Iris sat there across from her liege, feeling rather nauseous with each bump and sway of the carriage that carried them over many miles of dirt roads. If one listened closely, perhaps they’d hear a groan escape her lips from behind that expressionless mask she wore. Gods, if only she had been allowed to ride in her own separate carriage, she would’ve swiftly traversed the terrain through the bountiful shadows in nature and arrived at Vadrudor days ago. Surely there was a place she could hunker down in until the entourage arrived, no one would be the wiser of her absence.This torture of motion sickness was all for her liege though… it was all for him. Everything she did, every thought, every word was for him and him alone. Her very existence was now for Olosse, since the passing of the man who had given her… everything. 

At the mention of her name Iris perked up, trying to steady her mind as she pondered upon his question. There were rumors galore within the ranks of the shadowguard, but nothing could ever be concrete if one did not witness it themselves. But there was certainly more to it than that report held, those hazel green eyes gazing at Olosse from behind the shadows she had cast over the holes in her mask. Did he look more like his mother or the man she once served? It was so very hard to tell at times. 

“My liege, without confirming this information with my own eyes nothing is concrete. But we have heard… unsettling things, nonetheless. It is why I must implore you to allow me to stay by your side at all times, if these rumors are to be trusted.”

Iris shifted ever so slightly upon the red cushioned bench, her arms crossed under her rather ample chest whilst her left leg crossed over her right knee. Her uniform that she wore at all times was as pitch black as the midnight sky of Teraploise, the fabric tight against her skin which exposed her lithe yet slightly muscular build in her shoulders and back. Her legs though were an entirely different story, taught stocky muscles filled out the tight breathable fabric from calf to her well defined asset. In truth, perhaps she had taken more of a shine to running than she had to her sword and dagger training. But she’d never admit that, after all, she was supposed to be an expert in all manners of protection.

“Things in Vadrudor are far from ideal. The people are restless due to a group called Bludless who seek to usurp the throne and claim it as their own. They seek the destruction of the blue bloods, wanting to see a new face on not just Vadrudor’s throne but… everywhere.”

 It was clear from Iris’ tone that the idea did not sit well at all with her, but behind that mask the rage she felt towards these so called ‘warriors of the people’ was very clear. She had seen many groups like this when she lived her rather simple life in Terploise, even having been used as bait at one point to lure out usurpers who claimed they were the real king and her father was a fake. They wished for all of the king's children to die with him, that night still fresh in her mind as it was the first time she had seen her own blood. The scar just beside her belly button was plain as day even though nearly a decade had passed. Her other forgotten siblings though… they had not been so fortunate as to receive such a simple scar.

“This unrest harms the people, yes, but ultimately Bludless believes they are sending a message of their power to all the kingdoms. If they can do this… what else can they do? That is what worries me about this trip… things are escalating my liege and I do not wish to see your life snuffed out in the crossfire. Diplomacy is important but I cannot…”

Iris trailed off, she dared not finish her words stating the fact that she was terrified she’d lose another king. Those words dared not cross her full lips… so silence reigned over the carriage, uncomfortable in its overwhelming presence.