The Dark Feast.

Breconhall could host a serious celebration in its way. It certainly put Ashdell to shame for variety of food, quality of wine, and general splendor. Ashdell's king held a symbolic role; he didn't command this kind of budget. The selection reminded Stormwall more of the spread that Mystmarch had laid out to impress him. He hadn't been hungry then, and the errand had demanded focus.

Today his errand required him to blend in, a curiosity but nothing more. He was just some centaur, a trade emissary from a small northern kingdom, eating oatmeal at a side table. Plenty of two-legs looked at centaurs as lesser beings, part animal. That was all to the good at times like these, when he could keep his ears open and read between the lines.

The events in Therien had been of extreme interest to Ashdell. Of those who'd risen to the occasion, only one was present so far as Stormwall could discern. That man was not the crown prince.

“Have you tasted the wines we have from the Marches?” The appearance of Alexandra was a welcome one to the Second Prince of Breconhall, so a smile was offered towards her and a tilt of his goblet, the red liquid within swirling as he did. “That poor excuse for a drink tastes like horse piss and sour milk. Eastern wine is so much more comforting, plus it tastes like…well better then horse piss at the least.” Clearly even in the presence of the royalty of Gyn Rhun’s wording and posture was not about to change.

He had seen war with Alex, it was as intimate as one could get without the presence of a bed-chamber in the eyes of a knight and for the Breconhall noble it placed her in an elite group that he could be himself around. An honour if she took it as one, considering they had known each other for all of several weeks since Therien. He took a quick swig of the wine and shifted his body to better take a look at the warrior-queen of Gyn, the Silver Lady as he had heard his men call her. He did have to try and not only take in her natural beauty, for he knew she was of elven-blood, beautiful in all aspects but fickle in others if he would listen to his father.
Never trust an Elven maid, he would always say. For they are likely to steal your silver, gold and most importantly your heart for all eternity. A warning he was starting to understand.
“If you state these southerners make a finer wine then I have drunken today then I guess a quest to find it must be initiated. On my honour.” He put his hand to his heart with a playful smile.

“The occasion?” Rhun waved his hand around him. Taking in the people of the Marches and beyond, eyes settling on a Centaur that was towards the back of the room, noting his presence as odd, Breconhall last hosted one of the horse people nearly three decades ago, in a different time. “Oh this? The noble victories of my brother, the greatest thing to every walk the lands of Ardell.” A hint of sourness in his voice maybe, he hoped she didn’t catch it but clearly she would have, she was after all royalty and tones were a favourite thing to pick on among their ilk. “The Orc raids have been stopped for another year and all the world is good. A noble victory for the Crown-Prince of Breconhall. Naturally the prince takes the honour of the day.” He took another swig of wine, unaware of the form approaching behind them.

“Ah, Queen Feanor.” Lord Gryph Llewelyn, father of Rhun and Karl and current ruler of all of the Marches placed a hand on the Silver Lady’s shoulder. “I see you have found my youngest, I do pray he is not filling your head with his tales. An active imagination this one.” He gave Rhun a stern look and then smiled towards the elf. “Please, if you may I would request an audience between yourself and my eldest, I would like to seek an alliance between our kingdoms, an alliance that would see us joined and capable of uniting the central kingdoms. If you would only follow me to my table.” He opened his arms to present the table at the head of the room, several maidens enjoying the company of Karl Llewelyn with his unblemished good looks and witty smile. “After all my youngest has duties he should be attending to rather then depleting our stock of Gyn grown wine.”
Rhun went to object but thought better of it. This was still his father’s house.
“Yes duties. Lady Feanor.” He took her hand and gave it the slightest of touches with his lips, he figured it was the polite thing to do. “Do enjoy the hospitality of my father, as much as it is worth.”

Alexandra Feanor
Stormwall

Lord Solaiel Cor Vondreque also sat at the table as the Lord of the Brecon Marches toasted a son that wasn't even in the battle of Therien. Sol played his part and raised his glass with the others for a moment, but he stayed silent as his mind was on other thoughts.

Solaiel had been certain that Therien would burn. It saddened the man to think of having to rebuild his estates again. This warred with the part of him that delighted in the sight of a city in flames. His desire for conflict came at odds with his desires for luxury.

Therien should have burned ... yet it still stood. It was now stronger than ever. The lesser races may have warred among themselves, but they were all alike in one way. Bring in a foe that they all disliked and they'd befriend each other quick to face that foe. The undead hordes of Vaundsberg ultimately ended up being a blessing for Therien. The orcs were a bonus distraction at the cost of some outlying villages. Neither foe could sustain a long campaign once they were rounded on by everyone else. The Steward even rallied his forces from the city to join those that would have likely been his enemy otherwise.

The original reasons for the siege of Therien had been forgotten as nations rallied to march on the undead. They could still organize a hunt for the orc war bands before the politics of the rebels and loyalists of Therien took root once more.

He was decorated handsomely for his actions at Breckentown. Few nobles had the grit to take a handful of guards to fight a foreign nation. Steward Hardon Aladir had elevated him to the inner circle and sought to use him to get closer to the Brecon Marches, and to Gyn. That was half of the reason he sat at the table. The other half was of the personal debt he owed to Alexandra and Rhun.

Solaiel had stood with the two as orcs crashed down upon their position. There was more than a few times when their actions had likely saved his life ... or at least prevented him from having to use his trump card. He never once blew his cover and transformed into his true form. Not yet at least.

His ears picked up the conversation Rhun had started with the queen of Gyn. Talk of wine placed his thoughts back on the present. The noble opened his mouth to agree with the knight about the intricacies of horse piss wine, but ultimately closed it as he noticed the approach of Gryph Llewelyn.

It took greater effort to keep his mouth closed when a centaur accidentally bumped him slightly upon taking a place at the table. His lips thinned, but it would have been unwise to insult guests without knowing their role first.

"Yes ... The Steward is grateful to those that stand with the blessed peacekeepers of the realm."

There was a potential undertone there. The Steward was thankful to the men who stood with the elite and blessed Therienian peacekeepers. Therien was a waning city riding on the coat tails of the dead Mapheri Empire. Yet still they had an impressive army of elite veteran units, and they all thought quite highly of themselves. They were saved by those that joined the fight against Vaundsberg, but Therien would not have gone easily into the night had the event not folded out so fortuitously. They were still very much a major player. At least for the time being.

Stormwall Rhun Llewelyn Alexandra Feanor

Lord Gryph Llewelyn

Having taken Alexandra by the hand the ageing Lord of Breconhall led the elf across his dining hall with a grace reminiscent of the days of the Empire. Indeed Gryph himself had served on the elder council of Emperor’s for many years. Until the fall, where Breconhall became an independent nation and their soldiers marched against the Dynasty as well as for them over many conflicts. Such had been the Marches need during the catalyst of the fall, in the eyes of Gryph it had been essential to assure that the collapse of the nation didn’t end with pointless bloodshed of the people, while also maintaining the borders of his own lands.

“Lord Ironbarch,” Gryph introduced the name of a sturdy looking and well bearded man who sat on a nearby table as they passed. “Current Lord of Ironwrath, the citadel settlement on the edges of our boundaries with Aida, to his left Lady Marianbournet.” Lady Marianbournet seemed the normal regal kind, at least as much as was allowed in the west. Her clothing was nowhere as extravagant as the dresses and formal attire of the central kingdoms, but she seemed to be holding herself well enough.
They continued onwards towards the Lord’s table itself, where already Gryph was listing of those in attendance. Where it appeared many of the nobles and bannermen of house Llewelyn were currently enjoying the festivities.
The main notables were Lord Hamish of Marien, the man who had dispatched the riders to Rhun’s request at Therien. Lady Rae of Marien, Lord Hamish’s wife and one of the many offspring from the Empire’s now dead bloodline. Lord Ironbarch’s son, Roderick, who was given his father’s seat at the table due to his recent victories against bandits near the Great Wood and finally of course was Gryph’s first born himself Karl Llewelyn, the chosen heir and child of the Llewelyn line.

“My Lords and Ladies.” Gryph paused now he had reached the table, may I introduce the Queen of Gyn, Her majesty Alexandra Faenor.” Each took there time going through the processes of greeting royalty from other lands. Yet Gryph did not give them much more time after that. “If you would all allow me the table with her majesty, we have a great deal to talk about. Karl you stay.” They then waited in silence as each left the table with more bows and words.

“Now that is taken care of.” Gryph sat at his chair, a sturdy wooden structure with various intricate carvings around it and took his cup that had been filled with his preference of ale over wine. “Shall we actually get to the point.” His tone had changed, almost brash in the presence of his son and lacking the other lords of his country. “Your kingdom is a powerful element to the East, in fact probably the most powerful in terms of military might and promise. It is a kingdom I very much wish to deal with outside of our already well established trading partnership.” A leg of roasted chicken had ended up in his hand, the grease from the bird sticking to his beard as he ripped at it with his teeth.
“Naturally a protection deal between us would suffice, however I do have the further desire to see our lands united not merely through trade and agreement but…” He looked towards his son. “…through other more intimate means.”

Karl saw it as his opportunity, moving closer into the table and waving his elegant smile. “What my father proposes Lady Feanor is a marriage of our families. An honour for myself as you can humbly understand. We would be able to keep our kingdoms as very much they are, yet with a combined rule the stability we can provide to not only our own lands but the rest of Ardell would be considerable.”
Gryph laughed a curdling laugh. “My son has a better way with words as you can see. So what say you Queen, would you be willing to take my son as your crown prince?”



The stone had not gone un-noticed and was swiftly pulled into a closed fist as Rhun excused himself from his father’s theft of the Queen of Gyn. It had become the normality of life since Rhun’s return to Breconhall after the collapse of the Empire, after all it was not the tradition of the Llewelyn’s second son to remain as part of the family, he was to have been in the royal court, a knight of the Dynasty and the Emperor’s servant not his fathers. However those days were now dust, his lord father just never liked to admit it.

His removal of conversation had brought him into the presence of two others he had been keen to converse with, the first being the centaur. Purely for the reason that he had never met a centaur in person before and found them as fascinating as any normal person would.
The second, Lord Cor Vondreque. A man whom Rhun had been introduced to during the battle of Therien and the young knight seemingly impressed during the fighting. Not to say that Rhun himself had not found Solaiel’s own combat beneath his, in fact it was quite the opposite. He was in awe of the nobleman. Already talks had taken Breconhall’s finest negotiators into conversations with Steward Hardon Aladir who had been seeking a pathway into the Marches for a long time before the recent war. All thanks to Solaiel or so it would seem to those listening to the stories.

“Aye a toast.” Rhun smiled at the Centaur and Solaiel in turn, as the quiet mention of the men at Therien was toasted. The tone was not missed, and was welcomed by the young knight. He responded in tow by taken a long sip of his own drink, freshly taken from the ale that had been offered. The wine he so desperately desired long gone as was his chance of conversation with the Lady Feanor. “I pray that fortune and good health be on both of you as much as it was on us that day, but Master Centaur; You must forgive me my ignorance, I don’t believe we have met prior?” He allowed the pause, hoping for an introduction with the Centaur proper. He was unaware of any noble houses or indeed Centaur scouts throughout the Marches, at least none who had passed their names through the courts and for that he felt deeply ashamed.

Alexandra Feanor
Stormwall
Solaiel

Alexandra hated people who used others to gain power for themselves, especially those who did so in the most literal interpretations and Gryph was one of the least subtle she had seen in a long time who was attempting such. Her smile remained while she was introduced to the various nobles and ladies that had arrived for this celebration. She remained quiet and respectful, waiting for something to be sprung on her without her knowledge but at the end there was nothing that was brought up. Instead it was rather normal and she was grateful the other nobles had been sent away before this man attempted to gain power he did not deserve.

And try he did as the first words left him. They still held this air of respect and coutesu, hiding what he wanted behind a idea of reunification that she was hoenstly less than excited for. It is unlikely he was ignorant of her safeguarding the kid who claimed to be a Maphri decendent, and unlikely he would see that as anything more than her wanting the empire back together. This was certainly to be a reoccuring problem in the future that she would have to deal with but she had not expected it quite this soon.

Her hand twitched again, wanting to teach the noble to simply leave her be with these ideas but she held it still. She would not act so impulsively now that she was in the position that she had taken up and with that in mind she smiled and finally responded, choosing to speak only when Karl had finished and not so much as smiled anymore after Gryph started laughing.

"Before this day, I had not know your eldest existed. Had he shown up to Therien, had a spine to match that voice of his, I would consider this offer for but a second before denying it. Sadly that spine is just as nonexistant as my interest in such a proposal. Your Eldest is, how shall I say it, laughable. He  claims success for a battle he did not participate in and seeks power he does not deserve much like yourself. I have no intention of seeing the empire reunite, as such an overarching power cannot tend to the concerns of the regions, and even if I had it in mind to see such happen, it would never be beside that of your eldest. Now if you might excuse me Lord Llewelyn, I was enjoying a conversation with your other, more deserving blood... assuming he even shares blood with yourself."

Alexandra smiled to the man and started to rise, turning and walking away without saying another word and letting the two men register what she said and react how they will. Her hand grabbing one of the stones in her cloak and clenching it tight, just incase these men were  like those of her past and did not take a slight without action in return. She had no intention to cause a disturbance for this event, but she was not interested in the greed of men who did not know what blood tasted and felt like when spilled.

Alexandra sighed head turning to listen to the man and stopping. She was not so quick as to deny someone the respect that came with their position, even if those people were bred fools. It was good that Rhun had left, as these words were disgusting to her. She was used to hearing how nobles thought of others but even then it was usually those who were not blood, and now this man was calling his other son unwanted. Even if what he said was true, that was understandable but his words simply sealed her decision.

She did pay Karl a quick glance, happy that he was at least attempting to calm his father. She would need to apologize and talk to the man in a much calmer place, but that was soon thrown from her mind. He started to go further into it and cursed her before she smiled back at him, speaking before the man would start choking. "I accept your curses Lord Gryph." It was then her smile ceased and she watched the man, his face contorting and she was just as shocked as the others. The man at first simply looked like he was poisoned and she stared at this before a shadow leapt out and cut through Karl's neck, something that brought her back to the present.

Her hand reached for a blade but she remembered she had none, cursing this stupid dress and this setting for providing her no way of carrying a blade. She was not defenseless though, her hand closing around a stone and pulling it from her cloak, her body slowly stepping back as she held the stone tight in her hands, watching as others began to fall into pits and started to morph and change. Her body dropped at this point, shoving the now glowing stone into the ground and holding her hands there as the creatures began to take form and what guards were in the room tried to deal with them. Her hands pushed what she could gather through her and into the stone and the floor around it.

She was a bit worried one of the creatures might appear where she can't see, or one of these things might rush towards her as she had no idea their intelligence or how they moved and attacked. It was clear they were strong, the action a moment ago made that clear enough. She really hoped that Solaiel or Rhun Llewelyn were within the area still, not sure if she had seen them when she was walking out of the hall, and not sure how far they had gotten.

Well, that was awkward. Talaiel blinked rapidly in confusion as she stepped into the room, full of blood and shadow. She'd been travelling the fey-roads west only a few moments ago. Towering trees, old as the moon, as sheltered her beneath their boughs and grass that had never known mortal steps cushioned her while a warm-scented breeze wafted her hair around her head. She had played a wild tune on her panpipes, which she still held in her hands. But then, the air had blurred around her, rippling like a stream and the ringing of distant moon-bells echoed through the glade.

Then she was here, in a crowded, dirty hall besieged by demons apparently. Hefayne had diverted her to where she was needed. She could still hear the distant bells, although whether others could hear or not, she had no idea. She ducked back as one of the servant's toppled to the ground, cut down by one of the dark things, blood spattering across her face.

She drew her dagger, of fae silver, and it seemed to hum in her hand, pulsing with a life of its own. She stared at it in confusion. Were these things enemies of the Summer Court that she knew nothing about? It was possible, but she hardly had time to think it through.

"Hefayne!" She called over the din, "Hefayne and the Summer Court!" Her voice cut above the din as she moved towards the nearest shadows, mouthing a prayer as she approached. Her bow was better, but there was not enough room and too many innocents around. "Protect the innocent! Get them out! We must hold the beasts here!"

She stabbed forward with her dagger, its blade encased in a small glow, then darted back as the strands danced about, seeming to circle her. Part of her felt she should be afraid, but she wasn't. A boon to the paladin, to be immune from fear of the dark things that lurked in the shadows of the night.

Talaiel ducked under an attack and rolled forward to where a small core of resistance was forming. A silver haired woman and two younger men who carried themselves with a remarkable confidence given the nature of the situation. She certainly didn't feel that way.

"Anyone know who what we battle and for what reason they have appeared?" She called out to the others, still waving her dagger about to fend of the shadow strands.