And His Blood Dripped On the Snow, open

[E'doa A'nii]

(Alrighty!)
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It was true that Ilka stood quite silently and patiently. Soldiers were trained in the art of waiting. In battle one had to be able to wait under extremely stressful conditions without breaking down under the pressure. So it was relatively easy for Ilka to wait so clamly. He was a bit amused, though sympathetic at his younger companion's evident worry. The boy had a good heart and a keen mind. But he did not have the training of a warrior. Evidently the weight of his duties, and the danger he was subjecting himself to were taking their toll.

But he would make it. Nothing was ever as bad as it seemed.

It was cold. Bitterly so. But the knight's armor and high metabolism provided some resistance to the heat. Not as much as the knight would have liked. Even though his breath came out in little white puffs, Ilka did not shiver. Shivering made one's armor clink. One never shivered unless one could simply not stop himself.

The carriage was cold too, but at least it wasn't windy. Rhys made conversation, and Ilka joined in enthusiastically in an attempt to take the mage's mind off his troubles. Conversation made the trip short, and the length of the ride made the trip even shorter. The pair were given rooms--much as Ilka expected, and much to his irritation--that were rather far from Auriele's. But they had free reign of the halls. Rhys was a bright lad, and desired to take advantage of that fact immediately.

Ilka did too.

Searching out allies was a good idea. So he nodded at Rhy's suggestion. He would proceed to do that immediately. In addition he had ways of his own of gleaming information. It was very possible that weeks could go by with almost no development at all. Courts did have a way of making everything take much longer then it needed to. Well, while the boy was wandering about negotiating with the nobles Ilka would do a little learning on his own.

"Are there any nobles in particular which you wish me to pay attention to?" Ilka's days as a knight in castle Morgwin had given him a little experience in the ways of court, though he did not remember all the governments or their affairs as well as he used to. Being out of touch with the government did have a way of making one a bit rusty.

But the knight did remember some things.

And he could use what he knew, in conjunction with Rhy's more recent knowledge of current state affairs. If nothing else, he could use his skills to listen where others couldn't and so find those who might be suspect.

[Renna]

Auriele, too, was quiet during the ride to the palace---weary with nerves and the weight of the gown her maids had laced her into. The princess knew that she was arriving as a showcase of Adesia's wealth and power, so she stepped into the dress without complaint, but already it was making her legs ache. Ari had never in her life worn such a cumbersome object, and that was the honest truth. Yards and yards of gold cloth swathed her slender frame, spilling down in a waterfall of skirts and dragging behind in a glimmering and graceful train. Despite the cold weather the dress had no sleeves (the better to display white throat and shoulders), and only years of rigid training prevented the young princess from shivering where she sat. It was so very cold! Cian kept his hand around hers throughout the ride, warming those at least, but the rest of her was bare to the weather and she was suffering for it. Still, there was nothing to be done. This was the first time the King and Prince would ever lay eyes on her, and although she did not like this grandiose display Auriele knew that it was necessary in creating a good impression. The formula went thus: Gold gown, form-fitting and richly embroidered with gold thread and rubies + a beautiful girl within it dripping with gems and chocolate-colored curls + that same beautiful, unearthly woman offering herself as a gift = favor and friendship between the two nations. When looked at completely coldly it was a flawless equation, a recipe for certain success.

Auriele's parents had no trouble seeing matters exactly that coldly.

The princess passed the journey steeling herself against the chill air and wondering in her own mind; pondering the strange assassin and the dream-walker mage and what this royal family would be like; what it would be to marry either of them. The thoughts were enough to keep her distracted. By the time the entourage arrived at the palace Auriele's arms were beginning to go numb from cold, and she was gritting her teeth to ward off unbecoming shivers. Only a few minutes more. She could do it.

Ari exited the carriage with all the grace becoming a princess, ignoring the pain in her crippled legs as they were forced to bear the full weight of the gown once more and gliding forward without so much as a glance to the side. She paid no mind to gaping passers-by or protesting guards; her handlers would see her through all these checkpoints and stares until she stood before the King; her only duty at the moment was to look as lovely and regal as she could manage. It was a task Auriele was well-practiced at; she had mastered the art of having beauty in misery and she showed it now. Head up, shoulders back, eyes lowered, tiny gliding steps, just enough of a flush, let your gown dip just a little off your shoulder to let them see your breast, never expose an ankle, fold your hands becomingly before you, do not touch your hair, do not smile wide, and you will be a perfect doll.

The princess recited the mantra in her head, a perfect china doll gliding her way through the (mercifully warm) corridors and to her doom. A perfect china doll with burned and broken legs that would likely cost her life; a perfect china doll willing to hope otherwise for the sake of the country she loved. Ari had always hated china dolls.

At last the entire grand party was gathered in a room with high ceilings and a dais, men at the doorway announcing her name so it echoed in the grand emptiness. There were thrones, but Ari was not brave enough to look at the people in them. Instead she swept a deep curtsy while her injured legs screamed in agony.

"Her Royal Highness of Adesia, Princess Auriele Launcelyn!"

That was her cue, and Auriele recited her lines with sweet and perfect grace. "His Majesty King Alberic and Her Majesty Queen Therese of Adesia wish to send a gift to the gracious and noble masters of Caelin Tal to express their friendship and admiration. May I present myself to the service of your family?"

((OOC: Yay internet explorer!!! It's been forever, I know, so I tried to hop back in as best as I could. Feel free to edit what you need to make it work )).

[Rièle]

The Duke of Caelin sat alone at his desk, with stacks of papers piled formidably before him. Nat entered the room suddenly, and noted the frustration behind the duke's eyes as the duke directed a glare of impatience intently at the younger knight. Nat allowed any responsibility for the duke's emotions to roll off his shoulders with a shrug; his own responsibilities and commitments over the past few months since his injury had reduced so greatly that he hardly cared what some bureaucrat behind a desk had to say about it. He limped nonchalantly over to one of the chairs across the desk from the duke, sat down, and propped his injured leg upon the adjacent chair.

"Good morning duke," said Nat. "Or, I suppose it's the afternoon by now. What can a humble, injured knight do for you today?" Nat smirked sassily.

The duke seemed to contain a growl. "Sir Nathan," he began, using Nat's full title (which Nat had heard perhaps twice since receiving it), "Several urgent reports were sent to your desk last night. I don't suppose you've had time to review them?"

"Reports?" Nat hadn't been inside his office for weeks. Last night he'd been discussing engineering with two of his monk friends over mugs of ale. "Nope, can't say that I have. But, on a related note, I seem to recall receiving a temporary pardon for the majority of my duties about four months ago, when an errand for the king rendered me unable to walk."

"You walked up ten flights of steps to get here," the duke said flatly. "I think it's time that you got off of your increasingly lazy ass and resumed some of your duties. While you may be enjoying this holiday of yours, Sir Nathan; working whenever you like and spending the rest of your time as you will, I have an urgent need for you to be serving the king on a full-time basis again. Immediately."

Nat was becoming angry, both with the duke's insults and with the implication that he could possibly perform his duties at full capacity on an injured leg. "You'll have to forgive me, sir, but I strongly believe that the king would disagree that passing several months' time training two squadrons can be considered lazy," his voice was raised, and his frustration growing.
"And according to the castle Healer, it's in the best interest of my leg for me to wait another three weeks before resuming any exercise. So I don't see how I could possibly be expected to resume my duties, unless your intent is to cripple me permanently."

The duke threw a small stack of documents onto the desk in front of Nat. The knight glanced down at them. "What's this?" he asked impertinently.

"Your job," replied the duke.

Nat glanced down at the papers. Most were arrest and activity reports for Caelin, though some were for other cities in the kingdom as well. He saw no connection between them. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked bluntly.

"Something you should've been doing for weeks," said the duke. "We've been receiving increasingly strange reports. The city watch thinks something unusual is going on. But no one can pinpoint the connections, and none of the people we've arrested know anything significant. If you'd been keeping up with current events, you'd be involved already."

A light went on in Nat's head. "You need Gav. Not me."

"Yes, well, your counterpart is indisposed."

"You mean he and the prince are out of the country. And I would be too if not for my leg."

"Fortunately, you're here. Consider this your first assignment now that you've recovered."

Nat stood and began shouting down at the duke. "Gods damn it, I'm not Gav, and I'm not recovered! This sort of thing is not my strong suit. And if looking into this sends me into a difficult situation, I'm likely to injure myself again or get myself killed. Is that what the king is asking me to do?"

The duke returned Nat's gaze seriously. "You're right, you're not Gav. But you're his lieutenant, so you're the best we have. And, yes. I spoke with the king this morning. I think that, rather than concern, everyone is more disappointed that you hadn't already taken the initiative to be involved yourself."

Nat sank back into his chair, genuinely stunned and ashamed that the king, whom he looked up to, was disappointed in him. At length he nodded. "All right, then," he said.

"Good. Go speak with the king, and I'll have everything you need sent to your office."

Whether he was more irritated with the duke or himself, Nat wasn't sure. He turned and strode from the office, determined to reassert that he wasn't the slacking idiot that everyone seemed to think. In his anger he was more concerned with leaving the room in a dramatic huff than in evading anyone who might be in the hallway, and he ran straight into a tall, skinny fellow who had been waiting outside the office.

Nat's cane fell to the floor and he floundered, but the other man was quick to catch and steady the injured knight. "I'm so sorry, sir," said the other man. "Completely my fault. Here," he handed Nat his dropped cane.

Once he'd found his footing, Nat looked at the man he'd run into. A tall, skinny, red-headed mage, wearing strikingly white robes and with freckles across his face. He had a kind expression, and Nat found that he liked him instantly. "Don't be silly," Nat said. "My fault for storming out of the room so quickly. You're not waiting to see that ungrateful bastard, are you?" he jested.

Rhys nodded. "I was, sir. I don't suppose he's available?"

Devious thoughts raced through Nat's head. The duke was absurdly busy and, he knew, saw individuals by appointment only. "Of course he is! I've just finished with him. Here, I'll introduce you."

Nat turned around and re-opened the door to the duke's office. The duke was already absorbed in paperwork. "Duke! Someone to see you, I think you've kept him waiting. Friend, this is the Duke of Caelin," he said, ushering Rhys through the door. "Duke, this is, um..."

"Rhys," Rhys supplied, politely bowing to the duke.

"Rhys! Of course." Nat chuckled inwardly.

The duke was flustered. "But I've no appointments this afternoon, I can't possibly-"

"No worries there, duke! We don't want to keep this fellow waiting any longer. I'll be on my way while you two have a nice talk." Nat waved and left the room. He restrained himself from laughing out loud until he was far down the hallway. He felt much better.

******

(OOC: I'm feeling a bit stretched playing so many PC's, so I'm going to say that the queen is away.)

"Adesia?" King Halden's brow furrowed in a look of concentration. Perhaps his kingdom's poor relations with their Adesian neighbors had degraded more than he was aware. "Gerynd, has there been any word from our borders of more trouble between Lord Elliae and the Adesians?"

"Not for months, sire," replied the old mage. "The last message was received shortly after Lord Elliae's son and his party left Caelin Tal to return home, and it bore no information regarding relations between the elves and the Adesians."

The king recalled this, and considered. "I would like to send a message to Lord Elliae. I'll first speak with this princess, and compose it afterwards. You can send a bird this evening?"

Gerynd bowed his head. "Of course, sire."

King Halden turned to the page who'd brought word of the princess's arrival. "I will meet the princess in the Hall."

The architecture of Caelin Tal was magnificent, and the structure of the Hall was grand and stunning. But, under king Halden's rule, all formality ended there, especially on such short notice. He stood in the Hall before the princess, wearing a simple tunic and pants, unarmed, and without his crown. A ring and the crest upon his sleeve identified him, but otherwise his dress was plain, simple, and clean. The traditional Adesian gown that Auriele wore was impressive and stunning, but while he admired the art and intricacy that went into its construction he also noted its discomfort (which was often explained to him by his wife, during traditional gatherings).

He strode forward and took the princess's hands, smiling warmly. It was unsurprising how cold they were, for he was aware that the formality of most cultures (including his own) was extremely strict regarding formal royal dress and comfort. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek in welcome.

"Welcome to Imlandris, princess," he said, with heartfelt sincerity. "I thank you for coming to our country; I know what a long journey it must have been. I must apologize that I am the only one here to greet you, for my son is currently away on business, and my wife is visiting her sister."

A page entered the room, and Halden nodded at his entry. "Please, if you will, come with me where we can sit more comfortably and talk."

Halden walked beside the princess, treating her always as an equal, and adjusting his pace to accommodate the cumbersome gown that she wore. Near to the Hall was a large room that Halden preferred for receiving his guests; it was a small library with a grand window, comfortable chairs, and a large fireplace. Several pages awaited with warm, spiced wine, and platters of sliced bread, jam, and biscuits.

And, standing awkwardly in the hallway outside the door, was Nat. He'd shaved, acquired a haircut, and changed into proper attire since visiting with the duke a few hours earlier, and stood straight and professionally as he waited to meet with the king.

Halden's spirits leapt upon sight of the other man, and he restrained himself from quickening his pace. Instead he guided the princess slowly up to Nat. Halden instantly embraced his friend, clapping him on the back. "Nat, it's so good to see you back. Thanks, my friend, I know this isn't easy, but I was starting to worry about you." He and Nat exchanged smiles, and lines of worry melted from Nat's face.

Halden stepped back. "Princess Auriele Launcelyn of Adesia, this is Sir Nathan Brown, lieutenant in the kingdom's army." Nat smiled and bowed deeply to the princess. Halden grinned inwardly, always impressed at how charming his friend could be without even trying. "He's just recovered from a bad injury," Halden continued, "He'll have to tell you the story of that later."

"I'd be happy to," said Nat. "But I imagine the princess would like to settle in, first. With your leave, Halden...?"

Halden nodded. "Yes, yes, of course! Return to your duty, I'll see that you have everything you need. Come by tomorrow and tell me everything you know, and we can talk more about it."

Nat nodded, inwardly wincing. That gave him less than a day to catch up. Though he was more than grateful for Halden's willingness to help, and he supposed that was worth losing a night's sleep.

Nat left the two of them, and Halden led the princess inside, inviting her to sit. It was obvious from the papers on the desk and table that the king preferred to use this room as his office. He offered her wine and bread, taking some of each himself. "Now, then, princess Auriele, your friends and family I'm sure would be glad to know that you've made the journey safely, we can speak with the castle's mage, Gerynd, this evening and send a message to your home. We haven't had much word lately in Caelin Tal of your country, or of what's passed along our borders between Lord Elliae and the Adesians. Why don't you tell me more about yourself, and the reasons for your journey?"

[Renna]

The king of Imlandris took her hands and kissed her, and Auriele liked him at once. He was so different than any King she had ever met before! So different from her cold, scheming mother, and so different from her senile father---he wore no crown, no robes, no sword, and he welcomed her like she was a person and not a prize. His consideration for her after a long and tiring journey immediately changed like to love, and the young princess ventured a smile at the king who would probably not have cared if she had arrived barefooted and nightgowned. She dipped him a curtsy, marveling in his kind welcome, then rose and nodded her head to him shyly. "That sounds wonderful, Your Majesty. I thank you very much."

Ari followed behind him, noticing that he matched his pace to hers the entire way. By the time they reached the room that served as his office she found herself fighting an odd desire to slip her hand in his. King Halden was like the father she had lost to age, and seeing him greet his friend with such obvious happiness the princess had to smile. Auriele returned a deep nod to Nat's bow, holding out her hand to him in a gentle greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Sir Nathan. I'm sorry to hear you were injured." She touched her hand to his, feather-light, then withdrew it with a hint of mischief in her eye. "But also glad to see you on your feet. I hope to share a longer conversation with you someday soon." Ari was really very interested to hear the soldier's story, for she collected tales and emotions and wove them into her writings. Sir Nathan seemed a charming, intelligent sort, and she was certain that any time spent in his company would be pleasant, but as he seemed to realize there were more important things to look to. So she nodded after him in farewell, then allowed herself to be led into the suite without a word of protest.

The presence of the fire was a blessed relief, and Auriele sat herself down before it with an audible sigh. She accepted the offered food and drink gladly, digging in as daintily as she could through a veil of ravenous hunger and exhaustion. "Thank you, Sire. This really is such a comfort--" A page leaned over her shoulder to refill her goblet of a few sips of wine, and she turned to the boy with another quiet 'thank you'. At Halden's question, however, she hesitated; slowly lowering her food back to her plate and looking down at her hands. What would she say? The entire story of her presence here in Imlandris revolved around a lie, and Ari hated to lie to the kindly man sitting across from her. She knew her duty, of course, but....

A grumble of resentment rose in her heart, stirring rebellion, and in an instant the princess made her decision. She held her head higher, back straight against her chair as the shy young woman looked the enemy king in the eyes. "My parents sent me to you, my liege. We're facing a threat on our eastern borders, and shaky relationships with many other kingdoms due to....well, a lot of things. They wish to mend the rift between our lands, but haven't the resources now to send a proper entourage or gifts of wealth and land. So here I am. A gift and an ambassador."

Her hands knotted in her lap, but after another moment the princess hung her head. "And a poor example of both. Sire, I'm meant to offer myself as a bride to your son---which I will do right willingly if you wish---but I'm afraid my parents wished me to lie to you. It would be best if I did but I cannot, not after such a warm welcome."

Ari's eyes brightened, and she tightened her hands so the knuckles shone white. "I look very beautiful, I know; a prize for any Prince. That's what they say. The truth of the matter is that I am disfigured, and if I were obeying orders right now no one would learn that until the wedding night. Please..." Her mouth formed the words around a whisper, and she bowed her head still lower in shame. "Please forgive us. We didn't mean harm, and I still offer myself to you in any capacity you wish to use me, no matter how lowly. It's not a worthy gift but it is all I have. I give it to you gladly."

((Go Riele, some epic NPC action going on on your end! *cheers* ))

[Rièle]

(OOC: Awesome post, Renna!! FYI to all: king Halden, prince Palamir, and members of the royal family are PCs - I'm just behind on posting profiles for them. I'll try to get one up for Halden soon. Gerynd, the duke, etc are all NPCs.)

Halden smiled warmly, and reached out to lift the princess' chin upward. His brown eyes met hers, and he smiled encouragingly. "There now my dear, don't worry. There is nothing to forgive. I thank you for your honesty, and for your generosity. I have heard that your country is suffering hard times, and I admire your strength. You mustn't think so poorly of yourself; any man who is worthy of your hand in marriage will love the strength and selflessness of your soul, and not be concerned with some scratch upon the surface."

He cleared his throat then, returning his hand to his lap and sitting straight-backed to speak seriously, and as a king. "However," he began, "I'm afraid that I am unable to accept your gift; not because it is unworthy of my country, but because I cannot help your situation directly, as your parents believe. The troubles on our borders are between the peoples of your country and the elves of my country. That elven realm is not only far from Caelin Tal, but I hold not any power to demand that the elves compromise with Adesia on issues that may be part of your dispute."

"You see," he continued, "Imlandris is not ruled by one king alone, but by three allied kings of different races. Humans are by far our largest population, and so it is that many of our neighbors are of the misconception that I rule all the peoples of our country. But the laws and protections that I provide extend, chiefly, only to our human population. Our other cultures - the elves, dwarves, faeries, dragons, gryphons, and creatures of the woods to the east; they are ruled by different kings."

The history and explanation that Halden gave were over-simplified, he knew, but the crux of the problem would be evident to the princess. "You see, the Imlandris lands adjacent to Adesia are inhabited by elves, with very few humans. I know that, in the past, Lord Elliae - who governs the elven realm along our northeaster border - and the Adesian kings have experienced many difficulties, and my predecessors have endeavored to mediate these problems, with mixed results. But, in truth, I have no right to accept your parents' generosity in exchange for, as you say, mending the rift between our lands. And I cannot lend your country resources in exchange for your gift, especially in a situation where the peoples of our two countries are in dispute."

The king paused for a moment, knowing that he'd delivered a harsh, though truthful, answer to the princess' request. And yet it was not in his nature to leave such a plea for help unanswered, especially from a young woman whom he would rather have as an ally than an enemy.

"However," he continued, "I think there is another way to resolve this problem." He looked hard at the princess, as if with some innate power he could assess the mettle she was made of, and whether she was capable of the task he was about to suggest. "And if my estimations of you are right, which I suspect they are, I think you may prefer my option to the one your parents have suggested. I believe that it would behoove your parents to recognize your capacity to be more valuable to your country than as a gift of marriage to a foreign prince."

King Halden stood, walking to his desk and withdrawing a scroll and pen. His tone was encouraging, for he believed that, with the princess's resolve, his plan had a strong chance of working. "I have good relations with Lord Elliae, and I can send him word of your presence in Caelin Tal and of the troubles of your country. I think that, given your openness and honesty, you will be welcomed and respected by the elven people, and that you should speak with the elves and attempt to resolve the issues that have arisen between my country and your own. I would not suggest that you make the journey to the elven realm so close to winter; rather, let some of Elliae's ambassadors come to Caelin. If Elliae agrees, you and his ambassadors can have a dialogue, and work to resolve the problems that are of such concern to the rulers of Adesia. I can sit down with you as needed, and provide what resources I can to help. In the spring you can travel back to present your solutions to Lord Elliae, and to your parents. Then, perhaps, we might more firmly and permanently begin to mend the relations between Adesia and Imlandris. What do you think?"

****

The Duke of Caelin glowered irritably at the red-headed mage who was so inconveniently taking up his precious time. He knew, however, that his true irritation lay with Nat, who had practically shoved the other man into his office. "So, let me see if I understand this," he said, the slight edge of disdain in his voice demonstrating that he did not take the mage's request seriously at all. "You're a dream-wizard, you come from an island outside the country, and you've traveled here out of concern because a magical vision suggested that a member of the royal family is in danger of being assassinated?"

"That's correct, sir," Rhys answered humbly. "I'd like an audience with the king so that I might reveal what I know of this threat, if that would be possible."

The duke exhaled sharply, his face showing signs of stress and lack of sleep. "Anyone who requests an audience with the king may be granted one," he stated, shuffling some papers and placing Rhys's name on a list. "However, unless you have some evidence to substantiate this threat, I must explain that there are always threats to the king, and we deal with them by priority. Yours, at present, is merely a phantom."

Rhys sighed resignedly, having expected this answer.

"The king hears supplicants and petitions in groups. I'm placing you in the group to be heard three days from now, at one-o'clock in the afternoon."

Rhys nodded, disappointed. "Thank you, sir." He hesitated; his mind racing now that it was presented with the intense and immediate need to relay his information to someone who could do something about his dream, before the worst happened. "Perhaps... is there someone else I may speak to in the meantime? A member of the guard, or the city watch? I would feel more comfortable if someone with authority was aware of this threat."

"The office of the city watch is at the northern end of Torre Street," the duke stated mechanically. "You can file a report with-" He cut off in mid-speech, his eyes suddenly lit with an obvious idea. "Actually, Mr. Rhys, something of this importance is above the capabilities of the city watch. A magical prophesy of a threat to the royal family should be directed to someone in particular." The duke scribbled some directions on a small piece of parchment, and handed it to Rhys. "Sir Nathan Brown is the highest-ranking knight at Caelin Tal. He will be able to investigate the information properly."

Rhys's eyes gleamed; this knight sounded promising! Someone with such a high rank would surely know what to do about the phantom in his dream. He couldn't believe that the duke was really taking him seriously. With a show of enthusiasm, he stood and shook the duke's hand. "Thank you so much, duke!"

"Of course. Remember to tell Sir Nathan that I sent you. I want to be sure he knows how important this is."

"I will! Thank you!"

Rhys left the duke's office, and quickly sought the tower halls for Ilka. Rhys related the events of the morning, and showed Ilka the piece of parchment with Nat's name and office number. "Ilka, have you learned anything while I was gone? I think it might be a good idea if you come with me to see this knight. If both of us attest to the prophesy in the dream, he might treat it with more urgency. Or, perhaps, would it be better to keep to the original plan, and reveal as little as possible so that we retain our freedom? If I go to meet the knight alone, then you can still relay the message to the king if they think I'm crazy and throw me out of the castle. You know more of knights than I; what do you think we should do?

[E'doa A'nii]

In the length of time which Rhys had been busy talking to court nobles and weedling his way around the higher ups, Ilka had been busy scouting the castle lay out. If an assassin was to sneak in to get the king,presumably by stabbing him, then it would be adviseable to find the most practicable method possible. After all, such close physical contact would require a bit knowledge. The knowledge of the king's daily movings and a knowledge of the king's castle.

It went without saying that the court was rife with spies. So finding out who was giving out the desired information would be difficult and time consuming. They did not have time. If it was an inside job...well...too mnay people had too many reasons to kill off the king; even if he was an excellent ruler.

So the only thing to do was to find out how. They had the method. Assuming of course, that the stabbing really was the intended way, and not just a dream metaphor for the man's death. Otherwise... they would have to hope the guards and the taste tester could catch it first.

Ilka reached about to the back of his neck and pulled out a pendant from his shirt. He rubbed the emerald. It began to glow a soft green. Ilka's gangly body began to shrink. His knobby arms receeded into his chest as his torso ate up his lanky legs. Long, oddly shaped feet elongated further as nails followed suit. Ilka's long nose rounded out slightly and grew whiskers. Soon all that was left was a pile of clothes around a shaggy grey field mouse.

Let the castle find him now.

Admittedly it took a mouse longer to travel the castle then a man. But mice could go where men could not. And so the knight Templar was soon traipsing about under people's feet. The first place he wanted to find was the King's room. If all else failed, he could make himself a permanent resident there without the King's ever knowing it. From there, he could follow the king about.

The king's room would logically be the hardest to access. Probably on the highest floor, on the southside, where the castle's outer defense wast most sure (Having been able to see something of the castle as they rode up) and the inner design was, therefore, most careful. So that's where he went. Once he had found Halden's room it was swift work to make it back to his own quarters and return to his human form. So he was quite ready when Rhys arrived.

The gangly knight attended well to the wind magician's information. It struck him odd that the Duke should be so hot and cold by turns; but then... people had their reasons, more so in the castle. It would be useless to point fingers now. Ilka took the paper and studied it. He handed it back.

"Not particularly. I've been going mostly on what we have from the dream. I have found the King's room. It is on the third floor, south wing, last room in the hall." Absently. There were a few moments of silence as Ilka thought.

He was busy figuring the new developments into his plans. Sifting through, yet again, the information he already knew. He knew there was someone who already knew of Rhys. Someone who Rhys could sense but not affect. The assassin, from which Rhys shielded his dreams. So Rhys was already known to the assassin. From what Ilka had gathered of his conversations, the assassin could find Rhys anywhere because he knew his dreams. Apparently Rhys couldn't completely shield his mind from this mage. He must be a mage. Who else would have such magic?

As such sheilding everyone else's dreams must put further strain on the the red head. But if Rhys was known, then perhaps he and Ariele were known too. So there wasn't any point in asking to have his dreams shielded anymore. Was there? He must learn more of the powers at work. Battle plans were useless without knowledge.

As for Nat... Well, Rhys was quite fine enlisting his help. All that would happen would be that Nat would inform the King, increase the guard and perhaps take up night watch. Or, Nat would simply enlist Rhys to watch the King's dreams. Hiring a magician to help wouldn't exactly be the first on the knight's mind. This was a physical assault.

Everything spoke of a physical assault.

Everthing except the man himself. Why would he attack a king with a knife when he could affect others simply my meddling with their dreams? A man dying in his sleep would be just as suspect as a man dying by knife. Especially someone as healthy as King Halden. The only advantage...would be if the knife were to implicate someone else. Someone whose position and power would cause a desired effect.

But who?

Ilka struggled to recall his knowledge of kingdoms. Such knowledge had grown rather rusty from being out of court so long. Governments and principalities changed so fast that a day's news could become obsolete in a week. Forget that. Nat would probably know who would most likely want his Highness out of the way anyway. This was Nat's palace.

"Go ahead and tell Nat. Tell him about the dream, but not about the Assasin's Magic. You will have to deal with that on your own. Tell Nat that you had a vision about the King being assassinated. See if you can find a way to weedle out the name of the person who most wants King Halden dead. I'll keep my ears open.

I think our assassin means to implicate him. In the mean time, I can keep watch by staying in the king's room. Is it possible to kill someone with a dream?"

That question was two fold. Firstly, if it was, then it proved the assassin didn't have to stab Halden with a knife. Also, it gave other clues to the man's identity. Perhaps the king new someone who walked in dreams? Whatever the case, something about killing Halden in his sleep must give the killer away.

Secondly, if it was possible, then Ilka was going to have to find a way of preventing himself from getting taken out as the King's self-appointed body guard.

[Angel of Chaos]

Sora! Sora! Please, pull yourself together, Sora! Tokala pleaded.

I...I can't Tokala! That dream...what WAS that? Sora thought back, still crying.

I...can't say for certain, Tokala replied. But I think it was a vision. A very powerful vision...one that blocked my intervention. I don't know what the motive was for it or who the interloper was who brought this vision upon you, but--

It was so horrible! Sora interrupted, letting out another wail of tears. Why do these things always happen to me?

She continued to quietly sob for a time that was lost to her. Tokala did his best to try and calm her down, but his efforts were in vain. Sora's mind was too traumatized by the all-too-real dream to listen. She could still hear the voices of malicious attrition, feel the pain of the weapons of torture prod her skin, and most devastating of all, feel the weight of the bloodstained dagger in her hand. The harsh, bitter cold of the dream still nipped and pulled at her fur, and the woeful, distant cries of her voice crying, "Why?" still echoed in her long ears. None of her nightmares have been as terrifying--or as real--as this one. This one would be burned in her mind for as long as she remained alive.

It was not until she heard the worried voice of the half-elf that she snapped back into cruel reality, the pain of the nightmare dissipating if only for a moment.

"Wh...What?" she murmured, sniffling and cringing in her blanket. It took her a moment to register that the half-elf was genuinely concerned with Sora's current plight. And thus, she burst out, "Oh, it...it was...terrible! I was...surrounded by shadows...they all...wanted to...wanted to k-kill me...because of what I am! Then...I was outside...I...I saw myself...then...I...I...I killed someone! Killed someone! Then...I...I..." Her words then became incomprehensible as she dissolved once again into deep, painful sobs, clasping onto the half-elf's arm as if her life depended on it. "It...it was...s-s-so...r-real...I...I don't know what to believe anymore!!!" She only sobbed harder, and then she began hyperventilating.

[Renna]

King Halden's hand moved out to touch her chin, and the shy princess forced herself to look him in the eyes. The tense fear in her own brown gaze quickly disappeared, evolving first into wonder and then into gratitude. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her, and Ari found herself ducking her head in order to hide tears. How she wished this man was her father; his wife her mother! King Alberic had been like him once, she remembered; long ago the sort of man to take her in his arms and let his beard tickle her cheek while he laughed. But madness and age had stolen that from him, and now she had a father who did not recognize her face. Sometimes she would read to him and he would watch her quietly, as if trying to place where he knew her. On those days he would be smiling and king, and thank her with a pat on the hand. Other times he would seem to realize that things were wrong, and would shout and swear and throw things around. Once in a blue moon he would call her by name, and Auriele had those moments seared into her memory. But Queen Therese was the one running Adesia now, and she had always been cold. She was the one who had declared her ruined when her little daughter lay whimpering from the pain in her scalded legs; the one who had turned away with a sharp instruction that no one must know. Auguste, the eldest brother, was a rounder and a stranger. Antony was her friend...at least, he had been. Now he was old and serious, the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders and his little sister forgotten. Adesia meant more to him now than she did, and while Auriele was trying to accept that as right it still hurt.

So Halden's touch meant more than it should have, and she was reluctant for him to pull his hand away. But the girl straightened obediently in her chair when she saw him becoming a king again instead of a father, tilting her head a little to keep her eyes politely on his face while he spoke. Ari did her best to keep her face blank and to hide the dismay that arose at his words, but she was a poor liar and it was likely that her disappointment showed. Of course she could not ask him to perform an action that would lead to civil war in his own country, but what else was she to do? Adesia needed help. Not only were there trouble with the elves on the southern border, but the hordes to the east had started massing, and resources were stretched thin, too thin for anyone to sleep with any semblance of comfort. Auriele looked at the King with pleading eyes, prepared to fall onto knees that refused to bend in order to beg, and he surprised her once again. The foreign king looked at her with the sort of hard stare meant to find the soul under the skin, and Ari did her best to meet it head-on. She was desperate and afraid, but she would not be ashamed to be looked at so....

His words sank in, and Ari's hand flew to her mouth. "Me? Conduct negotiations? But I...."

She had no training. Her education had consisted primarily of graceful motions and manners. Cian's intervention had taught her well in music, poetry, art, and language; but Ari had never been prepared to serve as any kind of functional ambassador. Her place was looking pretty and meek submission, not negotiation, and the princess knew at once that the task was too great for her. She couldn't do it.

Auriele shook her head, almost vehemently at first, then slowed, then stopped. She stared at Halden, a new pulse fluttering in her throat as her thoughts gave her pause. What else was there to do? Go home? Go home, and then find her way to some foreign court in chains when Adesia fell under her enemies?

The princess bit her lip. True, she had no training, but the elves and men were already at war. She could hardly make that worse. Right? And maybe---maybe she really could manage it. If Cian helped, maybe it could work. Her mother and brothers were complicated. They always wanted to work out trade routes and rights of passage and territories and fishing grounds. Auriele was simple and wanted nothing more than peace, and maybe because of that it would work. She would surely get a tongue-lashing for it later, perhaps even disowned if the results were not to her mother's liking, but if she were disowned she would simply stop being a princess. She could stay with Cian, and they could wander together and sing. Perhaps King Halden would find a home for them. Perhaps she would be happy.

Almost as likely was the possibility of future misery for her daring, but Ari made a conscious decision to think on the bright side this time. This was too important to shrink from, so she wouldn't. The Adesian Princess nodded her head, her brows knitting in an expression of soft determination. "Yes, Your Majesty. If you are willing to write, then I will do my best. You may tell Lord Elliae that I look forward to meeting his ambassadors and..." She bit her lip. "Perhaps I should send him a gift. Yes. If I may, Sire, I'd like to pen a letter of my own to attach to yours---I would be ever so grateful to you for your help."

The pretty thing hesitated again, blushing, then ventured to speak a little further. "If it please Your Majesty, I know I'm not needed as a bride; but if your son is anything like you, I should like to meet him all the same!"

She flushed brightly red, but smiled down at her hands.

[Rièle]

Rhys listened to Ilka's musings, and thought for a moment. He quickly realized that part of Ilka's story confused him greatly. "Wait a minute - Ilka, you found the king's room? How on earth did you do that? There can't be more than two people who can walk in there without the castle guard apprehending them before they get through the door."

Ilka thought to himself for quite awhile, and Rhys wondered silently what might be running through the knight's head. Had he discovered something, while Rhys had been gone? No, it seemed, nothing besides the location of the king's room. Ilka instructed Rhys to go and speak to Sir Nathan alone, and Rhys nodded. He supposed it was a good idea to have one person vigilantly roaming the castle halls, though he would have liked Ilka's company.

"I'll go talk to this Nathan fellow, then," said Rhys. Though, I imagine there are any number of enemies that would want to assassinate the king. It probably isn't as straightforward as asking the guard who the most likely culprit is." Rhys wasn't sure he exactly followed Ilka's logic, but the other man seemed confident in his words. It seemed as though there were an infinite number of possible suspects; the dream really hadn't told them anything about the king's murderer.

"What's that? Can you kill someone with a dream?" Rhys thought for a moment. "No, not directly. That is, unless you're a dreamwalker like I am, and you immerse yourself inside the dream more than is normal. But even then it would be quite unusual. You certainly don't have anything to worry about, and neither does Princess Auriele. I'm keeping your dreams shielded, so another dreamwalker won't be able to recognize your dreams and locate you, or discover what we're doing."

Rhys sighed. "I guess I'll be going, then. But Ilka, the king will only be spending the nights in his room, and he should already be well-guarded during the day. Since you can roam the halls so well, why don't you listen and see if there's anything suspicious you can learn of? If you hear anything interesting, come find me."

***

The knight's office wasn't difficult to find. All of the castle military personnel were housed in buildings outside the tower and along the keep walls. It was lunchtime, and drilling had ceased for the noon hour while soldiers flocked to the mess hall to eat their fill. The offices were just beyond, and Rhys found the door wide open. He peered inside and recognized the man who'd ushered him in to the duke's office not an hour before. Nat was sitting with his injured leg propped upon a chair, and was reviewing the daunting stack of reports piled before him on the desk.

The knight looked up at Rhys's entrance, almost too quickly; it was evident that the man welcomed an excuse to put down his paperwork. Nat sat up and waved Rhys inside enthusiastically. "Come in, friend! I see you've been following me. Or did the duke send you? Sit down, sit down. Sorry about the mess, I've just returned from leave today... I guess I let a few things pile up while I was gone." He smiled guiltily. "My name's Nat."

Rhys cleared a stack of papers and a dented practice shield to the side, and sat down opposite Nat. He looked around the room, and realized he felt quite at home in this office. It was filled with bookshelves, dusty books, and maps. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth, and it was starting to heat the room, which had been cold and empty for weeks. Aside from the recent mess, which Rhys could tell was not the room's normal state, it was warm and welcoming. Nat himself seemed friendly, he was a little older than Rhys, but also quiet and bookish; Rhys sensed a kindred spirit. "My name is Rhys, sir. I'm a mage, as you can probably tell. I came here with a message - well, a warning, really - but I'm having some difficulty delivering it. The duke suggested I relate it to you, as I'm unable to see the king in open court for several days."

"The king?" Nat asked speculatively. "It must be an important message." Nat considered the mage across from him. Rhys seemed perfectly simple and honest, and he found that he rather liked the red-headed mage. But the seriousness with which Rhys spoke was troublesome, because it either meant something very grave, or that this friend of his was making a dramatic show out of something trivial. He wasn't sure whether to hope for the former, or the latter.

"Yes. You see, I'm a dream-walker. I can walk in the world of dreams, and into others' dreams. About three weeks ago I witnessed someone else's dream, in which the King of Imlandris was stabbed to death in the streets of Caelin Tal. It was not an ordinary dream, but a prophecy of sorts; a longing, if you will, of the dreamer to kill King Halden. It was most intense, and powerful enough that both I and others have seen it since. I believe that the king's life is in danger, and I traveled to Caelin Tal to warn him."

Nat, at first, stared blankly at Rhys. He found himself completely out of his element; unsure what to believe, with no knowledge of magic or dream prophesies that would allow him to assess whether this threat was even dangerous or not. This wasn't something he was good at; he'd rather be inventing things or discussing philosophy with the Tower's monks. What would Gav do in this situation? That was easy, Nat knew his best friend well enough. Gav went with his gut, and acted conservatively when someone's life could be at stake. Nat's gut saw a friend in this other man, and wanted to believe him.

He took out a blank sheet of paper, and started to write. "All right, Rhys. Let's say this prophecy of yours is the real thing. What do you know about the person who wants to kill King Halden?"

"Very little, I'm afraid." Rhys was disappointed with himself, for it was apparent that he had no details about the murder that would help the knight. "The dream occurs in the first person. That means that the dreamer sees through the eyes of the one the dream belongs to."

"So, each time you see the dream, you kill the King?"

Rhys nodded sadly. Nat appeared a little distraught, but he continued taking notes. "What about where it takes place? The time of day? Is anyone else there?"

Rhys didn't have to think at all to recall the images. "In the evening. It's snowing, and there is already a foot of snow upon the ground. There are shops surrounding me, but they're gray and undefined. Calin Tal lies in the distance, but the light above comes from nowhere, so I can't tell in which direction. I turn, knowing something terrible has happened, and see the body lying in the snow. The king lies face-down in the snow, I know him by the crest upon his cloak. I look down to see a silver knife in my hand."

Rhys spoke as if he loathed the words, and Nat could tell from the other man's demeanor that it troubled him to recall the images. "So," he hesitated, "You never see the king's face? Only a crest upon the cloak?"

"No," said Rhys. "But that's often the way of dreams. You don't see everything, you feel it."

"But how do you know it's the body of the king and not the prince?"

"I don't. I know it's one of them; that sinking feeling in my gut when I see it, that's the dream telling me. I assumed it was the king when I arrived in Caelin Tal because the prince is away."

"I see," said Nat, scribbling on the page. "And what about the knife? Can you tell me more about it?"

"Yes," Rhys considered. "It's about this long," he held his hands apart for Nat to see. "The hilt is silver. It's quite ornate, there's a pattern on the hilt that I don't recognize."

"A crest?" Nat suggested.

"No, not a crest. A metal-worker's design. Sort of a flowing curve, with a geometric pattern where the hilt meets the blade."

"Could you draw it?" asked Nat hopefully.

"Draw? I think so. Yes."

Nat gave Rhys a blank piece of paper and a pen. "In the dream, when you looked down, which hand did you hold the knife in?"

"What's that?"

"Well, most people would use the same hand they write with to stab someone. I'm trying to figure out whether the murderer in the dream is right or left-handed."

"Oh," said Rhys, impressed by Nat's question. "It was the right hand." His eyes and Nat's were immediately drawn to the page upon which Rhys was drawing the knife... with his left hand. The two men grinned at each other.

"You said that others have seen this dream?" Nat continued.

"What? Oh... yes." Rhys's tone was reluctant, he didn't want to implicate his friends, especially the princess. "But it was completely by accident. They were in the rooms adjacent to mine at the Inn in the city. I was pulled into the dream, and they were pulled with me... by virtue of proximity."

"Still, it may be important," Nat encouraged. "They might have noticed something different, or maybe this dreamer knows them now that they've seen his dream. I don't know anything about dream magic; is that possible?"

"Well, yes, it is." Rhys admitted. And he also knew that Nat could easily find out who had been staying at the Compass Rose last night if he refused to tell him. He sighed. "One is the knight, Ilka. The other..." he hesitated, but Nat's expression was determined. "The other is Princess Auriele, of Adesia. Please don't get her into any trouble over this. I know her visit here is very important, and I don't want her to lose favor with the king because of my mistake."

"Not to worry," said Nat, perhaps less reassuringly than he meant to sound. "You're staying at the castle?"

"Yes," said Rhys.

"Good. Stay put, and don't go wandering about in the city. I'll be calling on you sooner or later. I'm assigning a guard to you, for the time being."

"A guard? But..."

"Don't worry, you can leave your room if you want to. He'll just be keeping an eye on you for awhile." Nat winked. Rhys wasn't reassured at all.

Nat picked up his notes and the drawing of the knife, and stuffed them into the middle of a stack of reports on his desk. Rhys appeared crestfallen, and stood to leave the room, unsure whether coming to see the knight had been a mistake or not.

***

Halden sensed the princess's distress at his suggestion. But he also knew that, if her country was in as much trouble as it seemed, she needed to be strong and accept this opportunity. If Auriele could apply her strength of character to helping her country, she had the potential to help Adesia far more than as a simple bride.

"Yes, Your Majesty. If you are willing to write, then I will do my best. You may tell Lord Elliae that I look forward to meeting his ambassadors and..." She bit her lip. "Perhaps I should send him a gift. Yes. If I may, Sire, I'd like to pen a letter of my own to attach to yours---I would be ever so grateful to you for your help."

Halden smiled; pleased beyond words that the princess had accepted his suggestion. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. Lord Ellian is a friend, so I expect he'll be glad to send ambassadors to Caelin Tal to meet with you. It's a few weeks' journey from the border, as you know, but hopefully that will give you time to gather your thoughts and prepare?"

The pretty thing hesitated again, blushing, then ventured to speak a little further. "If it please Your Majesty, I know I'm not needed as a bride; but if your son is anything like you, I should like to meet him all the same!"

The king laughed heartily, and grinned. "If you'll be staying at the tower all winter, it's likely you will meet him. He's at sea for the moment, but they'll return before the winter storms hit the coast. Palamir is a bit different from most people, though. Much like me in many ways, but with a special purpose to his life. You'll see, when you meet him."

Halden stood, offering his hand to the princess and helping her up. "Write your letter, Auriele, and have a castle page deliver it to our wizard, Gerynd. He'll send our letters by bird this evening. You'll join me for dinner this evening as well?"

[Renna]

The princess allowed Halden to help her out of her seat, her cheeks still stained pink. The king's laughter had made her shy (although she had to think that he liked her; why else would he call her by name?), but she smiled at him and ducked her head. "Yes, Sire. Thank you very much--I'll look forward to it. And to meeting your son." Palamir certainly sounded intriguing. At the moment, however, there wasn't time to speculate on how the prince might be different from most people, or what his special purpose in life might be. She had a letter to write and needed to get started posthaste. Auriele took Halden's hands in her own and sank down into the deepest curtsy she could manage without pain. The girl kissed his hands in a gentle expression of gratitude, brushing her cheek against the rough fingers as she did. "Thank you, Your Majesty." She drew away and smiled at him, straightening painfully under the weight of her gown. Auriele turned to go, then paused hesitating in the doorway. Ought she tell him about Rhys? She certainly didn't want to, not if it would jeopardize the relationship she was forming with him...but on the same token, how awful would it be if this kindly king was murdered? The resulting grief was not at all hard to imagine. Ari was sure that Caelin Tal loved their monarch; they would be mad not to. He was a king among kings due to his very simplicity, and the princess was sure that nearly everyone who met him found something to admire. Auriele knew just how rare it was for a good king to also be a good person, and she knew just as well that losing him, the world would suffer.

Ari sighed and stopped in the doorway, turning back over her shoulder to look wistfully at Halden. "Sire?"

She fidgeted, adjusting one of her sleeves nervously so it fell back on her shoulder. "A member in my entourage, and one of my knights, and, well, me---last night we all dreamed something horrible. The murder or you, or of your son, we think." The girl lowered her eyes. "The man who originally saw this is a dreamwalker; he can visit people's minds while they sleep. He believes that what he saw was true, and I---well, I don't know---but that three of us dreamed the same thing---" She took a breath and shook her head. "Please, just be very careful. Go nowhere without a guard, and consider exactly who you trust. I have no idea if this vision is true or not, but your being careful would certainly make me feel better."

['ekekeu'poki]

OOC: Eck, another short mediocre post. Sigh.

IC:
Saryah was taken aback by the fox-maid's outburst. She listened intently as the girl, between choking sobs, repeated her nightmare, and became increasingly troubled as it was revealed. Kodéa laid a comforting hand on Sora’s shoulder, but her expression was uneasy. Her skin tingled, and she knew it wasn’t just from the chilly air. Saryah narrowed her eyes, lost in thought, but then abruptly turned to Kodéa.
"You too had a nightmare last night, no?”
“I did…but, I don’t understand…”
“Kodéa, what was your dream? Perhaps if you tell us, we will better understand what exactly is going on. Don’t leave anything out.” Saryah nodded encouragingly at Kodéa’s bewildered expression. She quickly lit a lamp resting by her bed, bathing the girls in a warm, yellow light.
Kodéa blanched at having to relive her dream, but proceeded to retell it; different from Sora’s, but similar in its grisly end. Slowly nodding her head in confirmation, Saryah felt an odd sensation-the feeling of being utterly defenseless. For what hope is there if something-or someone-could control ones dreams? How can one possibly wish to fight against the power of ones own mind? That’s enough to turn even the most stalwart man into a crazed lunatic, she thought bitterly.
"Yes, yes and my dream was the same in that I felt trapped, out of control...and that it felt so real. Not to mention that we three ended our dreams with the murder of a man.”
“What does this mean?” Kodéa asked, her voice slightly trembling. She tried to control her mounting fear, if not for her own peace of mind, than for the sake of Sora’s.
Saryah shook her head, and was silent for a long while. “I believe the answer lies at the castle,” she said at last. Kodéa stared at her, shaking her head in confusion.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I can’t explain why-it just feels right. The castle is where we will find the solution to this rather odd puzzle.” Saryah slid under the covers of her bed, feeling no comfort within the sheets, and looking forward to the prospect of sleep even less. Nevertheless, she turned to Sora and Kodéa, and gave them a gentle smile before whispering, “We leave at first light. While this seems a ridiculous thing to say, please try to get some rest. We’re going to need our strength for the ride tomorrow.”
She blew out the lamp and snuggled under the warmth of the blankets, but in spite of what she said, would not allow sleep to touch her mind.

[Angel of Chaos]

The words that were spoken fought for a lost cause to enter Sora's ears. She cried for the longest time. But she dared not return to sleep. The nightmare threatened to return to her unconscious mind. The weight of the bloodstained dagger in her hand plagued her, tormented her. She mentally pleaded, begged the gods for mercy upon her. She had enough of this suffering.

The nightmare never came to her, though it still haunted her mind. She blacked out, and then found herself floating amongst incandescent lights in a shimmering blue void. In front of her was the ghostly, muted form of Tokala.

Sora, you must calm yourself, he said. Doing nothing else will only worsen the pain.

B-but...I--

Say nothing, Sora. I feel the same pain that you feel. It truly hurts me as well. Never forget that I am your friend and that I am always there for you. I want to help you through your hardships and your pain. But you have to be brave and stand up to these challenges. I cannot always fight them for you.

But I want to be brave! she spoke. It just seems impossible now. I...I don't know where to begin.

If you are not sure, then follow the ones whom you have befriended recently. They had nightmares much similar to yours this night, and they are going to the castle tomorrow to find out why. Perhaps you should go with them.

Me? What help could I possibly be to them? I'll just be a burden.

Come now, don't say such things! They are your friends now. You should be with them. And don't count yourself as useless. You are capable of great things. You just need a little push, is all.

But...what about that nightmare?

I have a feeling that it'll come back to haunt you, Sora. It is time for you to learn the basics of dream manipulation. You want the nightmares to end as much as the others, right?

Y-yes...

Then get some sleep, Sora. It is time for you to learn...

/\/\/\/\

Light entered Sora's golden eyes as she awakened to the first light of the morning. She rose from her bed, feeling strangely rejuvenated. The "lesson" must have been another dream, possibly as a merciful god's answer to her cries for help. Without giving it another thought, Sora threw the cloak around her form and waited for the two women to wake up.

[E'doa A'nii]

What Rhys said about the King was true enough. The only time he wouldn't be guarded was at night. Well, he would be garded then too; only the guard would be outside the door. So it would be more accurate to say that the king would not be guarded as well at night.

That being the case, Ilka wouldn't need to be with the king till he retired. Which was for the best, because Ilka's chances of finding Halden in the vast castle were slim. Locating a constantly moving target is much much harder then locating a fixed one. Besides, the mage was right: They needed information.

So it was that once the red-headed lover of knowledge was on his way to find Nathan, the gangly knight once again became a fuzzy little mouse. It was the grey mouse that wandered the castle. He would look for the knife. he would listen for clues. Chances were that the knife (so cavalierly displayed in the dream) was hidden away somewhere.

Whoever had shown it did not want it found before the deed was done.

So first the Knight Templar must listen for clues. And that was how, standing in the corner of one of the nobles' rooms, his fur blending him in with the grey of the walls, Ilka heard the following conversation:

"I did it." A trembling whisper. The woman was wiping down a vase. Her face turned from the knight, so he could not see.

"Well done." The other woman was more stout, and quite firm with the bedsheets she was smoothing out. Ilka felt that the strength of her tug would tear the fabric. But it didn't; and the bed stood there perfect in it's tidiness. Her approval sounded forced. Almost like the completion of the task had been expected, and that approval wasn't necessary.

"Do you think--?" She stood there holding the vase and staring in horror.

"No." The stockier woman already knew the question. She had a frown severe enough to make the stone walls cringe.

"But he said--!" She was beginning to protest. Her voice was above a whisper now.

"Enough! Or I will set you to the Pit again." A bark.

"At least there will be peace now." And the woman set the vase down with trembling hands and moved on to wipe something else. She was younger and quite distraught. Apparently the subject of conversation was disturbing to her.

"Will there?" The older woman sounded cynical. She was scrubbing the floor now.

The young maid gasped. "Hush! you want to be heard?" And she glanced about the room as if something or someone horrible were going to materialize and smite them on the spot.

"Control yourself, child. It's not as if we can be heard." But she glanced about all the same. If less obviously. And it was then that her eyes fell unhappily upon the grey mouse in the corner.

Ilka froze.


The hard servant woman picked up her pail and dumped the soapy water on the poor mouse. The young servant girl screamed. Ilka ran. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, trying not to slide on his slippery wet feet. The big maid wasn't far behind; she'd grabbed a broom and was chasing him with it. The castle had never seemed so large. His progress had never seemed so incredibly slow. It took him a century but, knight scuttled under another door. He had to get away.

Once inside the room, he realized he was no longer being pursued. With a sigh of relief the mouse realized that he was very cold. He was very wet. Worse:soapy. He would not be able to lick himself dry. Wanting very much to get back to his room and into some dry clothes, and hoping that he had been gone long enough to be forgotten, Ilka turned to leave. Well, that was...until he saw the orange paw that flicked under the gap in the door.

A cat. The horrid woman had gotten the cat. There was no way out of this room. Well, except to climb out the arrow slit and hope that there was a ledge outside. An escape which meant death by hypothermia for the wet little creature. He could turn into a man. But he had no clothes. Unless... Ilka examined the room again. Empty. This room hadn't been used in who knew how long. It was clean, but unfurnished except for some faded tapestries on the wall.

He would have to outwit the cat.

There was no place to hide. If that horrible woman were to open the door, Ilka would be dead. The cat would simply wait at the crack and come in. Unless... Ilka moved to the far side of the door.

-----------------

Some time later one of the maids noticed the cat feverishly clawing at the door. He was mewing in frustration. So she opened it. The cat did as expected and came around the door. But Ilka scuttled under it and hastily climbed a tapestry. The cat rushed back out of the room (leaving the maid bewildered) and sniffed around the edge of the tapestry. At length the cat gave up and went off in search of an easier meal.

It was then that Ilka could climb down and return, warily, to his room. Upon arrival he was able to get dressed and dry himself. But he couldn't loose the potent smell of lavender in which he had been so generously doused. So it was that a very nice smelling knight went in search of the maid he had seen in the room. She was old enough. Perhaps he could woo her into divulging some information?

-----

And that was how Ilka Tuon found himself down in the hot bowels of the kitchen, dressed as a peasant, turning the spit that held the pork for the evening's dinner. Even if his hunch was wrong, at least he could make sure no one slipped the king any poison.

[Rièle]

(OOC: I'm DM'ing a bit here, to move us to the next point in the story.)

King Halden sent the princess on her way, showing no concern for the warning that she'd given him. The idea of a murderer from a dream was surreal to him, and he brushed aside her warning without considering it to be potentially serious. Within the hour all thoughts of the matter had left his mind, and he became preoccupied with his duties.

Sir Nathan felt similarly about Rhys's warning, believing that there was only small potential that it represented a real threat to the king. Though, to his credit, he did fully intend to look into the matter in a day or two, once more pressing issues had been attended to. He filed the notes of his conversation of Rhys, along with Rhys's drawing, somewhere in the middle of the stack of papers on his desk.

Rhys walked slowly back to the tower, his feet dragging in the coarse dirt of the castle yard. His visit with Sir Nathan had been discouraging, and though he believed the knight would now be vigilant for any warning that the images in the dream might come to pass, Rhys knew that his message was a low priority. He sighed, and kicked a small rock across the yard; it bounced feebly and did little to assuage his frustrations. His stomach rumbled, and he headed upstairs to seek his midday meal.

*****

DM to Ilka:

The food prepared in the castle kitchens was warm and hearty. The fare was simple, well-rounded, and delicious, and the cooks and servants were mostly content and well-treated. King Halden ate the same meal as all the members of his court, and so there was no opportunity for a potential assassin to poison him without also poisoning everyone in Caelin Tal. The day was long, yet satisfying, for the camaraderie of the servants was pleasant and their mood cheerful.

Ilka's work in the kitchens was hard, as was the work of every other helper there. At the end of the day, when his shift had ended, Ilka was given a portion of the meal that he had helped to cook, and a mug of hot tea. As he returned to his assigned room, whether with the intention of going to sleep or of again turning himself into a mouse and seeking the king's chambers, Ilka would grow very tired. Perhaps, as he lay down on his bed, the realization might strike him that his tea had been drugged.

He dreamed.

*****

DM to Auriele:

As the King had promised, once Auriele had finished her letters they were taken to Gerynd and sent by bird to lands of the elves in the eastern woods. The princess was left to herself for the day, with little besides the possibility of exploring the tower to occupy her. Rhys and Ilka were intently focused on the trouble of preventing the dream they had foreseen, and though Auriele may have sent for them for word of their progress, they were nowhere to be found. At midday a meal was sent to Auriele's chambers.

A short while after the meal, Auriele would become very sleepy. As with Ilka, her tea had contained a sedative, and its effects resembled a long, deep sleep. Her servants, upon seeing her, whispered to any that asked that the princess was exhausted from her journey and the long morning she'd had visiting with the king, and encouraged them not to disturb her rest.

She dreamed.

*****

Sir Nathan spent the day reviewing reports from the city watch, attempting to discern a pattern to the strange crimes that were taking place in the city. His head ached terribly, and he found that such thinking strained his mind to its limits. He began to think that performing the duties of the general were completely outside his capacity, and recalled how much better he had served when his natural talents had supported and complimented the general's ability to think through problems such as this.

People had gone missing, with no signs of struggle and no connection between them. Strange ailments were afflicting people at random and healing themselves suddenly. A few robberies had taken place, and the city watch reported an unusual amount of activity after dark. Even animals were behaving strangely; abandoning entire streets, or dying en masse without cause. Something strange was going on, and though the city watch had been investigating these events for days Nat could glean nothing to tie these events together from their reports.

He sighed, and leaned back in his chair and stretched. The door to his office creaked as it opened, and a page walked in carrying several messages, no doubt more reports from the watch, and a fresh, steaming mug of Nathan's favorite tea. He reached for it at once, the strong flavor dissolving in his mouth and seeming to creep through his skin into his brain, waking him a little. It was especially bitter today, but Nat was glad, as that meant it was likely especially potent. He continued sipping the tea as he took the messages from the tray the page carried, concentrating on their content and not at all on the face of the man who'd brought them. The effect of the tea seemed weak, for he was starting to feel drowsy. As his vision began to blur he panicked, realizing what was happening. He stood, but futilely, for the drug was strong, and it overwhelmed him. Nat fell to the floor, hardly feeling the fall at all, but before his eyes closed he recalled looking up at the page, and seeing a silver knife on his belt.

He dreamed.

*****

Rhys wandered the castle for some time. He stopped in the library for several hours, indulging his curiosity and marveling at the vast collection of books kept by the kings of Ilumintir. But his mood was poor, and thoughts of failure were foremost in his mind, spoiling all hope of distraction. At last he resigned himself to returning to his room, where no doubt a guard awaited him, but hoping that Ilka might have returned with better news. Perhaps a talk with his new friend might cheer him up, or reveal some alternate plan they had not yet considered.

The hallway outside his room was quiet and empty, which Rhys found strange. Perhaps Sir Nathan was too busy to assign him a guard? He knocked on Ilka's door, but there was no answer. So he went inside his own room, prepared to settle in and wait.

As he closed this door, a figure emerged from the shadows. There was a sudden movement behind him, and then pain exploded on the side of his head.

Everything was black.

*****

DM to Ilka, Auriele, and Nat:

The dream is different from a normal dream; your thoughts and the world around you are dream-like, but you know you are dreaming. You are inside Calein Tal, the tower, but it is empty. You wander the halls alone, but the passageways do not connect as they do in the real world, and the same door might not lead to the same place twice. The light from outside is strange and bright, but you can see nothing outside the windows but a pale gray nothingness. You cannot leave the tower, and you are totally alone.

*****

King Halden looked up from his desk, his gaze stretching out over the city to the mountains in the west. Dark clouds loomed in the distance, and a cold wind blew against the windowpane. A winter storm was coming.

(OOC: The story will move forward in the dream realm! Jade and AOC, if you wish to rejoin the story your characters can be brought in as well.)

[E'doa A'nii]

(Just realized: I have been mistakenly calling the Tower the castle/palace. My apologies)
------------------

Ilka placed the empty plate on the nightstand and drained the last of the tea from his cup. He had been famished. His work in the kitchen had been almost as hard as waging actual combat. The knight's shirt had been soaked with sweat, his breeches stuck to his legs.Every muscle in his gangly body groaned for a rest.

And somehow he found himself very sleepy.

It was natural that he should be tired. Sleepy even. But not so sleepy that he couldn't keep his eyes open. He was a man used to hard work and long physical exertion. He should not be this tired.

He had a king to find!

But the knight could not concentrate on the simple task of transforming himself into a mouse. He was finding it very hard to concentrate on anything. His body felt leaden. Even the thought of the king being murdered did not change the easy rythm of his breathing.

His last thought before he drifted over the Sea of Darkness into the World of Dreams was that he had been drugged.

----
Something was wrong. The light from the arrow slit window in his room was unusually bright. It gave the room an air of pre-dawn or just-morning; cast long shadows and accentuated the existence of every detail... He moved to peer out the window. Not even the morning sun came in this brightly. Ilka Tuon saw only a vague greyness which did not match the brightness of the lightsource behind it. Th elight had to be comming from directly behind the landscape; that was the only reason for the grey of it. All the same, it should reflect off something, shouldn't it? It was as if the light came independent of the pale grey cloud that should have been the landscape.

It was clear that whatever the greyness was, it was not blocking the light.

Something was wrong.

He could feel it in his bones. But what was it? The king! Yes, the king. He looked about for his armor and sword. If he was in time... He offered up a silent prayer that he would be on time as he strapped his armor into place and checked his swords in their sheaths.

He didn't know what good it would do.

Ilka was not familiar with the dream world in the same way that a Dreamwalker was. He did not know the extent of the power he might hold over it or even patterns of outside control. He knew things only as a dreamer knows what is in his own dream and exercised the control a dream gives the dreamer.

He was not in his own battle field.

All the same it felt better to be armed. Especially in the deafening silence. The room was very silent. There was not so much as a bird chirp from outside. He could hear the sound of his own breathing. Even though he was a soft breather, Ilka felt as if he was loud enough to overwhelm the sound of stampeding elephants. The silence did not feel right. It was too heavy; too foreboding. Like the quiet after the slaughter of a battlefield.

He would be quieter as a mouse. Probably less noticeable too. But if he went as a mouse he would loose his armor and his weapons. Ilka crept his way to the door and opened it. He would go to the king's room.

But the view that greeted him was not the hallway he was accustomed to seeing. He found himself in the kitchen. He turned to go back through the door from which he came expecting to get back to his room. He was in the servant's hall on the floor below. Ilka frowned. How was he to get to the King's chambers?

He would have to see what he knew:

So far, he had not seen hide nor hair of anyother living soul in the Tower. So for all he knew he was alone. Apparently the doors were unreliable as they didn't seem to lead to the same place more then once at any given point in time. Someone was out to assasinate the King. He was dreaming. He was dreaming. He would wake up. Simple as that.

He could not wake up.

He could feel himself stretch out and away towards the Sea of Darkness and yet never reach it. He became more aware of his body but could not move it; nor could he pry his own eyelids open. Ah...that was right... he had been drugged. Nothing left to do except to go where the dream took him until he either died in his sleep or the drug wore off. How much he had been given was hard to say. Some part of him revolted at going out in such a helpless fashion.

But what could he do?

He sighed and proceeded to wander down the servants hall trying to decide how to deal with the problem of the doors. Chances were, that if he kept going through the same door enough times he would eventually end up in the room he wanted.

Ilka placed his hand on another door handle.