Turn 8--Results, D
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 8--Results, D
[x] Pao of Lineage Isanaori: Of an ancient lineage that has deep roots in Hari-Os, he's surprisingly loyal despite the likely betrayal of his province, and this itself might serve as a symbol, on top of his definite skill and understanding of the waterways. He might be able to help with transportation of goods in several cases, and he's certainly going to helpful in dealing with the enemy's more mobile units.
[X] Jin'ha: The cousin of a prominent local businessman, he has risen rapidly in the esteem of the army in the area. More specifically, he's known for his knowledge of the local terrain of Csrae, and his skill at hunting out bandits. However, he might not be the best choice once the terrain shifts into Irit, but there is plenty to be done in Csirit the city that he could be tasked with.
[X] Jun: A slayer of bandits and writer of accounts, he seems in some ways a boastful man, clearly overstating his capacity for work. And yet he's also known for his quick, decisive action in tough moments, and for his willingness both to obey the rules of his superiors while understanding that in battle there is often confusion and uncertainty.
[X] Niu of Lineage Yantae: A soft man, in fact a bureaucrat by profession, but one who despite his clean hands has a family whose military background goes back five generations. He's neat, cultured, and clean, Kuojah's man to the core, but has a definite understanding both of logistics and cannons and the latest technological problems. He would not do well on a battlefield, but generals are needed for far more than that.
The choices were not simple, in one sense. Jun, for instance, was a man who had managed to impress Kiralo despite his boasting, not because of it. And more than that, as the days began to slowly slip by, he was aware more and more that each choice was pressing him onward. Like a man on the river, paddling faster and faster until he was caught at last in the rapids of the river, drawn and thrown about.
At the mercy of the Gods whether he'd arrive on dry land or not. Would Jin'ha be helpful here, or on the road, or--
Every question formed more questions. Every problem seemed at once intractable and simple. Kiralo walked through the halls almost at a sprint, he bathed so quickly as to barely immerse himself in water, scrubbing fast and desperately. He ate what he needed, and no more, and had to hope that it was enough.
Because the letter was coming. It would arrive soon. And then war would be officially declared.
At least his connections to Jin'ha had put the city on a good footing. Its merchants would report to a number of administrators who would oversee the matter. The Emperor would be safe, and more than that, the people would be kept carefully ignorant if a defeat happened. War was not long in the songs or stories, battles followed battles followed battles. In a single day, the Empire could be lost, but Kiralo was not going to gamble everything.
He wasn't, but what about Prince Jinhai? Cs-Pao had not known anything more about him, and Prince Jinhai was no fool.
But did that mean he didn't gamble? Because ultimately, this entire endeavor was an ambitious gamble. Just as Kiralo's arrival had been. If he had merely wished to have wealth and power of a more traditional sense, he could have sought them any number of ways. Heck, he could have gone to court for a time to attempt to put in place men who would at least listen to him. Kuojah hadn't trusted him, but Kuojah was old. He wanted more power than could be held in any man's hands but an Emperor, and that itself was a form of madness.
Kiralo wouldn't pick up the title of Emperor, he'd all but hinted at to Kueli, if it was dropped at his feet. He would take cloth and cover it, and allow its proper owner to grab it up and resume its use. To be an Emperor seemed a miserable burden, but it was one many sought in their darkest hearts.
The city was stretched out before Kiralo, and he looked down on it as he had once looked down on another city. Was it being offered then?
Certainly if he had killed the son of another prince and married his daughter, there was an outside chance he'd now by the Prince of a Southlander city. Powerful, wealthy, but unstable.
And now he was powerful, wealthy, but unstable in a very different place. Sometimes when one chose not to gamble once, one chose when the dice came around again to put your coins in, heap them up against the certainty of ruin, and see what the bones said.
The city would keep, or it would fall. That was an inane statement, and yet it was the most true one he could think of. He was not going to be leaving immediately, not even close. In fact, it would be a long time indeed, by comparison to his haste, before he left. Months of preparation before they were ready to leave.
But he would not be able to talk to Kuojah without the war in his voice. His father. That meant very little. In the Southlands, family mattered deeply, and yet brothers killed brothers with stunning regularity for power. At the highest rungs of society, blood was something you slipped on, and plunged down to your doom if you allowed it to rest as it did, trusting in its bonds.
Slick were the rungs, and greased was the horse that the Prince rode without a saddle.
Hari-Su needed to understand that. This was Kiralo's message. That relying on a hope that a man rising from nowhere would ascend to the Imperial throne was banking on failure. The inevitably of victory was not what Kiralo said, but it was what he hinted in the letters. Of course, Kiralo's step-sister in Hari-Su knew this more than anyone else. She would die, if the Emperor was deposed.
She feared for her life, he'd bet, far more than she wanted to continue her actions against the Governor. Would he respond favorably to Kiralo's letter, and the message that came ahead, of Jinhai's trial? If he didn't, then it would be to loyal vassals to manipulate the game. The Governor was a smart man, he would understand when he was outmaneuvered, and in Hari-Su they feared the Southland as only men who were half of Southlandish blood could. Not all of them, but the intermingling had definitely happened, and while the Governor himself was pure-blooded Csirit of Iritian stock, as his family had been for the century that he'd been in charge, before the last governor...this was not a state that could be achieved at every level.
Not without disqualifying too much competence. The civil service exams, which would not go through this year, were rigid in some ways, and they encouraged an understanding of Csiritan culture and scholarship that could not rest easy with Southlander religion and poetry, but they did not forbid one from taking the exam. It was carefully fair, in ways that he knew meant that a scholar needed to pretend to certain things.
But Kiralo could not blame this on Kuojah, it was traditional. And more than that, he could not even think it all that wrong. After all, ultimately, there was something to be said for preventing impious men, incapable of understanding Csirit enough to serve as scholars and officials, from gaining power and precedence.
Those who had other beliefs but could learn to hide them were one thing, and certainly Kiralo understood the dangers of Yeadalt, of pinning in a group of heretics and people of different, non-Irit based stocks, more and more of them, until they became a seething mass, a barely manageable province. And Kuojah had cut off some of their paths to advancement and power, bottled them up.
Yet he was unwilling to take what some might have thought the necessary step if one was to refuse to conciliate with them. What had been the necessary step. Killing those that got out of line, driving them from villages into a city where they could be watched in one segment of it...all sorts of means and methods of past control in the last few centuries. The worst of both worlds, as Kiralo understood it.
He would change the world, but that was the world he lived in. And probably would for years, perhaps decades to come. It took time. Change too fast was like a river breaking through a dam, when change should be like the water of a bath slowly rising to cover all in warmth.
At least, that is what he had always been taught, and what Kuojah believed.
******
"Tomorrow, most likely," Kiralo said to Kuojah, kneeling in front of him, glancing at the tea set. It was the most lovely he had ever seen, and the old man sitting across from him, his father, seemed in fine health, compared to last winter.
"Good. Its arrival will change things," Kuojah admitted, "Perhaps for the better, since it's clear now that he would never be satisfied. If not war, he would try to sabotage things in peacetime, and so to stand out in the open means he might die."
"I'll see what I can do, Cs-Kuojah," Kiralo said with a polite smile, "But I do have to ask...what do you intend to do with this court?"
"Keep it from panicking." Kuojah shook his head and asked, his voice low, "What are our odds?"
"Better than they could be." Kiralo sipped his tea, allowing the flavors to sooth his mood, which was jumpy, even nervous. He was aware of the many ways that disaster could slip in unseen. "Worse than I might dream of starting with."
"I trust you," Kuojah said, "To act in the way you think best. Should you live, Cs-Kiralo, you are my heir."
"Ah?" Kiralo asked, looking at his father. "Is death staring you so close in the face?"
"No. Not at all. The Emperor will be taught to the best of my ability, but I understand that when I die the river will wash clean much good and ill." He shook his head, "I have made mistakes, and you are so young, so young that you are sure you will not if you held my power."
"Maybe I would make different mistakes, but your mistakes have brought us here," Kiralo said, his voice harsh, "Perhaps different mistakes would send us to different battles? And yet, here we are."
"Perhaps this is fair. But perhaps it is not," Kuojah said, drinking his tea carefully, sipping it, staring across at Kiralo, those long, delicate fingers of his curled around the cup. "What you must understand is that if I was guilty of half of what I am blamed for, then I would be a monster without master, a man who not only sometimes guided the Emperor, but was in fact the Emperor in more than name and function. If I had that kind of control, then do you think I wouldn't have made the world better? If I could have acted in a way that would always get good outcomes? If I could sing and the air could hear my words, if I could write and the world might read them? That is why I have asked into your beliefs, I have asked into your loyalty, then and now and forever, and found them strong, but sure of far too many things."
"You said you are not guilty of everything that others say you are?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes."
"Did you abandon my mother? Did you try to take me from her?" Kiralo asked, raising his voice, "The very reasons you give betray the truth. If you want to know what I think, I think that we are strong enough that we do not need to close ourselves off. That our wealth might aid the world, but the world might also aid our wealth. Our power. That we might create an even more perfect and mighty Empire."
"And so you discuss and treat with Anlans? You would have the Southland borders thrown open, the northern borders explored, even though the people beyond seem to be barbarians?" Kuojah asked, hoarsely, sounding tired. "We have tried to treat with them. War is an extension of commerce, far too often." Kuojah shrugged, "I do not expect you to understand, I do not expect you to agree."
"Good, then," Kiralo said. "Then know this. I wish you no special harm. Maybe once I did, but meeting you has shown me the truth. You are not a monster that I can slay, even if I wanted to anymore. You had something. You know that, don't you? For the first time in your life, I suspect, a woman loved you without reservations."
"She took my son from me, she took the you that would not be sitting here insulting his father."
Kiralo spread his arms, "I will be judged for my impiety, my lack of filial respect. I welcome it, as all people welcome judgement. But tell me. Did you love her?"
"Love has nothing to do with marriage," Kuojah said.
"That makes it all the more special, doesn't it?" Kiralo asked, "A fluke. A fluke. And you failed. You could not bend enough. Your enemies might have muttered, but so what? Your wife might have been annoyed, but she died not that long after. There are competing levels of morality!" Kiralo stood up, setting down the cup, which sloshed a little, "So if you truly wish for me to go out, if you lack the bravery to face that sometimes there are situations in which you must bend, then I ask something as you. Consider it all of the payment."
Kiralo shook his head, "Your wealth would be nice, your positions, your lands...do not think I am a man without ambitions, and without something to covet. But I would give all of it up if you would do one thing."
"What?" Kuojah asked, coldly.
"She loved you even after she left. If I survive, or if I don't and you still have the power to act--"
Kuojah winced, his eyes showing a strange tenderness.
"I might die. Perhaps the odds are better than good," Kiralo said, with a shrug, "That is war." He wasn't afraid. He'd seen death close up, had brushed past it like a strange spirit whose name he didn't know, and it had power over him, yes, but only so much. "Bring her home. Bury her in a pool in the area of the park I am sure you have picked out. Next to you. Perhaps near a tree, like those she knew as a girl. Do that, please. I know it is in your power. I know you know where she was buried. When the war ends, perhaps it will be a low priority, but is not old age the time to confront these things?"
He found that his eyes were hot, and he stood, turning his face into a mask, "Excuse me...father. I shall take my leave."
He turned, and left.
******
"So he seeks to defy the Will of the Emperor?" a young boy boomed, his every word rehearsed, as he stepped down from the lily seat and began to walk towards the stairs. "I ask then, who here will stand with their Emperor? Need I even ask? Need it even be a question that this is the worst treason in the history of the last century? My own relative, a cousin not so distant, has defied the Gods and all good people."
People roared their affirmation.
"I demand him brought here, living or dead, to answer for his crimes. To answer for what he has done," the Emperor said, "War is upon us, and all that do not stand with their rightful ruler are doomed."
The boy looked around, and Kiralo stepped forward and threw himself to the ground.
"Rise, Kiralo. An army may be needed in order to put to flight this cowardly rebel and his small band of degenrate followers. As my Envoy, you are vested with the power to do what you wish in my name, in regards to the army."
Kiralo did not nod.
He listened, he knew. This was another moment, like his investment as Envoy. A war had begun.
Several paintings would depict this in the centuries to come, several accounts, several novels based around these days.
The war that would be known by a dozen names began here, or so people think, if it began anywhere.
The eyes of fate, of the Gods, to the extent that they did not gaze north towards a new chapter of history, the eyes of scholars then and later. All gazed upon him. Judged him.
None, then, with any sense envied him.
*****
A/N: Alright, and so here we go! So, the war turn is next. That'll be a journey and a half.
[x] Pao of Lineage Isanaori: Of an ancient lineage that has deep roots in Hari-Os, he's surprisingly loyal despite the likely betrayal of his province, and this itself might serve as a symbol, on top of his definite skill and understanding of the waterways. He might be able to help with transportation of goods in several cases, and he's certainly going to helpful in dealing with the enemy's more mobile units.
[X] Jin'ha: The cousin of a prominent local businessman, he has risen rapidly in the esteem of the army in the area. More specifically, he's known for his knowledge of the local terrain of Csrae, and his skill at hunting out bandits. However, he might not be the best choice once the terrain shifts into Irit, but there is plenty to be done in Csirit the city that he could be tasked with.
[X] Jun: A slayer of bandits and writer of accounts, he seems in some ways a boastful man, clearly overstating his capacity for work. And yet he's also known for his quick, decisive action in tough moments, and for his willingness both to obey the rules of his superiors while understanding that in battle there is often confusion and uncertainty.
[X] Niu of Lineage Yantae: A soft man, in fact a bureaucrat by profession, but one who despite his clean hands has a family whose military background goes back five generations. He's neat, cultured, and clean, Kuojah's man to the core, but has a definite understanding both of logistics and cannons and the latest technological problems. He would not do well on a battlefield, but generals are needed for far more than that.
The choices were not simple, in one sense. Jun, for instance, was a man who had managed to impress Kiralo despite his boasting, not because of it. And more than that, as the days began to slowly slip by, he was aware more and more that each choice was pressing him onward. Like a man on the river, paddling faster and faster until he was caught at last in the rapids of the river, drawn and thrown about.
At the mercy of the Gods whether he'd arrive on dry land or not. Would Jin'ha be helpful here, or on the road, or--
Every question formed more questions. Every problem seemed at once intractable and simple. Kiralo walked through the halls almost at a sprint, he bathed so quickly as to barely immerse himself in water, scrubbing fast and desperately. He ate what he needed, and no more, and had to hope that it was enough.
Because the letter was coming. It would arrive soon. And then war would be officially declared.
At least his connections to Jin'ha had put the city on a good footing. Its merchants would report to a number of administrators who would oversee the matter. The Emperor would be safe, and more than that, the people would be kept carefully ignorant if a defeat happened. War was not long in the songs or stories, battles followed battles followed battles. In a single day, the Empire could be lost, but Kiralo was not going to gamble everything.
He wasn't, but what about Prince Jinhai? Cs-Pao had not known anything more about him, and Prince Jinhai was no fool.
But did that mean he didn't gamble? Because ultimately, this entire endeavor was an ambitious gamble. Just as Kiralo's arrival had been. If he had merely wished to have wealth and power of a more traditional sense, he could have sought them any number of ways. Heck, he could have gone to court for a time to attempt to put in place men who would at least listen to him. Kuojah hadn't trusted him, but Kuojah was old. He wanted more power than could be held in any man's hands but an Emperor, and that itself was a form of madness.
Kiralo wouldn't pick up the title of Emperor, he'd all but hinted at to Kueli, if it was dropped at his feet. He would take cloth and cover it, and allow its proper owner to grab it up and resume its use. To be an Emperor seemed a miserable burden, but it was one many sought in their darkest hearts.
The city was stretched out before Kiralo, and he looked down on it as he had once looked down on another city. Was it being offered then?
Certainly if he had killed the son of another prince and married his daughter, there was an outside chance he'd now by the Prince of a Southlander city. Powerful, wealthy, but unstable.
And now he was powerful, wealthy, but unstable in a very different place. Sometimes when one chose not to gamble once, one chose when the dice came around again to put your coins in, heap them up against the certainty of ruin, and see what the bones said.
The city would keep, or it would fall. That was an inane statement, and yet it was the most true one he could think of. He was not going to be leaving immediately, not even close. In fact, it would be a long time indeed, by comparison to his haste, before he left. Months of preparation before they were ready to leave.
But he would not be able to talk to Kuojah without the war in his voice. His father. That meant very little. In the Southlands, family mattered deeply, and yet brothers killed brothers with stunning regularity for power. At the highest rungs of society, blood was something you slipped on, and plunged down to your doom if you allowed it to rest as it did, trusting in its bonds.
Slick were the rungs, and greased was the horse that the Prince rode without a saddle.
Hari-Su needed to understand that. This was Kiralo's message. That relying on a hope that a man rising from nowhere would ascend to the Imperial throne was banking on failure. The inevitably of victory was not what Kiralo said, but it was what he hinted in the letters. Of course, Kiralo's step-sister in Hari-Su knew this more than anyone else. She would die, if the Emperor was deposed.
She feared for her life, he'd bet, far more than she wanted to continue her actions against the Governor. Would he respond favorably to Kiralo's letter, and the message that came ahead, of Jinhai's trial? If he didn't, then it would be to loyal vassals to manipulate the game. The Governor was a smart man, he would understand when he was outmaneuvered, and in Hari-Su they feared the Southland as only men who were half of Southlandish blood could. Not all of them, but the intermingling had definitely happened, and while the Governor himself was pure-blooded Csirit of Iritian stock, as his family had been for the century that he'd been in charge, before the last governor...this was not a state that could be achieved at every level.
Not without disqualifying too much competence. The civil service exams, which would not go through this year, were rigid in some ways, and they encouraged an understanding of Csiritan culture and scholarship that could not rest easy with Southlander religion and poetry, but they did not forbid one from taking the exam. It was carefully fair, in ways that he knew meant that a scholar needed to pretend to certain things.
But Kiralo could not blame this on Kuojah, it was traditional. And more than that, he could not even think it all that wrong. After all, ultimately, there was something to be said for preventing impious men, incapable of understanding Csirit enough to serve as scholars and officials, from gaining power and precedence.
Those who had other beliefs but could learn to hide them were one thing, and certainly Kiralo understood the dangers of Yeadalt, of pinning in a group of heretics and people of different, non-Irit based stocks, more and more of them, until they became a seething mass, a barely manageable province. And Kuojah had cut off some of their paths to advancement and power, bottled them up.
Yet he was unwilling to take what some might have thought the necessary step if one was to refuse to conciliate with them. What had been the necessary step. Killing those that got out of line, driving them from villages into a city where they could be watched in one segment of it...all sorts of means and methods of past control in the last few centuries. The worst of both worlds, as Kiralo understood it.
He would change the world, but that was the world he lived in. And probably would for years, perhaps decades to come. It took time. Change too fast was like a river breaking through a dam, when change should be like the water of a bath slowly rising to cover all in warmth.
At least, that is what he had always been taught, and what Kuojah believed.
******
"Tomorrow, most likely," Kiralo said to Kuojah, kneeling in front of him, glancing at the tea set. It was the most lovely he had ever seen, and the old man sitting across from him, his father, seemed in fine health, compared to last winter.
"Good. Its arrival will change things," Kuojah admitted, "Perhaps for the better, since it's clear now that he would never be satisfied. If not war, he would try to sabotage things in peacetime, and so to stand out in the open means he might die."
"I'll see what I can do, Cs-Kuojah," Kiralo said with a polite smile, "But I do have to ask...what do you intend to do with this court?"
"Keep it from panicking." Kuojah shook his head and asked, his voice low, "What are our odds?"
"Better than they could be." Kiralo sipped his tea, allowing the flavors to sooth his mood, which was jumpy, even nervous. He was aware of the many ways that disaster could slip in unseen. "Worse than I might dream of starting with."
"I trust you," Kuojah said, "To act in the way you think best. Should you live, Cs-Kiralo, you are my heir."
"Ah?" Kiralo asked, looking at his father. "Is death staring you so close in the face?"
"No. Not at all. The Emperor will be taught to the best of my ability, but I understand that when I die the river will wash clean much good and ill." He shook his head, "I have made mistakes, and you are so young, so young that you are sure you will not if you held my power."
"Maybe I would make different mistakes, but your mistakes have brought us here," Kiralo said, his voice harsh, "Perhaps different mistakes would send us to different battles? And yet, here we are."
"Perhaps this is fair. But perhaps it is not," Kuojah said, drinking his tea carefully, sipping it, staring across at Kiralo, those long, delicate fingers of his curled around the cup. "What you must understand is that if I was guilty of half of what I am blamed for, then I would be a monster without master, a man who not only sometimes guided the Emperor, but was in fact the Emperor in more than name and function. If I had that kind of control, then do you think I wouldn't have made the world better? If I could have acted in a way that would always get good outcomes? If I could sing and the air could hear my words, if I could write and the world might read them? That is why I have asked into your beliefs, I have asked into your loyalty, then and now and forever, and found them strong, but sure of far too many things."
"You said you are not guilty of everything that others say you are?" Kiralo asked.
"Yes."
"Did you abandon my mother? Did you try to take me from her?" Kiralo asked, raising his voice, "The very reasons you give betray the truth. If you want to know what I think, I think that we are strong enough that we do not need to close ourselves off. That our wealth might aid the world, but the world might also aid our wealth. Our power. That we might create an even more perfect and mighty Empire."
"And so you discuss and treat with Anlans? You would have the Southland borders thrown open, the northern borders explored, even though the people beyond seem to be barbarians?" Kuojah asked, hoarsely, sounding tired. "We have tried to treat with them. War is an extension of commerce, far too often." Kuojah shrugged, "I do not expect you to understand, I do not expect you to agree."
"Good, then," Kiralo said. "Then know this. I wish you no special harm. Maybe once I did, but meeting you has shown me the truth. You are not a monster that I can slay, even if I wanted to anymore. You had something. You know that, don't you? For the first time in your life, I suspect, a woman loved you without reservations."
"She took my son from me, she took the you that would not be sitting here insulting his father."
Kiralo spread his arms, "I will be judged for my impiety, my lack of filial respect. I welcome it, as all people welcome judgement. But tell me. Did you love her?"
"Love has nothing to do with marriage," Kuojah said.
"That makes it all the more special, doesn't it?" Kiralo asked, "A fluke. A fluke. And you failed. You could not bend enough. Your enemies might have muttered, but so what? Your wife might have been annoyed, but she died not that long after. There are competing levels of morality!" Kiralo stood up, setting down the cup, which sloshed a little, "So if you truly wish for me to go out, if you lack the bravery to face that sometimes there are situations in which you must bend, then I ask something as you. Consider it all of the payment."
Kiralo shook his head, "Your wealth would be nice, your positions, your lands...do not think I am a man without ambitions, and without something to covet. But I would give all of it up if you would do one thing."
"What?" Kuojah asked, coldly.
"She loved you even after she left. If I survive, or if I don't and you still have the power to act--"
Kuojah winced, his eyes showing a strange tenderness.
"I might die. Perhaps the odds are better than good," Kiralo said, with a shrug, "That is war." He wasn't afraid. He'd seen death close up, had brushed past it like a strange spirit whose name he didn't know, and it had power over him, yes, but only so much. "Bring her home. Bury her in a pool in the area of the park I am sure you have picked out. Next to you. Perhaps near a tree, like those she knew as a girl. Do that, please. I know it is in your power. I know you know where she was buried. When the war ends, perhaps it will be a low priority, but is not old age the time to confront these things?"
He found that his eyes were hot, and he stood, turning his face into a mask, "Excuse me...father. I shall take my leave."
He turned, and left.
******
"So he seeks to defy the Will of the Emperor?" a young boy boomed, his every word rehearsed, as he stepped down from the lily seat and began to walk towards the stairs. "I ask then, who here will stand with their Emperor? Need I even ask? Need it even be a question that this is the worst treason in the history of the last century? My own relative, a cousin not so distant, has defied the Gods and all good people."
People roared their affirmation.
"I demand him brought here, living or dead, to answer for his crimes. To answer for what he has done," the Emperor said, "War is upon us, and all that do not stand with their rightful ruler are doomed."
The boy looked around, and Kiralo stepped forward and threw himself to the ground.
"Rise, Kiralo. An army may be needed in order to put to flight this cowardly rebel and his small band of degenrate followers. As my Envoy, you are vested with the power to do what you wish in my name, in regards to the army."
Kiralo did not nod.
He listened, he knew. This was another moment, like his investment as Envoy. A war had begun.
Several paintings would depict this in the centuries to come, several accounts, several novels based around these days.
The war that would be known by a dozen names began here, or so people think, if it began anywhere.
The eyes of fate, of the Gods, to the extent that they did not gaze north towards a new chapter of history, the eyes of scholars then and later. All gazed upon him. Judged him.
None, then, with any sense envied him.
*****
[] Near Southland Temptations x2
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+10=93, 27
[] A Father's Decision
Need: 20, Rolled: 1d100+12=59
[] Watching the City
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+8=50
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+10=93, 27
[] A Father's Decision
Need: 20, Rolled: 1d100+12=59
[] Watching the City
Need: 30, Rolled: 1d100+8=50
A/N: Alright, and so here we go! So, the war turn is next. That'll be a journey and a half.