Setsuko_

During his daily ISA workout, the Ensign Cillian O'Rourke would be greeted by a fellow soldier handing him the missive from his Aunt. He gives small chuckle as he wipes the sweat from his brow, taking the missive in his metal hand so he could look over the blisters on his normal right hand, a result of his vigorous training. "They who claim we do nothing for Oren." he gives another chuckle, nodding his gratitude to his comrade. "You can sit back and call us devils. You do so from the safety we provide you." He gingerly folds the missive up and sets it aside before dropping his hands to begin his pushups. As he worked absentmindedly, he thought back to the situation at hand. He closed his eyes as his body began to scream for him to quit. He let his mind fill with the images of all the Adunians this threatened, and forced his body to comply as he continued on.

Full Name of the Candidate: Cillian O'Rourke Age of the Candidate: 26 Street Address of the Candidate: Pompourelia 6 Position the Candidate is Running For: Lord Mayor

In Redenford, Cillian O'Rourke stood alongside a small group of Adunians. Most were women and children, their men off working or similar. He stared a the cobblestones in the sidewalk, his arms crossed, as he listened to the desperate questions slung towards his father, who of course tried his best to answer them. He glanced up to Ricky O'Rourke, and though any outsider would see a man of steel composure and impregnable judgement, Cillian knew it was getting to him. He looked back down, pursing his lips as he listened to the murmuring and questions from the downcast crowd. "Are our children safe, Mr. O'Rourke?" "Will they hunt us down again, as they have in the past?" "What will we do in response to this madness?" From the back of the crowd came a small voice. Up until now, each question thrown had been laced with desperation and despair. Everyone present knew what was at risk of happening. Generations of hard work, honest patriotism and good ol' fashioned family spirit were threatened. However, the stark difference in this voice drew everyone to silence as it echoed over the walls of Redenford's buildings. It was not despair or worry that laced these words. Accompanying the voice of a child was pure and unadulterated sadness and regret, heartbreaking and sullen.... "Mr O'Rourke? What did we do?" Cillian looked towards the voice's origin. A little girl, neigh older than five, stood at the back of the group. Her clothes, while not poor, were not fancy or decorative. Practical, sturdy, useful. Just as the Adunian's liked it. Some in the crowd stepped to the side as the girl stared up at Ricky, her hands folded together in front of her. The stains on her clothes, and the dirt on her hands, told Cillian she had been working in the fields prior to this. A farming family, and a girl with a few chores, as any farmer's child would have. After a moment, Cillian looked back up to Ricky. For the first time in Cillian's life, Ricky looked over to him and gave a nod. To others this seemed mundane, a nod between father and son. To the O'Rourkes, this was the sign that trust was shared. Cillian stepped over to the girl, uncrossing his arms. As he lowered himself to a kneel, he grabbed the girl's shirt collar, gently adjusting it into it's normal place. She gave him a half smile as he ended up lower than her, looking up to the sad eyes of a child who believes they were in trouble. "We didn't do anything, little one." Cillian's voice was low and fragile, though everyone around was listening intently enough to hear. "So why do they hate us?" Cillian heard the rustling of feet behind him as some turned away, not wanting to witness that even an innocent child was not free from the harsh reality their kind now faced. Even Cillian, who like Ricky had seen a great deal, felt a genuine frown cross his face. "Sometimes, people do bad things." he starts, pausing to think for a moment. "They want to be better then others, so they lie and they be mean. We didn't do anything wrong. We, like you..." He pokes the girl's belly, producing a minor half giggle, drowned by a saddened state. "Have done our chores and behaved ourselves." He raises, giving the girl one last smile as he stands. He looks to Ricky, who motions for Cillian to stand beside him. Cillian makes his way through the crowd silently, none speaking as the watched him step over. When he turned around, he found all eyes on him. He cleared his throat, glancing about. "We did nothing to provoke this." he starts, emphasizing his words. "I cannot tell you what the future will hold. I cannot give you the answers you desperately want to hear." his glances were met with looks of crestfallen sadness, and a few pointed glares. "What I can tell you is what you all already know to be true." He gives a half smile of his own as the eyes staring back at him glimmer with the faintest sparkle of hope. He takes a breath. "We're a family, and by GOD families stay by each other. We will not turn our backs to you." He motions to Ricky at his right. "Whatever plans this man has, Iblees has snuck into his heart. Men of the cloth, damning fellow Canonists." Cillian felt his face grow more serious. "They say our blood makes us impure. They say we are weak and shy from GOD's grace." He brings his hands up in a shrug. "Our blood is what binds us. It's the reason when any other descendant would roll over or give up, we continue on. When everyone around us waivers, we stand strong. Our blood is not our weakness. It's our strength." Some of the heads at Cillian's front raise slightly as they look on. "I don't know what the church or the others will do. I can't control that. I know what we will do though. We will persevere, as we have time and time again." He recalls something he had told his late Brother in Law. "The strongest Ferrum is forged in the hottest flame." He looks around as some hold a confused look. "We're stronger for the hardships we face." Cillian gives another small frown as he looks down to his ISA uniform, the breastplate dented and scratched from combat. "Keep each other safe. Look out for one another, as we always do." he looks each person gathered in the eye, ending with the little girl from earlier. "That, is the Adunian way."

Cillian O'Rourke stands over the body of his brother in law as he drapes the white sheet over his face. His gaze is dull, his face void of emotion. He leans on the wall next to the bed, producing an Oracle Cigarette and sliding it between his lips. As he lights a match and touches it to the cigarette, his eye rests on George's body. He remains silent as he just looks to the body, taking a few puffs. As both a doctor in training and a soldier, he'd become used to death. Still, looking to a member of his own family brought him to silence. The usually cheery O'Rourke would be silent this day.

From in his home, with the little Rohesia bouncing around and playing giddily, Cillian O'Rourke sat at his desk, reading over his notes from the trial. He had seen how the courts had completely ignored the requirement of scheduling a trial, in favor of forcing one a mere thirty Saint's Minutes after the woman's arrest, providing no time for her to actually defend herself legally. To boot, not even the current judge or the Defense knew of the charges until they were read aloud to the court. He scoffed as he continued reading the innapropriate remarks made by all those of the Prosecution, and how the Judge was openly ridiculed and overruled when he himself pointed the fact the trial was premature and was instead replaced with a notoriously corrupt judge, as the Arch Chancellor's own words mocked the previous judge's ruling. "Sia, it's time for bed." The young father rose from his desk, his tone suggesting it was not a question but a request. "Perhaps it's time we leave the city for a while. Place is becoming increasingly un-trustworthy." Little Rohesia nodded, rising from where she played. She took her father's hand, three fingers in her whole hand, as he walked her to her room. Later that night, as Cillian re-read the papers by the light of a single lantern, with dark sags under his eyes, he began to pen a new piece of literature, putting forth ideas and sentiments all his own....

RP Name: Cillian O'Rourke MC Name: Setsuko_ Voted: Yes :)

Full Name of the Candidate: Cillian O'Rourke Age of the Candidate: 23 Street Address of the Candidate: Pompourelia 6

I would love to see muskets, since they don't actually break RP anymore then forcing some poor soul to swallow a fireball is. It evens the playing ground a little in my honest opinion, since mages are basically gods among men. +1

Cillian stands on the counter, etching the cannon they pulled off his ship. "Let's see someone attack this place now." He has a wild look in his eye as he works, the loaded crossbow set on the counter behind him. His Adfectio inlaid eye in his left eye socket glowed a bright red as he focused on his carving.

The Burning of The O'Rourke Shop, 17th of Malin's Welcome 1822 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The scene that evening was a dreary one. A soot and ash covered Patrick 'Ricky' O'Rourke stood beside his equally stained sons and nephew as the smoldering remains of their once proud shop lay before them, damaged beyond repair. Each man breathed heavy between coughing fits, having forced the fire into submission. Cillian was the first to rise, looking around. "My daughter could have been there". Auden would be the one to reassure Cillian as Desmond turned to his father. "What do we do now?" Ricky looked to the ashen covered group with a grimly determined look. "We do what O'Rourkes always do. We rebuild better then before" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Grand Opening of Paddys Pint! This Saint's Week ((Sunday @ 6PM EST)) the new O'Rourke Bar and Grill, Paddys Pint, has re-opened following a horrendous attack on the O'Rourke Family. This Opening will include half priced drinks and food, as well as music and revelry! To symbolize the opening, a live cannon will fire a single blank round! We as the O'Rourke Family hope to see you then! Paddys Pint is located at Carrington Emporium 6.

Full Name of the Candidate: Cillian O'Rourke Age of the Candidate: 21 Street Address of the Candidate: 4 Ildon Avenue What office Head Clerk/Sheriff office Head Clerk

RP Name: Cillian O'Rourke MC Name: Setsuko_ Voted: Yes

Writer's Note: This is a story. It's status as 'canon' entirely depends on the reader. Personally, I write these to exercise my mind and hope to be a little better of a writer with each post. Any 'Muh Oran bad' or etc can be left at the door. This is just for reader enjoyment and personal growth, nothing more. Thank you. ~~~ It was always the same nightmare. The yells of combat surrounding Cillian as he dragged an injured soldier up a hill. Then it would always cut to the Redenford bridge. Barricades lay in front of him, the medic down beside him. Then he sees it, every single time he's too late. The crossbow raised at him fires, and the same splitting pain pierces his skull before he's thrust to consciousness. Cillian shot upright from his bunk, the thin cotton blanket covering him skidding to the floor. Cillian's good eye flickered around the room for a few moments before reality finally dawned on him again. His breath came quick, sweat beading his forehead. He closed his eye, trying to steady his breathing and allow the sway of the ship calm him. Upon opening his eye again he began looking around his room as an exercise he had learned. Point out five blue things. The plant on his desk, one. The painting of the HIMS Ambition on the water, two. Cillian's old coat, stained and tattered beyond repair, now tacked to the wall, three. His breath began to slow as he continued to look around, swiveling so he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his feet on the floor. The tiny cap on Benny's head, four. Cillian gave a small smile as he looked to the 1ft tall living doll, sitting asleep in the corner on his own tiny bunk. Cillian finally looked out his window, his hands grasping the edge of the bed. The water outside, five. With a small sigh, Cillian forces himself to stand. Stretching, he arcs his back and outstretches his arms. He ponders for a moment how the night shift had gone on deck as he retrieves his ISA Naval uniform. Slipping off his night shirt, he walks over to the mirror and water basin in the corner opposite Benny. Cillian's full beard, having grown while Cillian forgot a razor upon boarding the ship, met his gaze. He wasn't opposed to the look, although it took a little getting used to. Leaning forward over the water basin, Cillian inspected his left eye socket. A glass eye sat in it, usually covered by his patch to avoid saltwater getting in it. The scar on his eyelids mirrored the arrowhead that took his eye. He lightly touched the scars for a moment before reaching the edge of the basin and collecting his patch. As he slipped it over his head and tied it he searched for his undershirt. Finding it on his desk, cleaned and folded along with the rest of his uniform, he moved to the desk. He slipped it on quick and began buttoning, staring at the cabin door. After all these years sailing, he hated people coming in or even knocking while he was changing. Once his undershirt was on he slipped the coat and pants on before buttoning them. Finally his tie went around his neck. As he grabbed a small flask from his desk, he slipped his hat onto his head. He took a quick sip from the flask before heading to the door, wincing slightly at the harsh liquor that met his lips. Coming out on deck, Cillian was met with the stark opposite of his cabin. The deck was full of movement and life, sailors pulling and releasing ropes, moping the deck, prepping ammunition or other such duties. He stood for a moment, his eye moving from man to man as he watched to make sure nothing was wrong. He noticed one sailor casting dirty glances to another, opting to address it when it became an issue. Cillian tilted his head, a satisfying crack meeting the movement, before moving the stairs to head towards the above deck. As he rose the steps, he saw the navigator and two officers above, carrying out their duties as normal. The navigator had the helm, the two officers talking over a map sitting on the table at the aft of the deck. One noticed Cillian as he made it to the deck. "Captain on Deck!" Both Officers and the Navigator snapped an Orenian salute to Cillian, who returned the gesture in kind. "Captain has the Comms." Cillian's tone was stern, as it always was in the mornings. One of the Officers gave a small nod. "Aye, Captain has the Comms!" Cillian moved to stand beside the navigator, looking over the waves. He then glanced to the compass mounted to the railing beside the wheel. Upon confirming the course was still correct, he gave the navigator a nod. "Steady as She goes." "Steady as She goes, Aye Captain." Cillian moved to lean on the railing, letting his gaze drift over the sailors scurrying on deck. He spotted the one from before, still casting glances to another sailor. Cillian studied both men. The glances cast by the first one were seething anger, mixed with a tinge of jealousy. The other soldier finally cast his first glance, or at least the first Cillian caught. It was a smug look, like someone lording a victory over another. Cillian's eye followed the two for a moment as they remained to stay away from eachother. The Bosun stepped over to Cillian hesitantly. "Sir, if I may?" Cillian took one last moment to watch the two before looking over. "Aye Bosun?" The Bosun had taken off his tricorn, wearing his usual attire of a seaman's coat and slacks. "The men were wondering if we're under commission of the Empire, given your attire and our formal nature, Captain." Cillian gave a small snort. "No, Mister Nicestromm. The Intrepid sails as I command, and only as I command. This is just practice for once I reach my appropriate rank." The Bosun seemed to relax slightly, however his gaze was still questioning. "May I then ask, with all due respect, why we're patrolling the coasts?" Cillian opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short as a cry rang out across the deck. One seaman was hanging onto the riggings as he hung halfway off the ship's edge. "Ship Sighted to Port!" Cillian raced towards the bow of the ship, flashing past the sailors who looked up from their duties. "Colors?" The seaman looked down to Cillian, as if shocked by his sudden presence. "She waves the black flag, Sir." "All hand, General Quarters!" Cillian's voice echoed through the ship as he had practiced so many times before. Almost immediately, the four cannons on the schooner snapped to place, the ropes used to keep them from rolling to far back once fired clicked into their hook slots. Those not manning the cannons drew crossbows, some lighting the tips ablaze. Cillian made his way back to the wheel, not bothering to look back to the vessel they now chased. "Full sail, run her down!" The Bosun nodded as he repeated the order into the air. The other officer, the Quartermaster, was busy making sure each sailor was armed and prepped. "I take it this is why, Captain?" Cillian nodded grimly, turning to keep his eye on the pirate vessel. He gives a small smile as he reminded himself of the nickname given to him by his mentor. "A coyote on the hunt." The ship roared forward as the extra sails dropped and caught wind. Cillian's eye narrowed as they quickly gained on the bigger ship. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sailor who'd shown a smug look shoulder check the other out of his way. As the other turned, jaw clenched, Cillian made a mental note. Now was no time to focus on the crew however. Cillian looked up as the ship before them began to turn to starboard. His eye widened, spotting 4 cannons come into view. "Hard left rudder! Starboard guns prepare to fire!" The wood underfoot creaked as the ship began to turn sharply to port, matching the order Cillian gave. The two guns on the starboard side slid into place, the powder and ball being loaded in. He turned to the Bosun for a moment, who's face was pure uncertainty as he looked out to the turning vessel. Cillian turned back to the vessel and then the gunners. He knew his own schooner was faster and more maneuverable. The ship turned before the pirate vessel could come more than two degrees starboard. Cillian raised his hand, palm open. "Fire on my command!" The next five seconds seemed to last forever. Men on the enemy ship leaned over the railings, causing brief crossbow fire to exchange. The sounds of the bows being fired echoed in Cillian's head, haunting him. He closed his eye against the wave of nausea that swept him as a primal fear took him for the briefest of moments. He opened his eye, finding an arrow imbedded in the railing an inch from his hand. Two more seconds ticked by as crossbow bolts and insults flew through the air. Finally, as the enemy reached ten degrees into their turn, Cillian's cannons lined up perfectly. "Fire!" The roar that burst forth left everyone's ears ringing as both cannons let loose, shooting backwards only to be stopped by their control ropes. Cillian managed to watch the carnage unfold after he blinked from the concussive force. The schooner Cillian sailed was low against the water's surface, which stood to their advantage. The stern of the brig splintered and exploded as both cannonballs hit their mark. The first dragged along the starboard of the brig, leaving a long gash at the waterline. Cillian let a satisfied smile cross his face as he watched the vessel take water. The second ball had struck the rudder, rendering it useless. Cillian let out a swift bark of orders. "Keep hard left! Port guns load to fire! Stow all but mains! Keep out of sight of her guns!" The Intrepid kept left as the gunners quickly ran to their respective cannons, repeating the process of loading. Cillian ducked down behind the stern railing of his ship as more arrows rained down from above. He turned quick as he felt a hand tap his left arm, in his blind spot. The Quartermaster had returned, offering Cillian a loaded crossbow. He accepted it with a quick nod, resting it onto the railing and centering the bead. He picked out the pirate with the most facial decorations, finding one with an absurd amount of ear piercings. Cillian inhaled as he let the sights rest on the man's chest. He waited until he watched him raise his own crossbow before firing, not blinking from the recoil. He watched the man drop before he stood straight, his ship almost in position. Cillian winced. Too far. Almost as if to answer Cillian's thought, a single cannon from the enemy ship roared. The bowsprit of the Intrepid shattered, rendering the front sail useless. Cillian swore under is breath as he, and every sailor, instinctively half ducked. "Return Fire!" The two port guns fired as one, both cannonballs landing on the starboard side of the enemy. Two cannons had been struck, one slipping into the waves. The other had opened another generous hole at sea level. Already the enemy ship was beginning to list to starboard as the water poured forth. Cillian barked out again. "Hard right rudder! Keep behind her!" The Navigator frantically spun the wheel to his right, uttering his own string of curses. Cillian moved to look over the starboard side of his ship as it turned. The wind was starting to turn stale and low, making maneuverability harder. Fortunately with their rudder disabled the enemy had no way to steer reliably. "Load starb-" Another seaman cut Cillian off. "White flag!" Cillian's eye shot to the pirate vessel. There, four crewmen, including the one Cillian had shot, stood waving a white flag. It seemed Cillian had only managed to wound the man, as he was holding a cloth that had been stained red to his left shoulder. Cillian frowned, his eye narrowing as he watched the flag wave. The Bosun looked to Cillian, remaining ducked behind a railing as if to anticipate arrow fire. "Orders Sir?" Cillian's lip raised to a snarl for a moment before he stepped over to the Navigator. "Left standard rudder, set course for Henry's Wharf for repairs." Cillian glanced to the Bosun and Quartermaster, who both seemed to relax as the Navigator called an acknowledging 'Aye' before spinning the wheel. Cillian turned then to the crew waiting on deck. "All hands make sail. Start repairs." Without waiting to make sure his orders were followed, Cillian turned to look at the ship to the ship's stern. They'd known a white flag would call of the assault, as it was considered low and immoral to fire on those who surrender. Cillian's ship didn't have the room for prisoners, nor the mass to tow a ship. Cillian knew this, deciding to scout the coast as more of a deterrent than anything. Cillian assessed the enemy's damage. The brig was listing to starboard hard, items not tied down rolling off the edge. He could spot rowboats being prepped as the holes his cannons had made disappeared under the water and bubbled. Cillian closed his eye and took a deep breath of air. The smell of gunpowder and the sea met him, oddly calming. Again the sounds of crossbows firing echoed lightly in his head, causing him to shudder. He opened his eye quick as he turned around, his eye flickering over the crew. He made his way to stand next to the wheel, straightening his posture and looking to the horizon as they made for their home port.

Full Name of the Alderman Candidate: Cillian O'Rourke Age of the Alderman Candidate: 19 Street Address of the Alderman Candidate: Pompourelia 6

ORIGIN Cillian O'Rourke, already a prominent sailor and ship builder, began to toil with an idea shortly after he finished construction of the HIMS Ambition. This idea, a ship that could sail underwater drove him as he sketched night after night. Benny, his living doll made for him as a gift, would bring him blueprint sheet after blueprint sheet as he worked. Each design he made had fatal flaws, each and every time he scrapped the sketch for a new one. Prototypes he built were either too heavy or had no way of actually sustaining a living crew. A year and a half is what it took Cillian to finally produce a small prototype that worked. Fearing it's failure, Cillian decided to risk his life in order to pilot the prototype, later named the 'HIMS Prayer'. While still only being an experiment and not designed for prolonged use, it stabilized and it's functions began to reciprocate their design as it fell beneath the waves, only to reappear seven feet south in mere minutes. Thus, the first submersible vessel was born... DESCRIPTION The submersible vessel is, as the name suggests, a seafaring vessel designed to submerge beneath the waters and navigate. Being an intricate machine, various factors attribute to it's function and any of these failing will lead to a cascade of malfunctions. As such, each different mechanism has been cataloged below. Lightweight Body The body of the submersible must remain relatively light. The ones now in use are metal sheets covering wooden frames, with horse glue and leather strips used to seal the seams. The more the submersible weights, or the more crew on a submersible, the larger both the submersion tank and air tank must be in order to support the vessel's continued operation Submersion Tank A tank filled with air is used to control the submersion of the vessel. To submerge, a valve is opened, allowing water to fill the tank. This forces the weight of the vessel to increase, causing it to sink. The depth is controlled by the ratio of water to air. Once the vessel is back above the water, a syringe like plug can be pushed to force the water out of the tank, and another valve opened to allow the tank to be filled with air once again. Air Tank Another tank, usually found on the top of the vessel, is used to store air for the crew of the vessel. The air in the tank is fed through tubes leading into the vessel. Due to current technology however, this makes the air source very finite. A valve can be opened on the outside to allow the tank to be filled again with air. No matter the size of the tank itself, the submersible must surface to refill before the carbon dioxide breathed by the crew renders the air toxic. Propellers The key propulsion system of a submersible is a propeller mechanism. Pedals operated by a crew member spin a central axel, which in turn causes the outside propellers to spin and force the submersible forward. The propellers are affixed to the outside rear of the submersible, as far below the waterline as possible to allow for movement while surfaced. To raise the sub and surface, pedal operated propellers can also be found on the bottom of the vessel. Navigation Due to not being able to actually sea while submerged, the captain or navigator of the vessel must rely on tools such as the compass to navigate effectively. Since this requires a large amount of skill and documentation to actually keep track of where you are and what is near, a skilled navigator is recommended. A localized map of landmasses and other structures is also necessary to both keep track of current positioning and avoid collisions CAPABILITIES The submersible's main feature is the ability to sink beneath the waves and still move. This can be used to discretely run reconnaissance against or for a target, move a number of persons relevant to the aforementioned capabilities without detection. This trait can also be used to circumvent certain naval defenses or even just as a civilian diving expeditionary tool if a mechanism to allow the release of a passenger is fitted into the machine while also keeping the delicate balance of the vessel's other mechanisms. The submersible cannot, however, be fitted with cannonry or like armaments. A mounted piece of archery equipment, such as a miniature ballista or large crossbow may be affixed to the submersible's interior, for use when surfaced. However this cannot reach normal ballista, or even half ballista size as the weight needs to be a as minimal as possible. REDLINES The submersible technology can only be built by someone who has gained the knowledge in RP from a valid source. Submersibles cannot be used to get somewhere you cannot reasonably get, i.e. the middle of a lake from the ocean or vice versa. Submersibles are extremely fragile. One cannonball or ballista bolt will destroy the whole thing. Arrows fired by hand can cause scratching and eventually pierce the hull, causing leaks. Submersibles cannot remain underwater for extended periods. You cannot make a home under the sea unless there is a pipe going to the surface to resupply oxygen constantly. Gunpowder or explosion based equipment, such as cannons, are absolutely a no go. Not to mention the fact that air is valuable and firing stuff inside of a closed container is generally regarded as a bad idea, the idea of a cannon popping out of the water to nail someone unaware seems all around unfair. PURPOSE (OOC) I decided to make this in part for selfish reasons, if I am being honest. I love the idea of early submarine tech reaching the server. True, it won't be uber useful in warclaims or full scale assaults, however I do feel like it offers something unique to LoTC. I am seeing more and more interest in naval RP as it slowly regains a footing in the server, and I have also seen new and interesting tech reach the waves (such as dwarven steamtech). I do believe that adding this to the server will bring excitement to the genre of RP it serves and also serve to boost interest in naval roleplay. Do I intend to make a living on this? Nah, I literally will just sit my happy butt in the seat and teach some people how to make it. This does not mean I can't see why some would be hesitant about it. Can it add an aura or perception of modernity to the server that some don't want? Of course it can. So can steamships or even cannons. This doesn't need to be something that everyone embraces, and me personally if someone says they don't want to fight against it or sail with it I have no problem turning the other way and leaving them to the RP they want to have. All and all, the OOC purpose of this machine/tech is to spice up the game, if only a little. At the end of the day that's all it is, a game. What would be wrong with adding a little excitement now and again! :D

#Alexander stared into the fire, watching it's flames dance and flicker as the desert's chilly night air bore down on them. Sitting on one knee, his good eye left the flames for a moment to look around their encampment. To his left, on his blind side, he knew Tirilan du Casse, the boy he had adopted, lay soundly asleep. The furs that covered him came from an animal he and Alexander had brought down a few nights ago. Lacie de Medina, his niece and ward, lay to his right. Her sleep was fitful, as it had been every night since they left into the desert. He frowned as she muttered something he couldn't hear before tossing and turning some more. Her husband, Felipe de Medina, had been taken months ago. The party that took him was spotted disappearing into the desert bordering Osanora. Alexander was still Baron of the Rhein at that point, but gave his title and rights to his trusted second when he heard the news. Alexander's eye closed as he let his mind drift back... *** "Alex!" A high pitched scream broke the morning air of the Rhein. Alexander's eye shot up from the blueprint he was reading. An architect stood on one side of him, his second in command Alastor to the other side. All three turned towards the tunnel that led into the town. The blueprint fell to the ground as the men all recognized the figure, clad in a disheveled and torn dress, her face stained where tears had sullied her makeup. Lacie stood, still holding her dress up enough to run. Her breath was shallow from the effort, sobbing between pants. "It's Felipe." She took a deeper breath as Alexander surged forward, closing the gap between her and himself with an almost unnatural swiftness for a man in his early forties. "And Father." Alexander swore as Lacie dropped to her knees, her sobbing giving way to full fledged crying. Dropping down with her, he placed one hand on her back, the other on her forearm. "What's happened?" His good eye searched her face, but she kept crying. Alexander reached his hand to her chin, raising her head so she was looking at his face. He gave her a worried yet serious look. "Lace, breathe, and tell me what's happened." She forced her mouth to a frown, taking a few breaths to steady herself. Once she had got the tears to stop flowing she took one more breath before speaking. "They took him." Alexander's eye narrowed slightly as he noticed the spots of blood on Lacie's abdomen. His hand instantly shot to her stomach, pressing down slightly in search of a wound. His blood ran cold as he felt something else. "They took Felipe." She looked down to her stomach as Alexander's hand reached it, staring for a moment and placing her hand on his. She looked back, giving him a knowing look. "The father of the du Casse heir." He opened his mouth to speak, but Lacie broke down again before he could. He watched her carefully as she again forced herself to recover. Although she had a lower constitution, she was still a du Casse and bore the hereditary instincts for crisis. Lacie's eyes, still full of tears, fell to the ground. "Alex..." She looked back to his face, where he was still intently watching her. She didn't know how to tell him... Her lips quivered. "Ames du Casse is dead." Alexander looked for a moment, his good eye producing a tear. His older brother, the man he had looked up to for all his life... He cleared his throat, blinking away. Now's no time for grieving. "How did it all happen." "They came in the night." She swallowed, not looking at Alexander as she recalled the event. "I never even saw them until it was too late. He and father stayed up late, talking about the future. He came into our room at midnight, father was staying across the hall." She took a slow breath, continuing. "I heard them first. Three had broken in. One already had Felipe, they did something to him so he didn't wake up. She raised and then dropped her arms. "I didn't know what to do, what to think... I just... screamed." she buried her face in her hands, sobbing for a moment before forcing herself to continue as she recovered. "Ames heard me. He came into the room, the door flying open. I've never seen him like that." Alexander watched his niece as she spoke, now giving a frown. He knew what Ames would've looked like in that moment. He remembered, when they first settled the Rhein. Lacie was a small child then, playing in the open field. A wild boar came out of the grass and charged her. Ames, an old man even then, ran faster than both he and Ezekiel, who had both spotted it as well. With his bare hands Ames took it by it's front armpits and held it up, allowing Alexander to take it with a swing to the neck. Lacie had never been the wiser, Ezekiel running past them both, distracting her so she didn't see. "He took the first one with that blade he always had in his cane. Opened his throat with half a swing." Her eyes grew wide. "The second man pushed him out of the room, and the other raised his crossbow. Then Ames was just..." Lacie looked down, her eyes showing the trauma she had gone through. Alexander's face contorted, letting his anger show for a moment before forcing it to go blank. He stood and pulled Lacie to her feet, who offered no resistance. He turned to Alastor, who seemed to already know what he was thinking. Alastor gave him a nod, no words needed to be spoken. Alexander nodded in return, sprinting into the barracks to grab his gear. He returned a moment later with a packed bag. He moved to Lacie, who was still sobbing. The architect that had been with Alastor and him was awkwardly trying to comfort her. He shot to a straight stance when he noticed Alexander. He placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently towards the exit. "With me Lace. We'll bring Felipe home." A young teen boy came charging out of the barracks, a pack thrown over his shoulder and his shirt still halfway buttoned. "I'm coming with you." Alexander looked back to Tirilan, frowning for a moment. He had trained the boy since he adopted him two years ago. For someone who he didn't share blood with, the two were uncannily alike. Alexander gave the boy a tight nod before leading Lacie down the tunnel, Tirilan trailing behind the pair.

Alexander limped down the hall as fast as he could, buttoning his suit as he did so. The gash on his thigh from the fight in Osanora last month was healing fine, but it still hurt. Finally, as he finished his last button on his shirt and began the one coat button, he reached the door. Placing his hand on the door handle, he took in a breath before knocking with his other hand. A woman's voice called out, allowing him entry. Alexander let the breath he was holding out, forcing his face into a neutral expression. As he opened the door, his eye instantly zeroed onto the lone woman inside. She stood tall, her pale blue dress pressed wrinkle free. Her gaze met his with a familiar stubbornness, her lips pursed into a frown. He promptly stepped into the room, his head high to match hers. "No." He turned on his heel, starting for the door again. Lacie's jaw dropped as he turned, her brows knitting. "Alex!" When she realized he wasn't stopping, she followed in pursuit. "Pray tell, why not?!" Alexander did not stop, but instead kept down the hallway. "Because I said so." Suddenly, Lacie shot her arm out. Her hand gripped Alexander's forearm, stopping him in his tracks. "I'm serious." Again, Alexander turned on his heels. His 6'2" stature loomed over her 5'6" thin frame. "Lace..." He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning down slightly. She didn't even flinch, causing a feeling of pride in the back of Alexander's mind. "The world is on the brink of war. Sutica itself is going through turmoil and changes." He paused, hoping his words weren't falling short. "Here is the safest place for you. Not out with Medina." Lacie took a step back, pushing Alexander's hands off of her. "Father taught me to fight, as did you." She crossed her arms, looking up at Alexander, not backing down. "This isn't just about my safety." Alexander's eye narrowed slightly, as if a natural reaction. He knew she could tell she struck a nerve. "No, it's not." Lacie stared for a moment more, eyes locked with his. Finally she dropped her hands, stepping closer to Alexander and placing a hand on his forearm. "Do you trust me." Tilting his head, Alexander looked questioningly to his niece. It wasn't a question she asked, but more of a statement. "You have your father's brains." He looked at her a moment more, the spitting image of her mother with her father Ames' brains and instincts. "I do." Lacie surged forward, taking Alexander in a hug. She squeezed tight, making sure he couldn't dislodge her even if he tried. "Then trust me now, more than ever." Alexander raised his arms, not knowing how to react. Hesitantly he dropped his arms to embrace the woman attached to his midsection. "It will be strange, not having you home." His tone was stiff and strained. He heard Lacie giggle slightly, her head buried under his arm. "You've been through worse, aye?" Lacie smirked as she heard Alexander snort. She felt his hands fall onto her shoulders, attempting to withdraw her from him. Slowly she allowed herself to be pulled away. She looked up as her gaze met his again. It wasn't necessarily a convinced one, but it was slightly softer. Regarding her carefully, Alexander thought for a moment. "Here." Reaching into his coat's inner pocket, he produced a dagger. The blade itself was six inches, the handle small and skinny. The round pommel and cross-guard accented the piece, and with it was a uniquely fashioned sheathe made to be fixed to a bra strap. "It's one of the daggers I pulled from the wreckage of Helena." Lacie took the weapon gingerly, looking over it's details with a broad smile. "My namesake." Her smile grew as she referenced her middle name, Helena. "It'll keep you safe when I cannot." Alexander bent down slightly, forcing Lacie to look back up to him. "And if Medina breaks your heart, I'll burn the city to ashes." Lacie couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but she doubted it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, causing him to grunt slightly with the newly added weight as she leaped up. "Thank you Alex." She dropped back to the floor, tucking the dagger into a dress pocket for now. Alexander just hummed, not wanting to show too much emotion. He straightened up, adjusting his coat and buttoning the coat button again. "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to host." He turned around again, heading for the doorway at the end of the hall. Lacie stood where she had, watching her Uncle leave. "Careful Alexander, you're turning into a politician!" Alexander chucked at her playful words, quickly disappearing through the door. Outside, he saw a small crowd gathered. Two of the Rhein's guards, as well as their Commander Alastor, stood at attention. Families looked to Alexander, having just come out of Lacie's home. He studied their faces for a moment and found a common emotion, uncertainty. He cleared his throat, looking around the group. "I have no doubt by now you have all heard about the Countess of Sarissa's outburst, and borderline treasonous words." he paused as some started murmuring, nodding a nervous acknowledgement. "Including the threat against the other vassals, of marching in." Everyone stood still that time, all eyes on Alexander. Before he became Baron, he would have hated that. Now, it slightly bothered him that he didn't hate it. He tightened his fist slightly. "Since you all came here, to the edge of Sutica's wildlands, I have promised you three things. Food, Shelter and Protection." He raised a finger with each topic. His gaze swept the group again as Alexander shook his head. "None of that changes. The guards are on high alert, and I personally have told them if something happens to not hold anything back." He motions to Alastor, who nods respectfully. Alexander's eye stops on Alastor for a moment, giving him a grateful nod. "We will not seek reprimand for the Countess' words, as I am trusting our Monarch to do that for us. Rest assured, she will answer for the mess she caused one way or another." Some people in the crowd shifted, clearly not convinced. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Rhein, I come to you as a man. Nothing more, no matter what silly title I hold." Alexander raises his arms before dropping them in an exasperated manner. "Honestly? I've never been perfect, at anything. Nor will I ever be. Perfect is what each and every one of you deserve." He points to a few people in the crowd as he talks, to emphasize his point. "All I can do is strive to be as close as I can to what you all deserve." "I promise all of you, I have devoted and will continue to devote my life to this town. Not for some overly egotistical notion of self accomplishment, but because of each person standing here with me today. Every one of you have trusted me with everything you have, and I intend to honor that." Alexander points to the hill, where the outline of three unfinished buildings sat. "It's time I stay home more, and work on getting this place back to a hundred percent." He motions to the guards, who all turn their heads. "Our loyal and talented forces are here to keep us all safe, as the barrier between the Rhein and anything that stands against us." Alexander finally rests his gaze onto the group, specifically a small boy. No one else clung to him, but rather it looked like he was on his own... "And I am here for all of you." Alastor stepped forward slightly. "We stand with the Rhein, Baron." The other two soldiers stepped forward, vocalizing their agreement. Alexander's eye shot up as he heard a thick French accent from the crowd. "We stand with the Rhein." Alexander's grin grew as he heard others voice the same. Before his very eyes, their looks of worry slowly replaced themselves with a forming confidence until his own smile was met by others. Slowly they started to disperse, Alexander's gaze dropped again to the boy. His eye floated over him, studying the child. Alexander estimated he was about seven. His clothes were dirty and showed a lot of wear, some holes at the bottom of his pantlegs. Alexander knelt down, placing a hand on his back. "Your parents around lad?" When the boy shook his head Alexander looked around for a moment more, frowning. Finally he stood, bringing his hand to the boy's shoulder. "You're with me then." He started leading the boy towards Alexander's home, patting his back. The boy followed quietly, looking down to the dirt path. "Do you have a name, comrade?" The boy looked up to the Baron, his eye looking down to him. "Tirilan." Alexander's blood went cold for a moment. He looked up, blinking as a tear began to form in his eye. He cleared his throat, a smile starting to form. "I knew someone named Tirilan once..."

NOTE: THIS IS AN IN RP MEETING. IT IS NOT KNOWN IN RP TO ANYONE OUTSIDE OF THAT ROOM Alexander sat at the table, his leg up as he added new wrappings to his leg, the gauze already soaking up the blood from his cauterized wound. His eye was drifting over the paper sitting in front of him, his mouth pursed in a frown. As he read he tried to stand, wincing as he put weight on the leg. Sitting next to him, at the head of the table was Aramis, the Duchess of Eastcliffe. Alexander's eye moved from her to Felipe, who sat across from him. The three sat in Eastcliffe's Chateau, each looking rather grim. Aramis drops a stack of papers onto the table, looking between the other two. "I am sure you both have read over this?" Felipe leans forward so he could see the paper's contents before nodding to Aramis. "I have. Osanora is making plans to prepare." Alexander nodded as he finished wrapping, tying it off. "Aye." He recognized the paper the vassals had received of their fellow vassal Sarissa's statements. Aramis looks between the two again, her frown growing. "I must know what you two think of it. To me, after reading it of course, the countess seems rather full of herself." Alexander sighed as he leaned back in his seat in order to keep his leg still. He raises his hands before dropping them. "Honestly, a lot of what she said, reform wise, we already do." Felipe nods an agreement to Alexander. "Not only that, her example sounded more like a threat. Marching through OUR cities?" Felipe's expression was mildly agitated. Aramis nodded along as she looks the papers over again. "Is weak and crumbling..." She mutters low. "Why on earth would she want Sutica to break the one thing they are best known for? Our neutrality." Alexander's slight snort interrupts the end of her sentence. "It sounds like treason to me." His arms cross as his look sours. "She cares not for our ways of life. Should she have her way, we we would be no different from Oren!" Felipe leans on the table as he speaks. "Neutrality is best for our people and for minas." Running her hands through her hair, Aramis looks between the two. "I do not believe a single Sarissan guard has come to the trainings, nor patrols. So to say that she has been the ones keeping others safe is not exactly true. Where was the great Sarissan people when conflict rises?" Looking up from where his eye had dropped to the table, he looked to Aramis. "I've yet to see any outside her Isle. It's my men and I that patrol the western roads, and supplement combat forces." Fiddling with the buttons on his sleeves, Felipe too raises his head. "She wants to change what Sutica stands for, neutrality will keep us safe. With the new Oren conflict arising we need to protect our own borders yes, but not to the point where we are militaristic." Alexander casts Felipe a sarcastic look, as he is sitting in his chair in his military uniform. "The state has been handling conflicts all across the lands of Sutica. I do not understand why she would make this a point when she does not attend vassal meetings, trainings, or patrols. Aramis let out a long sigh before continuing. "Sutica has been doing much for all of us, she has not been in direct contact with any of us. For her to take the kindness of the Trade Monarch, the very thing that gave her that power, is wrong. I will not stand with her." Felipe nods. "She sits upon her Isle away from the borders claiming to support. She has supported Osanora as much as the Silver State has! Not at all!" Aramis looks to Felipe. "I will never support her side. As vassal leaders it is our duty to uphold the name of Sutica and support it. Change is indeed needed my friends. But this seems like mere childs play. she sets the paper down on the table again. "This issue could have been handled quickly if she would have discussed it at the meetings instead of sitting on her isle." "Not only that, but we could have worked this out privately. Her public tantrum can now be seen all over the world. The rest of the world will assume us weak and with conflicts rising they may attempt to take us on." Felipe sits back in his chair. Aramis nods to Felipe, leaning slightly forward. "Sutica is a nation known for being stronger together. If we were to break neutrality, think of the problems that would arise." Alexander's eye darted between the two as they talked, remaining silent before leaning forward. "The problem I have is that instead of going through the proper channels and systems that we have to, she decided to threaten us. A self made outsider within our own community, yet they claim to be a large part of it." Felipe relaxes into his chair. I doubt many of my people have even seen a Sarissan guard. Her ideas of opening up Sutica politically is not terrible, but to break neutrality would result in a new nation." "What would we all have to gain from joining her?" Aramis looks questioningly to Felipe and Alexander. "Do you think that she would support us as much as Sutica has? Felipe shakes his head. I would not trust Sarissa to protect my farmland. Sutica has gifted me my land and titles, I will defend them and our Trade Monarch." Aramis points to Alexander. "I believe we should write a response. The three of us, something that we could all sign." Alexander produces a notebook and a pencil from his armor, nodding. "Aye, we're not traitors to our stations. It is us that supplement Sutica's overall wellbeing, it should be us to set a good example." Slowly Felipe nods his head in agreement to Alexander. "Entonces, let's do it." Alexander slides the paper to Aramis, giving them a smile. "Your meeting, your letter." [THE RESPONSE OF THE THREE VASSALS WILL BE IN EASTCLIFFE'S SECTION!]

Alexander looked up as three of the Rhein's Guards entered the meeting room. Each soldier stood at attention, awaiting his orders. His good eye flickered around the three, his face stern. "The Baroness of Brynrose has been taken. Has everyone heard this?" Alexander looked to each soldier as they nodded in turn. He gave a nod of approval, standing and unbuttoning his suit. "I want every guard on alert and looking, save for a small force to remain and protect the homeland." One guard tilted his head slightly, raising a brow curiously. "Sir, if I may?" Alexander looked up from where he was focusing on unbuttoning his shirt. "Aye?" The guard shuffled uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "May I ask why?" Alexander slid his shirt off, picking up his old armor and preparing it to be worn. Without looking up, he answered the soldier. "You see that memorial outside, of Tirilan Sentinel?" All three guards nodded, none bothering to look back. They had all heard stories of the Holy Knight Tirilan. Alexander looked up, his gaze resting on the guard who asked. He softened his expression slightly. "This is his widow." All three felt their blood grow cold. In unison, they all nodded and turned to leave. "One more thing, gentlemen." Alexander turned back to his gear, untying the bundle. The men stopped, turning back to their Baron. Alexander did not look up. "No quarter."

"Any word?" Ames sat at the table, setting down the papers he was carrying. Leaning his cane on the table's edge, he looks over to Alexander. Alexander shook his head, looking up. "I sent a letter to the ISA General, who ignored me." He scratches his cheek, bringing his hand up to pet the ferret that lay across his shoulders. Her head poked out on his left side, where he was now blind. The burn had left minimal scarring, but his left eye was unsalvageable. "I guess we'll have to figure this out publicly." Ames nodded, reading a paper before sliding it across the table. Alexander caught the paper, frowning. "What's this?" Ames gave a half grin. "Information." Alexander scanned the papers with his good eye. "The Office of Propaganda?" Ames nods, looking at another paper. "Oren is able to play their masses by festering a sense of honor to country, even if that country's dealings are despicable." Shaking his head, Alexander sat the paper back down on the desk. "I'm not being Oren." Ames looked up to his brother suddenly. "I'm not saying we should." He points to the paper. "Loyalty is the strongest weapon. This is how we sharpen ours. We won't need to go as far as Oren does, but to prove they took our man we need to play a little..." Ames trailed off. "Dirty." Alexander finished for him. He frowned harder when Ames nodded. He sighed, picking up the paper again and reading it over.

*The following is a story, only known to those who are told in RP* Alexander sat at the table, looking blankly at it. His eyes were wide, his mouth covered by his clasped together hands as his elbows rested on the table. A few of the Rhein's guards stood in the room at attention. Alexander's voice was low and harsh. "I want them all." Ames sat next to Alexander, who sat at the head of the table. He worryingly looked over his younger brother, frowning. "Don't say that." Alexander did not move a muscle. "It is my job to make sure my people are Safe." Ames nodded, laying a hand on Alexander's arm. Alexander brushed it away, clearly almost to his breaking point. "You don't know if he's dead or not." Alexander burst from his seat, tossing the glass of Whiskey he had made. It shattered on the stone wall. "The hell I don't!" He looked to Ames, who had not even flinched. He slowly forced his breathing to slow before sitting down again. "I was ISA once, remember? I know it. My citizen never left their custody. You know Oren, any chance at a legal case and they are buzzing. It's been nothing but quiet on that front." Ames raises and then drops his arms in exasperation. "What do you want to do? Bust down the door to the Bastion and look?" Alexander looks to the table again, grim. "If that is what it takes." Ames frowns, looking Alexander over with his good eye. He purses his lips. He knows Alex blames himself more than anyone, and the fact he let anything happen is killing him. "Guards." Alexander did not look up from the table as one of the guards in the room stepped forward. "As of now, any member of the Imperial State Army found within my borders is to be arrested on sight. If they refuse, take them by force." Ames' eye widens. He looks sternly to his brother, who's eyes lock with his own. "Do you know what you are doing? What you can set into motion with this?" Alexander looks back to the tabletop, hesitating before nodding. "Protecting my own." He rises from his seat, sliding on his coat. "I'm going to talk to the Trade King, and then the other vassals." Ames turns in his chair as Alexander heads for the door. "Why?" Alexander stops, looking back to his brother. "I'm a politician now, remember? I'm going to do this right." With that he heads out the door, leaving Ames to curse under his breath before rising to follow. the following is posted in Rhein in all public areas By Order of Baron du Casse, Any and all members of the Imperial State Army of Oren found in the borders of The Barony of the Rhein are to be apprehended, under the charge of Class B Kidnapping. Any found aiding or harboring a member of the Imperial State Army of Oren is to face a Class C Obstruction charge. Any information regarding the missing man Viktor Bishop is to be brought to Baron du Casse for the possibility of a Mina reward.

QUICK EDIT: This is a story, it is not known in RP unless someone who already knows tells you. Self explanatory. No I am not leaving, my current troubles aside. This is the closing of a story arc, not the end of the story. Ames sat, his legs dangling off the edge of the Rhein's cliff. The sun had not yet rose, and the jacket he wore did well to shield him from the cold. The blanket he had put under himself kept the dew at bay, and the warm cup of coffee in his hands kept him awake. He smirked as he remembered a time when all he needed to wake up was a glass of whiskey. Nowadays reminiscing was always bittersweet. From being an alcoholic with no future to an enforcer of the law, his life had been an eventful one. He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. His ears perked as he heard a slight wheezing behind him. Elias stepped out from behind Ames, giving him a slight chuckle. "Can't be as quiet as I once was." He choked out. Since his first collapse, his voice had become harsh and crude, as if he were speaking with sawdust. With a groan he sat down next to Ames, his breath coming harder now. Ames just looked to him slightly, always moving his head less then you'd expect due to his vision impairment, and giving him a smile. "Couple of old coots, huh?" Ames laughed, looking down at his coffee cup. He nodded before looking back out over the water. "I suppose." Elias smiled as he too looked out over the water. Ames had always been a man of fewer words. A coughing fit doubled Elias over as he struggled. Once he was able catch his breath, he looked up to see Ames staring at him. His face was of sheltered sympathy, as if he were afraid to show the real thing. Elias just nodded, giving him a thumbs up. He straightened himself up as he produced his cloth again, now permanently stained red, before wiping his mouth with it. "I've seen that daughter of yours running around." Ames gave a lighthearted snort. "Twenty one year olds tend to do that." "It's good to see she is getting out. She still know you keep that knife, in case any boys come home?" Elias gave a laugh as Ames nodded, patting his cane at his side. That laugh turned into another coughing fit, Elias covering his mouth with the cloth to catch the blood. Once it was over, he wiped his mouth before looking behind him. The city was almost finished. People had started to move in. The Rhein was starting to become what it was meant to be. Elias smiled. "I always thought I'd see this place finished." "You will." Ames looked to him, scoffing. Elias just shook his head. "I'm thankful-" He was cut off as he held back another coughing fit. His breath was coming hard, he could feel himself growing tired just from the effort. "I'm thankful to have seen this place grow. To see Alexander grow." Elias turned back around, towards the water. Elias watched the sunrise. Was it always this... Serene? Ames watched the sunrise, as he did every morning. He was keenly aware of Elias' wheezing beside him. And then it was gone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elias' figure slump forward slightly. Ames looked down to his coffee, suddenly not wanting any. He sighed, looking over to his friend.

Alexander sits at his uncles old desk, looking over the missive Ezekiel delivered. As he holds it back up he sighs, relaxing his posture in dissapointment. "It appears we weren't important enough to be invited." Ames, sitting in a chair across the desk, takes the letter offered before unfolding it and reading. "There will be others." His tone was both dismissive and reassuring. Alexander nods, rising from his seat. "Well, I've work to do." He heads for the door, dismissing the forgetting of the Rhein

*Disclaimer: This is a Short story. I shouldn't need to explain how no one else knows this in RP unless told by me....* Elias sat up in bed, his back propped up by pillows. Breathing was difficult, at times feeling like it took all his energy. He heard the door open, his gaze rising from the papers on his lap to meet the sound. Alexander and Ezekiel had walked in, each breathing heavy and sweating. He looked over to Ames, who sat on the stool next to Elias' bed. He held the same grim expression he had held since Elias fell ill. Alexander stopped at the foot of the bed, Ezekiel standing behind his left shoulder. "You called us in, Uncle?" The man was dressed in a nice suit, a drastic change from always wearing armor. He had taken up Elias' duties in the wake of recent events. "I did." Elias coughed, his wheezing growing worse. His voice sounded like he was gargling water, which was pretty accurate to how he felt. He looked to Ames, who straightened himself and cleared his throat, leaning his cane on the stool. "It's time to make it official." Ames looked to Alexander as he nodded to Elias, who grabbed a paper out of the stack and held it out to Alexander, who promptly took it. "Legal papers stating you are the heir to the title of Baron, duly appointed by the current one." Ames watched Alexander's brows furrow, recognizing his own look of frustration mirrored on his younger brother's face. "Please take the time to look them over before signing, in case I missed anything." Alexander snorted. "You? Ha." Elias smiled to the man as he made his way to the door. Ezekiel started to follow, but Elias slid himself further up on his pillows. Ezekiel stopped in his tracks. "I have a different job for you." Elias' coughs came again. As he coughed, coving his mouth with the blood stained cloth, he motioned to Ames. Ames leaned forward, grabbing a small stack of papers and holding them out to Ezekiel, who was a little more hesitant. "The Rhein has enemies, Ezekiel." Ames watched the young man read the dossier. "Alexander's job will be standing up to them in the light. We need you to fight them in the dark." Ames leans down slightly, lowering his voice. "This is important. Officially, you are the Minister of Central Intelligence." Ezekiel frowns, still reading the papers. "Unofficially?" Elias gasped, recovering from his cough. He wheezed as he looked to Ezekiel, who returned the gaze. "Our Sword in the Dark."

Alexander sat on a stood next to Elias' bed, the man himself laying upon it still in a coma. He read the missive again, his brow furrowed. He looked over to his uncle, raising the paper out of his line of sight. Ezekiel, standing behind him, took it from his hand. "Eastcliffe?" Ezekiel skimmed the paper, nodding. He looked to Alexander, who had yet to look away from Elias. Ames and he had both decided Alexander was to hold the position of Baron temporarily while Elias was bedridden. Decisions had fallen to him to make. Alexander finally nodded. "Have the first Battalion on standby. Uncle's last act was to promise aid to Eastcliffe. We will honor that, no matter the cost." Alexander remained looking to his Uncle, even after Ezekiel had nodded and left the room. Alone with an unconscious Elias, he let a few tears slip. The Knight and Soldier, the man who's pride had blinded him in the past, let himself cry for his Uncle