A Grand Design 50.

Winter. The City Of Oaklynn. The Capital Of The Kingdom Of Girdane.

"Well, they've paid us for another week" says Mira Reinholt the mage with a shrug of his shoulders, who then adds "So staying here is no problem".
Arvelle Ganard the plainsman, who is standing beside the once powerful mage, nods his head in agreement as the two of them stand upon the roof of the palace of the king.
It's two days since the city of Oaklynn fell to the rebel dukes from the three most western duchies in the kingdom of Girdane, the duchies of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen.
"Should probably expect an answer sometime today" adds the spellcaster who is originally from the city-state of Vexil.
"That's if they believe what's happened" says Arvelle Ganard the plainsman, who is rather glad this morning is much more warmer than it has been over the last couple of days here in the city of Oaklynn, the capital of the kingdom of Girdane.
"I think they will" says the mage Reinholt, who like the tall plainsman with the shaved head, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Early yesterday, a wyvern and it's rider in the crown's army was intercepted by Helbe the elven thief as they were returning to the city of Oaklynn.
After they were given a message by the young elven noble. And seeing that the regent's army no longer controlled the city of Oaklynn.
They headed back west, to return to the crown's army. To deliver the message that the elven magic user gave to them.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Who lost his vast amounts of power when he went offworld after accidentally casting a rift/void spell.
Along with the tall plainsman with the shaved head, who happens to a former illegal wrecker, who plied his trade up on the Kaldel Plains.
Walk along the rooftop, looking westwards. While repair work has already begun along the front side of the main building of the palace. Which was badly damaged by the mage Reinholt.
While similar repair work is being done on the city council building, which is at the other end of the long street here in the center of the city, that's the capital of the kingdom of Girdane.
"Have they made a decision?" asks councillor Ganard, who though he appears to be a plainsman from the Kaldel Plains. Is actually a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the former illegal wrecker.
"About what?" asks the spellcaster who also happens to be a highly skilled swordmaster.
"The regent?" adds the mage who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil.
"Or who'll be king?" continues the once powerful mage.
"Well, both really" says Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman.
"Well we know they're going to execute him for what he's done" says the mage Reinholt, who follows that with "Now it's just, when and where" he briefly pauses before adding "Or how".
The swordmaster Reinholt then says "As for who'll be king" the councillor tells his fellow council member "Who the fuck knows there" he then adds "Could be the duke of Poldis, though he's a bit too close, location wise speaking to the rebel dukes".
The exiled Vexilian mage continues on with "Or the dukes of lsanor or Wostin".
"Hmmmm" murmurs councillor Ganard as he rubs his chin with his gloved right hand as he contemplates who might be the next king of Girdane.
The two of them stop at the edge of the roof, and look down to the courtyard three storeys below.
Where they see Dorc da Orc, who is sitting on the ground, this chilly winter's morning. Watching the teams of horses, hauling the wagons in, with the supplies and equipment for the repair work upon the front of the main building of the palace.
"We'll find out soon enough i suppose" says Arvelle Ganard, his fellow councillor, Mira Reinholt nods his hooded head in agreement.
"Any more pockets of resistance?" asks Tamric Drubine the field commander "They've either gone to ground or surrendered" replies sir Kamson the avenger, who continues with "The scouts are still searching the city for those who have gone into hiding".
The young field commander nods his head as they discuss what's left of the regent's army here in the city of Oaklynn.
The two of them, the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin. And the former member of the order of the Knights of the Dark.
Are making their way around the main building of the palace of the king. Followed by a pair of black clad Farqian soldiers.
The field commander and the heavily armoured avenger who is his second in command, are conversing in the elven language as they head through the palace grounds, on this chilly morning, which isn't anywhere as cold as it's been over the last couple of days here in the city of Oaklynn.
"Well, since they paid us again yesterday, i guess the least we can do is help them tidy up" says the avenger, who is nearly a dozen years older than his commander.
"Winning their war will probably be the easy bit" quietly says Tamric Drubine, who is more commonly called Tam by the others in the group.
"What they're doing now is the more difficult thing" quietly adds the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The avenger in the dark armour, who is carrying his full helm tucked under his right arm, nods in agreement with the young field commander.
The two of them round the corner, where they see Dorc da Orc watching the wagons bringing in the supplies and equipment to help rebuild the damaged part of the main building of the palace.
Field commander Drubine wryly smiles as he sees the ork warleader is eyeing up the horses hauling the wagons.
"Dorc!" calls out Tam, who nods his head for the large ork to follow them, as they enter the main building of the palace of the king.
After a few more moments of eyeing up some of the passing horses. The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world gets up, and follows the young field commander and the heavily armoured avenger inside.
Walking into the room in the palace that lord Farque is in, Helbe the elven thief quietly tells him in the royal language "She told him".
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, briefly pauses then says "Basically everything".
As the elven master assassin walks over and sits on the bench next to the one the undead warlord is sitting on, lord Farque asks him "How did he take it?".
"As you can imagine, not well" is the reply of the highly talented elven magic user, who also happens to be a masterthief.
"He wanted to rush over here and kill him" adds the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel.
"I talked him out of it, and told him to take into consideration the thoughts of his fellow dukes" continues the young elven noble who is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"Told him to take his time, then come over here with Lombasil and Korros when he's ready" says Helbe the elven thief.
The lord of the death realm nods his full helmed head, then says "Probably for the best" followed by "Considering they haven't decided in how they're going to deal with the regent".
The heavily armoured deathlord continues with "Either privately or by public execution".
Nodding his hooded head, the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel says "I know Hilloc wants to kill him with his own hands now, and the sooner the better as far as he's concerned" he then adds "But it'd be probably be best if it was a public execution".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque is in agreement with that, then he slightly shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, and he says "Whatever they do, it's up to them to decide".
Lord Farque, or Draugadrottin as he's also known by to the people of his lands, continues with "I'm just glad they decided to pay us to stick around for another week" he then adds "That's not exactly common after you've won them their war".
"Who was that?" asks Lisell Maera the messenger as they exit the taverna, and turn left, and head along the side street, towards the long street that runs through the center of the city of Oaklynn.
"A court official by the name of Larn" replies Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, who continues on in a slightly dry tone of voice with "He's a bit of a drunk".
"So i saw" dryly says the attractive young woman originally from the city-state of Brattonbury as the two of them speak in elven.
"Not even midmorning, and he was already hammered" adds the messenger in the mercenary army from the lands Farque.
"He gets like that most days" dryly murmurs the spy Tanith as they turn onto the long street, heading left, or north along it, to the other end where the palace of the king is located.
The two of them, the spy from the elven principality of Alínlae, and the attractive young woman from coastal city-state of Brattonbury.
Walk fairly briskly this chilly morning, which thankfully in the opinion of the two of them, is no where near as cold as it was yesterday or the day before.
As they head towards the palace, the two of them chat about some fairly mundane things, like the dukes of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen. Continuing to pay the mercenary army from the lands Farque for another week.
"Speaking of the dukes" says Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well, as she looks back along the street. And sees a number of riders heading this way from the city council building.
It's the dukes of Falosen, Girnath and Dalmar, and a number of others from their duchies.
The messenger Maera and the spy Tanith cross the street, to the side the palace is on.
And a few moments later, the trio of rebel dukes and those with them ride by.
Lis and Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others in the group, share a look.
After seeing the look upon the face of duke Hilloc of Dalmar.
"He definitely doesn't look pleased" quietly says the elven spy who hails from the principality of Laerel.
The attractive young woman originally from the city-state of Brattonbury is definitely in agreement with that.
"I do say, I'm sorely disappointed with the lack of action i faced, wot" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in his overly boisterous voice as he and Shur Kee the monk make their way back to the palace of the king.
"That damn mage insisted i went with him, and lo and behold, whence we did see the enemy, the rotten bugger did dispose of them with his evil spellcraft" says the heavily armoured knight with a disappointed shake of his head "Wot" sourly adds the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
They turn onto one of the side streets that leads to the long street in the center of the city of Oaklynn.
And the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, who is still bitter two days later that he didn't actually kill anyone on the day the city fell to them and the rebel dukes.
Is about to continue his tirade that he's subjected the short, statured monk to for most of the morning.
When Shur Kee the monk says to him "Maybe the enemy army out west will return here to the capital and continue to fight".
The physical adept who is from beyond the Southlands, to be exact the far east coast of the continent, where his homeland, the kingdom of Wah Lee lies, continues on with "You will get your opportunity then i am sure".
The former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief located in the east of the kingdom of Druvic, brightens at the prospect of that.
"Yes indeed my funny hat wearing fellow" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others in the group.
"Hopefully that comes about, wot" adds the former knight of the first class, who grins at the idea of the rebellion continuing, even though the capital city Oaklynn has fallen.
As they near the long street that runs through the center of the city, Percy loudly murmurs "Hmmm, what seems to be going on here?" followed by a "Wot".
As they see the dukes of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen ride by with a number of others out on the long street up ahead.
And when the two of them, the large heavily armoured knight, and the short, statured monk wearing an odd conical shaped hat, turn onto the long street.
They see the rebel dukes and those with them, entering the palace grounds through the gates.
Shur Kee and Percy share a look, as they both saw the face of duke Hilloc of Dalmar when he rode by. And saw the clear look of anger upon his face.
"Something is amiss" quietly says the physical adept, the nobleborn knight nods in agreement.
Then they cross the street, when they see Lisell Maera and Dalinvardél Tanith on the otherside.
They join them, and soon the four of them enter the grounds of the palace of the king.
Up on the roof of the main building of the king of Girdane, Mira Reinholt the mage and Arvelle Ganard the plainsman glance at one another.
They've just seen the trio of rebel dukes and a few others from the three most western duchies in the kingdom of Girdane. Ride up, then dismount infront of the main building of the palace.
They both saw the look upon the face of duke Hilloc of Dalmar, who got off his horse first, and rushed inside before the others had even dismounted.
"I guess he knows then" says Arvelle Ganard the plainsman "I guess so" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who after a final look away to the west, adds "Come on, let's see what happens".
The once powerful mage then teleports himself and the tall plainsman with the shaved head to the ground, and they enter the main building of the palace of the king of Girdane . . . . . .