[center]Imperial Palace, Kinthar City, Kinthari Imperium[/center]

Bel’adir looked down over the throne room, seated as he was on the Obsidian Throne, raised on a dais of thirty steps, the room was filled with nobles petitioning for some action or another, or funds for some trade endeavour, but these people could wait, it was the raggedly robed elf standing between four Swordmasters that drew his attention at this time. Some hours ago, at first light, this elf appeared at the city gates, demanding a meeting with him, the Emperor of the Imperium, and now here he stood, in the centre of the Imperial Palace, surrounded by nobles and the greatest warriors within the Imperium, an honour few managed to attain in the state this elf currently stood, he was unshaven and unkept, a complete disgrace to the average elf of Kinthar, and by the smell the elf hadn’t bathed in a long time either. The elf was silent, but Bel’adir couldn’t help but notice the smirk barely hidden beneath the mess of hair that covered his face.

“You have received your audience, elf, now tell me who you are, and why you feel entitled to demanding an audience?” said Bel’adir, looking down over the filled throne room.

“Very well, I am Rada’garh, formerly of the Mages Tower, and I offer my services to the Imperium once more,” said the elf, with a slight bow.

His next words were caught in his throat, as he opened his eyes he saw the blades of the Swordmasters raised and held at the ready, two were even inches from his neck, their keen blades throwing off cold magic that were different from what the other Swordmasters in the room current gave off. He smiled as he realised what had happened, Cyrene knew he had returned, and instead of assigning Swordmasters, as their attire suggested, she had put Sigil Guard in their place, the runes on their weapons could kill magic rather easily, they were what made the Sigil Guard so deadly to mages, but Rada’garh knew the truth of those runes, they didn’t work all the time, but with two of the blades so close to his neck he didn’t wish to test the theory. Even as he realised what his former friend had done, he saw her step from the shadows, she was as beautiful as the day he courted her, but he saw the momentary flicker from one of the Swordmasters standing behind the Obsidian Throne.

“Lady Ravenhair, I believe you are to blame for my new friends here,” said Rada’garh, his discomfort hidden behind his façade of emotionless that had served him well in the wilds.

“Indeed,” was all she said, standing next to the Emperor.

“Should we trust this elf, Lady Cyrene?” asked Bel’adir, uneasy with the easy words the elf had spoken to the Archmage of the Imperium.

“Honestly? No, my Emperor, this elf betrayed many of the Mages Tower some sixty years ago, and the Sigil Guard have hunted him for some time in hopes of capturing him,” said Cyrene quietly.

“What do you suggest? Magic is your area of expertise,”

“I believe the Lord Draugithar’nuin should decide his fate, I’m too involved on the matter, as are many of the Tower, Rada’garh is a powerful mage, and his time in the wilds may have made him stronger, but I have little trust an elf who will betray his kin for foolish ideas,”

“Very well,” said Bel’adir, standing from the throne. “Guards, take this elf to the Sun Tower, and see to it he is bathed, and dressed appropriately for meeting our comrade Draugithar’nuin, ensure he has food and water, but he is to receive no visitors, and no items other than the clothes in which we grant him, take him away,”

Rada’garh looked set to argue, his facade falling and the burning energy of the Fire Mage of old appeared in his eyes once more. Cyrene expected the elf to start casting spells that that moment, but to her surprise, he simply bowed again, and allowed himself to be guided from the throne room, albeit at sword-point, his eyes met Cyrene’s once more, but she saw so fire in those eyes, just determination. It would be some time before Draugithar’nuin returned from his common flights through the countryside, his eyes would account for the next phase of Imperial expansion, and there were many rumours of pushing south and creating the Sea Gate, a dream to secure the southern water approaches to the Imperium.

“Bring forth the next petitioner,” spoke Tyrion from behind the Throne when Bel’adir seated himself once more.

“Anar’thruin, of House Vilea, my Emperor,” said an elf in robes of the purest white.

“Speak your petition, Anar’thruin,” declared Tyrion, his face emotionless, but Cyrene knew better, he was hiding his annoyance at this duty.

“My House recently learned of a great nation within the Sea of Sand, or the Desert of Bones as it is more commonly known, the words spoken tell of master glass workers, masters of their craft, rivals of even our own. I wish to raise a caravan to travel to this nation, and open relations with the people within,” said Anar’thruin, Cyrene noticed the gold hidden just below the robes, and the rocks on his fingers.

“Last I heard, Anar’thruin, House Vilea is rich enough to mount such an expedition on its own, why do you need the funding of the Imperial Court?” demanded Lord Ashena, the Voice of the Court, the Treasurer of the Kinthari Imperium.

“Indeed, my House can fund this expedition, but I cannot bring the best warriors of the land to protect the caravan through such unknown territory, I am asking the Court for the aid in arms and cartographers, the last time the Sea of Sand was mapped was nearly four centuries ago, and the reports I have say the land has changed dramatically in that time,”

“You make an interesting point, Master Anar’thruin, the mapping of the Sea of Sand would provide tactical advantage from any advance from the north, and to find new trade partners would be a grand change from the standard we have set,” said Bel’adir, already favouring the idea.

“Indeed, my Emperor, should such an endeavour succeed, it is no secret that previous attempts to cross the Sea of Sand have resulted in much loss, in both life and material. I believe we should not provide the majority of the funds for this task, my Emperor, although the possibilities provided by success on this endeavour would be profitable by far,” said the Voice, Lord Ashena.

“True, my friend,” said Bel’adir, “Master Anar’thruin, I will grant you this request, fifty Iron Guard Infantry, as well as twenty-five Iron Guard Archers to attend the caravan. Be warned however, I expect these warriors to return, and will have orders to return home with or without the caravan. And as an act of your faith in this endeavour, you shall accompany it, refusal shall see your assets and properties seized by the state, and distributed as seen fit,” 

Anar’thruin’s mouth opened and closed in shock, and the mutterings of the nobles of the Court grew in noise as the lord of one of the most influential Houses within the Imperium was spoken to like a commoner. Ashena kept his face neutral as he saw the gambit Anar’thruin had played backfire in a most unexpected way, due to his wealth and influence he often played a part in Imperial politics, but due to his cunning ways he often made use of proxies and stand-ins. This endeavour however offered too much for Anar’thruin to risk using a proxy, and it had been a long time since the Court had a reason to threaten him.

“I have little experience in these matters, my Emperor, surely one of my sons who has travelled with the caravans in the past can lead in my stead?”

“Master Anar’thruin, I have made my decision, [i]you[/i] shall accompany the caravan, whether you lead it or not is not the matter in question,” stated Bel’adir, his tone brokering no argument. “You had best preparations for your journey Master Anar’thruin, now go,”

Anar’thruin bowed lightly, almost struggling as he fought off the shock of the Emperor’s orders, and made his way out of the Throne Room while the crowd of nobles whispered after him.

[centre][b][i]Sun Tower, Imperial Palace, Kinthar City
Three Days Later[/i][/b][/centre]

Cyrene sat in silence as she watched the great dragon converse with Rada’garh, she still felt as though Rada’garh was hiding something, but the great dragon who ended the Unity War with his kin was a master at unveiling lies, and seeing into the very soul of those he spoke with. She would have ordered the Sigil Guard to slay Rada’garh on the spot, had it not been for Draugithar’nuin, who commanded the Sigil Guard when he was within the city limits, magic was one of the few things the great dragon disliked, and the Sigil Guard were ever wary when a mage appeared on the field of battle while the great dragon was around. The great dragon had been speaking with Rada’garh for the past several hours, and no one, not even the silent Sigil Guard were allowed close enough to listen in. The sun was setting now, and the great dragon looked up from the cell, before motioning for one of the Sigil Guard to approach.

“I see no evil within this mage, see that he is released from this Tower and given to the Mages Tower,” said Draugithar’nuin, before turning to face Cyrene Ravenhair.

“Are you certain, Great One?” she asked.

“His tale holds no deceit, Lady Cyrene, and I sense he has much to offer the Imperium, if given the chance. Fear not, Lady Cyrene, his desire for you hasn’t faded, but his respect of you has grown, you shall have no more trouble with him in that regard. Nor shall your consort, Blademaster Tyrion,”

“Very well, Lord, I shall see that he has quarters and fresh clothes waiting for him,” said Cyrene, stepping into the shadow behind her, her form melting away.

[centre][b][i]Mages Tower, Kinthar City,
Moments Later[/i][/b][/centre]

“See to it that he has restricted access to the Library, and set a watch on both ends of his floor. The Great One may believe him, but I will take no chances, he is only to explore the Tower while escorted, and not to be alone unless within his quarters. See to it, Captain Xilan.

“Yes, my Lady,” said the Captain of the Sigil Guard, before turning on the spot, his red cloak swirling around, the runes embroidered in it glowed lightly in her presence, and she felt her powers strengthening as the Captain left.

“I won’t allow him free rein again, and despite the Great One’s believe, a Black Lion cannot become a White Tiger,” she said to herself, lowering herself into the high-backed oaken chair, the desk before her was piled with ancient tomes, and maps to ancient cities.

The time would soon be at hand when the Imperium expanded its borders, and the ancient ruins of a previous age would need to be excavated and catalogued, and Cyrene hoped that the lore and relics gained from such ruins would speed up her plan for Tyrion, many tomes she had spoke of a device, one fashioned from solid gold and set with Blood Rubies, a device that could cheat death. She wouldn’t lose Tyrion to war, not while there was a chance he could survive.