Royal Court of Elyr, City of Pyrewood, Province of Yespium, Elyr.
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The Elyrian Royal Court. One of Elyr's most beautiful buildings, both inside and out. Home of the Monarchy for over 600 years. A stunning piece  of architecture, decorated with green marble pillars, ornate statues and plants. A small crowd of noble looking people stand dotted around the room, tittering away in their own distinct groups. The Queen, smothered in her emerald green ensemble, was perched at the very edge of her throne, engaged deeply in conversation with a woman sat to her left; Orlette, her húsceorl. A much younger woman than the queen, with firey hair and a matching temper. Much in contrast to most of the court, Orlette wore dark cloths, hues of grey and blue; symbols of the Academy. Like the Queen, she held a cup of fine porcelain, filled to the brim with the finest of Rorik's latest tea harvest.

"This morning we recieved news of Acrad, first from our network, but then further reinforced by official communications from the office of the General Commander" continued Orlette, somewhat flippantly. Taking another sip of tea she continued. "Acrad have finally discovered the source of the 'Desert Rat' problem. As we'd suspect; Hastur. Funding the raider's campaign and buying the spoils.. Nothing that we import for the public sector I hasten to add, I checked that out for myself when the reports first caught my attention a few weeks ago" she added, provoking a small sigh of relief from the Queen.

"And Acrad?" Questioned Bree, anxious as to what response the, admittedly, militant state might take. "Is there any news on their actions?"

"It looks like there is a high chance their gearing up for war. I'm assuming this is why you didn't release this information to them in the first place? Knowing there was potential to be dragged into conflict?"

A solemn nod came from the Queen, followed by scowl. "I think we need to call the Parliament together. Now that it has officially been released they deserve to know, and they need decide whether Hastur deserves any sanctions from Elyr" she finished, downing the last drips of tea and reaching for her notepad. Hastily writing down a messege to be sent to the Ministers, handing it off to Orlette to deliver to her communications officer. It read simply: "Emergency Meeting to be called. Potential hostilities to the north. All available at such short notice assemble at 3 o'clock."

Ravenhold Maximum Security Prison, West Coast, Province of Endrea, Elyr.
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Footsteps echod across the stone hallways, partially drowned out by the shrieks of other inmates and the running of water down halls and dark passages. Alone in the cell was a young man, face hidden in the shadows and partially obscured by unkempt hair, sat hunched over the rotting wooden beam that was his bed; back bathed in pale moonlight emanating from the barred window. Dressed only in the simplest of cloth, he was in a state if silent contemplation. Apart from the bed, the rest of the room was adorned only with a bucket, and a carpeted floor of damp moss.

The footsteps approached, slowly with each pat against the masonry getting louder. The man's ears pricked up. Definetly more than one person. Two. One with a slightly odd gait, a limp perhaps? He lifted his head up, hoping to discern part of their hushed conversation from the surrounding noise. Judging from their tones, it was two men. One was assumedly a prison guard, but the other...

"You know who he is, don't you? I mean, how could you not know? After what he did..." Whispered one of them, voice bearly audible over the raucous. Both pair of footsteps stopped suddenly, almost as if one was squaring up to the other. A deep breath could be heard, followed by a sigh.

"I know who he is, I know what he has done, and to be quite frank I most likely know a lot more about him than you do. I don't want to be up here any more than you do. So if you have finished your complaints, may we continue, sir?" The second man spat at the guard, foot falls restarting for a few moments, before coming to a stop outside the door. Both figures peered in, their faces silhouetted by the flickering torch light behind them.

"This one?" The second man asked, sounding unsure.
"This one" the guard affirmed solumnly. Inserting his key into the seizing lock, with a grunt of effort and the screaming of stressed metal on metal, the bolt slid across. The guard looked in once more, before pulling away with disgust; opening the door just wide enough for the second man to walk through.

As he stepped across the threshold he looked down at the floor, seeming to be looking for somewhere safe to stand. With a sigh of resignstion he gave in, and stood right in a patch of moss with an audible squelch. He seemed too well dressed to be visiting a place like this, a deep emerald cloak layered above an assortment of dark green clothing; in his left hand a case of some sort, the seal of Elyr just visible on its side. A consort of the Queen herself it appears. As he had suspected, the man possessed a limp, apparent with each step he took and a slight slouch in his posture.

"You are Vipir, correct? Convicted 3 years ago of the attempted, and might I say the most successful, assassination of Queen Bree the Second of Elyr. Due to spend a life sentence, minimum of 30 years, in this miserable hole?" Each word sounding planned. Rehursed... formal.

Vipir gave a quiet affirmation to each of the questions, apprehensive of where this was leading. Was this a royalist, come to execute him? He kept quiet however, eyeing up the case and looking for ways to escape should things turn sour.

"In that case then, I have come with an offer. A choice if you will. And if you agree, than I am to officially pardon you, by the authority of the Parliament of the Peoples, much to my personal distaste I will have you know. Fail to accept this offer, or to carry out it's full terms, and I will personally ensure that you find somewhere even filthier than here to live out the entirety of your life"

Vipir's face lit up at the sound of freedom, and he began hanging onto every word the man said, slowly processing the information until he came to the only logical question to ask after such a preposition.

"And what are the 'full terms' of this offer?"

...