[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WO3IUsv.jpg[/img]

[h2]300AWH[/h2]
[b]Due East of Lesenopolis, Leshëzkoëm
West Ouroborasia[/b]
[h1]Orator’s Journey[/h1]
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Through the wetlands and hostile marshes of Ouroborasia, the respectable sound of a galloping stallion could be heard traversing the terrain with a subtle rumbling of plate in tow. With great haste the steed proceeded forth, and with a calculating rhythm it was controlled by its master’s subtle yet powerful flips, claps, and tugs of the bridle and stirrup. With its haste, the horse rider passed a highway merchant, surprising them in the process. 

From the merchant’s point of view, the unbelievable speed of the horse had morphed the silhouette into a shining white shroud. Her immediate reaction was to stop her wagon and simply stare, awestruck, as the rider journeyed into the distance. In that moment an adventurous flame long having lain dormant within her bosom furiously burst into action. She proceeded to follow the mysterious figure with surprising dedication.

The horse-drawn carriage of which she owned would prove  to be no match for the noble rider that would soon cross the horizon, and all she could do was hope for a rendezvous in one of the towns on the ways towards the former capital. But why? She could feel the danger in her journey, she had gone from a safe trip between Leshëzkoëm and Ouropossia to an increasingly more alarming expedition towards the war. Of course, she was still a fair ways away from the front, but any step towards the east is any step towards danger, she had already lost her escort in a bestial ambush, but her unreasonable heart continued to drag her eastward.

Some three kilometers away by now, the mysterious rider continued unabated, his perfect rhythm undiminished. Hidden by mask clad in golden plate, equipped with a similarly coloured armour combined with white-most robe, the individual bore also the signature icons of the Grand Oratory. The individual, an Orator from the west, had only one thing on his mind; a mission most dire, a test most necessary. The Justicarti Oratorium could not stay indefinitely, and duty would fall upon the largest and closest of its allies to defend the people of Ouroborasia. As such, it was not only necessary, but moral, for the Grand Oratorium to continue their mission. It was Archonnen’s duty to ensure the West’s survival and victory.

The process of transference had already begun, many excellent Orators had already entered the ruling council of the Justicarti Oratorium’s Ouroborasian chapter. Amongst them was the Orator’s mentor; Armandros Rex-Magnus, a former Orator-Magnus from the Archonnen heartland, and soon even more would be elevated. It was time for him to distinguish himself amongst the crowd, it was time to perform most valiantly so that not only the End would come sooner, but so that justice be done.

His name, the Orator, was Palatinos Perferon. His father, a man of little merit: a manufactory worker born, raised, and cremated within the walls of the provincial capital of Leopolos. His mother, equally unimportant, was a weaver with a similar story as her husband. Palatinos had no connection with his parents, as he was adopted by the clerisy and raised by the Grand Oratorium’s Leopolos chapter. His only family had been Armandros, who took him under his wing by the age of five, and the local preacher who would inspire him, shaped him into what he is and with this mission, planted the seeds for what he will become.

His present task, one of paramount importance, held root in high treason and grand heresy. The target being a powerful local aristocrat with ties to the government. The potential exists therefore that Sergiu Calinescu harbours secessionary thoughts as their manor, the Calinescu Estate, lies dangerously close to the border. Palatinos would not see Ouroborasia ruined any further, he would not see the nation fall to corruption, and as such he would race with haste for his mission was most dire.

--- Several Hours Later, Nightfall ---

The dark has fallen and the glittering glimmer of his armour no longer alarmed the surrounding wildlife. The area was silent, except for the constant rhythmic elegance which had been ceaseless throughout the entire journey. In the horizon, past the dank, dead trees which surround the barely-traveled gravel trail, the majestic Calinescu Estate loomed over the treeline. The windows were dark and candle light was most dim and sporadic. Palatinos therefore reconciled his previous information; Sergiu Calinescu had returned from a business venture in Vloëmurrëm, officially a trade transaction between the Calinescu Family and one of Archonnen’s trade ambassadors. It had apparently been a most arduous journey, as the family had gone to sleep directly after having returned home.

Palatinos had now entered the courtyard of the vast estate, although it lacked the elegance and architecture of a finely built Archonnan palace, it was a typical Ouroborasian estate; oppressive and dark, unwelcoming. He stopped his horse with a simple flip of the wrist, immediately dismounting with flawless coordination. Palatinos dropped the reins and walked towards the Estate’s entrance, his most loyal steed remaining silent and without motion, awaiting his return. As Palatinos walked, his long strides and eerie motions accumulated in what could only be described as floating towards the dark oaken doors. 

The doors carried with them a most elaborate lock, but through the animation of the Orator’s magics, the gears shifted and with a sudden click, silently opened to allow the Orator passage. He stepped inside without any hesitation, but was forced to lower his head in order to pass through the doorway, and was instantly drawn towards a long cupboard positioned in direct opposition to the front entrance. It was in front of the spiral staircase leading towards the second floor and, knowing aristocracy, it must have some form of strategic purpose. Palatinos opened the drawers, one after another, and found little of importance. All that was there were a dagger, what seemed like an heirloom, coins of large quantity, and a paper describing the transaction that had occurred earlier in the day.

Palatinos, seeing the potential subconscious correlation between these objects, placed the heirloom, the dagger, and the paper within a gold-adorned satchel around his waist. It is highly possible that Sergiu, in all his urgency for a good night’s rest, had placed these objects here in an unintentional manner.

The Orator continued his investigation throughout the dim corridors of the first floor, hovering from one dark room to the other. Once satisfied, Palatinos proceeded towards the stairway, traversing corridors and living rooms in the process. No living soul had yet crossed his path, but as he had returned to the entrance, that would change. One of the servants, presumably one of the cleaners, came across him as they were heading downstairs.

The servant, petrified by the looming intruder approaching towards him, could do nothing but shake and slowly back away up the stairs. Palatinos, immediately seeing the servant, locked eye contact immediately. He rushed up the stairs, but his steps carried no sound. The Servant could not scream as his fear had paralyzed his vocal cords. As he attempted and failed to flee. In the middle of falling, his body froze completely. It’s otherwise dynamic nature turning absolutely rigid. Palatinos reached out towards the Servant with his hand, oppressively covering the servant’s face within his hand’s plate embrace. 

“Where arth thou Master, Servant?” called out a ghastly voice to the Servant. Palatinos, as an Orator, has undergone unspeakable, indescribable magical rituals to increase his magical and physical potential. In so doing, it has transformed his body into something beyond human, beyond… Anything. His voice seemed to glue itself to the wooden walls, freezing them. It lingered abnormally as time passed, one could even describe it as time freezing. But it was not only time that had frozen in the Orator’s presence, it had been everything around him. The Servant, now within the Orator’s grip, could feel his very body start to glaciate and the walls themselves were shifting colours to a cooler blue. The servant could not comprehend the situation, his breath becoming uncoordinated. Hyperventilation commenced, however his mouth was frozen shut. The man fainted from severe panic, his body softening and falling towards the ground. But it was still frozen to the Orator’s palm, now suspended by it.

Palatinos sensed the Servant’s consciousness slip away and, once it had retreated, simply threw the body to the side effortlessly. The body collided against the staircase’s railing with a large thud, rolling down the steps. In so doing, shattering the walls which had now turned into ice.  Palatinos proceeded forwards, not paying any mind to the sound he had just generated. Having arrived on the second floor he was met with a long hallway which ran through the entire second floor. 

As he was about to enter the first door on the right, Calinescu’s frightened voice called out to him from further down the hallway. 

“W-What are you doing here?!”

Palatinos immediately snapped his head towards Calinescu, locking eyes with the man. Slowly raising his arm towards Sergiu, palm wide open. The Orator replied, his chilling, ghastly voice shifting wall to wall across the hallway.

“The Oratorium beholds you, Sergiu Calinescu of Vlushë. ” spoke Palatinos. Calinescu replied only with silence, his distress quite apparent. However, his body was unable to move. With all his power, Calinescu wanted to flee from this… thing, but it was almost as if his muscles themselves had frozen. An approaching chill grew closer and closer as the Orator seemed to slowly hover in his direction, it's inhumane movements tricking Sergiu’s mind.

“Accept its call and acquiesce, or be destroyed.”