouse, head shifting a little every now and then as if $xthey were hearing a new noise. You don't remember $xthem being this absent back in the forest, $xthey seemed much more focused then. Considering it, however, you quickly realize why: in the midst of a city like this, with so many people around, $xname must be sensing far more than $xthey would in a forest. When you recount to $xthem about what occurred at the temple, however, $xtheir full attention immediately returns to you. “That was you after all?” You give $xthem a questioning look. “What do you mean?” “I noticed something strange earlier in the direction of that temple,” $xname explains pensively. “Like a sudden ripple in the water. I thought I sensed your presence and wanted to investigate it, but it disappeared too quickly. What were you thinking about that upset the spirits to that extent?” You avert your gaze. “Nothing. A few bad memories, that's all." $xname must notice your evasion considering how blatant it is, but $xthey doesn’t point it out or try to convince you otherwise. Instead, $xthey smoothly continues the conversation: “I never understood why people liked temples so much. Having a spirit digging through my head doesn’t sound remotely appealing.” [[Continue|4.69]]

“I only wish you would’ve told me,” you say. “I would’ve understood.” It’s not as if thoughts of revenge have never occurred to you before, but you always dismissed them considering it’s rather hard to exact revenge when you’re dead. Even so, you understand the impulse, though you do not appreciate being used and lied to. <<if $calc gt $kind>>After all, can you honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same in $xname’s shoes? $cxtheir plan was sound, and it worked exactly as $xthey intended. That much you cannot begrudge $xthem.<<else>>You cannot see yourself doing the same thing, though, at least not in the same manner. At the very least, had you been in $xname’s shoes, you would’ve told the truth. Having someone cooperate willingly is much more preferable to you than lying to people.<</if>> For a while, $xname doesn’t reply, but then you see the furrow in $xtheir brows form like a small crack in an otherwise smooth mask. “I’m not so sure you would,” $xthey mutters, averting $xtheir gaze while bringing $xtheir cup to $xtheir lips, taking a long sip. The tension that lingers at the table is an unpleasant one, sitting between the two of you. For a moment, you consider telling $xthem. Confessing all that has happened to you so far, just to prove that you do understand like no one else possibly could, but then you remember you don’t actually know anything about $xname. You don’t know $xtheir reasons for doing what $xthey did, you don’t know why $xthey hates the Followers of Vidarna; it’s a jarring realization. $xname seems so warm, so charismatic, so approachable, but as you watch $xthem from across the table now you cannot help but think the two of you may be more alike than you first thought. Both of you keep people at a distance, but $xthey is much better at hiding it than you are. “You don’t trust me,” you infer, almost startled at the realization, though you should’ve anticipated this. What reason would $xname have to trust you? Merely because you are the Crown? “It’s not about trust, it’s about—” $xname sees the expression on your face and stops $xthemselves, exhaling a deep sigh. “Listen, why don’t we stick to more pleasant topics? Let’s not sour the celebration by speaking of bad memories.” You give $xname an incredulous look. “It happened yesterday.” “What’s in the past is in the past!” $xname states with an entirely undeserved air of wisdom, then has the audacity to grin at you. “Now, what shall I do to make you smile? Would you like me to honor you with a serenade? I am very poor at playing instruments, but I could give it a try.” Just like that, $xname has moved on and shaken off the unpleasant tension between you without hesitation. “You’re unbelievable.” “I hear that a lot,” $xname says, smirking. “You should drink your tea, it’s getting cold. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to? I didn’t expect to see you tagging along with $dname.” Heaving a sigh, you decide to let your misgivings go for now; clearly talking to $xname about it won’t get you anywhere. Instead, you drink your tea and fill $xthem in about your day, though you omit the part about the pleasure house to spare $dname some dignity. [[Continue|4.69a]]

$xname listens for the most part. $cxthey appears a bit distracted, in fact, gaze occasionally straying from you to wander about the teahouse, head shifting a little every now and then as if $xthey were listening to something. You don't remember $xthem being this absent back in the forest, $xthey seemed much more focused then. Considering it, however, you quickly realize why: in the midst of a city like this, with so many people around, $xname must be sensing far more than $xthey would in a forest. "What are you listening to?" you ask, interrupting your own story when you notice $xname tilting $xtheir head a certain way. $cxthey blinks, $xtheir attention fully returning to you. "Nothing in particular. People passing by, and the like." "Do you do that all the time?" "Not usually, no." "So why…" It dawns on you<<if $res gt $flirt>>, and heat rushes to your face<</if>>. "Oh. You're looking out for me." "Being here is a risk you're taking, $name," $xname teases. "Seeing as how I invited you here, I ought to keep you safe. I'm sure your guards are capable enough, but I'd rather you rely on me." <<if $res gt $flirt>>"I see." You look away from $xname's, nervous that the gleaming green of $xtheir eyes might notice the genuine pleasure you feel at the thought. "Well, thank you."<<else>>"How thoughtful of you," you reply, yet beyond the mischievous tone of your words, you feel a genuine pleasure at the thought. "It is appreciated."<</if>> $xname gives you a knowing look. "Don't worry, I've heard everything you were saying. $aname left you with $dname, did $athey?" "$cathey did." You continue with your tale, and once you recount about what occurred at the temple, $xtheir suddenly interrupts. “That was you after all?” The question puzzles you. “What do you mean?” “I noticed something strange earlier in the direction of that temple,” $xname explains pensively. “Like a sudden ripple in the water. I thought I sensed your presence and wanted to investigate it, but it disappeared too quickly. What were you thinking about that upset the spirits to that extent?” You avert your gaze. “Nothing. A few bad memories, that's all. Like you said, it’s best not to linger on them.” $xname must notice your evasion considering how blatant it is, but $xthey doesn’t point it out or try to convince you otherwise. Instead, $xthey smoothly continues the conversation: “I never understood why people liked temples so much. Having a spirit digging through my head doesn’t sound remotely appealing.” Tûjo and Heval return before you can reply, taking their seats again as if they had never been gone at all, and $xname pins them both with an accusatory look. “Cowards.” [[Continue|4.69]]

The afternoon continues on pleasantly as you find yourself easing into the atmosphere. Most of your conversation centers around things to do in Marabad (naturally, $xname recommends a few select pleasure houses) and stays away from heavier matters that might spoil the fun. But, as it turns out, it was destined to be spoiled either way. The first sign of things going awry is the way $xname, mid-sentence, suddenly cuts $xthemselves off and turns $xtheir head to listen to something you can’t hear. Moments later, the carefree expression on $xtheir face sours into a scowl. “Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” $xthey groans as $xthey gets up from $xtheir seat, followed unquestioningly by Heval and Tûjo. The sound of chatter on the upper floor fades; all the other Crescent Blades have taken notice. While Ervin continues to play a tune, either uncaring or unaware of the change in atmosphere, the mercenaries at the tables fall silent, some watching $xname while other seem to simply be waiting. You look around, trying to catch sight of whatever disturbance caused $xname to move as you get out of your chair. “What is it?” “Nothing to worry about,” $xname replies casually as $xthey wanders toward the balcony railing, leaning against it on $xtheir elbows while peering down at the ground floor below. “Just a few unwelcome visitors, that’s all.” Curious, you move over and join $xthem at the balcony, but when you look down, everything appears normal. The Crescent Blades on the ground floor seem not to have noticed the change in the air on the upper floor, carrying on merrily drinking and talking among each other—until $xname’s heralded ‘unwelcome visitors’ finally show up, that is. If the teahouse had closed its doors you’re certain these new arrivals would’ve burst right through them. Seeing as how the doors have been left open, however, the visitors settle for stomping inside instead. Certainly less grand an entrance then they probably hoped for. They are three people, each wearing identical uniforms; long green robes detailed with brown at the hem and the edge of their sleeves. Aren’t those the same ones you’ve seen on the tax officials at the square? “Where is the owner of this establishment?” one of them calls out, bringing a quick end to the mood downstairs as well. You notice more Crescent Blades on the upper floors joining you and $xname at the balcony to look down at the spectacle, while Heval and Tûjo hang back like they’re waiting for orders. From the back of the teahouse the person you presume to be the owner appears, though in a decidedly more graceful manner. [[Continue|4.70]]

The edge of their blue dress trails behind their elegant stride. They hold a delicate silver smoking pipe between their spindly fingers as they meet the tax officials halfway, right below where you and $xname are standing on the balcony. From the pure gray of their bound up hair you suppose the owner must be quite old, which makes the bold entrance of the younger tax officials all the more offensive. “You called for me?” the owner replies with obvious disinterest as the mercenaries at the surrounding tables watch. “Are you the Honored Master Zîn?” the official questions. "The lady who owns this establishment, that is?" The owner does not reply immediately. Instead, she takes a long, languid drag from her pipe, then blows out the smoke right in the faces of the tax officials who cough and try to wave it away. “Is there a problem, child? As I recall, my taxes are not yet due till the end of the month.” “I can’t believe the idiot came back,” $xname mutters from beside you. “They were here before?” you ask, and $xname glances at you before looking back down at the conversation happening below you. “One of them was.” $xname points them out to you, the one at the center flanked by the other two. “They demanded a seat, but we’d already taken all the available tables. One of the servers suggested they share, and they spat at their feet before leaving in a fit of anger. I suppose they fetched their little friends to back them up.” <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“What an asshole,”<<else>>“Even a pig has better manners than that,”<</if>> you mumble, frowning down at the tax officials as they continue their tirade. “There has been a slight adjustment,” one of them tells the owner. “With the arrival of the Crown, I’m sure you understand… we’ll have to ask for your payments in advance.” Your frown deepens into a scowl as these officials use your arrival as an excuse for their petty scheme. “What a load of horseshit!” one of the Crescent Blades sitting below exclaims, angry agreements rising up from the rest of the crowd; the tax officials glance around nervously, but seem otherwise disinclined to back away. Master Zîn raises a hand, and the mercenaries fall quiet again. “If I do not agree to pay?” she says, sounding not the least bit intimidated as she takes another drag from her pipe. “The city guard are waiting outside, my lady,” one of the officials points out. “Consider your options with care.” You notice $xname tense up beside you, as does Master Zîn; she tilts her head up and gives $xname a warning look, but then her eyes flit to you. She stares at you for a long moment, taking in your indignant expression, before turning back to the officials. “Is our new Crown aware of this policy?” she remarks with utter nonchalance, yet both you as well as the officials freeze up. You look at $xname. “She knows?” $xname grins back at you. “I assure you, I did not tell her; I’m afraid a mere glamor is not enough to fool someone of Master Zîn’s caliber.” “W-well,” a tax official sputters, exchange a look with their companions. “Of course! It is for $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s benefit, after all!” “We do not have all day, Master Zîn,” another official states impatiently, though their nervous glances at the glaring mercenaries around them betrays their unease. “Will you cooperate peacefully, or do we need to confiscate the tax payment through force?” The tension is thickening by the moment. Before you can think of what to do about this situation, however, $xname already has a hand clenched around the balcony railing. “$xname, what are you—” Without any warning, $xname vaults over the balcony and drops down right between the tax officials and Master Zîn. The latter does not even flinch; the former nearly topple over in fright. “Guards!” one of them cries out, and the teashop descends into chaos. [[Continue|4.71]]

The city guards standing outside rush into the shop while the Crescent Blades get out of their seats and surround the officials on all sides, blocking the city guard from reaching them. You watch with no small amount of bewilderment as $xname stands in front of the officials, who are now huddled in a group, clutching at each other as they eye the mercenaries around them. “What is the meaning of this?” the main instigator demands, a slight tremble in their tone even as they turn on $xname. Their eyes widen in recognition and in fury. “YOU!” While you’re not sure what you can do in this situation, you can’t keep merely observing from afar; these officials dragged your name into this. Moving away from the balcony, you make your way to the stairs. “$name, where are you going?” you hear Tûjo call after you. “Let $xname handle this.” You ignore him as you go down the steps and weave through the mercenaries, managing to push through the circles to reach Master Zîn and $xname. “This seems a bit much over a single payment of taxes,” $xname remarks, staring back at the enraged official with curiosity. “Instead of disrespecting your elders, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?” “You- $xname, you-!” The official seems too angry to speak, pointing a finger right into $xtheir face. $xname waits patiently. “Me?” “YOU SEDUCED MY <<if $xgender is 'female'>>MOTHER<<else>>FATHER<</if>>!” …Wait, what? The Crescent Blades surrounding you burst into deafening laughter, while $xname grins sheepishly at the official. “I seduce a lot of people,” $xname replies blithely. “You’ll have to be more specific.” At this point, the official's face is starting to turn red. "You know exactly who! Our house has been reduced to laughing stock among the other nobles; my <<if $xgender is 'male'>>father<<else>>mother<</if>> will speak of nothing but you all day, and you do not even have the decency to remember <<if $xgender is 'male'>>his<<else>>her<</if>> name!" One of their companions puts a hand on their shoulder. "Serdar, perhaps you should calm down." The official shakes it off, spitting, "But what else can I expect from a degenarate, no doubt raised by degenerates?" The back of $xname's hand cracks against the official's face not a moment after they finish their sentence, sending them sprawling over the ground. Whatever laughter and mockery there was before dissipates, the Crescent Blades surrounding you now like a silent wall. $xname's voice is treacherously calm as $xthey speaks in quiet tones, "Do not insult my mother." For a moment you think $xthey has cowed the official as they lay trembling on the ground, but when you see the hatred on their face as blood drips from their split lip, you know you have misjudged them. “GUARDS!" they scream at the top of their lungs. "APPREHEND <<if $xgender is 'male'>>HIM<<else>>HER<</if>>!” Seems like the situation is about to escalate. <ul> <li><<if $xpoints gt 2>><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Step in and defend Xelara.|4.72b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<<else>>[[Step in and defend Xelef.|4.72b][$xpoints to $xpoints + 1]]<</if>><<else>>You are not close enough with $xname to select this option.<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'female'>>[[Wait and see for what Xelara will do.|4.72a]]<<else>>[[Wait and see for what Xelef will do.|4.72a]]<</if>></li> </ul>

The city guard press into the teashop, and you hear weapons being drawn from beyond the crowd at the entrance. “Move aside!” “Over my dead body!” You know that revealing yourself as the Crown here and now would be foolish, not only because of the commotion it would cause; it would also compromise your safety. Even so, you can’t simply stand by and watch. An idea occurs to you. While personally interfering may be a problem, thankfully, you have your own guards at your disposal. You’re not sure whether merely saying their names will be enough to summon them, but you decide it is worth a shot. “Ezo, Kaja.” $xname glances over $xtheir shoulder at you, the only one able to hear the words you speak over the noise of the Crescent Blades pushing back against the city guard. Just as you think they must not have heard you, a familiar voice drowns out the din of the brewing fight. “Out of the way!” You see Crescent Blades part as Ezo and Kaja step into the circle, though they are trailed by an irritated city guard. Ezo pretends not to see you, casting a pitying glance at the official still lying on the ground, while Kaja glances at you discreetly before aiming her attention at $xname. “What’s the ruckus about?” she complains. “Me and my friend here were so enjoying our walk until we heard all this yelling!” “Apologies for the inconvenience, but your presence is not required here,” one of the city guard, likely the leader of their group, states bluntly. “We have the situation under control.” “This does not look ‘under control’ to me,” Ezo sneers derisively, gesturing around her to the crowd gathered. “Can you not even keep a single teashop in order?” The city guard thins their lips. “With all due respect, this is not your concern. The city is under our jurisdiction—” “Was under your jurisdiction,” Ezo cuts off sharply. “As the Crown has decided to reside here at present, anything that might disturb $ctheir Imperial Majesty’s peace is henceforth the concern of the Imperial Guard. We outrank you. Understand?” The city guard scowls but stays silent, having no retort. Meanwhile the tax official, aided by their friends, scramble up to their feet. “As for you,” Ezo says, turning her cool glare onto the official. “What’s this I hear about taxes needing to be paid? The Crown has made no such adjustment; as you well know, $they won’t be making any decrees until $their coronation.” “I… I…” The tax official’s face, previously a vibrant shade of red, suddenly looks rather pallid. “I never meant…” “What’s wrong?” Kaja mocks. “You were ranting so eloquently before, and now you’re at a loss for words?” “It was a misunderstanding!” one of the other officials exclaims. “We- we were mistaken!” “Great.” Kaja gestures toward the door. “Please mistake your way back to wherever you came from. Unless you fancy spending a few nights in the dungeons?” “N-no, no, of course not.” The tax officials bow hastily at Kaja and Ezo, as well as Master Zîn, but you note they do not bow to $xname. “Please forgive us for this terrible insult!” “Oh, don’t you worry about forgiveness,” Ezo says. “We’ll be visiting the tax office later to make sure you understand.” As boldly as the tax officials entered the teashop, they slink off with their tails between their legs now, followed by the disgruntled city guards who seem none to pleased by Ezo and Kaja’s interference. Still, you consider it successful resolution considering the situation was about to escalate into an all-out brawl before. [[Continue|4.73b]]

Seeing that the threat is gone, the Crescent Blades settle down at their tables again—now occupied with badmouthing all tax officials in the land—while $xname turns to Master Zîn. $cxthey bends down to kiss the back of her hand and then presses $xtheir forehead to it. “I’m sorry for the trouble, auntie,” $xthey says, raising $xtheir head to face her as she smiles fondly back at $xthem. “You incorrigible child,” Master Zîn scolds, though there is no ire to it as she pinches $xname’s cheek. “I could have ushered them out much quicker without your interference.” “I really did make things worse, didn’t I?” $xname appears genuinely remorseful as Master Zîn pats $xthem on the shoulder. “Stop pouting, it looks unbecoming on you.” Master Zîn turns her attention onto you; despite her warm demeanor toward $xname, you can’t help but feel a little nervous, and she notices. “Oh, do not look so frightened! Do I have you to thank for the timely interference of these dashing guards?” “Dashing?” you hear Kaja say excitedly from behind you. “Did she call me dashing? Ezo, she called me dashing!” “Please shut up.” You eye Master Zîn uncertainly. “I suppose so.” She bows her head to you, and now you know without a doubt that she’s aware of who you are. “Then you have my sincerest gratitude. If you’ll excuse me, I have many guests to attend to.” She casts $xname a pointed look. “Stay out of trouble, for your… friend’s sake.” $xname sighs. “Yes, auntie.” You both watch her leave, gracefully moving between the tables and engaging in conversation with other Crescent Blades, leaving you behind with $xname. Or, well, $xname as well as Ezo and Kaja, although the latter two are keeping a subtle distance as $xname turns to you. $cxtheir gaze is soft when $xthey meets your eyes; $xthey knows you called Ezo and Kaja here. <<if $res gt $flirt>>You look away, awkwardly clearing your throat. “I, uh, I should probably leave—” $xname laughs when you pull away, grabbing your hand and stopping you. “You’re not even going to let me thank you?” The beat of your heart pounds loudly, the skin of your hand engulfed in $xname’s warmth. “You… don’t need to thank me.” “I’d like to.” $xname’s grip is not a harsh one, but you can’t bring yourself to free your fingers. “You didn’t need to step in back there, yet you did.” “Those officials were clearly in the wrong,” you state, frowning in distaste as you think back to it, glancing toward the entrance. “They had no right to treat Master Zîn that way, let alone talk to you like that!” When you look back at $xname, you find $xthem smiling at you so gently, and for a moment you are certain your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. “You’re very sweet.” You swallow thickly, mouth feeling dry as you suddenly find it empty of words, your gaze bound to $xname’s by some unnamed force, an attraction that feels too great to ignore.<<else>>“What?” you say innocently, unable to suppress your smile in return. “Do I have something on my face?” “Only beauty,” $xname replies without missing a beat, and you laugh. “If you wish to thank me, you don’t need to sweet talk me.” $xname arches a brow. “How else should I thank you, then?” Feeling daring—perhaps emboldened by how well everything went—you reach out and take $xname’s hand in yours, fingers curling lightly around $xtheirs. “I don’t need you to,” you reply earnestly. “I wanted to help, so I did.” “That’s noble of you,” $xname remarks, teasing. “Not at all.” You thread your fingers between $xtheirs, staring back into $xtheir eyes as you say softly, “I’m afraid my reasons were entirely selfish.” $xname’s gaze seems bound to yours, an attraction that almost seems to shorten the small distance between you that already feels far too great.<</if>> Behind you, Kaja clears her throat. “We should really leave soon. Very soon. As in, now.” Just like that, the spell between you and $xname breaks. $xname is the first to look away, casting an annoyed glare at Kaja before reluctantly releasing your hand. “It is best if you do not linger,” $xthey muses, though $xtheir brows are furrowed with displeasure. “$rname and $xdname are certainly going to chew me out for this.” “I’ll put in a good word for you,” you offer, and $xname sighs, dismissively waving a hand. “Not even a good word from you could dissuade <<if $dgender is 'male'>>Dara<<else>>Delal<</if>> from attempting to strangle me,” $xname bemoans, perhaps a tad bit exaggerated. “But I appreciate the thought.” “Will I see you tomorrow?” “I’ll be at the palace first thing in the morning.” $xname notices your reluctance to leave, causing $xthem to smile as $xthey makes a playful shooing motion with $xtheir hands. “Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you during breakfast.” You look up to the balcony to find Tûjo and Heval watching from upstairs, waving at them before casting one last look at $xname. “Tomorrow, then.” Turning around, you follow Ezo and Kaja out the door. [[Continue|4.74]]

Getting yourself involved might only draw unwanted attention; besides which, you're certain $xname is more than capable enough to handle an incident like this. More than you, in any case. "Hold it!" $xname calls out over the yelling and shouting that fills the unruly teashop. $cxtheir mercenaries fall in line almost immediately, though a few particularly irate Crescent Blades have to be pulled away from the city guard by their comrades. "Now, wait just one moment!" The slighted tax official gets up to their feet, aided by their two companions. They're breathing hard, eyes wide and their gaze a little manic as they glare at $xname. You're starting to grow somewhat concerned; the official looks like they could die of a heart attack at any moment. "Your whole pretense here is rather cute, but ultimately short-sighted," $xname says, gesturing with a finger at the three tax officials. "The plan was to harass the owner with some made up excuse about taxes and try to goad me into doing something against the law, no?" "$xname, you dare-!" $xname raises $xtheir hand. "Ah, ah! I'm not finished!" You watch with no small amount of amazement as $xname directs $xtheir speech to the audience, sauntering in a slow circle as $xthey addresses $xtheir Crescent Blades. "As we all know, the Crown arrived in Marabad yesterday," $xname says. "Why, we helped $them get here ourselves!" This draws agreement from the eager crowd. "That's right!" "It was thanks to us $they made it here in the first place!" Well, they're not wrong, but… "So then, my friends," $xname continues. "How do you think the Crown would feel if $they heard our esteemed official here order the arrest of $their very savior? The <<if $xgender is 'male'>>man<<else>>woman<</if>> who ensured our nation would see a ruler once more?" "Very upset!" "Pissed off, is what!" "Put 'em in the dungeons!" The crowd of Crescent Blades is getting rowdier, and the city guard appears more uncertain by the second; you notice a few of them even lower their weapons, exchanging looks with each other. Which is great and all, but did $xname really just refer to $xthemselves as your savior? "$name." A whisper on your left catches your attention, and when you glance over your shoulder you see Ezo and Kaja standing there, watching the proceedings. "This spectacle is drawing too much attention," Ezo murmurs. "We should leave soon." You nod in understanding, before your attention is drawn back to the ongoing argument. Or monologue, rather. "Now, wait," the tax official tries to say, but their cries are mostly drowned out by the mercenaries surrounding them. "Wait, wait-" "Furthermore!" $xname shouts, and the teashop falls silent as $xthey turns around and faces the tax official, pointing right at them. "As an official of the state, you must know that lying about the Crown's decrees carries a severe punishment! So what say you to this charge? Are you willing to put your livelihood on the line to prove your words true?" “I… I…” The tax official’s face, previously a vibrant shade of red, suddenly looks rather pallid. None of the city guard are holding weapons anymore, watching on uneasily. “I never meant…" "It was a misunderstanding!” one of the other officials exclaims. “We- we were mistaken!” “Oh, indeed?" $xname says, brows arching in exaggerated surprise. "In that case, I believe you owe Master Zîn an apology, do you not?" “Y-yes, yes, of course!” The tax officials bow hastily at Master Zîn, but you note they do not bow to $xname. “Please forgive us for this terrible insult!” “I'm sure the city guard can handle the rest," $xname states, casting a look at the guards still gathered by the entrance. "Run along, now." As boldly as the tax officials entered the teashop, they slink off with their tails between their legs now, followed by the disgruntled city guards who seem none to pleased with the officials. Still, the situation has been resolved rather successfully by $xname, even if it was a bit dramatic. [[Continue|4.73a]]

The eastern gates are right in view when you step out onto the street, but considering the small crowd gathered around the teashop—even larger now than when you first entered it—you think it might be better if you took a small detour to avoid drawing eyes. “There’s a secret entrance nearby,” you hear Ezo murmur from behind you, but when you glance over your shoulder, you can’t find her or Kaja anywhere. “Don’t worry. We’re still here, just out of sight. Head into the alleyway further ahead.” Is this the same trick $aname uses to sneak up on people? As you make your way through the crowd and slip into the alley, you keep looking behind you for a glimpse of Ezo or Kaja, but it truly appears as if they’re not there. “Don’t look so paranoid,” Kaja says, and it really sounds as if she’s right behind you. “We’re cloaked, that’s all.” “You’re invisible,” you infer as you walk through the narrow alley, ending up on a familiar route as you’ve navigated these parts before. “Neat trick, right?” “Take a left,” Ezo advises you, ignoring Kaja’s chatter. “Keep going until you see a building with a red rug hanging out the window.” You follow her directions, navigating the small paths shaded by the buildings surrounding you. It occurs to you that you don’t have much room for movement in these alleyways, which makes you uneasy. At least you have Ezo and Kaja with you, not to mention that you have a rough idea of how to get back out onto the main street should you need to escape. After a short while of walking, you turn a corner and spot the building with the red rug right ahead of you. “Is this it?” you quietly ask your guards. “Yes,” Ezo answers. “Walk around the back of it, there should be—” A chime sounds in the distance. [[Continue|4.75]]

You halt, bemused by the peculiar sound. It’s not unusual to hear noise in a city like this, but that chime was so distinct. Echoing and drowning out all the rest. “What was that?” you hear Kaja whisper. The chime sounds again, louder this time, and when it fades away the world seems oddly silent. The distant chatter of people, usually always in the background, is absent. The only thing you can hear is the wind rushing in between the buildings. You look around you, searching your surroundings for where the sound might originate from, but you can’t see anything out of place. The chime sounds a third time, louder still. Kaja gasps. “Ezo—" “Kaja,” Ezo interrupts quietly. “Go.” “But—” “Go!” Before you can figure out what’s happening, you feel a hand clamp around your arm and drag you forward, toward the building with the rug. “What’s happening?” you ask, though you don’t resist; if your guards are panicking, it’s probably wise to follow their lead. “Just a small issue with the other guards,” Kaja says anxiously, trying to keep a lighthearted tone as she pulls you around the building toward the side, making you stand in front of the wall. You hear the chime once more. It sounds closer this time. “What issue?” Your whole body feels tense with nerves, eyes constantly flitting around to try and keep watch, but you have no idea what to look out for. In the wall, a brick next to your head suddenly lights up with the symbol of a snake. “No time to explain,” Kaja says, and you feel her hands on your shoulders, holding you from behind. “Just follow the tunnel.” “Kaja—” She shoves you forward. [[Continue|4.76]]

<<set $dpoints = 6>>Expecting a nose-first collision with the brick wall in front of you, when you fall through it and end up eating dirt instead, it takes you a moment to understand what happened. Scrambling up to your feet, you find yourself in a dark corridor only dimly lit by torches. In front of you is a flight of stairs leading down, no doubt into the tunnel Kaja mentioned. Behind you is the wall you fell through, yet when you press against it with your palm, it’s as solid as any other stone. <<if $blunt gt $charm>>“Shit.”<<else>>“Fantastic.”<</if>> You turn back around, taking a deep breath when faced with the darkness. Not like you have any other choice but to go forward. You take one of the torches from the wall to light the ground in front of your feet a little better as you descend the stairs. By this point you are sorely regretting not taking a weapon with you, but at least you have your magic if worst comes to worst. The tunnel appears well-traveled; there are many footsteps marked in the dust and the dirt below your feet. You wonder how many people know about this secret entrance, and whether you’ll be safe here. Hopefully whatever issue arose with the guards isn’t as serious as it sounded, yet that strange chiming sound… you can’t get it out of your head. As you imagine it, for a moment it almost seems as if… As if you can hear it. You stop walking, fingers clenching around the torch in your hand. Everything is silent. You can’t even hear the flames flickering on the torch—that can’t be normal—and then you hear it again. A chime, ringing clearly through the tunnel. Your body won’t move. It’s as if you're paralyzed, frozen like a statue while the chime sounds again, and again, and again, each time its echoes growing closer and closer. Your heart pounds, but you can’t hear its beating. All you hear is that chiming sound. A cold sweat breaks out on your back, your hands feel clammy and you’re starting to tremble. Whatever this is, it’s not natural. Your feet won’t move, no matter how much you will them to as the chiming draws nearer, louder, almost right beside your ear— <<if $magicpref is 'outer'>>Magic bursts out of you in a shockwave that makes the tunnel tremble, cutting through the noise of the chime.<<else>>Magic erupts inside your core, striking through your body like lightning. Suddenly you can hear your heartbeat again, cutting through the noise of the chime.<</if>> The command of your limbs returns to you instantly, and you do not hesitate: you run. Drawing on your magic like that was an effort that has you feeling lightheaded, especially releasing nearly all of it the way you did. It was the only way to break out of whatever charm or curse you were put under. But you cannot stop running. You hear footsteps behind you, chasing you, and you pray the entrance to the palace is nearby because you’re all alone down here. If you die now after all that you’ve been through, so close to becoming the Crown… you can’t suffer a fate like that. You can’t. Not after what it cost your parents to keep you safe. But the tunnel is long and winding and you feel weak, drained, out of breath. All it would take is one mistake, one slip, and everything would be over. <<if $rpoints gte 6 or $dpoints gte 6 or $xpoints gte 6 or $apoints gte 6>>Yet as you’re running for your life, you imagine the one person who wouldn’t hesitate to save you, wishing fiercely they were here with you. Unquestionably, the only one you could ever think of is… <<if $apoints gte 6>><<if $agender is "male">>[[...Azad.|5.1a][$apoints to $apoints +2]]<<else>>[[...Ashti.|5.1a][$apoints to $apoints +2]]<</if>> <</if>><<if $rpoints gte 6>> <<if $rgender is "male">>[[...Rêzan.|5.1b][$rpoints to $rpoints +2]]<<else>>[[...Rozerîn.|5.1b][$rpoints to $rpoints +2]]<</if>> <</if>><<if $dpoints gte 6>> <<if $dgender is "male">>[[...Dara.|5.1c][$dpoints to $dpoints +2]]<<else>>[[...Delal.|5.1c][$dpoints to $dpoints +2]]<</if>><</if>><<if $xpoints gte 6>> <<if $xgender is "male">>[[...Xelef.|5.1d][$xpoints to $xpoints +2]]<<else>>[[...Xelara.|5.1d][$xpoints to $xpoints +2]]<</if>><</if>><<else>>As you’re running for your life, you wish with all your heart that someone, anyone would come to save you. But no one comes. You never reach the end of the tunnel. When the chime sounds again, for a final time, your whole world goes dark. BAD END<</if>>

Thank you for playing! Please consider donating a small amount if you enjoyed the game ❤️ @@.footnote;Note not to save on this screen, as your save will be lost in the next chapter update!@@ <<link "Replay the game">><<run UI.restart()>><</link>>

<a-data passage="0.1"> ... </a>

Thank you for playing! Please consider <a href="https://ko-fi.com/cherrypistol">donating</a> a small amount if you enjoyed the game ❤️ @@.footnote;Note not to save on this screen, as your save will be lost in the next chapter update!@@ <<link "Replay the game">><<run UI.restart()>><</link>>

<<if $dgender is 'male'>><<set $xdname to 'Dara'>><<else>><<set $xdname to 'Delal'>><</if>>@@.chaptertitlerealred;chapter five@@

<<set $loveinterest to "A">> <a data-passage="5.1"><img id="imgact" src="https://i.imgur.com/7fLe7Gb.png" width="260px"/></a>

[...] "...?" $xname asks, their tone straightforward and nothing of teasing or suggestion in $xtheir expression. $cxthey appears genuinely curious, as if using toys such as these is as unremarkable as wielding a blade or a bow. "..." [...] <ul> <li>[[It's a toy that might be useful, considering you don't have the means to penetrate otherwise. Well, aside from your fingers, you suppose.|sth1][$physical to 'vagina']]</li> <li>[[Physically speaking, you don't necessarily need a toy like that; you have your very own attached to your body. Didn't even need to pay for it or anything.|sth2][$physical to 'penis']]</li>

Double-click this passage to edit it.