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[h2][color=SteelBlue]Karl Müller-Hohenstein[/color][/h2][hr][/center]

Karl had not lingered long in the Capital. His position as Royal Archivist was, in theory, still valid but he had no doubt that he was far safer in the lands of his own people than in the serpents nest. He still maintained his connections, and the vast spy network that he had built under the former King still fed him continuous information. The Northern Alliance was no surprise to him when it was announced, he had ravens bearing the news come pouring in while the ink was still dry on the parchment. 

[i]"Bold to declare for the would be usurper..."[/i] He was in the Northern most city of [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/039/195/372/large/usama-jameel-naboo-palace.jpg?1625199883]Rhon[/url] in a tower that he had built for his own enjoyment, a single lonely spire connected to the main fortress by a long stone bridge. It was an incredible feat of engineering and one that served to highlight the skill of Stormlanders. 

[i]"Still it only makes sense. Their strength is in unity. It would be unthinkable for them to try and march on the south, but at least this way they prove themselves a force that needs watching."[/i]

As with most spaces in which he spent his time, the presence of other humans was limited here. The bridge was well guarded and the climb to the tower itself impossible; several would be assassins had fallen to their deaths before in an attempt to reach him. 

[i]Tap.[/i] The sound echoed through a single room that made up the mid-layer of the tower. Tall white columns supported the space and there was nary a stair to be seen. The whole spire had been built with ramps or ingenious lifts that allowed him to move about with something approaching comfort.

[i]Click.[/i] He was quite alone here with his musings. The only sound other than his laboured breathing was a small waterfall that burbled down one wall, fed by pipes that had been built into the connecting bridge. 

[i]Drag.[/i] Couches and desks filled some of the space but it was in the very centre of the room that the true mastery of the spire could be found. A bath. It was deep enough he could sit and had a shelf in which he could lie down. Tile, made by unknown men from across the Starry Sea, was laid throughout and no matter how grumpy he was, it always served to cheer him up. 

Similar such structures had been built in all the major cities he could be expected to spend his time in. Michaela was left to visit the rest. She was the sword to his shield and between the two of them the Stormlands had become second to none in the realm. 

[i]Tap. Click. Click.[/i] 

"Fuck!" He squawked as his ankle chose that moment to give out and he toppled sideways with a crash, his cane rolling across the floor. He landed on his hip and fire shot through his lower back and then his shoulder hit; more fire. Small mercies allowed his head to go un-bonked but it jarred his neck nonetheless. 

"Never a dull fucking moment around here." He wanted to kick something like petulant child but he hurt too much at the moment and settled for slapping the floor with one hand. It hurt, but only slightly. "The grace of the Archduke is legendary..." He mocked himself as he dragged his body into to a sitting position.

He was aware instantly of the sound of feet on the ramp and quickly finished dragging himself to his feet on the corner of a desk. No matter how much it hurt, he would not be found lying on the floor like a child.  

Bartholomew appeared at the head of the ramp, took in the scene with a quick glance, and approached.

"My lord, Elise van Rossum is riding for the city," He knelt and picked up the cane, leaning it next to Karl. "I can only imagine she wishes to speak with you."

"Got an army behind her has she?" Karl was only half joking. The woman was not unlike his daughter, an iron fist that somehow jammed itself into a corset one minute and plate mail the next. Bartholomew smiled slightly but did not reply.

"Have a man find out what she wants. If it's me she seeks, send her along. No guards mind you, though I'll take a half dozen. That lady could kill me without flexing a muscle. If she's looking for the Duchess, send her along to Steinbach."

Bartholomew nodded and retreated without another word. Karl worked his way around to the other side of the desk and sat in the heavily cushioned chair. His ass was still throbbing from hitting the floor and sitting never did his body any favours. Still, he had to think and this was so much better than standing.

Leaning back as best he could he closed his eyes and dug deep into his memory. He might not be able to wield a sword anymore but his memory was nearly perfect and it proved to be his most dangerous weapon. 

"Hertogin Elise van Rossum..." He muttered through missing teeth and chapped lips. "A damn fine commander in a world full of preening cocks in armour... Popular with her soldiers, no such much the common folk. Nothing wrong with a bit of fear but with the religious contagion spreading among the peasantry the heavy handed approach might not do so well..."

"Likes her liquor... Not quite certain on her sexual activities yet, she's kept that one surprisingly under wraps... Not a merchant but she keeps the rabble at bay so trade can thrive; she's what carries our peace beyond our border and into the north..."

"Desperate for recognition, no secret there." His eyes opened again. He often talked to himself and he glanced at the folded note on the desktop. The northern alliance. He was not foolish enough to dismiss them out of hand, they were fierce warriors but even united they were not a force that needed to be reckoned with, unless they combined with another larger organized army. They could be safely discounted for the present moment; spies would quickly inform him of any major movements.

"Yes, let us see what the Lady Van Rossum wants..."

[hider=Summary]
[i]Karl receives word of the Northern Lords unifying and the approach of Elise van Rossum. Hints of his vast spynetwork abound and he muses on the Northern allies.[/i][/hider]

[@Zoldyck]