A Party To Die For

Ugh. Thought Tiberius irritably, I hate gatherings like this. He stared at the invitation to the embassy gala held in the capital. Débutantes and dignitaries and nobles from every corner of Illyrium would be in attendance and that meant playing nice with the plebs. He rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation. He was the Thanin ambassador to Seraphane, and was therefore obligated to go to such an event. Tiberius ran his fingers through his curly brown hair in frustration. He knew what he was going to wear already; his usual ambassadorial garb for formal functions. As ever, he'd also bring his short sword as part of his dress uniform.

His hand stopped at his tattered red scarf, souvenir from an old friend. He frowned, and shook his head and decided to wear it anyway, probably as a sash. He already knew he wasn't perfect anyway. His different-colored eyes sealed his fate that he'd never be truly accepted in Thanin society. He resigned himself to his imperfection and thus, the ratty old scarf was acceptable to him. He sighed, shaking his head again then went about reading the guest list. Most of them were people he'd met before; at other parties or functions. Seraphane seemed to have these things all the bloody time. His left eye twitched in annoyance, but he swallowed his pride and then started to get dressed for tonight's event. He pulled on his purple dress tunic with gold trim, and several of the medals he'd earned in his time as a legionnaire and later centurion of the Golden Army. His brown dress trousers were next, and his deep purple riding boots he used for these formal occasions atop those. On his shoulders, he wore his purple military cloak, with the aforementioned ratty scarf wrapped about his waist. Overall, he cut a handsome and regal figure though he himself did not see it as so.

His manservant put the rest of Tiberius' wardrobe away while Tiberius fixed his gladius and its scabbard to his makeshift sash and he wrapped his cloak about himself. It was time to go to the Seraphane royal palace. With a melancholic expression, he moved out, walking briskly and smartly.

The port was bristling with life. The flow of people and cargo seemed very much akin to the sea, always restless, always in motion. Kiril confidently stepped off the ramp of the "Searook", a rather small and shoddy vessel that served as his home for the past few weeks as he sailed from the Weischel Islands, finally arriving in Seraph. Kiril was rather pleased that the nasty bit of business he conducted with the Weischel pirates has been concluded, and not as much because of the fat purse it yielded, but more so because he much preferred the firmness of the ground beneath his feet, to the ever shifting surface of a ship deck. For the first time in several long months, he felt completely in his own element. The crowds and the shadows of a big city provided the best armor someone in his profession could wish for.

"So far things are going according to plan, I must only collect my invitation from the drop spot and I will be ready to attend the ball tonight. It is curious though...who is my client? Who would have gone through such trouble to summon me all the way from Weischel just to kill some noble of little renown? Who would know that my contract with my most recent employer has just recently expired? Curious, very curious...at the same time irrelevant. Half the fee has already been paid, the job has been accepted, the plan has been composed, its now only the matter of execution."

Kiril thought to himself as he moved with the flow of the crowd making his way out of the docks.

Irina's job had a long list of advantages; she had at her disposition enough resources and money in order to research what she desired as long as the Duke was pleased with the orientation of the experiment, she could afford an elegant lifestyle that she wouldn't have imagined as a kid even in her wildest dreams but there's nothing perfect and her employement certeanly had also disadvantages which included being forced to attend to parties like this. The brunette could handle small gatherings with other nobles for the Duke's benefit since they tended to be brief and straight to the point but festivities? Irina lacked of both the patience and the desire to put up with the iciocy of the average noble.

The sage's choose a dress that followed her usual patter on style, soft black silk covering her body with a neckline that showed her delicated shoulders, a matching dark choker embaracing an ivory neck which held her pendant, a piece of jellwery that she took wherever she went. Unlike other noblewomen she didn't bother with heavy makeups or extremely sophisticated hairstyles, she didn't have to, in these departments the sage favoured a more simple taste, only bothering into using a bit of eyeliner to make her violet eyes stand out.

With a little bit of luck she would pass unnoticed among the rest, that way she would be also be able to gather information if needed in peace.

But peace had never liked her, or at the least that was her impression.

Finally having made it to the duke's manor, where the other delegates and partygoers were filing in and mingling. The Thanin ambassador had an expression that could only be described as 'politician face' which entailed a fake smile and never really looking at someone directly. Tiberius knew how to play the game of politics, he just despised it. He shook hands, bowed, and saluted where appropriate before moving on to a corner of the room he could observe everyone else, while also taking note of the exits in case he needed to leave.

The food offered was Seraph cuisine, which contained multiple types of fish, and some fruits mixed with the vegetables. Tiberius was accustomed to it at this point, but then he noticed someone at the party who was unexpected: King Isaac Dragonis of Cymru.

What is a royal doing at a lowly duke's party? pondered Tiberius, his heterochromatic eyes watching the red haired monarch mingling while dressed in his black and silver formal attire, with the dueling dragon quest of Clan Dragonis embroidered on the back of his black cape in silver and deep blue. Isaac looked haggard, like he had not been sleeping.


Of course, the king's mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts unable to form a cohesive sentence. His eyes gazed around at the people staring at him, and he offered a polite smile to them while his guards flanked him. Look at these sycophantic plebs. Unsheathe me! Release me and I will slay them all for you! the voice from the sword at his hip whispered in his mind. The family blade, Deathscream, had recently come into his possession after the passing of his father. The blade had a mind of its own, and it was always hungry for blood, to feed on the souls of its victims. Isaac had watched his father devolve into madness as he used it more and more, he swore to himself that he would never fall into that trap. And yet...the sword's whispers often delivered its promises of power whenever he did actually unsheathe it. It was certainly a conundrum. Isaac's trusty wyvern, Keebo, did not like the sword, but Isaac assured his friend that he was still quite sane and would not turn into his father.

As Irina had expected the party was a decadent meeting that proved over and over again that having titles didn't mean that you deserved them; minus a couple of exceptions all the attendants were people of dull minds more focused on boasting and mantaining their status quo instead of discussing interesting things. Irina has always tought that the ones that should held the power should be the most adecuate for it; strenght and wealth was nothing against a sharp mind.

She tried to not draw attention, the brunette mingled with few people and she tried to keep the interactions as short as possible; while she could be diplomatic and conciliatory if necessary she loathed big groups and her mood was reflected on the dryness of her speech. The only intriguing thing so far was the mental ramble of the king that had made appereance in the reunion but Irina wasn't going to use that information against him; even if she wasn't half bad at the politics game she didn't have a single bit of interest on scalating in the political ladder.

She was conversing with a duke whose name she hadn't even bother to ask when she saw a familiar face in the background, well while she wasn't specially close to him at the least he was better company than 3/4 of the people in this room. The duke was trying to praise himself talking about all the books that he had read along his life, saying that he must be one of the most cultured man in Seraphane "I am sure of that your skill to open books and to read them is impressive but I am required somewhere else" she said with a polite voice despite of her sarcam as she approached Tiberius.

The flow of his toughts started to reach her and she smirked, violet eyes gleaming with amusement; I hate this suit, I hate these soft rich people and wish they'd all die in a fire, nice dress and other things ran across his mind.

"My my but aren't you elegantly dressed tonight? and yes I agree, this is a really nice dress indeed" Irina said, the corner of her lips up in a discrete smile.

Why do I let her talk me into these things? A inaudible grumble seems pulse inside the woman as she walked towards the guards and presented her invitation. Her attire was unusual in style compared to everyone at the gala. The formal deel she had chosen was a tighter fit than anything would have been worn on the plains but defined her womanly features quite nicely with 'V' neckline and the lack of sleeves, showing the smooth harden muscle of her shoulders. This style of formal dress was not unusual to the Yannai, who refused to wear anything that constricts their arms and legs. They would do wear a formal open-ended robe that does limits their arm movement, as a sign of no aggression and respect. However, people that are better versed in Yanni culture knows very well that the coat can be removed very quickly in reacting to violence.

Blue was a chosen color for the attire, as it commented Mintaka's eyes and was the color of her tribe. Both deel and the robe were a blue as dark as the midnight sky. Various trim patterns were embroidered onto the robe's sleeves and the trims of the deel with a faded golden silk thread. The gold in her attire had two purposes. It showed her as a representative to the Golden Khan, and worked the dark blue very nicely.  

She made her entrance into the manor, feeling slightly out of place. Out of habit, her hand brushed touched the lavish dagger that was hugged against her hip. People stared at her, but her mind stared back into the empty plains of her homeland, setting her mind to ease. A few gathered to greet her, and she greeted them in turn with gentleness. However, there was the festering urge to run out of the manor and to go back into her warrior garb once again.

((I know my outfit description was less than great. A better reference can be found [You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]. Just imagine the red as dark blue and the green areas as a lighter shade of that blue....and without the headpiece. Mintaka doesn't do hats >>.))

Getting through the gates went mostly uneventful, though the guards did take a second look at Kiril's invitation, being slightly suspicious of the long bearded man with an unwashed face and a heavy covering of furs on top of his chainmail armor. Adding to that was his undecorated simple looking saber in a shoddy, worn down scabbard that he wore at his side. The man looked more like a highway bandit than a noble, completely out of place at the duke's manor, and yet his invitation was completely legitimate, including all the required signatures. The head guardsman was called over, and Kiril was asked to show another document proving his identity. Cursing in an incredibly hoarse voice, his eyes filling with bloodlust, Kiril pulled out a medallion bearing House Voronin coat of arms...a raven sitting atop two crossed axes.

"Lord...Voronin...is it? Of House Voronin, from the Northern wildlands of Krev."

The guard handed back the papers and Kiril tore them out of his hand, continuing staring him down enraged.

"Is that all, smerd?"

He said with unnerving calmness and a thick Krev accent.

"....Please enter....your lordship. We apologize about the hold up."

Kiril walked through the gates, firmly bumping into the guard's shoulder as he passed him, then continuing on without looking back.

"Well...phase one is complete...Svitomir Voronin of Starogorsk has arrived at the his Lordship's Duke Curwen's high society gathering. I find it more and more fortunate that the Northern Wildlands exist and that they exist in Krev. Nobility regardless of origin tends to mingle, if they all don't know each other personally, they have at least heard of each other through someone they do know....unless you're one out of thousands minor rural lordlings from a backwater so far away from anything resembling a court that not even your own liege knows that you exist...only his tax collectors do. Very, very useful."

Kiril entered the palace proper, surveying the other guests with a quick glance that didn't loose a single detail.

"Just as I expected, pampered nobility in all of its splendor...should have no difficulty making myself interesting enough to attract attention, including the host's. Majority of these people wander through a very dull existence, stories of the hard life outside their palaces is something they appreciate greatly. Proceeding with phase two."

He continued moving through the hall, scanning his surroundings, while outwardly making an appearance of residual anger spurred by the incident at the gate.

Tiberius was sipping some wine while observing the partygoers when he noticed a familiar face amongst the crowd: Duke Curwen's advisor, Irina the Sage. Tiberius had met her two or three times before, and they usually shared similar ideas about politicking (or rather the boring tedium of it). In his mind, Tiberius considered her someone who was actually interesting to talk to, but still someone to watch out for. Mages were notorious for being able to read minds, and thus he quickly checked himself when he found his mind wandering as he observed her heading towards him.

He stiffened his back when she commented on his mental cavalcade of jumbled thoughts and gave a terse, tight smile in return. "This doublet pinches my back in an uncomfortable way." he muttered to her before combing his fingers through his thick brown curls. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, madam Irina?" he inquired to her, his multicolored eyes observing the room again before his jaw tightened at seeing one of the Golden Khan's representatives here. Thanin and Yanni have had a tense relationship for the past three decades, so Tiberius was in a rather odd position where he had to mingle with someone who could easily start a war just killing anyone in this room.

There was another stranger in the mix, someone from a Krev house he hadn't heard of, but then, Tiberius wasn't well-versed in Krev's nobility. He'd only visited the Tsardom once in his life and he was a child back then. From his odd dress and beard, Tiberius almost mistook this patrician as a thug, but apparently the man's papers were in order, so he figured the man was just an eccentric.

Irina was aware of that people didn't appreciate her mind reading skills and she couldn't blame them for that; luckily she rarely bumped into sages in Seraphane but back in Krev ,during her training, she had to be extra careful considering that she was surrounded by mages. This didn't mean that the brunette was going to not use this "skill" anytime soon; while the amount of information or the chance to get information at all variated depending on the mind she was trying to read, it was a useful tool that had given her advantage more than once, perhaps an unfair advantage but the sage had never believed in playing fair.

"Elegant clothes aren't mean to be comfortable but to look good" said the sage with a srugh; she was so used to this kind of attire that she wasn't uncomfortable but she could guess that Tiberius likely didn't share her opinion in this particular matter. "While I am flattered at having my company considered as pleasurable my reason to be here is simple; while I don't know about you a lot but I can affirm that I won't feel an urge to set something on fire after talking with you for longer than five minutes, that it's more than what I can say about half of the people attending this party there was a hint of humour in her voice but her statement was entirely true.

Violet eyes followed his gaze, paying attention to the new guests without extracting conclusions. She had enough general knowledge to know who was the woman but she didn't have a clue about the man; Irina was used to mingle with Seraphane's high society so to speak but she wasn't specially knowledgeable when it comes to foreign politics.

Accepting some wine from the nervous server, Mintaka kept a close observation of the guest as well as keeping mild conversation with some noble trying to impress her. He was reciting records and notations from war philosophy. It did not take a mind reader to conclude that she was disgusted by the misconceptions that were being referenced to her. So why she was here? With the tension between Yanni and most of Illyrium, the need was to recreate some kind of passive relationships to keep trade open. That recreation does have to come with a little bit of public relation and socialization...

and the Golden Khan knows she has a better grip on her temper.

The Shona tribe had acted like a protectorate and liaison for both, so invitations kept coming. There were even offers in gold for Mintaka to drill and train soldiers, which she refused as politely as possible. She made sure keep her loyalties clear for some of the more persistent nobles. Eventually, most are aware that her glare meant an absolute no.

While tuning out the mind numbing conversation, she couldn't help to feel a sensation that she knew all too well.  Intent to Kill. It was a sensation like a chilling prick along her skin. Knowing that she had to deal with some enemies, her eyes looked around the crowd, looking for the source. Her eyes caught a glimpse of someone in particular. She wasn't familiar with the individual's nationality, and he looked like someone bad side of town by anyone's standards. Her eyes stared at the man, observing him intensely.

"Ah there you are. I see you, Guiding Star of the West!"

The energetic voice in another language pushed the last swallow of wine down the wrong pipe. Mintaka had somehow refrained reacting to the burning sensation down her windpipe, looking at the young woman approaching her.

"...Sarnai" Mintaka managed to breathe out in surprise and completely lost sight of the object of her attention.

Sarnai wore a yellow floral gown that was loose against her body and a product of Yanni textile silk. It was a trade product that became quite popular among the some of the wealthy around illyrium. It was originally started as a product that was used to finishing weapons or wrapping child to prevent travel bruising. Apparently the rest of the Illyrium is willing to pay crazy amounts for a few rolls of the stuff.

"I'm relieved you didn't try to get into those savages dresses." Mintaka murmured quietly in their native language. It was savage to her that women destroy their chests for beauty sake.

"Min, is that the only thing you worried about?" Sarnai retorted, speaking her mind or rather Mintaka's. "I would be fine. I could take care of m--" Her bravado ended quickly as she coughed several times. Mintaka rushed up to her, taking the flower from corsage and bring it up to her face. Sarnai took a sniff into it a few times, taking in some of the medicine she hid in there. "Thank you." She spoke clearly, breathing in relief.

"You should be resting. . ."

"And you should try to talk a little more. You know brother can't do it."

Mintaka sighed, not willing to humor her with a response to that. "I wouldn't know how to start. Anyways, let's get you some water." Mintaka carry her sister over to the serving table. She searched the room for that man, but he was lost in the crowd. She did noticed that the Thanin ambassador was here, but was more concern for her sister than working politics for a moment.

Kiril made his way further in, grabbing a goblet of wine from a passing servant. Taking a slow sip, he continued looking around the room. The stage was set, all that was needed now was patient wait for the hunter's prey to march itself towards the snare.

"Duke Curwen...fifty three years of age, married young, widowed by disease, married again, six children in total....carries weight in Seraphane politics but much less so in public than behind closed doors. Conservative in mentality and influence, believes himself pragmatic yet is secretly obsessed with honor and chivalry....was a tourney champion in his youth....has a deeply rooted dislike for the Krev royal family which started with a land dispute at the border some time ago."

Kiril took another sip.

"My employer has certainly done a fair bit of research, would have taken me weeks to find out as much through my own sources if they haven't been kind enough to provide me with that thick roll of parchment. The old man is cunning in some ways...and yet I know just what buttons to push to make him sign his own life away."

Gazing through the crowd he spotted someone that gave him a pause. His facial expression did not change, yet for a split second the surprise made him come close to loosing his composure.

"This may complicate matters somewhat....why...why is he here? He has most certainly spotted me already...perhaps his being here is pure coincidence and he does not aim to interfere. This is starting to get a bit more curious than I generally prefer."

Kiril moved his eyes away and returned to his drink.

Dark green eyes observed Kiril for a moment, as the man in the crimson coat stayed off to the side. He was not there to interfere with Kiril's work, just to deliver a message. He left it on the table in the form of a letter addressed to "Lord Voronin" before disappearing into the crowd and out of sight. He moved as a leaf on the wind and was gone.

Tiberius, despite himself found himself grinning a little at Irina's comment. "I am flattered that you find me tolerable compared to these plebeians, sycophants and such." he mused to her while his eyes scanned the crowd around them. He looked over at Irina again and sighed. "I am so bored of this..." he muttered before putting on his 'Ambassador Smile' as he greeted another passing dignitary before his expression immediately dropped into his frown. "We can perhaps meet again after this party without the backdrop of these morons of guests."

There was a little disturbance coming from the two Yanni dignitaries, and King Isaac Dragonis swooped in to assist, by offering a glass of water to the sickly woman with a kind smile. He brushed his fiery red locks away from his face. "No need to leave your sister's side. I have you covered." he smiled behind his scarred face. Isaac never drank any alcohol at parties that he himself did not throw, prefering to be sober. "You two must be khans from the Golden Khan's court, yes? Pleasure to meet you, I am King Isaac Dragonis of Cymru." he greeted them.

Duke Curwen was speaking to his other guests before he spotted 'Lord Voronin' who was watching him intently. He strode over to the patrician and nodded. "Enjoying the party are you, my lord?" He asked Kiril with a tense smile. "Yes, my wife has told me about you, Lord Voronin... and I still have not forgiven you for your dallying with her behind my back. You sir, have no honor!" He suddenly started shouting.

Like a moth to a flame.

Kiril's choice of Svitomir Voronin as his cover identity wasn't random. The northern lordling was a perfect piece to complete the ploy of moving Duke Curwen to confrontation. Svitomir never met Curwen, but did have relations with the duke's wife some years prior. During his mandatory service as an officer in the Tsar's army, the two met at an event in Krevgrad which the Duke's wife attended while visiting one of her cousins. The foolish woman revealed this to her husband trying to get a rise out of him during one of their arguments and the good duke swore that day to end the man's life. So the duke invited the man to his house with intention of challenging him to a duel, the invitation was intercepted and ended up in Kiril's hands. The added bonus was that the real Svitomir, recently assuming his title of Lord from his father, already squandered most of his wealth gambling, and was currently busy hunting down poachers for a neighboring lord to make money to repay his creditors. Lord Voronin had neither the time to be anywhere near Seraphane, nor the money to afford the trip, thus eliminating the possibility of Kiril's plans becoming undone by a coincidence.

Kiril grinned and looked Curwen directly in the eyes. He spoke boldly and loudly.

"You southern fairies do not even know what honor means. Look at yourselves, so many men here with such shiny swords, yet almost none of them have ever been swung in battle. Regardless, we both know why I am here, save your impotent words for one who would care to listen. Go on and challenge me, unless you have already wet your trousers."

The Duke was taken aback by Kiril's brazen reply....yet in a few short moments he regained his composure and continued.

"It is true, words would be wasted on a savage! Let us speak no more! I challenge you to a duel of swords to be fought here in my manor! Make peace with your maker, sir, for you are about to meet him!"

Curwen turned around and walked towards the middle of the room, the crowd began to disperse to the sides creating a clearing. Kiril followed behind Curwen, his hand on the hilt of his saber. The two men assumed positions, the duel was about to start.

Sarnai accepted the water from the royal and smile, "Thank you, though I'm not--"

"Sarnai, let your throat rest before you have another coughing fit." Mintaka told her sternly. Her motherly tone shown a lot of concern for her sister, but it hid the fact that Khan did not need her sister blurting out unnecessary things. "Thank you, King Dragonis. I am Mintaka Khan, Khan of Yanni and Shona Tribe." She gestured in greeting, then motioned towards Sarnai. "This Sarnai Khan, but officially Sarnai Udgan of the Yanni"

The gentleness tone in Mintaka's tone spoke with relevance to her sister's offical duty. Udgan was a title given to a spiritualist among the Yanni, one who was capable of communing with the elemental spirits that are part of the land. Sarnai's illness predated since she was a toddler, and most of her siblings saw her as weak and dying. Because of this, there was not a day in her childhood that Orsk or Mintaka had violently ended their sibling's bullying of their younger sibling. It was until Krev researcher had further examined Sarnai's true gift years later that Sarnai was connected to the world in a different way. She could ask the earth where the best yield of crops and consort with the wind on where the Ykat herds have gone. Now she is valued among the Khans as a adviser, magus and seer than the willow of a great warrior.

"It's quite interesting that you knew we were sisters."Mintaka commented with a smile of her own, a genuine one. She opened her mouth to speak another comment, but a vociferous exchange of words turned her attention towards the two nobles exchanging words. Duke Curwen was shouting at the man, she noticed earlier. I thought nobles were too clean for their own good, but this man...something doesn't seem right.

"I thought they would wait politely before addressing this kind of dispute. Mintaka commented to Issac. "Though I'll admit, I don't dislike the change of pace or the activity that's about to commence." To be honest, the Yanni handled disputes on the spot all the time and usually leaves the contenders bloody, bruised, or dead...so the duel was actually approved by her. She wondered if they would stop with one giving a mercy plea or be just a brutal as the ones she was acquainted with.

Feeling a nudge her against her side, Mintaka turned to notice Sarnai became very nervous. She wanted to ask why but she kept quiet.

"I don't think that such a colourful description is needed, I would simply call them boring; I have to say that there are some nobles whose company is enjoyable but I haven't seen them around tonight". A few nobles genuinely interested in science that had a level of knowledge that lead to fascinating conversations and another few that while not interested in the same areas as Irina were able to handle a interaction without making it dull. Is that you trying to make polite conversation or an actual offer? she said with a hint of a smile on her lips as she rose an eyebrow.

The smile faded away when the conmotion started, apparently two nobles had decided to make the night more lively with a duel. The fascination of nobility to duel in the name of these matters was something that the sage would never understand; to die for a cause? not her cup of tea but she could understand it, to die for a person? for the appropiate one she would agree that it was worth in a way but...what was the point of dying for an abstract ideal?.
A not specially lady like curse left her lips in a low tone (thankfully it was in her native language) when she relized that the noble that had proposed the duel was Curwen; pale lips pressed togheter firmly as her eyes narrowed, she knew that she couldn't interfere with the duel.

Again, Tiberius felt a small smile slip before going back to his stony faced expression a moment later from Irina's question to him. "Perhaps a little bit of both, madam." He mused, and then the altercation between Duke Curwen and Lord Voronin started, and Tiberius finally seemed to lose some of his boredom. Duels of honor were commonplace in Illyrium across all nations, even the dishonorable Weischel pirates followed duelling laws when not on a raid.

Though some realization struck when he remembered exactly whom Irina worked for, Duke Curwen. He had gauged the Lord Voronin who answered the duel challenge as a man who had seen many battles while Duke Curwen had the reputation as a soldier back in his youth, he had long let himself go once he had inherited his title from his father. Looks like Madam Irina will be out of a job shortly. he thought to himself before looking over at her. "Ah...I am sorry in advance for your loss. The Thanin embassy would gladly offer you employment, should you wish it." He offered to her before turning his gaze back to the impending duel.

King Isaac, meanwhile, was still talking to the two Yanni women. Clearly they cared for one another, which was something of a rarity in Isaac's eyes, because of his own experience with his own family, who were constantly trying to kill each other. How I envy them. the king thought to himself before smiling at Mintaka's comment on his observing they were sisters. "Quite so. You two have identical features, which would at least make you sisters, though I'd wager you are twins." he said, before his blue eyed gaze shifted to the brewing scene of a duel. He nodded to Mintaka and Sarni. "Right, how very blasé." he murmured and shrugged. "Alas, we cannot interfere in the conflict. If our host perishes, then that would be the end of this particular party. If he wins, it would still be the end of the party." he looked over at his guards while Deathscream whispered in his skull, hungry to begin killing. Isaac shoved the whispers back into the depths of his mind as best he could.

"Fraternal twins. . ." Sarni confirmed, before shivering nervously against Mintaka.


"Yes, she's right. We ended up with different eyes and other features, though we got the best of looks from our parents." Mintaka finished the thought. Her eyes watching with interest over the duel between Corwin and Voronin. Mintaka looked over at Issac, "So either way the party will end. It's nothing I would mourn over." It was true that Mintaka was bored with the party and if it wasn't for Sarni's insistence, she would have been at full gallop back home. That horrible intention she sensed earlier was still present by muddled by the anger of a very angry Lord Corwin.

"I sensed a death, izoki" Sarni whispered. Mintaka looked at her sister, lacking surprise in her face. This duel will end badly for someone, and she knew who.

The two men stood opposite each other, their swords raised in front of them.

Kiril's method of assassination was based on total preparedness. For the purposes of carrying out his duties, he was not simply pretending to be Svitomir Voronin, he was Svitomir Voronin. Svitomir and Kiril could not be anymore different from each other. Kiril was born an orphan from the stone paved streets of Krevgrad, that stone was his existence, he became as cold as that stone. Svitomir was an heir of a half-feral forest clan living in the wilderness, brought into the Tsardom's fold but never completely domesticated, the man was a raging fire. Kiril breathed, acted and fought with no emotion, his every move made with a specific purpose, his blade quick and precise. Svitomir, while having received formal training in swordsmanship during his service in the Tsardom's army, still deferred to fighting in the traditional way of the wilds, more a brawler than a swordsman and yet....still brutally effective in his own way. Kiril could have ended Curwen's life with but a single stroke of his sword arm, or even just a strike of his knuckles to the right spot. Unfortunately for Curwen, Kiril would fight him as Svitomir, so that no one would even think of questioning his identity even after he is gone and the mission is complete.

Kiril swung first, Curwen easily parried with his rapier. Then came an avalanche of similar strikes in quick succession, Curwen parried all of them but was at the same time driven back. After a few seconds the old man made his first error, Kiril's saber grazed his cheek and blood spurred forth. Curwen jumped back and immediately catapulted himself forward with a piercing counter attack. Kiril moved away just slow enough to let the rapier nick him in the shoulder, his chainmail absorbed most of the impact, yet the hit penetrated releasing a small stream of blood.

"Time to end this."

Emboldened by his success, Curwen lunged again, aiming for his opponent's chest. Kiril parried the strike with a broad motion, then immediately punched Curwen in the face with his gauntlet-ed fist, breaking the old man's jaw and toppling him over. Curwen struggled for breath as he attempted to get up, his mouth full of blood. At that time Kiril let out a primal roar, dropped his saber, pulled out his dagger, jumped on top of his foe and started quickly and chaotically stabbing the man in the chest and neck. He kept stabbing even after Curwen expired, his own face, hands and armor splattered in his opponent's blood as a red puddle began spreading outwards from the corpse. Breathing heavily himself, his eyes filled with bloodlust,  joy and arrogance in equal measure, Kiril got up, wiped his blade on Curwen's tunic, put away the dagger, picked up his saber from the floor and put it back in its scabbard. He looked around the room with a wolf's grin, staring down all those present. Once he was satisfied, he turned around and started making his way for the exit without saying a word.

"I think that this is not the time nor the moment to discuss my work perspectives ambassador" she said, perhaps a bit harshly but she was tense. Even if she knew how the duel would end until Curwen's death the sage didn't regain again her usual composture; she knew clearly who would lose this battle but still it was human to not be impassible before a sight like a duel.

When the whole bussiness was concluded there was no mourning from Irina's side; the brunette could always find another job and she wasn't someone that lost her sleep for the bad judgement of another person. The duke knew already that he shouldn't have offered a duel that he couldn't win but again it was his choice, a choice that was respected until the end.

The winner's grin didn't stirr anything in Irina, violet eyes looked as he left with an expresionless face.

King Isaac watched the duel with the twin women, his eyes watching the sword work of both combatants. His initial assessment was correct. Duke Curwen was experienced but out of practice. His having gotten fat from court life certainly hasn't helped. In contrast his opponent Lord Voronin was lithe, young and nimble. He moved with a grace that was calculating and pragmatic. When the final blow came, Isaac relaxed a bit, then sighed. "I suppose that is our cue to leave then." he mused and bowed to the two Yanni women. "A pleasure to meet you two, Sarni Khan, Mintaka Khan." he said and then turned and left with his retinue of bodyguards, and mounted his red and black wyvern, Keebo then took to the skies.

Tiberius observed the fight as well, and it was over quickly and brutally. He made a grunt of distaste from Lord Voronin's needlessly savage ripping the corpse of his fallen foe apart. He rolled his eyes. Pointless. Wasted energy. He thought to himself and combed his fingers through his brown curls before turning over to Irina. "Perhaps not. Though if you ever need me for something, do not hesitate to seek me out. Save me from this wretched boredom of court life." He said to her, offering a small smile while quietly thinking to himself, Need to get out of this monkey suit quickly and back into my armor. I feel exposed here. His eyes slid over to the two two Yanni women cautiously before saluting Irina in the fist-clapped-to-the-heart manner that Thaninites preferred.

The grin from the victor was met with a cold, unraveled glare that Mintaka had since the start of the fight. There was no aspect of fear or intimation taken in by the seasoned warrior. It was a duel, and there was a victor. Nothing else special for her to react to.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, King Dragonis."  Mintaka answered, returning the favor of the bow, in a hand clasping-around-the-fist-and-head-lowered way.

"Yes, good to meet you, King Dragonis." Sarni answered in turn.

As the king departed, Mintaka turned to her sister. "Alright, I guess that's enough fun for tonight. We should began the journey home by first light tomorrow. Was there any business you needed to finish before then?"

"No, I have the books I intended to pick up and the trade contracts were finished. I guess we couldn't renew up Lord Curwen's contracts."

Mintaka sighed, looking at the broken remains of the host,"No, I guess not, though it's not a major loss. Now, I guess we should get you in bed."

Sarni frowned Mintaka's last remark, "Yes, mom." The sage murmured under her breathe. "If it makes you feel any better, someone feels the same way you do right now."

"Hmm?" Mintaka looked at her as she escorted her sister outside.

"He hates being without in his armor." Sarni chuckled. It wasn't a obvious glance, but her face somehow pointed towards Tiberius.

Mintaka didn't know how to answer to that. The fact that she hated being without her warrior garb was obvious since she came here. Instead, she laughed as soon as she left the manor and headed towards their horses. Maybe, it was just something to help her relieve the gloom caused by the party and the events that occurred. It could have also been that maybe a Thaninite and a Yanni had something in common. Then again, it could have just been nerves.  Nerves caused by the tension that is soon to come in the coming years.

Kiril left the manor and was walking towards the gates then he heard a voice at his back.

"Lord Voronin, a letter for you!"

A servant ran out of the manor holding an envelope, Kiril turned around to face him, giving the man a stern look.

"It was left by one of the other guests on a table, and it has your name on it."

Kiril accepted the envelope, watched the servant leave, then turned back around and walked out of the gate leaving the manor behind him.