The Aristocrat Council. A fairly new gathering of like-minded idiots who seek to strip away the prosperity Nireavat enjoys and plunge it into an age of thoughtless brutality.

Their goal? Simple enough. Let the landed gentility and upscale Houses of our fine realm rule. Without the oversight of a monarch.

A fine recipe for disaster if I have ever seen one.

But that is only my bias toward the recent happenings speaking of course.

It was about thirty years ago that the Council came to be. During the first years of their founding, they were not quite as secretive as they are these days. Their intentions were known and their motives uncovered quite easily.

Sometimes I do wonder if they believed the law would protect them from abuse or some such. Some may be able to infer why they had been routed so easily but I excuse myself on the grounds that I am no detective; just a simple historian.

Of more import is that they were squashed. Hard, fast, and brutally and by the imperial families no less.

Perhaps it says something about the Xerdian disposition that emperor Antonio IV was the first to begin the stomping and did it most brutally.

Perchance that may also be the reason they are yet to try anything funny on Xerdian soil upon their return years ago.

Histories (Nireavat): Latest Edition by Buriche Lariche.

Glancing down at the letter she had in hand, Valerina pulled up short. It was no love letter or friendly correspondence she held. What she held was something entirely different and she suspected that the letter wasn't from Chamille Dervishi.

Shrugging, she went on to read. Curiosity was a great motivator after all.

To: Theodore Icar Vontumavia.

This matter that bothers us;

I believe there is no method

open to us at this time through

which we may address properly

this conundrum that plagues me

and mine without the imperial family coming to know of it

and, hence, incur Maverick's

wrath. It may be that we needst

seek the help of the Aristocrat

Council...

Valerina's eyes widened and she skipped to the end of the page.

From: Astides Kaine

"What the f-" Valerina strangled the word in its crib before it could emerge and dropped the letter in her hands.

What the hell was she holding? Astides Kaine was the patriarch of House Kaine wasn't he? He was emperor Maverick's aide too, and his son prince Gabriel's aide, right? What was he doing seeking out the Aristocrat Council then? And dragging her father into it too.

Worry swirled within her. Dealings with the Aristocrat Council was no joke.

The Council was a congregation of nobles throughout the realm who were in the crosshairs of the five imperial families of Nireavat. They were one of the very few things the five nations had the same attitude towards. It may have something to do with the fact that they were a realm-wide problem but Valerina would more readily believe it was because the Council wanted the imperials gone and were actively working toward overthrowing them.

Granted, they had been operating in the shadows for as long as Valerina could remember so she wasn't actually sure how 'active' they were being but it said something of their capability that they had managed to get the five imperial families of Nireavat to take them seriously. And what they had done was no joke. They'd murdered the Maeser of Siadro.

The Council was dangerous - there was no talking around it. They represented the most extreme form of anti-imperial rule and here, contained within the letter Valerina held, the man who was supposed to be the very definition of loyalty to the crown seemed willing to contact the Council and, perhaps, work with them. The man was the emperor's aide for realmsake! And her father had something to do with it!

Huffing, Valerina folded the letter up and put it aside. This was not what she'd been after when she snagged those letters. All she'd wanted was just a way to make sure her father would try to lighten her punishment when she inevitably returned and her mother tried to make her pay. Also, she needed him to shield Rowe, Midaka, and Mira from her mother's wrath and not heap his own rage upon them.

Sighing, the teenage girl cracked open the book she had... appropriated from the city lord's manor earlier that evening. The book was not entirely useless or inappropriate for her needs.

Anybody worth knowing knew that Nino don Lazifez had written only two books throughout his life - Treatises and Marauders. The book she held was positively ancient then and might contain what she needs - might being the keyword. She certainly prayed it did.

Lord Kimmel leaned back in his seat, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the shelves lining the walls of his study. They carried precious things, all of them - most older than he - but neither shelves nor books interested him that night.

His left finger drummed an irregular beat on the armrest of his chair and his eyes found their way to the two pieces of parchment rolled out before him. Upon one of the parchments was a list of names while the other was frustratingly blank. The reason for that, Kimmel knew well. He had yet to decide upon what or, rather, who to put there.

Well, down to it, the indecisive lord thought, pulling out a quill from its inkwell. Might as well cancel out every name originating from this accursed island.

He did just that and found one-third of the names crossed out.

Finding himself pleased with the development, he sought another criterion to eliminate more of the names on the list.

Former champions of the Triumph Tournament with less than stellar morals and or situations, monitored covertly since they'd placed first in the Tournament went out next, dropping the names to fifteen.

Lord Kimmel replaced the quill within the inkwell and stared at the list. He liked what he saw. Five Maesers, four aides, Raoul Arseneau who placed third in the last tournament, and five other names. Nice.

He took up his quill and struck Ellen's name from the list. The Rantiavums were half crazy and the Maeser did nothing to dissuade him of that throughout her stay on the island. The only positive point about her was that she had arrived earlier than necessary - two days before the start of the tournament proper - and he couldn't say the same of Maeser Voscov. Unfortunately, punctuality did nothing to help her case. The high maid who had been instigated to eavesdrop on her had been stressed out by the young girl - strung along and played with at every turn for naught but the girl's pleasure. It did not help that the high maid would wring him dry for that mishap. High maids were expensive and politely temperamental.

The name of Ellen's aide was crossed out next. There was nothing the city lord could make of him given that he hadn't accompanied the Maeser.

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After that, Kimmel looked down the list. Toward the bottom was a name.

Temasroch Scandavine Dalha Iluhiem.

She was dead wasn't she? A shame. He rather liked her. Her aide was no good but the girl herself was spectacular. She had a brother, didn't she? Ah, there.

Voscov de la Reantendale Dalha Iluhiem.

He was good too. He hadn't been too hard on the high maid and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. But that was on the surface, Kimmel suspected; his history painted something else of the aloof prince.

Rumors circulating within noble circles of the realm made the Maeser out to be akin to a beast. Ruthless, unrelenting, and unfeeling. Kimmel's outside contacts confirmed the veracity of these rumors, hence letting the city lord strike his name off without a second thought. The boy was hard of heart and unrestrained, with little regard for the sanctity of life. A terrifying combination to be sure, and one unfit to hold the Possessions.

As for the boy's aide, he crossed out her name without much thought. Hers was a family of assassins and he knew their kind quite well.

Kimmel went down the list once more. Maeser Gabriel. The heir was... an enigma.

Kimmel snorted to himself. Why does he tire himself so? He already knew which two he would be picking. He was just being indecisive now.

Upon the blank parchment, the city lord scribbled down two names.

Roual Kertra Arseneau.

Alver Nonerae Montierr.

The former was born of a commoner mother. He understood the plight of the common man more than any other within the list and was driven enough to help when he could. He was a good fighter too - placing third in the last tournament had not been a coincidence after all - and had a... not strong per se, but reasonably present sense of justice.

Now the latter. The young man was a prodigy, with a working brain and a sense of justice and morality Kimmel had yet to find elsewhere. He was also open to advise and listened to reason when he needed to. Yes, he was arrogant to a point and considered little of commoners but both unfortunate traits could be beaten out of him in little time.

Lord Kimmel took his time to sketch out a few more notes on the state of Nireavat for his allies before putting the parchment aside. During the time it took to dry, the tired city lord rooted around within his drawers and pulled out a small copper bowl.

He noted that one of the drawers had a spoilt lock - he really should have gotten the old table replaced long ago - and resolved to have it seen to the very next day.

Once the parchment was dry, he dropped it into the bowl and, with a flick of his fingers, set it ablaze. He watched the paper burn as the flame licked at it until naught remained.

Kimmel blew into the bowl. There were no ashes. Good. It was sent.

Standing, he moved over to the window and stared at the moon. According to the old Gaian calendar, a thousand-plus years had passed since the Scourge War. He wished the common-born prince and the Maeser of Studor good luck. They would be fighting against fate itself.

Galdis let himself quietly into his father's chambers, closing the door behind him as he did so. He scanned the room his eyes settling on the seated form of his father. The man was relaxed, eyes closed, and form nestled comfortably within the soft velvet cushions of his high back seat.

"Evening Father," Galdis greeted and moved to take a seat across the old man.

Takun grunted in response and raised the lids of his eyes slightly, content to look at Galdis from beneath them. For a time, silence reigned between them as Galdis filled an elaborate pipe with a black powder and set it alight before handing it over to his father.

"Good," Takun grunted, taking the pipe from his son's fingers and putting it to his mouth. He inhaled deeply through his mouth and released green, curling smoke through his nostrils.

"You are ready yes?" He asked Galdis, taking his time to knock off excess of the powder from the pipe's receptacle.

"Yes, father. Who does our benefactor want gone?" Galdis asked. Takun frowned at him.

"He is not our benefactor!" the older man scolded. "We are just circumstantial allies. Do keep that in mind when you speak."

Galdis nodded.

"Anyway," Takun continued leisurely. "The one he wants gone is the Xerdian heiress. As for her companion, she is disposable."

Galdis made a face.

"Sneaking about like a mere thief," he muttered. "I don't like it."

Takun snorted. "Do you rather your old man do it then?"

Galdis managed something between a laugh and a snort. "You're better off turning yourself in at the gates."

"Exactly," Takun agreed. He gestured to a box sitting atop a stool next to a rocking chair. "Get it," he directed.

Galdis strode to the stool, took up the box, and brought it to his father. Takun put his pipe aside and opened the box. Inside was a porcelain jar, a swaddle of white cloth, and a little stone. He showed the content to Galdis.

"The tools of the job," he explained to the young man. "You understand what to do, do you not?"

Galdis nodded and took up the jar, the stone, and the cloth. "It is hard to believe, father, that by this time tomorrow the Possessions would be in our hands."

"Refrain from getting your hopes up," Takun cautioned. "The guardian exists still. We may be forced to leave and return when the presence of the scourge borne would have lessened his strength."

Galdis gave him a weird look.

"Scourge borne? ...Razatches. You mean razatches right?"

Takun gave a tired sigh. "Yes I mean razatches," he grumbled. "Now get out of here you oaf, and may the adventurer's luck see you through your endeavor. Do remember to use the old tunnels, okay?"

"Sure thing Pa," Galdis nodded and left, stepping out of the room quietly.

It took him a little over two minutes to get to the entrance that led into an ancient network of tunnels beneath Sealarios. He put a cloth mask over his nose and pulled out the jar and its accompanying item.

Galdis folded the white swaddle of cloth carefully into four layers, dousing each layer with a couple drops of the liquid contained within the jar. He hid the jar the best he could and headed into the tunnels with the stone and the swaddle of cloth tucked securely within his robes and a torch in his hands.

As he went deeper into the tunnels, a malodorous stench began to assault his nostrils and Galdis' nose wrinkled in disgust. He wasn't really sure what use the tunnels had served in the past - legend had it that it had been used as a form of defense or some such during the Scourge War - but one thing he knew for certain was that the sewers constructed above the damned thing had no doubt leaked into the tunnels somehow.

The underground pathways were old and decrepit. Over the years, much of the tunnels that made up the network had collapsed and many of the exits were cut off from each other by miles of stone masonry, making the tunnels functionally useless. It had only been through the help of their... ally was Galdis able to make that problem a trivial one.

The young man pulled out the talisman he'd been handed days ago and spoke in the tongue of the fae.

"Semembre." Dissolve.

Immediately he felt the enchantment take effect; a sense of solemn power bubbling somewhere inside him. He stepped forward, toward the path he knew was blocked by a solid wall of compact stone. In little time he neared the wall, and the barricade of stone seemed to wobble like water before losing solidity and splashing to the ground, creating a hole just large enough for him to walk through.

He made haste, walking forward as quickly as the stones dissolved in order to get to his destination as soon as possible. The enchantment had a duration of about twenty minutes and he didn't want to get stopped by layers of stone. Just as the effects of the enchantment began to receed, he caught sight of the exit he sought. Just above him was a square slab of stone with a faded flower motif.

Galdis pushed against it and stood on the tip of his toes to push it aside. He paid no mind to the pale shaft of moonlight that shone into the tunnel and grasped the lip of the hole, grunting as he hoisted himself out of the tunnel.

Once he was finally above the surface he looked about carefully, his mind reaching out to probe for any presence in the area. It was only after he was sure he hadn't been spotted that he replaced the slab of stone, careful not to make much noise. He stirred his manipulation and placed down a mental anchor within the bushes before pulling out the stone he'd come with. He rolled the stone around his hand for a moment then crushed it, scattering the resulting particles to the wind. The particles rose into the sky and moved forward in a cluster, riding the wind in a vaguely orderly manner - even though the night wasn't windy - and Galdis followed.

It was a tracking enchant of some manner but Galdis had no idea whether it was made of runes or arrays. He also had no idea how their ally had been able to acquire the Maeser's blood as all enchants of the kind required, but he decided not to dwell much on it. Oh, he was curious but one thing he had been sure to do since he first met their contact was rein in his curiosity. It certainly had something to do with his... disturbing visage but Galdis refused to think of that either.

The young man avoided the patrolling guards the best he could and in little time he had tracked down his quarry to a rectangular courtyard with a high wall. He scaled the wall quickly, reaching the top just in time to see the enchant slip into a room. A casual look about revealed the courtyard to be devoid of light and tagged its occupants asleep.

Galdis slipped down carefully into the courtyard, the gravel beneath his foot crunching slightly. His heart pounding, he moved as silently as he could to stand before the room the enchant had pointed him to. Once again he roused his manipulation, reaching out with his mind to determine the mental state of the room's occupant. A lazy, sleepy feeling brushed against his mind and he thanked his stars that the Maeser was asleep already before he arrived. He checked the door and finding it unlocked, slipped right in.

Rookie mistake.