[@RomanAria][@HylianRose]

Zakroti was struggling to keep his eyes open, truth be told; He had not slept in the past few days and he did not trust Amaryllis enough to sleep in the carriage. The sun had risen a few hours ago and he guessed it was probably around half past ten. Zakroti listened with disinterest to the exchange of voices outside. After about half a minute and after the password had been given correctly, there was a loud screech as the large gates opened and the carriage passed through the walls. 

He turned his head to the window and peered out onto the grounds as they passed. The wall they just passed through was his own addition to the estate of his father. It acted as an outer wall some 70 meters from the inner wall, which was significantly taller. From its position on the tallest hill, Mu'Jupostat had excellent sightlines over the surrounding lands. Down below in the valleys lay the farms and villages that produced the majority of the tax income for this county. At the base of this hill lay the county town of Laloriayl, which was a moderately large town whose mayorship was currently held by Norlal, a veteran warrior who had used his spoils of war to invest in an array of businesses in the town and was now the towns richest (de facto) resident. This county composed part of the Duchy of Bloodstone (Muth a Varlasmorlas) , which in turn was part of the Grand Duchy of the West Marchlands (Muthseran a Osh Edehame)

Zakroti's alterations to his fathers estate did not halt at the addition of the outer wall; he had made a number of upgrades to the estate after he had exposed its weaknesses in seizing it and this outer wall. Some were simple and others were somewhat complex; He had adopted many ideas and recruited some of the greatest architects in the land to build his keep. That was, perhaps, a notable problem; while he did his best to feed the architects only what they individually needed to know, they inevitably has considerable knowledge about his upgrades. Ever a pragmatic man, Zakroti offered them a permanent contract at the end of the construction... And hung those who refused it. 

That aside, it was certainly one of his proudest accomplishments. Even if an attacker breached or seized the outer wall, they still had to climb the steep hill in order to reach the inner wall; As the two were not connected, it basically sent the attacker back to square one. What's more, the gate was not large enough to allow for the passing of siege towers meaning that an attacker would have to knock out an entire section of the wall or reassemble these dreaded machines on the other side; A great boon for the defenders. Zakroti had used siege towers to great affect in storming the sturdy walls previously and correctly identified them to be one of the best counters to his fathers holdings; Unbelievably, the Keep had been constructed in such a way that it was connected to the wall by two walls meaning that after seizing the wall the attacker could quite literally walk to roof of the Keep and storm it from there. The first thing Zakroti did when altering the estate was sever this connection and had it replaced by two shot Garden walls with iron gates instead.

The moat was not yet finished, but Zakroti believed it would be done before long; It was a large project and the cost had been considerable but the slaves were slowly yet surely getting it done. The drawbridge had already been installed, though as it was not yet connected to the moat it looked rather out of place.

One of the architects had devised a rather nasty surprise for an attacker who seized the outer wall and began to climb the bill towards the inner wall. Zakroti had been remarkably pleased with it and as a reward he had given the Barony of Mu'Nortam to the man.

They reached the second gateway and after another short exchange, it too creaked open to let them pass. To the left of here the Blacksmith, Fletcher and other workshops were visible, along with a couple of small houses built for the artisans families. To the right lay the drill grounds and the large barracks. Some 1000 warriors were currently having a formation hammered into them. Central before them lay the courtyard of the Manor, the keep of the stronghold. Around the courtyard lay a number of buildings; A granary, a dozen or so houses, an inn and a small market in the center, erected around the tall statue of Kastaki Unalim, the original founder of this holding. In one hand lay the sword and in the other a long scroll. The inscription, Zakroti remembered read "Mitta a fafana a doon dzi gua e lown jyl e lang Kastaki, wel a Naska, mittaze a Qaera, Muth a Varlasmoras e Seranze Aran a osh Edehame" which could be loosely translated as "Built in the spring of the Year three hundred and thirty two by Kastaki, son of Naska, bane of Qaera, Duke of Bloodstone and Petty King of the West Marchlands."

Beyond the courtyard lay the Keep, the crowning gem of the estate. It was very large and from the front appeared to be a rectangle, though Zakroti knew the back was not shaped as such. Tall towers on each corner crowned it, standing tall and proud; The towers of the outer and inner walls had Ballistae atop them, but these towers had no such engines. The roof was open and a handful of guardsmen were patrolling it in pair; In the center of the roof lay a dome structure, the tip of which was just visible from the carriage. Inside this keep lay the remaining facilities of the castle; Kitchens, servants quarters, dungeons. The Manor had not initially been built how it was now; Although impossible to tell from this distance if one walked along the wall and inspected it closely they could tell where the individual projects had ended and map out a basic timeline of the Manors evolution. Its thick stone bricks were neatly cut and several sections of it appeared almost monolithic. The main entrance to the Keep had two heavy oak wood doors that were braced with steel and the surrounding frame was decoratively carved.

Zakroti knew that behind this structure lay the gardens in which plants taken from all over the continent had been transplanted during various conflicts. He remembered how it was dotted with fountains and statues that had also been taken from the other nations during war; One of the few things he had shared with his father was a fondness for pillaging the works of other cultures and bringing them here and this extended to flora and indeed crops, as many a farmer below could attest.

"I trust my home does not disappoint you." Zakroti commented as he cast a glance towards Miry and Amaryllis. "I fear I must quickly lay the ground rules The second floor east wing is out of bounds, as are the dungeons and the barracks. My chambers too are out of bounds unless accompanied by myself or an officer of the guard. Do not attempt to pass the inner wall." Zakroti opened the carriage door and stepped down from it, motioning for the passengers to disembark before sending it on its way. "Breakfast is at 9, Dinner at 1, Tea at 5. I shall show you to your rooms once inside; As you will soon find it is quite a large building, but the 'servants' would be glad to point you in the right direction I am sure of it."

"Uncle!" A voice called as a young girl scurried over, her face red with rage. Black locks fell around the shoulders of her red dress, scandalously short cut to her knees! She was very young; Not to the Gems of course, she was almost 30 of their years after all, but when you considered that the Drakken lived for centuries- She was little more than an adolescent girl. A few more years and she would grow into a lady; He'd ensure that, at least. "Jubal just insulted me... Publically!" Zakroti cocked an eyebrow as he turned to regard her

"Silnor, Gais kor jusla tre ro?"

"Tre kor 'No one would marry you, you're an ugly cow'!" Silnor pointed her arm towards the market to signal out where Jubal was. Zakroti was hardly surprised at this, Jubal had made it quite clear he disliked his sister from the day the pair had first met. He sighed weakly before speaking

"Silnor, te odad wre jusla filok rof. Jubal..."

"Wre kor zu tre kor..." Silnor began, trailing off and looking at Zakroti with expectant eyes

"Vivpre; o jusla Gaikus kor kala tre. Kree Silnor, wre jusla filok rof." Zakroti sighed again, glancing towards Gaikus and nodding with his head toward the market. The blackguard grunted lightly and moved off swiftly. Zakroti turned his gaze back down to the young Drakken. "Silnor, where are the others?"

"Jubal is in the market as I just said. Ayltam was painting in the gallery when I left her, Roftaki is training with the Marshall, I don't know where Silte is; Probably with the blacksmiths boy again, she is so infatuated with him."

"She is too young."

"You are as astute as Father Rags when it comes to our age." Silnor mentioned her head towards the Manor as she said that. Father Rags was the name given to the Priest of the Chapel here by his nieces and nephews when they were still children. His real name and title was Bishop Krepre. Even then he was old, by now the man was ancient. He was well over 600 years old and always dressed in the same tattered old robe. Not to mention, Krepre had lost most of his teeth and his hair, with only a handful of wispy white clumps remaining on his wrinkled skin. Half blind, and quickly losing his grip on reality as age took him; He looked more like a tramp than a priest. Zakroti should probably have made him retire to a monastery years ago, but he had a feeling old Father Rags would put up a bigger fight than any of his previous foes ever had if Zakroti tried to remove him from his little chapel. Thankfully, his two laymen seemed content to guide and care for the old man, if only because each wanted to be named his successor. He'd give it a few years, surely Krepre couldn't cling to life much longer.

"Bishop Krepre." Zakroti corrected, causing Silnor to nod in resignation "Silnor, norze wre." The young woman nodded weakly once more and turned herself towards the two Gems, eying them indignantly.

"My name is Silnor of Unalim, pleasured to make your acquaintance." The words were civil enough but her tone certainly wasn't. Zakroti grimaced; Silnor hadn't the fondest experiences with Gem women in the past and he couldn't help but suspect that could cause him some trouble. On the other hand, it may lead them to avoid each other all together, which he wasn't at all opposed to; Drakken rarely left things alone, however. "And you two- Ladies, are...?" The girl trailed off, a somewhat disdainful tone slipping into her voice as she called them "ladies"

"Silnor, kas." Zakroti grunted, catching Silnor's glance and cutting in. The young girl rolled her eyes lightly, secure in the knowledge that her uncle could not see her face, before putting on the politest tone she could muster 

"I did not mean to sound as such; I am sure you will both make wonderful ladies of the court and I apologise for any offence I might have caused." The look on her face, however implied that she truly wanted to beat everyone present half to death.