[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/50VBWNfh/63507c917b644ae085a53d695ad43269.png[/img]
[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/2fa3b68ea7ccb5e241580009fa3f8dfe/tumblr_nrjjdcXvK71uq1wtvo1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][hr][h3][b][i][center][color=8519A2]Arc I - Terreille in Trouble[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][h3][color=8519A2]Location: Winton[/color][/h3]
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The outskirts where the Priestess made her home was a weed-infested garden but tamed it would be easy to see the delicate paths that curved through the beds and around hedges that had grown wild over the past few years. Places for people to sit and enjoy the beauty of the large stone building that housed the Dark Altar and where people would gather for public Birthright ceremonies and Offerings to the Darkness. But vines were beginning to sneak down from the roof, the old Priestess fiercely defending the ground level as best she could. The smell of freshly cooking soup floated upon the air as Mikhail, Fatima, and Gennar, by Denvar's insistence, found their way down the cracked and uneven road. Showing just how long it had been since the Blood of this village honored the old ways. Though it would be discourteous to assume that they had done it simply on a whim. [color=FireBrick]"Happens when people don't want to gather and risk news getting out that they just happen to have a dark jewel in the family that could be a potential asset."[/color] Gennar stated quietly to the others as he felt his wings closed tight to his back in wary dislike of the fact. He didn't add that they also hid the fact a daughter was a Queen if they were not of the aristocracy and even if they were of such a rank. A Queen who was a child was a target to be a pawn under a more powerful or clever Queen. If they did not bend? He didn't want to think about those broke jewels and the shells that wore them. There had been far too many over the years.

The creak of a rocking chair would reach the group's ears as Mikhail would be the first to spot the elderly looking woman who fit the description of a story book's Black Widow more than she did a Priestess. Her fingers though old, nimbly working through the skeins of yarn that twisted and danced between a pair of knitting needles. A delicate iron table that had seen better days holding a basket of more shades of yarn next to a rather thick mug and a larger pitcher. Several others chairs were arranged about the entrance to the small cottage that sprouted off of the building where the Dark altar was housed. An uncommon thing. Most caretakers lived in the same building. The Summer-sky Priestess looked up with a wary squint of her eyes. "Well, a fair few visitors in one day. What does a Queen want with an ancient Priestess and a useless altar?" The words were not a jovial as she had used when speaking with Jandar, and in fact, wouldn't have been wise to use with any Queen. But age came with a few blessing and one of them was that Olenna knew she had lived a good life and was ready to see the end even if the end was at the hands of one of those young upstart Queens... "And a dark jeweled Queen." Olenna stated with some surprise, her hands pausing in their knitting. "You are not of Chaillot or this Territory. A long-lived race and I doubt there are any Dhemlan Queens left in Terreille." It was a whispered and horrifying rumor that none had been able to confirm. That Dorothea had sent her agents to find Dhemlan Queens and root them out. Even the youngest would never hold their birthright.
~~
The Queen’s Residence was a lavish manor that sat in the heart of the small port town. It had been built almost on the sea itself with pale stone reflecting the cloudy sky and basking in what sunlight could get through. The gardens that sprawled about it showed only the beauty that could be found locally, and there were gardeners aplenty as Jandar made his way down the grand drive and past fountains and pools that sported colorful fish. The great oaken doors had opened to a lavish hall boasting artwork plenty and scented with the overpowering smell of incense that took away the clean smell of the sea. An older man showed him to a waiting room that was much the same if not a bit gaudier. The furniture was a bit ostentatious with its silken cushions and gilded edges. Statues of two sirens flanked the door teaching playing an instrument as they watched Jandar with unseeing marble eyes. The ceiling was a fortune in pounded brass that seemed recently installed and really only made the room look ridiculous, but apparently was the [i]style of the times[/i]. 

"The Lady will receive you shortly," He had informed Jandar in the proper tones, though the Dhemlan would notice a slight worry in his eyes. A tightness about his mouth. Whatever the man said, Alice apparently was as capable to take on a visitor now as ever and the older gentleman thought she would be taking her time. Something that could reflect poorly on the Court and the Queen if Jandar was a messenger from an influential source. "If you have need of anything ring the bell, and a servant will fetch it for you." He beat a hasty retreat to inform the said Queen, the polish wood of the flooring rapping out the older man's quick footfalls.

Alice sat perched on a chaise lounge several women sitting about her 'study'. In all honesty, the once 'borning' room had been refined into one more suited to the Lady's taste of work. The work of gossip and cutting remarks when she wanted to 'work' on whatever suited her fancy which thankfully wasn't too often. As well-meaning as the Steward of her Court tired to put her intentions the young Queen caused more of a mess than she helped to rectify one. The books that lined the wall were covered in slight dust that no one would notice unless they took them down, but that was the only imperfection in the room that Sybl knew about. "It was a real shame about that handsome fellow..." Sighed one of the Lady's companions. A mousy headed witch, who was often speaking just a bit too freely. "But that's Eyrien brutes for you. It really is a shame you couldn't have kept him."

The blonde-haired Queen gave an irritated look at her companion. "How can I help it if he had a bounty on his head? Besides I can probably purchase one for what the Queen of Askavi will give me. What is a shame is that he killed three of my First Circle!" The fake tears welled in Alice's eyes as she gave a stifling sob. "And now my Court is short and could be declared-!"

"No! Don't even think that! Any man with a brain would more than willingly serve you!" Came the encouraging reply from Elle, a blond from Chaillot who looked quite similar to the Queen. As well she would, being a close cousin. "You'll be fine, Alice." All heads were ripped from the discussion as they turned to look at the door as an intruding knock sounded. Biding it to open with a pained voice, Alice gave a weak smile at one of the First Circle men, a new one who had stepped up from the second Circle to take the position one of his fellows had left vacant. Not that it was the dead man's fault. She had expected the Eyrien to be more biddable to her charms. Instead her Black Widow had laid down her life to trap the man. Which left with without one of the 'unnatural' women ontop of everything else.

"There is a man from Hayll to see you, Lady Alice. He has a message from.." 

Alice shook her head with a slight sob cutting her servant off. "No! He cannot see me like this! I need to freshen up and... contain my grief." She gave the older gentleman a pleading look. "Perhaps he could wait for a time? Of course he could! And he will! I am in mourning!" The Queen declared with a smile that would put any fox to shame. Giving a innocent look to the pretty manservant she purred in Sybl's direction. "Dearest, wouldn't you entertain him and make sure he stays out of trouble while he waits? I don't want a Hayllian visitor to think we are... inferior." She smirked and gave a imperious look to her ladies with a gleam in her eyes. "Perhaps we'll get luck and have that handsome Warlord Prince- yes, the one who supposedly wears the 'Black'- come to our Court too!" She laughed lightly despite the death of her beloved men. Giving Sybl a beaming smile she made a shooing gesture. "Well! I wouldn't want to keep him waiting if he was! What a day that would make!"
~~
Dareen would find herself left at the small inn with a rather comical show playing before her eyes. Faeril had said little, retreating to the rooms she had turned into her de facto quarters of business. Denvar had been trying to help and consequently been banished downstairs while the Pruulish woman found herself being Faeril’s unexpecting keeper by some unspoken agreement between the Healer-Black Widow and Warlord Prince. The room was tidy, with the trunks needed brought up form the carriage and carefully arranged to meet the Ashkevron’s standards. Measuring out several dried herbs from small wooden boxes, Faeril spoke. Her voice rough as she poured the spoonful into a mortar. [color=SlateBlue]”I am sorry that Denvar conscripted you to keep an eye on me. He would love to do it himself, but as I would argue…”[/color] She shook her dark head, her blue eyes closing for a minute as the wooden box was replaced and another was drawn out to be measured. [color=SlateBlue]”Warlord Princes are stubborn men. They will only compromise so much against their favor and even then it’s in their favor.”[/color] Her tone was exasperated as she tapped the yellowed herbs into the bowl as well and replaced the box. [color=SlateBlue]”And it’s thankful there are only two of them.”[/color] There was the more usual grumble of the grouchy healer.