[b][u][center] Adjutor Insula[/center][/u][/b]

[center][b]Triumph[/b][/center]

The fires that had raged in Love were still smouldering in the city's innermost districts, despite the lavish attempt by the desperate members of the Hero's Road to quell them. The Palace of Truth, where the Lord Defender had heroically stood [i]to the last man[/i] against the tide of Karkarth was nothing but a hollow shell, owing the damage it sustained in the fighting. 

Six thousand people had died, many of them trapped by the flames set by the Karkarthian raiders. It had been a black day for Adjutor Insula, culminating in the greatest attrocity ever comitted on home soil. 

Furthermore, it would have appeared that some of the Sighing Hand's highest ranking officers had been slaughtered in the fighting; including Horse Master Jacbos of the Sighing Hand's cavalry wing, and First Captain Henrick, the Sighing Hand's infantry commander. Over seven hundred Sword Brothers were also killed, and were it not for a ten-thousand strong detachment returning to the city after performing mock manoeuvres, it is unclear whether or not Love would have fallen. 

The greatest tragedy of all, perhaps, is the unlawful and cowardly murder of Guide Charity IX. The Adjutor Order, the nation's provisional governing body, has declared a month of mourning, and has placed Adjutor Insula under a military lock down. The island's fleets have been recalled from their various missions, and will be docking at harbour for the duration of the crisis.

The Adjutor Order has called for a Council of Sorrow, an emergency meeting between branch members, to discuss the situation and to proclaim a new Guide. 

[center][b]Council of Sorrow[/b][/center]

"Karkarth would never invade us, not with their civil war broiling in the North Lands, it makes no sense," said Matron Scribe Marcella Colias, showing grave irritation. 

Marcus did not relent however; he had the high ground. Fear sweltered around him, he could feel it. The entire chamber was thick with the stuff, and he wasn't about to let one woman snatch away his chance. "The Scorched King is a war monger, this is well known, Sister," he said. "We are, as we have always been, a humble land with humble intent. That this has not happened sooner, is nothing short of a surprise."

Murmurs of agreement erupted from the many rows of wooden benches, as men and women threw their lot behind the Lord Defender. Adding to his brovado, was the gleaming suit of full plate he was wearing, despite the established dress code of robes and cotton. This was not wasted on Mercella. 

"Perhaps the Lord Defender's mind is clouded by his recent heroics," Marcella sneered. "Why does he wear the plate of war? Does he expect the Scorched King to march through the doors at any given moment?" 

Markus nodded grimly, "if he does, then I'm the last man left on this island capable of defending you." 

The murmurs exploded into heated debate, and calls of outrage. Marcus bowed his head as the storm of words swirled around him. To a keen eyed observer, they may have noticed a wide grin appear momentarily on his lips. 

Mercella shook her head in disgust. "Lord Defender, it is obvious to me," she shouted above the growing commotion, "that your mind is set to conflict, and not to diplomacy. That is not our way, it is not Adjutor Insula's way, and despite your undeniable bravery, I move to have you suspended from your position." 

Now the Lord Defender was angry. Who was this stupid, middle-yeared bitch to suggest his suspension? He was a hero! The people called his name. It was time to play his hand, to throw down all the cards. 

"War is coming, whether you want it or not, Matron Scribe," he snarled, standing from his chair. He waved a dismissive hand at her, and turned to the benches of the Order members. "Those of you who still have the will to save this land, to prevent a mass genocide of our people, and to extend the legacy of Adjutor Insula, come with me." Then he turned to leave, but before he left - and over the 90 decibel clamour - he clasped his hands over his mouth and shouted, "the rest of you, hide behind those that follow."

As he descended the many steps from the Council Chamber of Promise, in the city of Hope, he found himself excited. No doubt, he reasoned, Matron Scribe would rally many to her cause - enough to split the army. Adjutor Insula would plunge into civil war in short order, and it would be a battle that even if he won, the army would be too diminished to carry out his plans in his preferred time frame. 

The middle-yeared bitch was going to have to die, and the Lord Defender had found himself a natural in arranging untimely ends to untimely people.

With this in mind, he journeyed to Hope's Diversity District, home to a large portion of Hope's non-human population. There was someone he needed a favour from, before he could consider doing a favour for them.