[h1][center]Caernan Castle, Harksmoor, Kingdom of Gwethydd[/center][/h1]
[center][hider=Harksmoor][img]http://samlib.ru/img/b/bulgakow_j/katrinkikwanpisu/317848-sepik-1.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]

Caernan Castle had been the seat of power in the Green Kingdom of Gwethydd for centuries. It stood, crouching low over the city of Harksmoor, without enormous pomp or circumstance. The walls were of black stone and the entire structure seemed to face off aggressively against the wide open fields that ran up to the plateau on which the capital city sat. Despite its relatively low walls, it was possible for anyone within the castle to look out for miles across the fertile fields that surrounded the city, which season on season changed colour from brown to yellow to green, and from which a warm wind brought a constantly reassuring sweet smell. 

Hawksmoor itself encompassed this pastoral tradition, and instead of starting abruptly as many cities do with a hard gate and walls, sort of trickled into life as one approached the castle, with marble houses and buildings slowly becoming more densely packed as one moved closer to the centre. It was accessible primarily from a foot bridge that led up to the plateau on which it had been built. A smaller defensive wall surrounded the original location of the smaller city, which nowadays mainly consisted of the university and the castle, as well as the offices of the chancellor and the great white cathedral, whose marble parapets rose up as if to challenge the blackened stone of the castle in a show of dominance and opulence. 

The city's streets bustled with merchants and farmers coming and going along tight cobbled streets which occasionally opened up into great plazas of grass and citrus trees, with decorative fountains surrounded by beggars and musicians. Closer to the university and the castle, austere men in brown robes moved about clutching bundles of important and ancient looking scrolls, while litters carrying the noblewomen on their way between their rooms and the royal court lumbered portentously past. 

Inside the castle, a council was in session. The council chamber was located on the third floor of the castle, facing out over the wide expanse that seemed to continue until the horizon, at this time of year achingly green and only pock-marked occasionally with the flashes of brown that betrayed a village or hamlet. King Aethlar VI sat, facing the window, spinning a quill idly between his fingers as his assembled council spoke. His face was twisted into a look of distaste and idle boredom, and his free hand scratched at the hem of his green satin cloak. His hair was somewhat dishevelled and his pale cheeks reddened; as with most council sessions he had been out riding and had kept his distinguished councillors waiting until he had arrived back. 

"Your Majesty," spoke Lord Valdemar di Reckmansworth with a confidence that wavered on the edge of arrogance. The eldest son of the Count of Ygris thought that he had a special connection with Aethlar because they were technically cousins through the current count's marriage with Aethlar's aunt Gerberga, but Aethlar secretly detested the snivelling little scholarly Treasurer, who devoted his time equally between the chamber and the university, and not enough time at all in the field or in sport. "This is perhaps the moment that you will exercise the most influence over imperial affairs throughout your entire reign. The votes of the Electors will influence the character of the next few decades at least,"

"There are two candidates," added Eldarhar di Graeton. The chancellor of the university occupied his traditional position on the council as the Temple-Master - his responsibilities essentially comprised of ensuring that the royal family did not fall particularly behind on any new knowledge produced and disseminated throughout the Empire. Aethlar knew that his aunt Princess Alissera was particularly close to this member of her council, who she had had repatriated to his home province after many years with the Astronomers' Conclave in the Heartlands. "The choice is quite straightforward,"

Aethlar arched an eyebrow, turning to the assembled councillors. He drew a hand along his clean shaven jaw in a show of pensive thought. "Is it, my lords? Have you come to some accord without me?"

"Naturally of course not, your majesty," Valdemar tittered insipidly. "The two candidates are the Princes Jakinius and Ralltene,"

Aethlar let a small smile grace his features at the naming of the candidates. Jakinius was a warrior through and through; if he were to become Emperor it was certain that far-reaching military campaigns to the north and maybe even to the east would allow true-blooded men like the King of Gwethydd to finally have the opportunity to exercise their martial prowess. "Is the choice not obvious, my lords?" He said after a moment. "A merchant is not an emperor,"

The king stood abruptly, sweeping along the mahogany table and past his councillors. "It must be Jakinius," He nodded firmly, then made some steps towards the doors leading out to the fresh air of the outdoors and the promise of more jousting, horse-riding and general japery, when the doors burst open of their own accord. Aethlar stopped in his tracks. As the sunlight streamed through, a formidable silhouette projected itself across the room, and for a moment all the councillors shifted in their seats eagerly to see the source of the interruption, until the Queen-Mother stepped into the chamber, followed closely by the Queen. 

Hiltruda was wearing the long black cloak of the dowager, with her hair worn up in a collected style and gathered with fascinators of white pearls and glittering black gemstones. She was tall but sturdy looking, but her face was placid and diplomatic. Behind her, Eadrith stood in the loose fitting dresses of a pregnant lady, with her tied back behind her ears with a silver brooch. Only sixteen years old, her unremarkable features and slight frame meant that she seemed like a pixie beside her imposing mother-in-law. 

"My lords," Hiltruda said carefully. "I hope I am not interrupting,"

There was a moment of tense silence. The elderly Chamberlain of the Household Sir Rynwynd di Cantahard looked as if he was going to be roused to action by this breach of palace protocol; women were never permitted to sit in on council meetings, let alone the Queen-Mother, but was silenced by the savvy interruption of the illustrious Lord Valdemar.

"Your Majesties, we were discussing the upcoming Imperial election," He said with a small bow. "The king favours Prince Jakinius,"

"Jakinius?" The Queen-Mother said sceptically, arching an eyebrow disapprovingly at her son. The King almost seemed to shy away from her gaze, despite his physically imposing stature. "The warrior. I can see why my son might favour such a contender,"

"A king must be inspiring to his people," Aethlar argued. "The people of Gwethydd would not follow Lethlin if he were king. An emperor must be magnanimous. Not a penny-pinching spice-monger,"

"You would be well advised to speak more wisely in future," Hiltruda scolded. "If he is to become king, then such sentiments would be ill-advised. They are not the way of the Caernavir. Reconciliation,"

"From life comes light," Aethlar said with an air of resignation. "So you disagree with my choice, mother?"

"Perhaps," Hiltruda entered the room more fully, taking her seat at the spot of the absent Lord of the Wax Seals. The points were mooted at some length. The pregnant Eadrith was left to stand, forgotten by almost everyone in the proceedings, while Aethlar grew increasingly impatient with the verbosity of the discussions. 

Prince Jakinius was married to a Duvard. The Ignesians, like the Gwethyn, had traditionally been linked by their historical allegiance to the Empire; they had been the first and second kingdoms to 'bend the knee' to the Empress. If supporting Jakinius led to closer relations between the two realms, then a mutual trade agreement could be beneficial; Gwethydd exported timber and wine, and imported metal, after all. 

Prince Ralltene was married to the Elector of Violette. The rich and advanced Veletians had always been a source of envy for the more educated members of the upper classes in Gwethydd, and closer ties with them would allow for an influx of luxury goods and learning, and potentially beneficial access to international trade relationships. 

The discussion went on for some time. The Queen-Mother was against her own son, with the council split slightly in favour of the King. The Queen, who had managed to scavenge a window seat, was idly rubbing a hand over her belly when the increasingly frustrated Treasurer once again vented. "This is a choice of two!"

Eadrith turned, her blonde hair glittering in the sunlight as she surveyed the table, and she spoke for the first time since her arrival. "There is another way," She said with a small smile, and she caught Hiltruda's eyes for a brief, conspiratorial moment.