When Iorelle opened her eyes that morning, she did not have the extrasensory perception of imminent danger in the crisp air. The petite woman was scrawled out in a tangle of her bed sheets and limbs, not all of which were her own. She pulled herself up and yawned, trying to free herself without waking her half-stranger of a bedmate. She staggered from the bedside once she managed to get her feet on the floor. The prone man mumbled but sighed backed into sleep. Iorelle stretched before lazily waltzing to her wardrobe and throwing on a long-sleeved green turtle neck and black trousers. The sun had not yet completely risen; she had always awoke with enough time to see it. She had partaken of the festivities last night, but her recreational substance of choice was herbage, and not alcohol, and so she walked to her balcony with a mind and body clear of any impairment. The excitement of the day before had still not left her. 

Aenys's rays graced the wondrous city under her gaze, and the native Mithreli smiled at the sight. It was really too bad that her smile was tarnished by panicked screaming in the distance. She narrowed her eyes, wondering who was disturbing the city so early and for what purpose, until horns blew in the distance. It took her a moment to remember what the pattern and tone meant for she had never heard them in actual use before. The city was under attack?! As she realized that she had not mistaken the alarm, a feeling of horror dawned in her mind like the sun, bursting out and covering all with it's fiery exuberance. Mouth agape, she backed inside quickly and closed and locked her balcony door. She whirled around, finding the man she barely remembered looking up at her.

"Good morn... What's going on outside?" Iorelle quickly found her armor and rushed into it, and roused Crythis with a gentle but fast prodding from her foot. The woman looked around frantically for a moment, before spotting her shortsword and hurriedly scoping it up and strapping it to her belt. "Hey!" The man was beside her and grabbed her arm, eyes wide with confusion.

"Don't you hear those horns, Thuralis?" She nearly screeched, recognizing the man as another who belonged here in the College. He walked over to the balcony and opened the door for the muffled alarms had not yet come so close to hear it through the building. Crythis was there, and he peered out curiously after the man left the door ajar. His face was pale when he returned, and he left Iorelle's room half naked without a word. For a moment, the inexperienced woman stood in shock staring wide-eyed at her familiar. The cat came and stood ready at her feet, butting his head on her leg in the direction of the door. She took a deep breath, collecting herself and reminded herself that not only was she trained with a blade but she had magic at her disposal too. She went to her bedside and reached inside, pulling out the Circlet of Seasons. It drummed in her hands. With an experienced hand she fitted the now golden jewelry under her thick hair, a few garnets poking through the waves of soft lavender. She straightened her armor, setting a determined look on her face. Slightly shaking she left her room and headed toward Professor Wassenolf's chambers. 

Although not founded on the idea of studying magic, the college, formally named Yurianiumal College after its founder, had become a deposit for those who did study catalysts and their practical applications for it was the largest and most prestigious institution of its like in Mithreal. And although not nearly a school of martial arts, the college also held many who studied the art of fighting. Over time, the college had become an effective additional force for the city, and the surrounding area could theoretically rely on them for protection if fighting came to the city proper. It was a force made primarily of people studying physical means, with those with magical catalysts and experienced professors that learned many different techniques from traveling added in here and there. They were not a formal part of the city's armed forces, but the college was recognized as having valuable assets of that nature. 

That was one reason why Iorelle was so agitated and anxious; this attack would not pass her by. She quickened her steps to Professor Wassenolf's chambers, many others rushing around as well in wake of their tumultuous awakenings. She met the man halfway but he did not give her good news. "Iorelle!" She whipped around at the voice, coming to the man's side and joining a small group he had assembled. She knew a few of them but she had not time to greet them as the professor continued in a rushed voice. "The eastern outpost is under attack from seafarers. We've already assembled small teams to go out and bolster the militia. Now, we're gathering the rest of our strength to lend to the Prince." With solemn nods the men and women were off, leaving Iorelle standing with a bit of helplessness in her eyes. Wassenolf took her head in his hands. "You are never alone, my dear, and you know how to protect yourself. Do not panic, but stay wary, and most of all do not get separated from your allies!" He hugged her fiercely before the two parted ways. Her mouth dry as sand, Iorelle watched his back before she went off to find where to report in.

In the few short hours that followed the initial surge of chaos, a force had amassed outside the college. The others who had departed that morning had trickled back in wake of the retreat. They were in no formal ranks or position, but they were still able-bodied men and women most of whom, Mithreal native or not, would fight to the death to protect their home. Iorelle was standing with a group who practiced magic similar to her own and other students were situated in such groups as well. A cacophony of a hundred voices resounded in the college's courtyard and beyond, but they were soon silenced when the Dean levitated above the entrance steps, his magical staff in hand. 

"The Prince-" a few cheers were sounded for him, "-is gathering his forces in the city at the stage under The Great Tree. We will give him our strength. Mithreal is ours to defend!" A raucous cheer erupted from the crowd as they, in droves, half marched half jogged from the courtyard and toward the tree. The college was not far from the center of the city, and the jog did nothing to diminish their energy. The students of the college congregated and left ample room for the Prince's other forces. Iorelle, standing with her group with alert eyes, was soon pulled away by her mentor. 

"I've spoken with the Dean and some others. Iorelle, we've decided that you would act as our intermediary with the Prince." Iorelle felt her heart drop into her stomach. She had to push her way through the crowd to keep up with Wassenolf. "The administrators are needed in the field; the have the most experience. It would not do to have someone who is not prepared for the fight to have the job, and when we were talking your name was the first to come up." Iorelle knew there were probably a few who had disagreed, but she knew the Dean personally. For once she didn't think that was a good thing. "Iorelle, we have one hundred and forty-three bodies to add to the force currently. Approximately forty of them are sorcerers. We are still gathering all of our strength." Iorelle swallowed thickly, realizing he was telling her this so she could relate it to the Prince. "If you need to contact any of us send a messenger. There are many who cannot fight but still wish to help." Iorelle hoped she qualified for the position, but she knew if she doubted herself she would wind up messing something up. The two made it through the crowd and Iorelle was left standing, staring up at the stage. The Prince was there, resplendent in glittering armor, and she swallowed again, this time tasting bile. "My dear," she turned to her mentor and realized he was trying to get her attention. "He is just a man. Do not be intimidated. I have faith in you." He bent forward and kissed her forehead. "Myself and others are returning to the college to make sure all are roused and aware of the situation. May Harinus walk with you, child." He walked off back to the college. 

Iorelle watched him go, trying to keep her legs from shaking. Crythis mewed sympathetically from beside her feet. She looked again at the Prince, and despite what she was just told she shuddered to think she was to be so close to a man with such a reputation. As a significant student at the college she had met many a dignitary and scholar but none matched the Prince's station. She steeled herself the best she could, straightening her tunic and taking a deep breath. She approached the stage, but did not walk onto it. She stood below looking up. When he was not otherwise engaged, Iorelle called up to the Prince. "Prince Anorath!" She stopped and bowed. "My name is Iorelle Reour'noe. I represent Yurianiumal College and its forces. We add our strength to yours." Her voice didn't quaver the way she thought it would.