[b]Outside the Assembly, in the city of Cesia[/b]

The dusk was red as the day ended, and Speaker Tismar exited the great chamber of the Assembly exhausted. Observing the crimson glow, he wondered, as many of his forefathers did, at its cause. Some claimed that it was the soil, which reflected the red light through some unkown process. And yet others held that it was instead the shape of the mountains of the Cesian Valley, which funnel light in such a manner as it changed its color when the sun is at a sufficient angle. It didn't matter, he supposed, a simple state of being, a question for philosophers and restless nobles. They had the luxury to sit about and think about the mysteries of the world. But on Tismar's shoulders was placed the burden of maintaining the crumbling semblance of peace they had built for hundreds of years.

It had now been a week since the envoy to Norium returned, shamed. The Assembly's rage had not abated; If anything, it grew. Through subtle manipulating and backroom compromising, he was able to prevent the numerous declarations of war against the elves from being passed, but he could not continue for much longer. The common people were on the verge of rioting in protest at the perceived cravenness of the Assembly, and his fellow Councillors were not much easier to deal with. To make things more complicated, dissatisfied captains had taken it upon themselves to raid Norin merchant vessels, hiding their piracy behind patriotism. Yet they had now raided on several occasions Attolian traders, making his life that much harder. Both the Attolians and the Norins had to be assuaged. War was likely inevitable, yet he knew he had to fight against it until the last. Those crying for war were ignorant of the great plans that had been drawn up ages ago, of the pacts and alliances still in infancy, of the plots not yet brought to fruition. Already reports were returning from the ambassadors in Eastrise, speaking of their refusal to war against the elves. A war against Norium would have to come one day, but it had to be on Cesia's terms. This was all too soon, too unpredictable. A long, bloody war would only ruin Cesia.

Time was on their side. Norium was crumbling, slowly yet surely, under the weight of its own decadence. The monarchy was constantly under threat from the noble factions, seeking to assert their own autonomy. And peripheral cities were slipping out of its influence ever more rapidly. Yet for all that, it was still strong, and held many allies. War had to be avoided. It had to. Descending the stairs leading to the streets of Cesia, he motioned for his guards to follow him. They forced their way through the bustling streets. Though there were four of them shielding him, he might as well have been walking without guards, as the crowd simply swallowed them up. It wasn't long before a mangy commoner, with the look of a beggar and a wild stare, shoved into Tismar, bringing the old dwarf to his knees. "How dare you-" the speaker began as he got back up, outraged, reaching at his hurt stomarch...

..and feeling the handle of a knife, lodged withing his ribs. Blood pooled out of him, onto the street, and he fell back down. The beggar dragged him back up and, pulling out the dagger, stabbed Speaker Tismar once more, in the neck. One of his guards struck down the assassin. But by this time, the crowd had realized what had happened and who the noble was, the hated coward of the Assembly, and they jumped on the guards. Though the soldiers slew a few, they were beaten to death by the crazed mob, who raised up the beggar's corpse, hailing him as a martyr, and dragged the defunct Speaker's body to the market. His lifeless corpse was left on a stake there for days before any had the courage to take it down.