A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

[DragonParadox]

Gifts beyond Grace ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

The letter from the capital had been expected. Congratulatory, yes, but also containing the ambassador's new marching orders. It had already become something of a truism in the service that the reward for a job poorly done was going home to rest and for a job well done it was more work. In this case work getting the city's nobility, such as it was and what there was of it, to understand that its future lay with the Imperium no matter what the priests said.

Admittedly that was not as easily done as it was said. The Highborn of Norvos were like dogs trained to the sound of bells. A time for eating, a time for sleeping. 'A time for fucking and a time for rolling over to show your belly', as one aid had put it behind closed doors, but you could not really train ambition out of people, nor greed, and the Imperium had plenty of things at hand to draw in both.

For the former there was the promise of Imperial service, of wielding power and control far outside the traditional bounds of Norvoshi life. Even a career as a Legion officer, which many nobles in other lands would look upon in askance since it so thoroughly bound you to the control of the state, would look good to generals used to taking their marching orders from axe-bearing priests.

As to the latter, well one could scarce even exaggerate the vast wealth of the Imperium these days. It was in size and in population the largest empire the world had seen within the bounds of history. One would have to search in the dusty troves of arcane lore to find even the barest mention of its like, and if it did not yet have the wondrous might of Valyria the Fallen then it certainly seemed to be going that way as the sight of the gleaming silver Gravjammer which carried the delegation to the gates of Norvos had shown.

But in the end it was neither bags of gold and jewels or military might which Ambassador Argor thought would turn the scales most in the favor of his lord. No, it was something far more subtle. Like many high ranking diplomats he had been an Inquisition agent once, though the work had proven a bit too dangerous for his tastes. He had recalled quite a lot from the books on cult creation and expansion.

***​

Twentieth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

One of the primary means of cult expansion is offering boons which the local spiritual institutions cannot or will not grant. As these grow more transgressive so too is the prospective recruit more deeply ensnared and more invested in the ideology of the cult.
-Book of the Sword Chapter Seven, Loved and Abhorred

What could be more transgression to the people of the Lawmaker, whose entire lives were said to be a proving ground for their souls before they stand before the judgement of their god, then the promise of eternal life and no judgement? The ambassador smiled at the head of House Malente, a man most infamous for his many affairs, keeping ever in mind the words of the seer about the time and the place where it would be best to meet with him.

This was the dance he lived for and he was glad indeed to be playing it on this side of the board, for he rather suspected that if Lord Drekelis had not found him when he did he might be playing for the other side, even if just for the thrill. That would be a pity indeed, the Imperium had a better retirement plan.

What next?

[] Qohor, invasion preparations and intelligence report

[] Wisdom Elaheh's stand in Sorcerer's Deep

[] Write in

OOC: Sadly this is another case where I could not bridge the narrative properly. I wanted to show a little of how the Diplomatic Service works, but at the same time there are no easy transitions from here.

 

[DragonParadox]

In Arms' Reach ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

First Legion Camp, Ar Noy Province

If one was to reveal to someone that you had spent the night before the start of your wedding was set to begin in a war camp they might get the wrong idea, or at least so Tyene assured you between a barrage of jests of the sort only a friend near and dear would dare make, though at the very least they had been good jests at your expense. Even Ser Richard had cracked a smile at the implication that you would rather face the eldritch scions of the Black Goat than Lya given her skill in spinning tendrils of shadow.

But japes aside you are not here to start a campaign, far from it. Indeed, war with Qohor and That which has made its place into its heart is yet months away as the Legion pivots eastwards, or at least those legions and auxiliaries you can actually afford to move away from garrison duty in the west. In truth, if you could get away with it, you would have allowed the fires of war to cool and let the annexation of Qohor be a thing of ink and not blood. That you cannot do while the touch of the Far Realm is upon the city and its precious perilous Forge.

So you descend among the sea of tents that dwarfs the frontier town of Ar Noy, at once more ordered, the pattern of its arrangement like a stamp upon the land, and more rowdy in voice and in song that rises heavenwards alongside the light of countless flames. Solders, after all, are most skilled in taking what advantage they can of the days of peace be they ever so disciplined.

"Stand and be recognized!" an officer calls out from the light of the closest sentry flame. This close to the dark shape of the Forest of Qohor, which on a clear day can be seen by a wyvern aloft, no one is taking chances with intruders.

Since you had actually been considerate enough to call ahead by brazier, he does not sound surprised by the answer, though still perhaps a touch overwhelmed.

For his part Ser Richard gives the man a small appreciative nod. He had always liked the Legion and not simply because he had a hand in its inception. As he put it to the eye of one who had seen knights swear falsely and sellswords take the coin and run a professional army, being bound not just by pay but also by loyalty to lord and hope for land seems like a much safer bet.

However, loyalty is not all that is on display this night. You are surprised to see that the tracks which had been laid down for the new locomotives are already seeing some use. Not by machines of steam granted, but only the straining backs of donkeys. It does not take the eye of an engineer to realize the beasts can pull much heavier burdens along a track than just on a road.

"Clever work," you congratulate the new General of the First, handpicked by Gerold of course. One did not hand over the legion whose name you had taken to any but the best man for the job, and General Pyreous certainly seems to have lived up to the promise of his carrier. The Torchbearers are not only ready for battle. In fact they are eager to march once more under dragon banners, no matter that the foe is likely to be more deadly than any man.

Not that there is no trouble, of course. The very idea of a mobilization on this scale with no issues in the middle of a reorganization to the logistics of the legions in the form of the Ministry of War is the sort of dream one can find in the midst of sweet hana smoke and nowhere else. There is trouble getting enough alchemical supplies with the Air Force having first call on factory outputs in order to replenish its shells and much of the Legion's engineer corps is currently detached helping to get the roads up to the new standard.

Still, at least the situation at the border with the lands of the Qohorik remains tense but stable. There had been none of the border raids one might have feared dealing with a hostile power and no hints that the power of the Goat with the Thousand Young is reaching south for now. Four legions are already poised on the border and others are prepared to be redeployed through Gates to reinforce them.

Deploy Troops for Invasion (Qohor) Auto-Success

What next?

[] Write in

OOC: Sorry this took so long, my internet connection has not been the best over the last two hours. It has not really fallen, but it went to slow I might as well have been using dial up for a bit there. Posting this quickly in case it goes wonky again.

 

[Zedred]

I want a Barbarian-esque Viserys to hold a sword above his head whilst wearing nothing but boots and loincloth.

Click to shrink...

I would've said Azema... but that would be way too fuckin' easy.

Nah, barely clothed Ser Richard is better.

Click to shrink...

The Imperial Times Calendar! This month Issue comes with exclusive, all colors pictures of our Great Imperial Majesty and his male adult Companions!

Examples of the pictures within:

Viserys lounging on The Throne, bare chested save for his golden cloack, one hand holding his head while the other is extended towards the viewer, a smile on his face.

Ser Richard inside a cabin in the woods at night. Resting against a bedframe, wearing nothing but a loincloth, his gauntlets and boots, Oathkeeper in his hands. Ser Richard 's serious expression somehow seeming to invite the viewer in.

Garin sitting on top of a high class candlelit table, holding a cup full of crimson wine in toast to the viewer, his eyes tempting the viewer to drink with him. He is clad in tight black clothing and leather pants, his shirt has a V-cut so deep that it practically ends at the hip.

Waymar, bare chested, resting at his hippogriff side on a grassy field, a peaceful smile on his face inviting the viewer to lie at his and the noble steed side.

Malarys inside a courtroom, bare chested. A stern expression on his face while staring at you, judging you.

Xor on the street in all his rotund glory, a smile on his face and a lyre at his side, ready to start a song.

******
"I can not believe this worked...". Even though you can't see him, Malarys disbelief and haunted expression is clear in his voice.

To be fair, if it weren't for the reports you have on your desk, and the feeling inside your chest you have come to associate with part of your legend, you would have a hard time believing as well.

No, even now you still check your wards to see that you aren't trapped inside an illusion, but reality is still the same.

UNREST ON THE WESTERN PROVINCES DECREASES TO 0.

100 NEW CLERICS OF VISERYS GET.

You don't bother keeping the sigh from leaving your lips.

it's in these situations that you wish you could get drunk.

A/N: Brought to you by 1AM brain.

 

[DragonParadox]

Striking a Deal​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

In silks they were draped, in fine glittering gold and tasteful silver thread, in dyes from the east and enchantments from beyond the bounds of the world, yet they did not gather with any fanfare with blast of trumpets call of horns as many of their peers had done, somewhat to the annoyance of the newest member. Rarely had anyone suspected Salladhor Saan of subtlety after all, although that might have been that the few who gave the pirate lord cause to be so wary did not live to tell their tale.

Still he had a reputation to uphold: "Well aren't we all sad sacks of sh..." he glanced towards the grey haired lady who spoke for the Iron Bank, as though he had somehow missed her in the clear light of the meeting room. "Shrimps. Yep, that's what I meant to say.. You know the seven of us are maybe the strongest single faction in the whole of the Principium right?" So saying the Lord of the Basilisk Isles turned to the man who made up a third of that strength. "Why should we hide our light in a hood?"

"Your simile rather gives away the answer my lord," the soft tones of Maekar the Mongrel, a man not unused to the speech of the less than honest replied, amusement softening the clipped Volantine accent. "We may not be thieves with their of the sort that wish to keep their light only for them and not for the watchman, but making it a matter of common knowledge that we are pledged to see to each other's interests might take away much of the power of our faction."

"We did not call ourselves the dealmakers out of a lack of imagination," the youngest of the women in the room and only mage, Dileah Noroquo spoke nonetheless with the firmness that belied her slender almost child-like frame. "The reputation we want to have is as people who can facilitate understanding between more intransigent members of the Curia as well as serve as a means for certain propositions to reach the Imperial ear without the potential embarrassment of public formality, or the delicate task of filtering past those who are let us say a touch too close to the throne's own interests."

"Loyal and invested in the vision of the Imperium without wearing it on our sleeves in other words," the Sealord concluded. "In other words pragmatists, untited by a common desire to see the Curia work effectively and well to the benefit of every citizen of the Imperium..."

"You know they had a saying in Deepcleft..." Saan said, slowly taking his seat, "He who parts the cheese wheel, takes the biggest part, but the question remains if that's all that joins us, who takes the biggest part of what we get? Is this Braavos' show or can any old mummer join?"

"Any who wish to advance the cause of trade, free travel, the expansion of education and new crafts, the freedom of one's faith and conscience are welcome," the Archon of Lorath proclaimed grandly. "All these are guaranteed by the will of the Imperator of course, but as there will be those who shall attempt to frustrate that will so too must we be vigilant to ensure that the light of civilization reaches far across the western shores."

Most of the rest of the room was filled with hooded looks in varying states of tolerant amusement Saan noted, but he still felt the need to add. "You might want to tone some of that shit down, or nuance it least you want to get on Bolton's shit list. That's no place for...." mewling princelings, he thought, but did not quite say. "Well that is not a place any of us want to be on so let's not be throwing stones and calling folks barbarians if we are going to be the ones we call for striking deals."

"Indeed," the Sealord proclaimed with the sort of weight to his words that few would dare gainsay. "We are not gathered here specifically against any one group, but for the common interests that bind us to each other and the wider realm. Now Lord Saan what are your thoughts on bringing Naath on our particular ship...?"

The discussions continued long into the evening as the sound of the festivities floated in through the window. The sacrifices I make, Salladhor thought.

OOC: Since there was not much activity I thought this might be a good moment to show the Sealord's faction. So far it is the strongest, though also the most diffuse. Not yet edited.

 

[DragonParadox]

Great Lords' Greeting ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

When last there was cause for celebration in Sorcerer's Deep many came furtively and by stealth, be it by galley or by the winds of magic, eager to avoid the eye of the Stag King still looking blearily east from atop his throne of iron, now the manner of one's arrival said far more for status than ever it had done for secrecy. Did one merit a Pegasus gravjammer, arching graceful as its namesake through the sky? Had one's coffers been deep enough to simply buy a spell of teleportation and a mage to carefully sound out the incantation which in most cases was still beyond their ken? Or best of all, had one been escorted by one of the Companions aligned with by kinship or alliance.

All in all as shows of precedence and prestige go it made quite an interesting one, particularly the parts which are unscripted. As a ducal family in their own rights for instance the Freys are more then welcome to a diplomatic transport and you would not have said no if the new lord of the Twins had asked for something more magical and grandiose, within reason at least. Your own days of ferrying lords to the Deep so show them the sights are thankfully over and you do not miss them in the least.

Duke Stevron Frey choose none of them, instead he availed himself to the services of his kinswoman Walda already called by some the Fair and he made of her presence in the capital long before your coronation something of a show, gratifying to the girl's pride of course, but more importantly a subtle reminder that House Frey's loyalty to the new order is rooted in far more than 'old Walder wanting to get it up again' as unkind voices mutter with an whiff of sour grapes.

Roose Bolten by contrast comes by air and lets his political statement show in the manner of his guard. There is always a black knight near to his side, a pledge for where he wishes to take the North made manifest in steel and unliving flesh. The dead will toil, in mines and no roads, in all those dull and painful tasks for which the backs of men have so long been bent.

"Just you wait they'll call him a champion of the smallfolk in no time," Waymar snorts as he watches the Bolton banner wave by, somehow more stark and cruel against the pure blue sky.

"Why shouldn't they?" you ask. "He does genuinely want to spare them a great deal of pain and labor in favor of more complex and fulfilling craft. That is worth a good bit more than smiles in the mirror."

"I know, Waymar replies. It is just weird to think of him as one of the most... What are they calling it now? One of the more forward-looking dukes. I mean you have to admit his House does not have a reputation for the milk of human kindness..."

You give him a droll look. "Have you met Zherys? Perhaps I should introduce you so he can regale you with how he violently purged the reactionary elements of his own city that he might lead it into a new era of prosperity to its glory and not incidentally his own. In fact I am pretty sure there is a mirror around there that could make that point even better."

Before you have the chance to motion with your cloak for the scrying mirror you keep there in order to show something closer to home your friend laughs and waves the matter off. "Ow... I give I give, no need to skewer me with the point Your Majesty. Say did you know little Brienne might be participating in the tourney. It is still strange to think of her as not just blessed by the Warrior, but his Chosen." At your raised eyebrow he adds. "Oh nothing to do with her being a girl, it's just I can see the blessings on her and they are not that strong are they?"

"She has yet to grow into them," you note.

The matter of how she had come by those blessing the last in a long line hangs unspoken between you before Waymar speaks again. "Even as light as those blessings still hang they do raise something of a issue on the tourney-ground. How much magic is acceptable? I mean some of it is mortared into the souls of the knights and woud be hard to suppress while others are bought with coin and easily taken away. Yet is it fair to say the former is more earned than the latter ? That would imply there is something wrong with trying to use magic to your advantage which I do not think is the message we are trying to get across is it?"

"It is not," you agree. "Yet a free for all presents its own issues, it may engender resentment from those less wealthy and able to buy such sorceries."

"If you just say no magic fr anyone it would at least be an even playing field, but it would not be easy to manage on a practical level. You are going to need a hell of an arcane eye and hand on the proceedings"

How do you decide on magic on non-magical events?

[] No magic is allowed

[] Intrinsic blessings only

[] Intrinsic blessings and self cast spells only

[] All magic is allowed

OOC: I am still considering how much of the various events to show, thoughts on that as well would be welcome. Not yet edited.

 

[DragonParadox]

On the Future's Wings ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

The wind was cool upon Sansa's cheeks, scented with brine and beneath that with strange spice of lands far off, with alchemical concoctions and the lingering perfumes which she could not begin to place. There were some like rosewood, some like mirth and incense, and others that had no names in any of the tongues of men.

There the hooded figure of a woman draped in a cloak like autumn rippling from faded green, to brilliant gold to red as bright as blood, spoke with a squat smith with his beard and hair aflame. There a chorus of sprites sang accompaniment to a young singer with a voice like an angel as he touted the 'Barrel of Endless Wine'. By all seeming he was actually being truthful since rich red wine flowed from the copper spout into the fountain next to him from where the celebrants scooped it up into cups, laughing, jesting and toasting to the good fortune of the Imperator and his soon-to-be bride.

There were sea horses in the harbor parading in patterns like flocks of birds in the foam and astride them strange knights with helms of shell and bone and breastplates of choral that glittered like rainbows, but it was only when little Bran squealed and pointed above that Sansa realized they were actually being mirrored in the sky by winged horses, pegasi they were called.

"You know those are from the North. There was a whole herd of them in the lands between Last Hearth and the Wall, and the Imperator went north to convince them to swear to his cause. They are as clever as a man," the she said, glad to spot something she did know about in the sea of strangeness all about the small party from Winterfell.

They looked so very drab and somber here, under the wolf-head banners of House Stark. True the arms and armor of their guard were all polished Legion-steel, as the magicked stuff was called in the west, and mother was dressed in fine saffron edged with Myrish lace, but compared to the riot of color and magic all about them they might as well have been visitors from some impoverished frontier, not the family of one of the greatest dukes of the realm.

We have a duty to our bannermen and to our smallfolk before our own pride, father had said when Sansa had asked about that, though mother had not looked too pleased fearing it. She had been in a bad mood since this morning since they got on the Pegasus Transport, which was the name of the flying ship and not as Sansa had feared a way of saying they would have to learn to ride a flying horse.

"How do you know that, about the horses I mean?" mother asked, giving her an odd look.

"Jon wrote to me about them in his last letter," Sansa replied cautiously. What she did not mention was that her previous worry that she might need to ride a winged-horse was related to the same letter. Mother would not take that kind of teasing well, but for her part she was just glad Jon could joke around again. It had been hard the last few months, getting used to Robb just not being there, like there was a big Robb-shaped hole in the tapestry of life at Winterfell and everyone was trying to pretend not to see it most of the time.

Part of her almost wished she had been able to stay at Runestone, but that would not have been fair to mother and father, and if there was one thing Sansa Stark was it was a dutiful daughter.

"What letter was this?" mother asked, a little sharply. "Luwin did not say anything about this to me."

Sansa's reply was drowned out by the sound of what looked like a giant jade gong that rang not in one note, but a thousand uncanny harmonies that climbed over each other until they filled the mind. It made the snow-white snake-man draped in crimson veils dancing next to it look almost ordinary. Or was that a snake-woman? How would you even be able to tell?

"What was that?" mother pressed.

"I said the Princess just pops in and hands them to me," Sansa replied. And hadn't that been a shock to walk into the first time, but she had been kind and funny, at once like everything she had imagined a princess must be and nothing like it. 'Just a humble messenger here, get your post fresh from the quill...'

At that her lady mother opened her mouth as though to say something, glanced sideways at her lord father, shook her head and walked on into the ordered chaos of the capital.

Sansa barely noticed and did not really care when her father said. "I'll be leaving you off at the townhouse. I have a meting with Duke Bolton in an hour."

"I want to go see the tourney, mother please can we, can we?" Sansa started to wheedle.

What next?

[] One of the shows
-[] Write in which

[] One of the competitions
-[] Write in which

[] Write in

OOC: Obviously there is quite a bit of politics being rolled for in the background, but I would rather not show all of it since you obviously do not know about every detail of what every duke does each day and that will play into Curia interactions later.

 

[DragonParadox]

In Mirror's Memory ​

Mirror Booklets are one the the newer publications in Sorcerer's Deep, expanding into the cities of the former Disputed Lands and beyond. In truth little more than hastily bound collections of the cheapest paper money can buy which can hold ink for at least a week which is all they need to do. They are broadly separated into the funnies, short, often but not always humorous skits that for all their fine costumes and magic have more in common with shadow puppetry than long form plays, the news, which is a flash of events from around the realm, interspersed with solid advice on all manner of practical matters, from new seed varieties to the right way to use and pay for the mail, and finally the serials.

The latter are the most lavishly advertised, episodic fiction ranging from the trials and tribulations of a city-trained healer moving into the dangerous hinterlands of Mantarys or of a Scholarum class where one is assured everyone is a genius yet they never seem to graduate, to the adventures of long suffering border guards who have to move every few months in their search for criminals and smugglers since the borders keep moving. Yet none of the old serials can begin to compete with the newly announced Elder Crowns, which has its debut only three days after the Imperator's wedding, hoping to ride the tide all the way to the bank.

These booklets are fronted in carefully applied steel leaf and tin that might almost seem like silver to the unwary or the excited eye:

A Tale for the Ages
Blood, betrayal, and passion abound. Not merely a story, but History red in tooth and claw, the tale of Aegon the First. His great and lasting deeds, his failures, and his flaws. Come one come all to see the love that has cast some realms to ruin and raised others out. Delve into a dramatic reenactment of the doings of the first man who joined east and west, and the two women whom he loved.

Recorded on location in Dragonstone, the Red Keep, and more
See the Sunset Lands as you have never seen then before, where the men are girdled in steel yet beneath it hearts as sensitive as a flower may beat. Great vistas reveal themselves before the eye of silver and jade, in place and in time, and secrets never before spoken of are unveiled from the archives of the mysterious Citadel of Oldtown.

In a world of dying magic can the sparks of greatness endure?

Find out at fifteen hundred on the mark. No tale told can match one which was lived.

***​

You turn the cheap little piece of folded paper, fading ink and already flaking metallic leaf with that odd combination of pride and bemusement you always feel when you consider the growing art form of Mirror shows that would not have even existed but for one idle thought on a rainy evening. The show is of course approved by the Ministry of Public information, for all that you would not call it perfectly historically informative, from what you had seen of the script for the first few episodes. Of course, it is not meant to present perfect information about the past. Instead it is meant to sell the narrative of Aegon the First, a great but flawed man whose vision was impeded by both the age he found himself living in and his own mercurial temper.

In another sense, it is supposed to sell Essos to the Westerosi, and vice versa, by presenting the other as just people trying to get by and get ahead, all of them magically speaking in whatever tongue the listener is comfortable with. The odd turn to melodrama is sure to capture quite a few hearts, even if it is not the most nuanced of experiences.

Turning the booklet over, you read the attached note, rather brazenly asking if you are willing to give the show a recommendation. To be fair, one is not likely to get very far in this business without being a bit brazen.

What do you reply?

[] Accept and give the recommendation
-[] Write in (optional)

[] Refuse to give a personal recommendation

OOC: I used a flash instead of a reel, since of course you guys do not use film reels, to the segments are named for the way the mirrors flash between segments. Also yes I know it is nonsensical to record a tale of Aegon in the Red Keep, but these people are not exactly going for historical accuracy.

 

[DragonParadox]

Along the Way ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

Though many were the ships that still sailed into the Deep from far off ports many more of the travelers who came here from east and west alike came by road and especially by bridge.

The eastern line had been long forged, since the Disputed Lands grew still of their endless wars, but the western was still new-made and those who set their feet upon it filled with awe and wonder at a span of stone that could bestride not just rivers and straights, but seas. Where the two arms of the bridges met there was Waystone Town from whence the lesser bridges spanned across the Stepstones, giving a new meaning to the old name. Were the capital not already so near the town would have been a thriving trade burg in its own right, but as was the merchants preferred to keep their packs loaded and their purses closed, awaiting the wonders of the famed city of sorcery where it was said anything and everything was for sale.

Some hoped for wines that would bring endless bliss, others for salves against age and illness, others still for bright jewels that would shine each with the light of wonder and of woe, for scrolls of power and books of lore such as one could not find anywhere else west of Asshai and perhaps not even in that dreaded place. There were whispers even that you could buy in the bazaars of the Deep from the hand of fiends and fey souls and spirits bound in amber, though more level-headed travelers noted that it would rather run against the law banning slavery in the borders of the Imperium. What was common sense to a good tale after all?

It was upon such tales as well as the the supplying of hearty food and decent drink for the travelers that the town of Waystone lived, though there was no need to stray too far into fabrication in most of its taverns. The truth was more than fantastical enough. It was into this place that a wagon drawn by two oxen, matched in gait if not in color, trundled into.

"What's that shrieking?" Cob asked his master. The boy was tall for four and ten, but thin and still far too twitchy for a tinker's apprentice who were supposed to take new sights and sounds in stride and only ask questions with a worldly manner to carry the news to the next village or town.

Granted this was a stranger land than either of them had walked in before, thought the master in question, but that was no reason to gawk like a hayseed at market day or...

"Is it one of them darkenbeasts? Mother have mercy, is it a dragon?"

"Use your wits boy," the Old Andrew finally snapped. "Or better yet pray to the Crone to give you some first." After assuring himself that the lad had taken the chastisement to heart and was now more worried about what he would say next and not the imagined monsters of the sky, he answered. "Even if it were some flying beast what trouble would that be to us law-abiding travelers on the road from Sunspear just coming in for a stop at Waystone?"

"Well what if they are hungry then?" the boy insisted. "That sure sounded hungry to me."

In a way the boy was right in spite of his uncle's exasperation, though the 'beast' they were hearing was hungry not for flesh, but for water for from the mating of steam and arcane fire had been born the steam engine train which would forever reshape the world into which his master had been born. No more would travel be slow, costly and perilous, the place only for those who choose to make the road their home. Indeed Cob would never even be a tinker at all, but would stay in the capital to get his schooling at the expense of the state from whence he might eventually graduate a full engineer to help build the next batch of wonders.

What do you want to see next?

[] Write in

OOC: I can't really promise another update today, unfortunately. Hope you guys enjoy this one. I called the town Waystone in a play on the name of the island chain.

 

[DragonParadox]

For the Throne ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

Among the factions that flowered in that first spring of the Imperium the Dragon's men were at once the most prevalent and the hardest to spot for several related reasons Loyalty was broadly assumed across the full spectrum of interests and ideology. Those who were less than happy with the restructuring of power in the realm were more likely than not to be among the loudest in pledges of support and empty gestures, but slowly as water washes way sand to reveal the gleaming stone underneath were unveiled those who actually did place the inerests and desires of the throne foremost in all things.

Some of course were expected, one could not very well think that the Imperator's mother would vote elsewhise. Indeed Duke Mace Tyrell had been heard saying in his cups that this was the only reason the former queen had been given a ministerial posting. It lost him quite a few drinking companions. Another source of unflinching support was the Ministry of Administration as well as those governors with a past under the wing of the Censor. That was not to say that the other ministries were not doing their job as the law and throne had intended, but the administrators were perhaps the most likely to see the full tapestry of the Imperium beneath them and thus less likely to be jockeying for power or resources.

Both of the Companions who found their way into the Curia could be counted among the same ranks, for the sake of that companionship yes, but also the calculations of the new arrangement. The inquisition fearsome as it was could not be seen as anything but in perfect lockstep with the Imperator, that opposing counsel Garin Drekelis had to offer being given it was said behind closed doors, though no one was mad enough to try to eavesdrop at such doors as those were like to be. Lord Justice Vanor on the other hand made it clear that he was impartial in all things save his loyalty to the law and thus the throne from which it ultimately flowed.

One might be surprised perhaps to find Stannis Baratheon in such company, given his heritage, and even more surprised to discover how similar his reasons were to a man sundered him him by leagues and centuries. But so he was just the same, and no whisper about blood running thin and or changing skies among the lesser stormlords or indeed his peers was liable to change his mind. Indeed it was a matter of some debate in the Curia if he even noticed the rumors at all. After more than two months many in the Principium came to understand that Stannis Baratheon approached his duties, much as a battering ram approached the gate of a keep under siege, relentless and and impervious to the slings and arrows ot fate.

Contrasting in almost every other way besides their dedication to seeing the policies of the throne were put into practice was Lord Monford Velaryon. the new steward of the Imperial lands was only a middling administrator outside of matters of trade, but as he watched over the most well ordered part of the realm and was not hesitant about delegating duties the lack was not the least. There the Lord of the Tides truly shone was in his diplomatic skill. Given enough baubles of silver tongue and arcane insight anyone could seem inspiring on the surface, their words cunning and wise, but the true diplomat was more than an enchanter by proxy, they were someone who knew how to find common ground or at need how to make it. In this Monford Velaryon excelled beyond many of his peers.

Sandor Celgane and Tyrael the Tireless were among the most self-evident if those who would be counted in the voting block, neither had any true interest in the politics of the Curia and would simply append their voice to any cause that clearely served the Imperator.

More surprising to some, though not to those who had known him for any span of time Uthero Argalys was also a dragon's man in a quiet sort of way rather than joining the mercantile Dealmakers beside his fellow Braavosi. This was generally accepted to be a mark of personal friendship with the Imperator dating back to some sort of common history, though it was not oft spoken of as it involved the death of the last Argalys patriarch under tragic circumstances somehow.

If only one could find so simple a reason for the loyalty of House Martell and its kindred branch, thought many lords of Reach and Riverlands. the perfidious Dornishman was after all a figure of plays and poems, not to mention most of history before the coming of the Imperium. Surely they must be playing some tangled game for their use alone?

So long as such suspicions stayed as hushed whispers that fell to utter silence when he entered a room they seemed if anything to make Doran Martell smile even wider than his habitually cheerful mood would involve.

OOC: I decided to do a bit more of a top down presentation of this faction, almost like an informational post. What do you guys thing? Better or worse than the other version? Not yet edited.

 

[DragonParadox]

Sorceress' Speech ​

Fifteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC

Taken in isolation the word 'oversight' does not carry the most pleasant of implications. Like a shadow that smothers, a watchful other who would judge without sympathy or understanding. Teana had even heard that among the students of Academies and Universities of the realm it had even started to gain a dread reputation for 'one who makes an end of illicit celebrations', which is about the greatest sin among their ranks she assumed. But as one who had done her own share of overseeing in the hectic early days of the Scholarum with little more than the mandate of the constitution at hand she could not be more happy to finally know there were eyes beyond her own, beyond the Scholarum, on the fate of those gifted with the potential or the reality of magic great and small.

As she rolled her new made curls with a cantrip about the gold and emerald pin and splashed a dash of rose water on the edges of her long trailing sleeves in preparation for her visit she had to confront not just a reflection made strange by the antiquated formality expected of her at her destination, but also an age old truth.

Very few people spent weeks and months of their lives trying to contort their minds into the right framework to use magic because they wanted to work towards the betterment of their fellow magicians. Having gotten past the threat of drawing a murderous mob in broad daylight, constrained or killed at the whim of some petty local potentate, most of the spell-weavers of the Scholarum were entirely content to follow their ambitions, be they in alchemy, in healing, in battle magic or judicial service.

Even those who chose to teach generally did so because it would leave them with a steady income near a well-stocked library where they might pursue personal projects. Mages who had been forged in fire, peril and death were growing fewer among the upper echelons of the organization as it expanded. It would be foolish to count upon sympathy to forge a shared sense of identity, such as was found in the first days after the raising of the Shadow Tower.

So it was a relief not to need that, the sense of guild belonging, or perhaps the mystery cult which in the tongue of Teana's birth could mean anything from an actual religion to a gathering of scholars with a particular focus.

From shadow to shadow she stepped, over the tamed seas and the lands less tame, to Oldtown by the farthest shore, and yet even there one could find the Inspector General Arcane in his two piece suit. Not a magician, not even close, but one most invested in making sure than magic was applied in accordance to the law and that mages were protected so long as they practiced thus.

There had already been cases of violence against the gifted here, generally against those whose affinity to the arcane came from the Far Realm, who had been shunned and cast aside by their fellows. As these unfortunates stepped, or at times crawled, into the light in the hope that imperial clemency was not a lie, they were often the targets of misplaced zeal and anger. How easily it might have grown to be more, a spark to tinder set.

That was why Teana Strycos stood in the square outside the Starry Sept and began to speak thusly: "My name is Teana of Volantis, and I was born a slave and a mummer. I was reborn a sorceress not through the gifts of some kindly power wishing to spare me of suffering, but through the malice of a wicked spirit that would have seen all of Volantis made cinder and ash." She looked over the crowd, half gawkers, half gimlet-eyed suspicion of those who had come to see the 'shadow witch', but here and there she saw small flyers, simple information written in their own tongue explaining in simple terms some of the very things she had come here to recount.

"I do not come here asking for sympathy for the girl I was then for behold she is no more. I stand in her place proud and free while She who sought to use me is no more. I ask instead that you consider your neighbors, your friends and your kin, and ponder what it might be that sees them touched by the strange and otherworldly. The touch of evil, you whisper, you fear, but be these evils ever so great they are not alone in weaving the fate of the world. Oft a perilous seed in fair soil shall bair fruit bear so long as we are not so foolish as to cast is aside..."

Teana spoke with cool confidence, not just from the experience of teaching, but secure in the knowledge that when she was gone those hardened paper sheets would still be there to echo her words with explanations and so would the men and women of the Ministry of Magic who had designed and printed them to the benefit of the still undiscovered mages of the city, though they themselves had not a spark of power.

The city of Oldtown is having problems with anti-magic violence. What should the government do?

[] Continue with the information campaign and prosecute crimes as they are found

[] Divert resources to find all the hidden mages, whether they wish to be found or not, for their own protection

[] Crack down hard on anti-magic sentiment while it is not yet organized

[] Write in

OOC: Background rolls ahoy. Not going to say what sort since it would be something of a spoiler.