[center][h1]Blood in the Water[/h1]
[i]January, 1500[/i]
Sovereign Nation of Cyrene
Isle of Naxos[/center]

"We have not spoken in a long time," a robed man finally said. He brought a cup of exotic tea to his lips and sipped deeply. He had expected such smalltalk to shatter the oppressive silence like glass. Instead there was nothing.

The other figure across the table sat in utter stillness, as if contemplating something. It was hard to tell what the Tyrant was thinking; he always wore a mask and a set of ornate robes dyed the colors of coal and vermillion. He had no tea, of course. The Tyrant had such an inhuman demeanor that it was hard to imagine him even eating or drinking, and indeed there were whispers that not even the palace servants ever saw him take food or drink. But whispers always abounded, and in the end words were nothing but wind.

The man with the tea took a deep breath and then glanced sideways out a window. At this late hour the city below glowed with the lights of lamps and lanterns. In the far distance one could just barely see the port. It looekd as if there was one lonely sheep just now undocking at this unseemly hour when the sky was black and the waves below the color of wine.

Finally the ruler of these lands broke his long contemplation and spoke. [color=Maroon]"You have my favor and that is enough. The trade will continue as soon I am able to acquire more...playthings."[/color]

And then there was suddenly a quick rapping upon the door. Tyrant Velharus rarely projected any motion, but even through that mask his irritation seemed palpable in that moment. A half dozen men barged into that private meeting with an exhausted courier at their head. "My lord," he began, "We have been attacked! It was a fleet flying the flag of the Herater; they encircled and then occupied Mykonos. All the southern islands will have likely fallen by now; we were unprepared..."

The Tyrant remained utterly still and almost disconcerting calm. Most petty kings would have descended into madness or despair or rage upon hearing such news, but Velharus as silent. Then without warning he had risen from his seat and the messenger's words had trailed off as the Tyrant shoved him aside and left the room at a brisk pace.

Within the hour the Tyrant's soldiers had declared martial law. Within the next day the entire island of Naxos was under alarm and preparing itself for a siege.

[hr]

Only few miles away, the brisk ocean air of the Eastern Sea pelted the hardened face of Proculus Vestalis; minister of the Kevan legation to Naxos. He inhaled the wafting scent of salt mixed with sweat as the waves lightly crashed against the hull of the ship. The sun had dipped between the grey clouds and the morning was falling into the afternoon. He could hear the grunts of the sailors below deck as they rowed in a disciplined cadence to the sound of a drum. The ship began to rock to-and-fro. He exhaled deeply. He had been on this ship for a full hour, and yet it seemed like an eternity.

Not too far behind, the Classis Aquilae lay anchorage, awaiting word of the legations success or failure. For ten days the fleet sailed the across the Eastern Sea under orders from the Dignitas himself. An honor so great that it nearly knocked Proculus to his knees upon receiving summons to the Teke Awade. After an extensive briefing period, Proculus was awarded the rank of Minister, granted a legation, supplied a security detail, and deployed to Naxos, Cyrene's northern most territory with the Classis Aquilae led by Admiral Vledni as an escort. Upon reaching the edge of the Isle's territorial waters, the fleet deployed a single boat topped with a flag signifying peace. The legations envoy. But failure was not an option. Not for Proculus. 

A Kevan of average height but with an impressive build, Proculus had coursing jet black hair and a light black beard that made him sexually appealing for the women that saw him. But through his stunning handsome looks, he had the eyes of a true Kevan; stubborn and strong. A senior member of the Ministry of Diplomacy, Proculus clad himself in a crimson pallium of silk and gold embroidery. A traditional attire in nature, diplomats of a Keva were required to dawn it during any foreign affair. A regulation established by the Ministry of Culture.

Aboard the envoy, Kevan sailors were at the mast, pulling ropes and giving the ship full sails to catch the wind. The men of the Kevan legation were lounging around on the deck; several men were by the sides of the ships staring out into the horizons of the endless oceans, others sat in the corners leaning against the side and catching much needed sleep, a select few were vomiting off to the side from the seasickness. All while staying out of the way of the sailors manning the ship.

Proculus sneered. Diplomats acted as the representatives of their home country, yet here his legation lay, disgracing the name of Keva long before they reached Naxos.

[i]The Isle of Naxos, …[/i] Proculus quietly mused. A nation sovereign to Cyrene defined by its tumultuous past. One of civil war and insurrection. Yet Naxos had little to flaunt in comparison to Tyrant Velharus. A man as mysterious in manner as the Creator was in loving-kindness, the Tyrant's only knowings hid in the drunken revelry of hardened sea-men.

[i]Tyrant! A man of the Black Circle![/i]

[i]Tyrant! A man without hunger![/i]

Bah! It as all the same jargon that sent Proculus' head spinning. All he could do was wait and meet this Tyrant Velharus for himself.

"TERRA!" a voice bellowed from up above. A signal that land had been sighted. Proculus fitted his pallium and with a curt clap, summoned his legation to him. Most of which who had snapped back into reality after the signal.

The deck of the ship was alive with motion. Yet, a semblance remained remained. Proculus smiled. Keva would not come to shame this day! Not under his watch! 

[b]"Trierarchus, make ready for a smooth landing! First impressions are everything!"[/b] 

When the ship at least steered into port and finally lowered its gangplank onto the pier, there was a grisly sight within sight of the docks: displayed high in the air and prominent for all to see there were gallows. There three men were hanging suspended in the air, but where other lands did their executions with a noose about the neck these Cyrenea had an even crueler method. At the end of each rope was a large metal hook and each man upon the gallows had such a hook forced through his ribcage. There, hanging limply and pathetically to one side, two of the swaying men had eyes already pecked out by the birds. One more remained with a glazed look about him as he neared his slow and excrutiating end. Above them there was a signed painted with the words, [color=Crimson]'The Fate of Pyrates'[/color].

Indeed, Cyrene had always loathed the swashbucklers that plagued the seas, bled their coffers, and enslaved any sailor on a ship unfortunate to be seized. Under Tyrant Velharus they had begun a campaign of ruthlessly hunting the pirates of these nearby seas. For the most part their efforts had been met with success; only a week prior had they hunted down yet another pirate ship. Three of the crew were on display before the Kevans, but as for the rest...well, perhaps they had been taken as galley slaves. Or if the rumors were true, perhaps they had been sold to the Black Circle.

In any case, the Cyrenae had been waiting as the Kevan ship drew into port. A half dozen of the tyrant's soldiers dressed in black stood ready with crossbow and sword, while a customs officer and the man in charge of these docks approached. Probably taking this for nothing more than another merchant vessel, they noted the Kevan imagery that was to be seen and the appropriate slave translator was quickly summoned.

"The wise and noble lords of Naxos greet you! They would know what you seek in this port."

"First impressions my arse." whispered a Kevan sailor at the sight of executed criminals.

Proculus dutifully ignored the sailors' impertinence as he stood atop the gangplank. Although, he took curious cognizance to the execution style of the Cyrenea. One set aside for those the Cyrenea hated with a passion: pirates. Like a plague, pirates infected the Eastern Sea with such commonality it seemed like they spawned from the depths of the ocean itself. Along side Kevan galleys worked Cyrenea war vessels, razing the sea of any raider, pirate, or undocumented privateer. Certainly a leverage or starting point Proculus could use to win the Tyrant's heart. Or attention.

On the dock below, a duo of Kevan marines took up station, both clad in republican colors. To his back, the rest of the Kevan legation took up waiting, each as stoic as the marines surrounding them, all who were in which armed with crossbows and gladii of Kevan steel. Security took first place in situations like these. One could be never to careful in territory that wasn't his own. Nevertheless, one had to be cautious as to not insight a conflict as it would certainly end with their carcasses on a hook, and most likely war. Failure was not an option.

Without cue and as per protocol, Proculus' Ministri Consiliarius stepped forward.

[b]"In the name of Secundus Dignitas Marcellus Tiberius of the Republic of Keva, we great you. As an envoy of the Star Republic, we seek audience with your head of state."[/b]

"Then you will be brought to the Tyrant's fortress," came the answer. Just like that, the Cyrenae guards moved into formation and began walking the envoy through the city.

[center][img]
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[i]Naxos was a dense cluster stone houses on many small islands with canals and cobbled streets running through it like veins. But alas; it was a dead city right now. Countless eyes peeked through windows, but under martial law, only the soldiers walked the streets.[/i][/center]

Finally they arrived at a looming castle of bleak stone that overlooked the city and (just barely) the port and quays. Once they were walked into the Tyrant's seat of power it quickly became clear that the place was even more austere than the dead streets outside. With nearly all the the Tyrant's men out patrolling the streets there was nothing to be heard but the echoes of the party's own footsteps upon the stone floor. The Tyrant himself seemed to care little for aesthetic, for what little decor remained in place seemed dusty and ancient.

Finally they arrived at a throne room. Seated upright and perfectly rigid upon a stone chair upon a high dias there was a man that could only have been the Tyrant himself. He didn't so much as glance at the Kevans as they entered, so busy was he with another.

A richly clothed man that represented the Commonwealth stood before the Tyrant with two other envoys at his side. [color=Maroon]"Have I not been a just ruler over Cyrene? Have I lent aid to my neighbors when such was needed, ridded these seas of the scourge of piracy, and ensured the flow of trade? You [b]will[/b] tell your 'First Citizen' to act, and that despot [b]will[/b] answer my call to arms against this wretched confederation that claws greedily at my lands."[/color]

The man spoke in a coarse voice as softly as a feather, but nonetheless his words found a way to project across the entire room and cut through men like a ship through water. The Commonwealth's diplomat had been standing almost haughtily as the Kevans entered but by the time the Tyrant had finished his short speech all three of the Commonwealth's delegates had knelt before him. He had a way of inspiring terror, but that was good. First impressions were of utmost importance.

[i]Quite a first impression indeed."[/i] Proculus grimly ruminated as his eyes fell upon the groveling diplomats.

The Kevan envoy, wishing not disturb the current procession, stood off to the side, quietly observing, subtly gathering information. Such an opportunity could not be squandered. One stood to gain insight on the inner machinations of the man they were soon to receive. Precious information such as: his current mood, the situation he was in, his relationship with nations of interest and vise-versa. Everything mentioned here stood as ammunition for the Kevans. Bullets capable of piercing the most peerless of defences. 

Proculus watched on, his expert eyes and ears picking apart the feast of knowledge in which acted as timber to the fiery argument blazing in his head. He struggled to keep his face neutral. The odds tipped in Keva's favor.
 
"Lord Velharus, you must understand that the Commonwealth first looks to its interests. That you might be a just ruler is...is..." the kneeling ambassador tried to say.

[color=Maroon]"Our arrangement was one of mutual support, and now your grand Commonwealth will not even aid its ally against an enemy that has challenged their authority before? Pathetic."[/color]

"Wh-what would you expect the Imperator to do? Send a regiment to garrison this isle?" the diplomat stammered.

[color=Maroon]"No, Naxos is defensible and I will not have my realm made into a puppet state by allowing you to occupy it in all but name. No, I want to raze the cities of Herater and salt their fields...but I will settle with help in reclaiming what is mine: Mykonos. Help me obliterate their navy and then your obligation will be fulfilled."[/color]

"This...this proposal, Lord Velharus, you must understand that the Imperator will not expend resources for nothing in retur-"

[color=Maroon]"Then begone from my sight."[/color] the Tyrant interrupted with a dismissive wave. A few guards in the throne room walked out the Commonwealth's envoy and now the Tyrant looked towards the Kevans that had come for an audience.

In any case, the Tyrant had played with fire by attempting to make demands from the Commonwealth. The Creator alone knew how he would react to whatever concessions the Kevans would want for their aid.

[i]And the beast rears its ugly head our way.[/i] Proculus silently mused as left his envoy's corner and took center stage. By his side remained his Ministri Consiliarius and Consiliarius, both critical members in the diplomatic process respectively.

The Ministri Consiliarius acted as his translator. He served as the bridge between cultures and tradtions, allowing for diplomatic missions such as these to go smoothy. Years of instructions went into this practice. Translators to be were expected to master a language 
within a minimum of 2 years to a maximum of 4 years. After the time frame given to learn the language a test is taken to check the level of proficiency. Failure to learn the language often resulted in dismissal.

In order to gain rank in the Ministry of Diplomacy as a translator, knowledge of more languages was required. It gave ones an upper hand at competing with other members of the cadre.

On the other hand, the Consiliarius acted as a scribe of sorts. He served to document each and every word of the deliberation acted out before him. Nothing was to be ommitied, edited, or faulted. If so, a Consiliarius could risk losing his/her place in the Ministry of Diplmacy.

Armed with his Ministri Consiliarius and Consiliarius, Proculus was more that ready to take on the Cyrenea Tyrant.  With a curt nod, the Ministri Consiliarius stepped forward and began translating after emulating Proculus' bow in respect.

[b]"I am Proculus Vestalis of the Rebulbic of Keva. I am Minister to the Kevan Legation of Naxos. I humbly come before you with the highest deference and respects, oh Tyrant Velharus, as emissary to the Secundus Dignitas Marcellus Tiberius."[/b]

The Tyrant's gaze had fallen upon the Kevans from the moment that they entered his room, but the shadows from his ornamental helmet shrouded his face completely enough to hide the set of piercing eyes. He listened patiently to what they had to say. Twice. He understood the Kevan tongue well enough, but better to let them think that he needed their translation.

[color=Maroon]"If you have come to offer military support,"[/color] the Tyrant addressed them in the Cyrenae dialect, [color=Maroon]"then your arrival was one with impeccable timing."[/color]

[b]"Much gratitude, my lord."[/b] Proculus' Ministri Consiliarius translated smoothly. Suddenly he spoke bluntly. [b]"It is indeed true that our Dignitas seeks to send millitary aid to your cause, but not without reason."[/b] 

[i]I don't play games, I make them.[/i]
Velharus sat in silence as if expecting the Kevan to go on.

And without pause Proculus contiuned. Although, he noticed the subtle shift in the air. His words struck a cord. 

[b]"See, my lord, there stands in our way an obstacle that we cannot surmount through convetical means. That obstacle is Commonwealth. Keva cannot send millitray aid while you maintain an undefined relationship with them.[/b] Proculus paused, allowing that fact to sink in before resuming the offensive. [b]"But, if you were to redefine you relationship with Commonwealth, it would serve as reason for Keva to aid you."[/b]

Velharus listened to the translator's droll attempt at wording [i]that[/i] as delicately as it needed to be. For the first time the Tyrant shifted in his throne. Ever so slowly, he reached for a staff at the side of his chair. Then he rose, using the staff to support himself. He leaned and put some weight upon it, but not overly so. He approached a gigantic map that sprawled across one wall, then simply pointed his staff at the Commonwealth's vast expanse of land. It dominated nearly a third of the map. [color=Maroon]"You have more to offer me than that empire?"[/color] he inquired with mild amusement.

Proculus observed the procession without expression. From what he could see, the Tyrannt suffered from some kind of ailment. One that rendered his body weak and required that make use of a cane. A war scar perhaps? 

Without moving from place, Proculus turned to face the Tyrannt and the massive map. Indeed Commonwealth held a vast territory. But the Creator blessed Proculus with the opportunity to listen in on the Tyrants most reccent bout with them. It was time to make use of his ammunition. 

[b]"If I may speak freely. From what I can recollect, correct me if I am wrong. But Commonwealth is reluctant to send you aid."[/b]

[color=Maroon]"Their 'terms' are less than favorable, as are yours I would suspect."[/color]

[b]"In all honesty, my lord. But our terms ensure your defense and the defeat of the Conferdation."[/b] Proculus made silent gesture towards his Consiliarius who immediately responded by bringing him a sealed parchment from his pack. 

Taking the utmost care, Proculus broke the seal on the parchment, unfurled it, and began reading from its contents.

[b]"Secundus Dignitas Marcellus Tiberius of the Star Republic seeks to extend the hand of vassalage over Cyrene. Should Cyrene accept, it will fall under the Laws of a Protectorate State, and the might of the Kevan Fleet shall rise in its defense. What say you to these terms?"[/b]

[color=Maroon]"And what does Keva expect from her vassals?"[/color]

[b]"Financial tribute and military compliance and your allegiance, and in return you receive protection."[/b]

[color=Maroon]"I would expect the right to scutage."[/color]

Proculus gave pause, but only for a moment. [b]"Keva, unfortunately, cannot grant this right."[/b]

He could have fought over that term and many others. Velharus could have threatened to look to the Commonwealth instead, but there was little point. If the time ever came that the small realm of Cyrene was called to some conflict, the Tyrant would send as much or as little support as he deigned, regardless of any demands for so-called 'military compliance'.

[color=Maroon]"Then a concordat may be struck. I will accept your terms."[/color]

Proculus beamed. Certainly the Maker blessed him this day! For he claimed success not just for Keva, but for all of Albion.

With a snap of his meaty fingers, his Consiliarius brought out from his bag another sealed parchment, this one stamped with the ornate seal of the Dignitas himself. His eyes averted, the Consiliarius held the contract before the Tyrant and with his other hand extended an ink quill. 

[b]"With his contract, we shall make this treaty official."[/b] Proculus proclaimed.

Velharus scoffed at the sight of the quill. Taking the parchment, he held it against a wall with his left hand. With his right, he covered the bottom of the paper. When he offered the treaty back to the Kevan, the imprint of a hand had somehow been burned onto it as the Tyrant's signature. Though his hands had been gloved, there was nary the scent of burnt leather nor even that of paper.

An unnerved Consiliarius took back the parcel and returned to Proculus' side. 

[b]"You certainly have have done your people - no, Albion, a great service."[/b]

[hider=Major Points]
-We see Cyrene, the nation that Herater attacked. The northern island is the capital and is called Naxos, whereas the southern islands are called Mykonos. Herater occupied Mykonos with minimal resistance due to their surprise attack.
-A mysterious figure named Tyrant Velharus rules Cyrene.
-Envoys from Keva go to treat with the nation of Cyrene. Their first sight is three pirates hanging high in the air from giant hook that go through their ribs.
-Naxos is under martial law and soldiers are everywhere.
-The Kevans meet with the Tyrant as he is treating with emissaries from the Commonwealth.
-Ostensibly out of desperation, the Tyrant agrees to become a vassal of Keva in exchange for military aid.
[/hider]