Voices echoed around the halls of the high council tower, a grand building constructed during the rain of Queen Kaella the Spiteful. Pillars of polished marble fashioned on either side of the room with a marble stone long table between them.

"I heard Lord Geemon has sired a fifth bastard!" chuckled Lord Ripley, a portly man with darkened skin and locks of long golden blonde hair.

"You and your gossip, speak no more of Lord Geemon. He's served the realm faithfully all his life" Lord Meryl, the king's high commander replied with a stern voice.

"The words faithful and Lord Geemon in the same sentence? HA!" Lord Ripley snapped back.

"Damned fools," Jerys thought to himself.

Jerys the poor, the council often called him. A man of thirty-four, Jerys had made his way from the dirt-ridden streets of the Hypereen capital to the King's council. He was a man of few words, below average height with curls of black hair as dark as the night. He often preferred to observe rather than speak, as when he did his words were ever more meaningful. He was named King Lothian's principal diplomat and often found himself travelling the realm, settling disputes and negotiating trade deals.

The doors of the great hall swung open and Ser Lukan, adorned in golden armour with a black crown decorating his helm spoke.

"His Grace, King Lothian Blackmon the second!"

The council stood at once and bowed as the old king strode towards his seat on the council, his throne-keeper knight following close behind.

"Be seated" the king said in a commanding voice, taking a seat himself.

"Where in gods name is my dammed son?" He bellowed. "Ser Lukan, find the fool and tell him his king commands he takes his seat on the council".

The throne-keeper knight nodded in acknowledgement, yet as he turned to leave, the council chamber doors flung open and slammed against the walls.

"Beloved father! Apologies for my tardiness, I was busy with another matter" he said nonchalantly, walking past Jerys and taking a seat opposite King Lothian.

"Busy doing what? Disgracing yourself and the family with that witch of yours?" The King asked with a stern look.

Prince Lothyn did not respond but grinned at his father, his pale white hands tapping the table. Jerys despised Prince Lothyn, a boy of nineteen. He was deceptive and cruel, yet loved by the common people who did not know his true nature.

"Right, enough of that, let's begin. Lord Meryl, what news of Assetie?"

Queen Kaella had created the high council as a means for the mundane, small matters of rule to be relegated to an unfortunate Lord, although the council was kept when King Lothian ascended the throne as a means for him to be briefed on important matters.

"The Lorey forces have gained significant ground this past year, employing sellswords to besiege castles and cities while the main army harasses Gescaii supply lines" Lord Meryl answered.

"Good. Double our support to the Kingdom of Lorey, let's end this damn war".

The war in Assetie had caused trade between the two lands to almost entirely cease, and New Hyperiar was suffering by proxy.

"Your grace, would it not be wiser to perhaps wai-" The king cut his response short.

"Lord Ripley, how much longer can the realm cope without Assetie imports?".

Lord Ripley opened a thick, dusty book and scrambled to find his page. "At our current production levels your grace, I estimate two years, perhaps less. The capitol itself however has provisions to last five years, comfortably" he answered.

The king looked at Lord Meryl who bowed his head in defeat.

"Let them starve, I say. Assetie is weak, prime for the taking. We should send a royal force there at once and crush the both of them" Prince Lothyn said, chuckling.

"Quiet, boy. You may be my son and heir but you'll speak when spoken to, and not before".

Jerys had learned through gossip at court that the prince's mother had begged king Lothian to grant him a seat on the council, likely hoping it would keep him away from his worst urges.

Jerys liked king Lothian and often went above and beyond to support him in his pursuit of peace and prosperity, though he knew it would not last forever. The king was the only thing tempering Prince Lothyn's worst impulses and, once the king died and Lothyn ascended the throne, well, Jerys preferred not to think of such things.

The king turned his gaze to Jerys. "Tell me Lord Jerys, have you found my son's killer yet? tell me you have something?" there was sorrow in the king's voice and Jerys felt the king's pain.

"My contacts in Assetie report that Daryn has been seen in Old Gescae, fighting as a slave in the lower pit. If he were to have survived the pit then he'll likely be taken to Lorey for the great games"

Ser Meryl leaned forward "His crime is a terrible one your grace, but no one can deny his skill with a sword. No doubt he's on the slave road as we speak. We should notify king Haesus and order him to seize Daryn once he enters his land, he is in our debt after all".

"No. He committed crimes on my land and murdered my son. It has to be a Hypereen that seizes him," the king continued "Ser Lukan, gather your four best men and send them at once to find and seize Daryn and bring him home to face the king's justice".

"You mean to behead him? Like some common thief? The man who killed my brother? Your son?" Prince Lothyn responded raising his voice. "Have you lost your spine?".

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The council fell silent as if they'd seen a ghost upon hearing Prince Lothyn insult the king. The king stood and struck the young Prince so hard he bloodied the boys nose.

"Law be damned I swear I'll name your sister heir if you raise your voice to me once more, out with you, now!"

The Prince ran out of the council chamber clutching his nose in his hands. Jerys liked the sound of princess Klea taking the throne. He was fond of the youth and oft found himself jesting with her at court, making up stories about the lords and ladies of the court and their crude misdeeds. A girl of sixteen, she had the innocence of most girls her age, but was wise past her years, and had a good mind for politics. The law however made this idea relegated to a happy thought and nothing more. Instead, he'd have to prepare for Prince Lothryn's reign.

"That's enough for today, we'll continue tomorrow when my tempers are calmed. Thank you, my lords." the king said awkwardly, his face flushed red.

Ser Lukan escorted the king out of the high council chamber, leaving the men alone. Lord Ripley quickly raised from his seat and caught up with the king, something Jerys had begun to notice him doing often.

"Power, Glory, and Everything," Jerys thought, laughing internally. A joke he'd tell himself about the desires of Lord Ripley, Lord Meryl and Prince Lothyn respectively.

He stood and bowed before Lord Meryl, before taking his leave. A busy man, Jerys kept an hour of every day free to walk the Capitol streets, from The Highthrone, the ancient and towering castle within the city and the centre of Hypereen politics, to Sludge Street where he was born, so called because the poor residents practice dumping filled chamberpots out the window onto the streets below.

Along his walk out the gates of the Highthrone, he found princess Klea on her way in.

"Lord Jerys! Out for a walk again?" The princess asked gleefully, smiling ear to ear.

"Yes princess" he replied, returning her smile with his own.

"I hear whispers at court that you take walks to meet with foreign spies and dark sorcerers" the princess whispered in a playful tone.

"I wish it were that exciting princess, in truth I walk to sludge street and back, keeps my head clear".

The princess looked confused. "Why Sludge Street of all places?" She asked.

"I like to remind myself where I came from," Jerys said with an air of pride.

"I'd like to join you one day" she replied excitedly.

"I'm not sure your father would like that. Besides, Sludge Street is no place for a princess. Go on now, you'll be late!". He smiled, hugged the young princess and bid her farewell.

On his first stop upon leaving the castle walls, Jerys found himself on Goldstreet. A tranquil part of the city and home to the wealthiest of the Capitol, Goldstreet was most known for its many emporiums often visited by noble Lords and Ladies and filled with exotic curiosities from around the world, although their stocks had been running low as of late. A bearded old man in a grey robe with a satchel on his hip limped over towards Jerys.

"My good lord, if you wouldn't mind, could you help an old man?" The man pointed to his storefront and gazed at Jerys as a baby gazes at its mother.

"I'm not a lord, friend. But I'd be happy to help".

Many had come to assume that a man of Jerys' position was unquestionably a lord, yet in truth, he owned no lands or titles. The name however stuck regardless.

The old man led Jerys through the entrance of his store, revealing the destruction inside.

"I lost my good son to a sickness the last harvest, it's been a hardship running the place myself on the account of my frailty," the old man said.

Broken glass vials and snapped wooden crates covered the floor beneath Jerys as if a bear had been let loose inside.

"What happened here? Thieves?" Jerys asked while lifting the heavy crates for the old man.

"Perhaps, although not likely. Never in my lifetime have thieves entered Goldstreet, no, they much prefer Wheat Lane and Sludge street, hmm. They may come out with less, but that's better than making it out as a corpse!"

Jerys listened to the old man's ramblings when the shattered vials on the floor caught his eye. Jerys noticed the shelves filled with undamaged vials and pondered for a moment before asking the friendly old man.

"All these vials are untouched, let for the ones in the middle, all shattered on the floor? What was their use?".

Jerys watched as the old man perked up, he figured it was the first time someone took an interest in his craft.

"Gentle Mercy, I call it. One of a kind. It is used to ease a dying person into a painless death, oft by families with a loved one suffering a horrible sickness".

Jerys' intrigue turned to concern. "Why only destroy these vials? Do you have an inventory friend? Are any missing?".

The old man waddled over to his desk and pulled a sheet of parchment in front of him.

"I count fourteen vial caps here, How many should you have?".

The old man scratched his head for a moment then responded. "Fifteen".

"Curious. Keep your records safe, friend, I'd like a closer look sometime soon" Jerys said, finishing up clearing the old man's floor.

The matter puzzled him, but Jerys was not a capitol guard, and he figured it best he let them handle the matter.

"Many thanks, you're a good fellow helping an old man like me with his business, most would pay me no mind". Jerys smiled at the old man and took his leave.

As he left Goldstreet and walked deeper into the city, it became noticeably busier. He could hear street performers singing in the distance, and people laughing and cheering. The polished marble floor of Goldstreet was replaced by paved cobblestone.

"Apples, Pies and Ale! Good prices for all! Come and see!" A man shouted behind a stall.

As Jerys passed and the aroma of the baked cherry pastry entered his nostrils, he smiled. Banners with a red crown on a lightened blue background, the house Blackmon sigil, were hanging from balconies of the buildings around Jerys. The people of Wheat Lane were well-off, so they had free time to pay attention to the goings on of the royal family, yet were ignorant of the backstabbing, betrayals and controversies, unlike the residents of Goldstreet. The floor beneath Jerys got noticeably more filthy the further he continued, cobblestone paving turning to little more than planks of wood fixed to the ground with mud beneath it. Jerys had arrived at Sludge Street.

Built just a hundred years prior, Sludge Street was an ill-conceived expansion of the capitol, designed to house and tax thousands of new citizens who Queen Kaella had stolen from other Lords.

"Good day to you, friend. Same again please" Jerys said to a man cooking behind a great pot.

"Already left one out for ya! Staying a while?" the scruffy man handed a bowl of grey bone broth stew to Jerys.

"Many thanks, friend, I'm afraid not, I must get back. The castle does not rest" Jerys answered playfully, rolling his eyes.

He'd been visiting the man for bone broth stew every day without fail for two years, and much preferred the gritty street food of the lower capitol to the luxuries they cooked up in the Highthrone kitchens. Stew in hand, Jerys took the long walk back to the castle.

"The king has requested you join him in his chambers at once to discuss a private matter" a young boy of twelve, the king's steward, told Jerys as he entered the castle grounds.

The king often consulted with Jerys alone on small, personal matters ever since his wife, Queen Caryn left the capitol. Jerys quickly slurped his stew and rushed to the royal chambers.

"The king has requested my presence, Ser" Jerys told Ser Lukan who stood outside the royal chambers, clutching his sword in its sheath.

Ser Lukan opened the door and informed the king of Jerys' arrival. "Your Grace, Lord Jerys to see you".

Jerys entered the grand chamber of the king and bowed before him.

"Sit, Lord Jerys. Here, drink" the king held out a goblet filled with bright red Loreen wine.

Jerys noticed the king unusually relaxed today, his long, slender body slouching in his chair and pale white skin, ubiquitous with house Blackmon, shining like a light.

"How can I be of service, your grace?" Jerys asked.

The king refilled his cup and took a long breath. "It's princess Klea. I mean to marry her. It's past time she settled with a man and performed her duties as princess. Figured you'd be the only one I could ask for ideas on which lord that should be. No doubt the other 'good lords' of the council would start yammering on about how their son is suddenly the most desirable suitor in the realm"

Jerys was taken back by the king's statement. He'd always thought of the princess as a child, perhaps naively, and the idea of her marrying was something he'd not put any thought into. Jerys paused for an uncomfortably long while, pondering on the matter. His first instinct was to advise the king to ask the princess herself, and let her choose who she'd like to marry, but he knew that was not realistic. Marriages of noble Lords and Ladies of the realm were almost entirely political.

"Dammit, Lord Jerys don't make me ask my damn son!" The king japed.

"Apologies, your grace. I do have a suggestion, although it may pain you to hear it".

Jerys knew his idea would be an unpopular one, but he always strove to do what was best for the realm.

"Your Grace, The Aynes of Newstar are quickly becoming the wealthiest house in the realm, I receive reports almost weekly now of new gemstone mines being constructed in the Fourteen Peaks. I understand what Daryn Aynes did to the Prince has caused a dark stain on House Aynes, but putting aside the actions of one rogue son and bringing the Aynes into the fold will drop our reliance on Assetie almost entirely, and Dylin Aynes is of similar age to the princess".

Jerys awaited the king's wrath, he understood how much he distrusted the Aynes, but said it regardless, as he knew it was truly for the best.

The king looked at his feet and tapped a finger on the table. "Done" he answered.

Jerys looked stunned. He figured the king would need at least some convincing.

"I want them married within the fortnight. I'll tell the council tomorrow and instruct them to arrange the royal wedding celebrations" The king stood and walked to the balcony overlooking the city below him.

"Very good, your grace" Jerys responded.

"And I want you to inform Lord Aynes". Jerys stood in preparation to leave as the king spoke.

"Of course, your grace".

The king turned and faced Jerys, looking him in his green eyes.

"In person. I don't trust this to a messenger. If this news gets out, I'll have every Lord in the realm trying to sabotage the damn betrothal. Go on, out with you. I'll arrange a royal escort for you and the princess. You leave tomorrow".

Jerys seemed overwhelmed by the whole ordeal, he expected the conversation to be about his opinion on the furniture in the castle or some other foolish matter that the Queen would usually handle, and not something so consequential to the realm.

"Your Grace," Jerys said, bowing once again and leaving the king's chambers.