Interactive Story: White Night



  • Oh, okay. Thanks for the update, Liquid.

    I have spoken to Nitric recently and he has informed me that he is currently very busy. He wants to continue the story, but needs a few more

  • edited October 2017

    Hey guys, it's been imprudent of me not to give you all an update sooner on the status of the story (and me for that matter), and I do sincerely apologise for that. I've hit a hard time where my major exams are coming up and that has been my key priority for the last couple of months. I really should have mentioned this weeks ago, but again, time has caught me off guard in a number of ways, and alas, my story progression has come to a halt (as many of you have noticed).

    You might also be noticing that I am posting this comment on Stigz, which a few of you nutted out quite early, but for those of you who didn't, or plainly don't know me as anyone else but Nitric, I do apologise from keeping this from you also. There was rationale behind this, and believe me, it wasn't to deceive any of you. Rather, it was to give myself an obligation. My prime story, the Invasion, I began with in 2015, and it's an amazing story and certainly something I do not regret writing. It is a long drawn story, and it can be difficult for me to maintain interest in the slow paced repetitive scenes and the abundance of characters to keep up with there. So when I thought up the idea for White Night, I wanted to set it up with Nitric to not only give a fresh start, but to stop me from outright abandoning the Invasion altogether. With two accounts I had two fan bases and with that, if you like, two personas to attend to. I didn't really account for time though, and as you guys have seen I've fallen short on both of my stories by a good month and more.

    So with that being said, I'd like to finish on a lighter note by announcing that I will not be abandoning either stories, and both I plan to resume as soon as my end of year exams are concluded, which shall be in 5 weeks! :# :# I'll be around for a week and a bit to pump out a few more parts before disappearing again to a holiday in South America for, you guessed it, 5 weeks. This means I won't be really active until early January next year, but if all goes to plan, I should be pre-writing some parts for my good friend to post here and on the Invasion during my absence. Again, that is down to how much I will get done in the time duration, but for the moment that is my current goal. Anyway, with this all put briefly, I am alive and well, and look forward to coming back soon. I will still be maintaining both my accounts (Nitric and Stigz), so if you wish to further talk with me, or for me to clarify anything you're confused about or missed, then please feel free to PM me on either one. I should me monitoring each at least once a week, so I apologise if you do not get an instant reply.

  • No problem, since I just started this story you can take all the time you want

    Stigz_52 posted: »

    Hey guys, it's been imprudent of me not to give you all an update sooner on the status of the story (and me for that matter), and I do since

  • So Nitric and this guy Stigz were the same person...That's quite the revelation and that explains certain past details ?

    Not gonna lie thinking of this storyline forgotten is not in my plans(as a fan of your work) so waiting eagerly for your return Nitric ;)

    Stigz_52 posted: »

    Hey guys, it's been imprudent of me not to give you all an update sooner on the status of the story (and me for that matter), and I do since

  • Wow! What a plot twist and a revelation! I wasn't expecting Nitric and Stigz to be the same person. As I look back on it tho, it does make sense. Since it appeared both their stories seemed to be active and not active around the same time.

  • Pridefully, I dare to boast that I was the first to uncover this secret... I think. I guess? Ah, whatever, I am glad you decided to reveal this at last. No big thing, your choice to write this story with a different account has always been perfectly understandable to me, though with both accounts being forcefully inactive for the coming weeks, you definitely made the right choice with revealing your identity at this very point. Would have gotten a bit odd if everyone would have ended up catching up to this double identity thing before you get a chance to formally reveal it :D

    I think I told this before, I for one (and given by their reactions, the others as well) definitely understand your current time trouble. My excitement for White Night and the Invasion has not gotten any less during the break and neither will I lose the anticipation I feel for the next part when it comes in about 5 weeks. Hopefully all works out there, with your exams being the most important task for now. Don't worry, you see you have a loyal fanbase here and when you have the time to work on either story again, we'll be here.

    Stigz_52 posted: »

    Hey guys, it's been imprudent of me not to give you all an update sooner on the status of the story (and me for that matter), and I do since

  • :o :s :| .Its just shocking.Stingz and Nitric is the same person.

    So I got my answer.

    What answer?
    Yes,There is something in Nitric's profile that caught my attention.You started the story the same day you joined the telltale with ur Nitric account.So my question was how did you find telltale forum to post your story or how you managed to think about a story the first day you joined telltale? So I found my answer today :) Thanks Stingz(also Nitric)

    Stigz_52 posted: »

    Hey guys, it's been imprudent of me not to give you all an update sooner on the status of the story (and me for that matter), and I do since

  • Hey guys, so I've found a little break to do some writing, and I'm happy to inform you all that I have a new part ready. It's an Elda part. The last time we saw Elda she and the Stormcrows had arrived in the bay of Asshai, and she had conversed with a few members of the company before being called to talk to the leader of the Stormcrows: Erin Erenford. Here, Erenford informed her that the Stormcrows had come to Asshai to discover some information, and needed to form an alliance with a mysterious contact to acquire this information. Elda was left with the decision to serve Erenford as a diplomat in negotiations or do some investigative work with a man known as Vyrano Nearthe on this mysterious contact. Ultimately, you guys decided that Elda would be better suited to serve as a diplomat, and this part picks of where it finished last.

  • edited February 2018


    The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. Elda felt herself in a state of awe as she brought herself to look at the man, she wasn’t sure if she found it amusing or terrifying that a man so small could induce so much formidability over those he laid his gaze on. He was the kind of man that was not wise to be left waiting, and Elda took care not to irritate him. She had come this far by following his orders, and she had reaped the rewards.

    “I think you’re right, Corysu’s presence at this meeting could ward off this alliance,” Elda stated with wavering confidence, but held her head high, and Erin gave her a firm nod. “So be it,” he grunted in response, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. Elda turned gracefully without question, letting out a sigh of relief once her back was faced to Erenford, yet it felt as if her heart had lodged itself in her throat when she heard him call her name again. Cautiously, Elda turned back to meet the hard eyes of the Mad Heron.

    “It’s important that you keep your mouth shut about this. None of the company can know of this, only the three of us,” Erin stated, referring to Corysu as the third. Elda gave her word, and Erin nodded her off, turning his gaze back to the shadow city. The Andal lifted her hand to her brow, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She was sure it wasn’t the heat that had caused her to perspire so profusely.

    Elda’s eyes scanned the dark deck for those who remained. Vellera still manned the helm, while Jaeron had appeared to have given up on his flattery for the Valyrian and had returned below. Or she threw him overboard, Elda thought sarcastically, bringing a small smile to her lips. She knew that Gilma and Nkos had dragged Sarlzo’s sorry arse down below, and Gilma had returned to keep Vellera company with her profusely ecstatic persona.

    Poor thing, Elda thought sympathetically, but those thoughts flooded from her mind as she spotted the grey cloaked creature disappearing into the hull below, and immediately she felt compelled to go after him. She held herself back long enough to make sure there was no one else she could distract herself with, but only a few deckhands and sailors remained on deck, fending lines and polishing the floor beams, anything to avoid socialising with the Stormcrows. So with determination, Elda passively chased after the Thousand Islander down below.

    Her eyes did not take much adjusting to the darkness of the hull, considering the comparison of the Shadowlands outside, Elda imagined she would not be seeing pure sunlight for a while. She descended down the steps slowly, her gaze flicking to the dimly lit lanterns that swung above the heads of the sleeping crew. At the far port side of the hull she spotted Sarlzo barfing into a bucket, while Nkos dabbed a damp rag on Vorro’s brow. Adjacent to them she spotted Jaeron Galiar. Among them she did not see Corysu, and cursed under her breath. He must be in his quarters, Elda thought with hope, a kind of fearful hope.

    She crept around the stairwell to the aft of the vessel, where an alley of cabins stood locked off to the crew and company. The captain’s quarters was the largest of the two, and was given to the Mad Heron, beside that was the Quartermaster’s quarters, yet as Vellera did not have a first mate, she lent the room to Corysu. Seven know what atrocities he has committed in there, Elda thought repulsively as she was attracted to his door, left a crack open with an inviting candle light creeping out of the room.

    Her walking pace slowed, but her heart pace increased as she drew nearer to the creature’s quarters, and she forced herself to stop a moment before going further. She had done this type of thing a thousand times over as a thief. Stealth had been her ally since being a child growing up in poverty, but now she felt her steps thundered louder than the storms that loomed above, and her breath like the howling winds over the mountains. She turned her gaze down to her hands, which were trembling in a cold sweat, something she put an end to which a tight clench of her fists.

    As she lifted her gaze back to the door, it had swung wide open, and in its path stood Corysu. Elda took a step back in shock, eying the Thousand Islander with disbelief while he watched her with calm but deceiving eyes. There had been no creak of the door opening, no sound of footsteps from within, nothing at all. It was ghostly unnatural, and Corysu looked at her with a raised eyebrow, yet his golden eyes seemed to look through her.

    “Lady Elda, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he stated with a concerned but deadly passive tone, which sent shivers down her spine. “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked, breaking the awkward silence that lingered as Elda still glared at him in disbelief. “What were you doing?” Elda blurted out, immediately questioning her choice of words, to which Corysu seemed to be taken aback. “Well, I was just about to begin writing until I heard you approaching,” he stated, to which Elda furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head.

    “You heard me?” Elda thought aloud, and Corysu nodded, a small mocking smile appearing on his lips. “Yes, it perplexes me that an ex-commander from a thieving company can be so loud,” Corysu japed, snapping Elda from her own discombobulation, and shifting it to ire. Corysu appeared to take some amusement out of this, but lifted his hands in gesture of peace. “But I digress, I presume you have come to me with word from Erenford?” the commander asked, to which Elda bit her tongue from verbally unleashing on him. First he mocks me, then he demands information from me? Elda gritted her teeth, but she was left with no choice but to tell him, he had backed her into a corner with her rationales for pursuing him.

    “The Mad Heron has decided that I will company him to the meeting,” Elda stated, to which Corysu widened his eyes momentarily. “He deemed this a wise choice?” Corysu questioned nonchalantly, and Elda restrained herself from his condescendence, giving him a firm nod. “Hm, well I hope you know what you’re doing, Lady Elda,” the creature mumbled, and in that moment Elda recognised her victory over the Thousand Islander. He was offended that Erenford had chosen her over him. A smirk came to her lips.

    “Oh, don’t you worry about me, Corysu. I engaged in many negotiations during my time with the Old Thieves,” Elda boasted, her amusement building from Corysu’s reaction, but the green man’s expression quickly died, and was replaced by a calm and small smile. “And now the Old Thieves are deceased thieves, your negotiations mustn’t have been very successful,” he retaliated, wiping the grin off Elda’s face. “Now, if there is nothing else, I bid you a good night.” He didn’t wait for a response from her, stepping back and slamming the door in her face.

    Elda clenched her fists and cursed under her breath, but she relented from engaging her thoughts with the freak any longer. “That was amusing,” the mocking tone of Jaeron Galiar sounded from behind her, making her spin around startled. “Jaeron,” she mumbled in shock and worry, “how much did you hear?” Jaeron shrugged his shoulders, taking a few steps towards her with his seducing attitude flicked on.

    “Enough,” he chirped, leaning against the wall with a luscious look on his eyes. “I take it this information is confidential?” Jaeron grinned, and Elda could see right through his words, and she wasn’t going to have it. She took him by the scruff of his shirt and freed a dagger from her belt. This wiped the amusement from Jaeron’s eyes. “Do you remember what I said earlier about that tongue of yours?” Elda warned him, and Jaeron raised his hands in surrender.

    “So you say, but I think I know you well enough, Elda. How about you give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want,” Jaeron suggested, a serious look on his eyes for once, and Elda looked at him with eyebrows raised in amusement. “Heron’s quarters are right there,” he stated with lust in his tone, and a smirk came to Elda’s lips.

    “You think you know me?” she challenged, her grip on his shirt loosening slightly, and a grin returning to his lips. He placed his hand over the top of hers, and the other around the small of her waist. Elda twirled the dagger in her fingers, looking into Jaeron’s promiscuous eyes.

    [Accept his offer] [Cut out his tongue]

  • Nice part Nitric.First I will think and then I will come to vote.

  • edited November 2017

    [Cut of his tongue]

    Clearly this Jaeron is a fool in bright colours and deserves his punishment,Elda is his superior and must make an example of it,she has to keep that respect and fear.If not How could she be seen as more than a lust object by the others in the Company?

    Also I believe that old struggles still haunt Elda concerning love...The Mad Heron does not suffer fools and would be pleased to have the man tongueless.

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • [Cut out his tongue] This is my first voting on this specific fic, and I usually don't go for the most violent option unless the person deserves it, but besides being a perv, I guess is better if he doesn't talk, and sex isn't the solution for everything. At least not in this case.

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • [Cut of his tongue]

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • [Accept his offer]
    I had to think about this for a little bit. Just because she accepts his offer, doesn't necessarily mean she has to do it. Anyways, the main reason I picked this is because I'm not sure cutting out his tongue is the best thing to do. Her cutting out his tongue might lead to some unintended consequences, in the future. However, I might end up changing my vote. I'm not sure.

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • [Cut out his tongue]

    Hm, if there was any punishment less severe, I'd take it, because I think this is way too drastic, but in the end, I prefer punishing him, no matter how severe, over not punishing him at all. Even if I forget for a moment that I am super annoyed at Jaeron's antics, he should have known better but to eavesdrop on clearly classified information. This, unnecessarily harsh as it possibly is, will at least be one safe way to make sure he will never reveal what he heard to anyone.

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • [Cut out his tongue]

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • We are speaking about bloodthirsty mercenaries of course the punishment of slight them shall be drastic.Their image,their position apart from the gold is all that matters ?

    [Cut out his tongue] Hm, if there was any punishment less severe, I'd take it, because I think this is way too drastic, but in the end, I

  • Hey, I was wondering if you saw the new pm I sent you?

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • Alright, well it appears I never closed this part so I shall do it now! Elda shall cut out his tongue! Quite an exaggerate option, but certainly one which would prevent him from talking of what he heard. We will see where this option leads to in her next part.

    Anyway, I have to apologise for my long absence, but I am now officially finished with school and everything else as I explained on Stigz_52 on my other story (the Invasion). Unfortunately, I'm still going to be gone for another 5 weeks as I'm heading out on a holiday tomorrow to South America, and I won't be back until January 7th I believe, and I just haven't had the time to write in preparation for that in my 'time off.' Fortunately I have pulled together a part for you guys to enjoy before I leave, and it is a Crokus part. Also, for those of you who are followers of the Invasion but haven't checked the thread there yet, there's also a new part uploaded there too :)

    At any rate, the last time we saw Crokus was in his first part, and he was with the fellow commanders and trusted men of the Company of the Cat: Sygirr Dargur, Harridan Pyke, Leobald Graves and Darren Spyre. The five of them were in search for a merchant that had crossed the Stone Road without paying his fee, but had also supposedly stolen the wife of King Hyrkoon. On discovery of the massacred body of the merchant, the five members of the Cat were ambushed by Dothraki screamers and taken captive by their leader: Zhali. This next part takes place a few hours after the last, arriving at the camp of the Dothraki.

    Nitric posted: »

    Elda The Mad Heron’s dark brown eyes displayed a degree of condescendence, which was amplified by an overwhelming glare of impatience. El

  • Crokus

    The Dothraki screamers whooped and howled as they led the scouting party into the nomadic camp of hide-skin tents and wooden troughs. Crokus turned his gaze to Sygirr, raising an eyebrow to him, to which the final Waterborn just rolled his eyes, lurching forward as their Dothraki captives yanked at the leads. Crokus turned his gaze back to Harridan, who displayed a look of dreadful ire over his hard face, one which Crokus knew was tempered to the edge. Crokus sent him a glance that pleaded for him to keep himself contained, but Harridan only averted his gaze, forcing Crokus to refocus his attention to Darren, who stumbled weakly behind his captive.

    “Hold in there, Northman,” Crokus muttered to himself as he watched the decrepit eyes of the man roll around in his head, it astounded Crokus that he had managed to stay on his feet this long, given with his wounded leg. I suppose the men of the North truly are the toughest, Crokus thought pointlessly to himself as their captors dragged them into the makeshift camp. His focus turned to the people that inhabited it, slaves, but also traders, women and children. This was no war camp, but instead a whole khalasar. Never have this many Dothraki been this close to Samyriana, why are they here? Crokus asked himself, and Sygirr clearly thought the same as he turned his gaze to Crokus.

    Their attention was stolen by the young Dothraki woman that had orchestrated their capture: Zhali. She cantered to the side of Crokus’ captor, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Fichat jin at Khal. Athmithrar elat dorvi okre,” she commanded, her tone raspy and hard, and her intention reinforced by the young man’s response. He turned and signalled the command to the rest of the riders before continuing with Zhali down a different path. Crokus rose an eyebrow in semi-panic as he noticed he was being split from the rest of the herd, Sygirr screaming at him with frantic eyes. Crokus gulped, turning his gaze to Zhali.

    “Where are you taking me?” he spat, tugging at his bindings in an attempt to slow his captor. He received a strong tug in return which brought in into the dirt, evoking a booming laughter from the male Dothraki, while Zhali only rolled her eyes and smirked. “We are taking you to Verro,” she informed him bluntly, yet he could hear something else in her voice. Concern? He had no time to question it. “And what of my men?” Crokus questioned impatiently, to which Zhali seemed to show a genuine smile in his direction, as if she shed some admiration to his consideration for sellswords.

    “They will be held elsewhere, do not fret. So long as you comply, they will be kept safe,” she stated, to which Crokus furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Comply to what?” he asked perplexed, but Zhali only sighed and took Crokus’ lead from his giggling captor. “Elat vitteya ma hilelat,” she ordered, and the Dothraki man grinned to her as he jovially turned his steed in another direction. Zhali gave Crokus a firm tug to ensure her dominance over him, something which made him petty.

    “What does your Khal want with me?” Crokus muttered, only loud enough for her to hear. “He wants to talk,” Zhali stated, to which Crokus raised an eyebrow. “About what?” he persisted, but Zhali did not give him an answer. “What if I don’t want to talk?” Crokus asked blatantly, to which Zhali chuckled, shaking her head as if to inform him of how foolish he was. “Then he will take out your other eye and making you walk back to Samyriana.” Crokus raised his eyebrows. “Charming,” he stated in an attempt to lighten his mood, but the Dothraki girl dampened it with her announcement. “We’re here.”

    She dismounted her steed and approached Crokus with determined steps, unsheathing a kukri blade from her belt. Crokus gulped and turned himself away from her as she brought the blade to his neck. “Be careful of what you say, Crokus,” she warned him, and then severed the bindings at his wrist. The cut ropes fell loosely to the sand beneath him, and he instantly felt a brief moment of relief as he massaged his sore forearms. “Come,” Zhali beckoned, sheathing the blade back to her belt. “We’d best not keep him waiting,” she stated, pulling the flap open to a large tent and waiting for Crokus to enter. Reluctantly, he did.

    As his eye adjusted, Crokus noticed three figures within the large tent, two atop one another, while the other sat beside them. Crokus later noticed this figure to be Queen Nephra, the wife of Hyrkoon. She truly was a beauty, there was no denying it. Her barbaric blood brought out something both beautiful and intimidating at first glance, and Crokus had only ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on her when consulting with Dunn in the throne room. She had eschewed her royal gowns for some simple but promiscuous Dothraki linen, revealing much of her copper coloured skin. Her frizzy black hair was tied up loosely and hung down to her shoulders, a crown of leather atop her head.

    “Ah, Crokus,” she greeted warmly as if she were fond of him, but truthfully he doubted she even knew anything more than his name and relation to Dalton Dunn. “Welcome-” she began, but the beast beside her grunted as he lifted his hand to silence her. Crokus turned his glance to the brute of a man, who made the nude slave girl on his lap look like a child’s doll in comparison to his formidable muscular size. “You kept me waiting,” the man grumbled, his words directed to Zhali, who bowed her head in apology.

    “We covered our tracks, Khal, to make sure no others would find us,” she stated in her defence, but the man just waved her off. “You,” he grunted, looking in Crokus’ direction. “Come forward,” he ordered, lifting the girl off his lap with ease and revealing his large manhood. A number of concerning thoughts shot through Crokus’ mind as he reluctantly took a step towards the man, standing under the skylight of tent. “Nephra tells me that you are the right arm of the Company of the Cats. Cregan,” the khal indulged, to which Crokus immediately corrected him.

    “Crokus,” he corrected blindly, and he instantly heard Zhali behind him let out an awkward breath. The khal rose an eyebrow, rising from his cushion and looking at Crokus with a challenging glare. “What?” he asked, taking a step towards him. Crokus’ eye widened as he noticed the size of the man, he stood at least seven feet tall, and his dark grey eyes looked possessed with something demonic and formidable, yet Crokus stood his ground. He turned his gaze to the khal with an irritated look on his face. “My name is Crokus,” he stated, and to his surprise the khal smirked.

    “Of course it is,” he responded, taking another step towards him. “I am Verro, Blood Stallion, Raper of Lhazar, Bone-Breaker, and the khal that will ride over the East,” he explained in introduction, to which Crokus nodded. “Pleasure,” he responded sarcastically, something which prompted Zhali to bring him to his knees. “You will show respect,” she spat, thwacking him over the head.

    “What is it you want, Khal Verro,” Crokus muttered carelessly, and Zhali glanced at him as if he had gone mad. Nephra showed a similar expression, but Verro appeared to be amused with Crokus’ resilient and rebellious nature. “Tales of the Company of the Cat have spread from the west to the east, and each have spread their glory of the sellsword group. I want you to work for me,” Verro stated, lifting Crokus onto his feet. Crokus sighed, turning his gaze to Queen Nephra momentarily before turning it back to Verro.

    “Dalton Dunn has signed us to Hyrkoon, the Company of the Cats is under his rule,” Crokus stated calmly, but Verro shook his head. “Your talents are wasted sitting by the side of a king that will fall to my arakh,” Verro exclaimed, making Crokus lift an eyebrow to Nephra, who smirked back to him and elaborated. “My husband is a fool, he believes that my brother will help conquer the Great Dawn Empire for him, but we will do much more than that. The line of Hyrkoon has come to an end, and Dalton Dunn has grown far too attached to him. The Company of the Cat will fall if they remain by Markus’ side when the tide’s turn against him,” Nephra revealed, making Crokus raise his eyebrows as he processed the information presented to him.

    “So you will take the Cats and join me when the time is right,” Verro claimed, but Crokus shook his head. “No disrespect, Verro, but the Cats follow Dunn because of his skilled tactics and hard morals. They will not follow me,” Crokus explained, to which Verro placed a hand on Crokus’ shoulder, “then you’d best find a way, for if you can’t then I will find another that will,” Verro stated, making Crokus gulp. “When I ride the East, the Company of the Cats will ride behind me, with or without you. You are to convince the other commanders to take your side when we take over,” Verro informed him, returning to his seat. “Now get out of my sight,” he ordered, returning his attention to his slave girl.

    Zhali gave a respectful nod and backed out of the tent, while Crokus simply turned and left. When Crokus was outside, he felt the full force of Zhali’s bitterness inflict on him, throwing him into the ground and thrusting a knee into his back as he ate dirt. “What the fuck were you thinking?! Are you truly a half-wit?” she spat, taking hold of his hair and pushing his face into the gravel. Crokus gritted his teeth, struggling under her surprising amount of strength to retaliate.

    “He’s not my khal,” he growled in emphasis, but Zhali only appeared amused by his resistance. “You’d best shut your tongue, little havzi, if you’d wish to keep your head on your shoulders,” she smirked, and thrusted his cheek one last time into the rocks before leaving him in the dirt. Crokus groaned as his gaze followed her long legs stride away into the night, leaving him to squirm before the khal’s tent until others came to collect him.

    He was placed in the holding cell with the other commanders of the Cat, no doubt an order orchestrated by Verro. Sygirr sat in the corner, brooding in the darkness, while Harridan raised an eyebrow as he noticed the blood on Crokus’ face. “The fuck happened to you?” he grumbled in question, to which Crokus just shook his head in frustration. “Zhali,” Crokus muttered in ire, something which Harridan barely heard.

    “Huh? The Dothraki bitch did this to you?” Before Crokus could give him an answer the Ironborn was already on his knees in laughter. “You are weak, Crokus!” the bastard exclaimed in his chortle. Sygirr took to his feet and stared out the makeshift bars of their cell, a sullen look on his hazel eyes.

    “Where were you?” he inquired with a suspicious tone, turning his gaze to Crokus, who picked out the stones in his cheeks and gently rubbed his wounds. “Meeting our captor,” Crokus revealed, making Sygirr raise an eyebrow. “What did he want?” he persisted, and now Crokus could hear a touch of concern in his tone. Harridan’s expression had shifted from glee to curiosity as well, and Crokus sighed as he tried to begin with how to retell the events that had just transpired.

    When he had finished, Sygirr crossed his arms and displayed a grim expression. “He wants Dunn dead then?” the Waterborn confirmed, and Crokus nodded. Harridan spat at the ground beneath them in disgust. “That horse fucker doesn’t have claim to the Cats, we’re our own company, and we don’t just give our allegiances to those who demand it!” the Ironborn claimed, but Crokus only shook his head. “Tell that to King Hyrkoon,” Crokus muttered, making Harridan’s cheeks redden. “We’re just as much his puppets as we would be Verro’s,” Crokus stated, and to his surprise, Sygirr agreed with him.

    “None of that matters now,” Sygirr finally determined, making Crokus raise an eyebrow. “How do you figure?” he questioned, making Sygirr furrow his eyebrows. “Because we’re held captive, we need to figure out how to get out of here,” Sygirr stated clearly, making Crokus nod in agreeance. “Well there is a simple way… Remember the night at Sathar?” Crokus smirked, but Harridan firmly shook his head.

    “You know I can’t control that, Thief,” the Impaler grumbled, but there was also a degree of concern, or fear, in his response. Regardless, Sygirr ignored Crokus’ suggestion and brought up another issue. “And even if we do find a way out, we have to move that Northern whoreson too,” the Skanish muttered, his bitterness clear in his words. Crokus frowned, crossing his arms.

    “Maybe we don’t need to escape,” Crokus suggested, causing Sygirr to strangely eye him. “Young Leo ran back to Samyriana, no doubt we have brothers coming for us who are more prepared. Otherwise, you heard what Zhali said, Verro has intentions of taking his khalasar to Samyriana,” Crokus stated, to which Harridan rolled his eyes. “You would just let these fucks take more of our brother’s hostage and lay ruin to our contractor’s capital?” Harridan exclaimed in disbelief, to which Crokus only shrugged his shoulders.

    “We should rest, regather our thoughts on the ‘morrow,” Sygirr decided, to which Harridan nodded to his suggestion. “Aye, on the ‘morrow,” Harridan muttered, shooting a glare at Crokus before rolling over onto his mat and shutting his eyes. Sygirr returned to his corner and hid himself in the darkness, while Crokus was left to his own contemplation. The words of Verro plagued his mind, pulling him into a restless slumber.


    A soft touch caressed his neck as his eyes gently opened, and he found himself in a better world. The sun beat down on the Red Mountains of Dorne, and the Old Thieves attended to their duties around their headquarters, while Crokus lay in bed under light silk sheets. He twirled his fingers through his hair, staring at the portraits that hung on Peros’ walls.

    “Crokus,” a soft voice whispered to him, and Crokus turned his gaze to meet the beautiful dark chocolate eyes of his lover. Her slender physique was well defined, wet from the sun, or something else. She crawled onto the bed with him and touched his face. “Crokus,” she moaned in his ear, pecking at his neck as she ran her hands over him. “Elda,” he whispered back, and then in a sudden moment, she was gone.

    Crokus forced his eyes open as the fingers that grasped his shoulder dug its nails into him. He turned his gaze to meet the female behind him, who he soon recognised to be Zhali. “Come with me,” she whispered, hesitantly looking around her as if she were being followed. “Quickly,” she added, and unlocked the gate. Crokus eyed her strangely as she stood at the door impatiently. He turned his gaze to Sygirr and Harridan, both sound asleep still, before turning back to Zhali. What is this?

    [Go with her] [Remain in the cell]

  • [Go with her] Why she's so benevolent to him is interesting, and I do wonder who was that woman. I still find amusing that Harridan is an Ironborn, mainly because it is very likely they only settled at the Islands a mere generation at most, although its not impossible to think the Age of Heroes is still ongoing at Westeros.

    I also find interesting the relationship between the Dothraki and the cities of Hyrkoon, since history mentions Dothraki were driven west of the Bone Mountains by the Jogos Nhai.

  • [Go with her]

    Nitric posted: »

    Crokus The Dothraki screamers whooped and howled as they led the scouting party into the nomadic camp of hide-skin tents and wooden troug

  • [Go with her]

    Nitric posted: »

    Crokus The Dothraki screamers whooped and howled as they led the scouting party into the nomadic camp of hide-skin tents and wooden troug

  • [Go With her]
    Crokus and the crew are on a bad position and perphaps this Dothraki Woman could help even on a small way,all that the Cats need is a distraction to scape.Can we trust her?Well is better than a promise of Warriors that might not appear...

    Harridan's shades are around and that is glorious,One-Eyed Crokus can go through this!

    Nitric posted: »

    Crokus The Dothraki screamers whooped and howled as they led the scouting party into the nomadic camp of hide-skin tents and wooden troug

  • Right, the Voting is definitely Closed! Crokus will go with her. This choice is certainly a more interesting alternative than the other, and it also allows for Crokus to interact more with Zhali and the Dothraki, but will his comrades appreciate this? Do they have much choice?

    Well it's certainly been a while, and I do apologise for the long absence. As you guys know, I've been on vacation in Latino America for the last month and a half, which has been an absolute blast, and these last couple of weeks I've been super busy and only now has the memory of writing and the forums returned to my daft head :D I do have a new part ready, and I hope to continue pumping out parts consistently now; it's an Alexandros part.

    The last time we saw Alexandros Karalis was in his first part, which introduced the council of Hyrkoon to the story, and the position that the Kingdom of Hyrkoon found themselves in. With the Jogos Nhai growing larger in numbers, trade routes being compromised thanks to the Dothraki Ghiscari Empire, and the weakening of the Great Dawn Empire, there was much to discuss. However, primarily the kidnapping of Hyrkoon's two wives, Nephra and Khili, were the heat of discussion. This cued the burst in of Leobald Graves, a warrior of the Company of the Cat, who reported his commanders had been taken captive by a Dothraki force, and Khal Verro was on the approach to Samyriana. After the council cleared, Alexandros was approached by Dalton Dunn, the leader of the Company of the Cat. He demanded that he have Verro's head if any of his men are harmed, and asked if Alexandros would support his claim. You decided that the call was for Hyrkoon to make and Hyrkoon alone, and this part continues where the last left off.

    Nitric posted: »

    Crokus The Dothraki screamers whooped and howled as they led the scouting party into the nomadic camp of hide-skin tents and wooden troug

  • edited January 2018


    A bloody ire resided in Dalton Dunn’s deathly glare as his eyes narrowed down on Alexandros Karalis, who only sighed with some disappointment. “That decision belongs to Hyrkoon,” the hand of the king repeated quietly, making Dalton roll his eyes in distaste. “That old bastard…” the sellsword muttered, a smirk touching his dry lips momentarily.

    “He’s a hard man, Markus, but hear me, Karalis, my word holds to iron,” Dalton stated, fingering the hilt of his sword. Alexandros only rolled his eyes. “And gold,” Alexandros added with a fake smile, stimulating a small grin from the sellsword before his face turned stern. “Until the next unfortunate event, Karalis,” Dalton grunted in farewell, to which Alexandros spared him a nod.

    A chill ran down Alex’s spine as he felt the empty surroundings of the council quarters. For thousands of years, Hyrkoon kings and Karalis hands had convened with their councils about matters with the kingdom, and Alexandros plotted to break that legacy. He felt short of breath, and his legs were weak beneath him. He broke for the doorway, catching himself on the heavy oak doors as he collapsed. I have to, he told himself, his cheek hugging the rough wood as he felt a lump building in his throat. His ancestors were watching him, in this very room, he knew it was so. Did they despise him? Agree with him? His ambitions were praiseworthy and impure, beneficial but harmful, prosperous yet ruining.

    “Please,” he whispered, coming to his knees as he felt the weight of his burden crushing down on his shoulders. Friend or Kingdom? Life or Death? Alex clutched onto the wooden frame, his body expelling the air from his lungs and refusing to allow it back in. He was breathless, and some might argue spineless if they found him in this state. Just the thought of it made him gulp, a cold sweat flushing through him. His hands unwillingly released the door, allowing him to embrace the cool stone floor.

    He gasped for air, his hands locked in place, along with the rest of his body. “Forgive me,” he uttered, he begged, but he knew he would find no forgiveness or redemption for the sins he wished to commit. These crimes would haunt him for the rest of his life, while others gained, he would fall into his demise. This was his grand sacrifice, his giving to the people, his legacy. Slowly, his body released and his grief upheaved, allowing him to regain his dignity and pull himself from the floor. Still, a foul residual remained in his heart, eating away at him, tearing at the flesh and revealing his dark intent.

    “Lord Karalis?” a voice called from down the hall, causing startle for the recovering Hand as he turned to meet the bright blue eyes of Noir Carlo, a soldier in Hyrkoon’s Grand Army, and a man that Alexandros had served with in his younger years. Noir was a decade younger than Alexandros, but he had proved himself on the field to gain Alex’s admiration.

    “Carlo,” Alexandros nodded, leaning against the oak door as the soldier came to greet him, an inquisitive and concerned look in his eyes. “Is everything alright? I heard a thud, like something falling,” Noir reported, to which Alexandros simply lifted his hand in a resolving gesture. “All is fine, Carlo, I just knocked over a flagon,” he lied, but the soldier knew better than to question his superiors.

    The two remained silent for a moment, something which drew out to be long and awkward. Alexandros cleared his throat, throwing his hand around hopelessly. “How’s the army treating you?” he asked carelessly, to which Noir shrugged, crossing his arms. “Quiet,” he muttered, “too quiet.” Noir let out a sigh and leant against the wall adjacent to Alexandros. “Talk is that his Majesty is wanting to move us against the Great Dawn Empire,” Noir stated calmly, to which Alexandros nodded.

    “Markus plans to conquer their lands,” Alexandros confirmed, to which Noir held a calm expression. “Do you agree with his ambitions?” Noir asked, making Alexandros bite his tongue before answering. “He is my king, his word is law,” Alexandros recited with passive apathy, something Noir overlooked. “Do you remember the Battle at Asabhad?” he questioned, to which Alexandros gave a firm nod.

    “Of course,” Alex answered patently, to which the soldier sighed as his glance seemed to disappear into a time out of time. “We lost a lot of good men over those few months, wave after wave, until we had nothing left and the YiTish conquered the city,” Noir recalled, his tone grim and hushed. Alexandros nodded, showing his sympathies to his friend. “It was a pointless battle,” Alex agreed, which broke Noir’s distance gaze, his glance shifting up to the Hand.

    “The Great Empire of the Dawn may be weakened, but they are not weak. If you allow Markus to go through with this idea, it’ll be our demise,” he stated, “the fall of our great kingdom.” Alexandros studied the man’s melancholic expression as his gaze fell to the floor, and he took a step back. “Don’t be the greater fool, my Lord,” Noir begged, bowing and taking his leave.

    Alexandros watched as the guard patrolled down the hall and then disappeared around the corner. When the footsteps fell silent, Alexandros let his weight fall limp against the wall, a feeling of great relief but also distress falling over him. He wasn’t the only one to feel this way, he had always known that, but to hear it in person was that much more relieving, and cursing. His responsibility was his burden, and his burden was his demise.


    Markus stood by the stone railings of his chamber balcony when Alexandros entered his quarters. Alex took in a deep breath as he thought of how he would address his king, he could tell his friend was in ire. It was the way his fingers tapped at the railings, rigid and impatient. He had seen it time and time again. Harrys Majeword guarded the King’s chambers, and without care he pulled the heavy doors closed behind Alexandros, causing an echoing thud.

    Alexandros turned to Harrys and shot him a filthy glare, who only stood placidly with a calm look on his troubled eyes. When Alex turned back around, Markus had returned into his chambers and taken his place by the liquor cabinet. A servant rushed to his aid and pulled down a crystal glass, pouring it to the brim with red wine. Markus grunted at the boy, who retreated as quickly as he came, and the king pulled a seat from his table.

    “Lex,” he acknowledged coldly, downing half his wine and taking his seat. Alexandros approached the end of the table, directly opposite of where Hyrkoon sat. “Mark,” Alex greeted in return, flashing a smirk at his old friend. Markus only rolled his eyes, finishing his glass and summoning his servant over for a refill. “Got bored of ruling my kingdom?” Markus jested, a short chuckle escaping his raspy throat. Alex grinned, taking a seat at the head of table.

    “Of course not, I thought I’d come in and change your sheets,” Alexandros stated sarcastically, and succeeded in getting a small smile from his king. “Where are my wives, Lex?” he now asked, his expression turning stern. Alex frowned, scratching his beard. “Dunn’s best are on the search as we speak,” Alexandros assured him, to which Markus just rolled his eyes. He raised his glass to his lips and poured the red liquid down, rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he emptied the glass in one gulp. Alex raised his eyebrows.

    “How much have you had to drink?” Alexandros asked in concern, to which Markus shrugged. “Not enough,” he muttered, running his finger along the lip of the glass. “Boy!” he growled, summoning the servant back with the wine flagon. He rushed to his king’s service, but Alexandros intercepted him with a raise of his hand. “Why don’t you leave us be, child,” Alexandros suggested, rising from his chair and removing the flagon from the boy’s hands and placing it on the table. The kid looked up at Alexandros with his big blue eyes, fear rattling within them. Alexandros flashed him a smile and ushered him on his way to Harrys Majeword, who opened the door for the child.

    Markus shot Alexandros a dirty look, snatching the flagon and refilling his glass. “I was enjoying the silence,” Markus muttered in complaint, to which Alexandros rolled his eyes. “Despite your wives being gone, this kingdom needs its king, Mark,” Alexandros stated, pouring himself a glass of wine and taking a seat adjacent to the man. Markus groaned, finishing his glass and reaching for another refill, but Alexandros pulled the flagon from his reach.

    “Which means you have to start attending council meetings, and hearings,” Alexandros added, “I’m serious, Mark.” Markus tried to reach for the flagon again, but what little was left of his dignity forbid him from remaining the drunken fool in Alex’s presence. “What do you want,” Markus grumbled, running his hands through his scruffy grey hair. Alexandros placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

    “For you to get a hold of yourself,” Alex stated, looking at him with concerned eyes. Markus swept the hand off his shoulder, turning his gaze away from Alex. “What’s the point?” the man mumbled, and the weakness in his tone shocked him. He had never seen his friend so fragile before, especially when he was succumbed to the drink. Alex frowned, taking a drink from his wine.

    “So much,” Alexandros began, “you have the kingdom, you have your council, your sons,” Alex stated, but Markus only shook his head. “My sons which despise me, a council which talks behind me and a kingdom that is only mine from birthright. My strength is in the sword, not the stroke of a pen or the bickering of noblemen,” Mark spat, rising from his chair and returning to the balcony. Alexandros followed after him, taking his side as they overlooked the capital.

    “All of this, I never wanted this,” Markus admitted, looking over the city of Samyriana with disgust. “But you remember how father was, all about upholding the legacy of Hyrkoon, saying it was my duty. Were it not for your own father I’d have been locked in my quarters to study all my life,” Mark stated bitterly, leaning against the rails.

    “Perhaps we had the wrong fathers,” Alexandros suggested, trying hard to mask his jealousy with sympathy. Markus only shook his head, placing his hand on Alex’s forearm. “You didn’t,” he stated, “and besides, we wouldn’t be nearly what we are today if we had never shared the battlefield together,” Markus remarked, a smirk coming to his lips as Alexandros smiled. “Those were the days,” Markus concluded, his gaze nostalgic as he stared out into the distance.

    “Speaking of,” Alexandros started, trying to keep Mark’s attention, “I spoke with Noir Carlo earlier today,” Alexandros informed him, making Markus raise an eyebrow. “Carlo? That reckless boy is still alive eh?” Alexandros nodded, now leaning against the railings and looking at his king. “Maybe you’d know if you left the quarters of yours,” he challenged, to which Markus only shook his head.

    “Getting out of these chambers won’t get me any closer to seeing my people,” Markus muttered, glaring over his city. “The moment I exit those doors, the responsibilities of the kingdom return.” He rested his cheek against his fist. “They never leave,” Alex stated, making Markus sigh as he eventually nodded. “I guess not,” he conceded, pushing himself upright, “I will not remain concealed within these walls any longer,” he announced firmly, grasping the railings. Alexandros shed a small smile.

    “That’s good to hear,” he remarked with a touch of sarcasm, excusing Markus to throw a punch into Alex’s shoulder, making Alexandros grin. “You may be my closest friend, Lex, but I’m still your king,” he warned, but the smirk on his lips indicated he was jesting with his words. Alex simply nodded with a smile on his face, lifting his open hands in playful submission.

    “So, Lex, tell me true. The Jogos Nhai have fucked trade routes along the Steel Road, and the YiTish shits have taken both Trader Town and Asabhad from us. Eventually we will level their capital to the ground for their crimes against my kingdom, but for now we must look to gain a checkpoint for my army to mobilise. Where do you think we should begin?” Markus queried, leaning against the stone balustrades as he looked to his friend. Alexandros rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and looking over Samyriana.

    “This is hardly the conversation to be had while you’re drunk,” Alex stated in an attempt to avoid the discussion, but Markus was persistent. “Humour me,” Mark ordered, his tone turned solemn, and the stern look on his expression solidified his command. Alexandros sighed, studying his king’s eyes. He was drunk, he knew that in times like these he was susceptible to new ideas, but not vulnerable to manipulation. It was a time where Alex had occasionally walked the tightrope and convinced the man of making better decisions, but he knew how adamant Markus was on his conquest. Regardless, Alex knew the safety of the kingdom fell onto Markus, even if he himself didn’t want to admit it.

    Choice 1: [Remain on topic: state your opinion] [Change topic: inform Markus of the new Dothraki threat]

    Choice 2: (only if picking option 1 in the above choice)
    [Suggest marching to Asabhad first] [Suggest sailing to Trader’s Town first] [Suggest postponing the conquest and focusing on the Jogos Nhai]

  • [Remain on topic: state your opinion]
    [Suggest postponing the conquest and focusing on the Jogos Nhai] While YiTi will eventually also face the Jogos Nhai, the biggest threat are technically them.
    Spoiler alert!: the Jogos Nhai took over lands from the Hyrkoon throughout the centuries until only the three main cities remained.

  • [Remain on the topic: state your opinion]
    [Suggest postponing the conquest and focusing on jogos Nhai]

    Nitric posted: »

    Alexandros A bloody ire resided in Dalton Dunn’s deathly glare as his eyes narrowed down on Alexandros Karalis, who only sighed with some

  • And just like the Invasion, I am very happy that White Night made its return as well =) And with a part from Alexandros nonetheless, I approve of it! I very much like this complex friendship between Alexandros and Markus, given that they are not without their differences and this part definitely put a lot of focus on it. These strategy talks always hold something fascinating for me, it's probably the world building in it which I enjoy the most. All in all, a wonderful part to pick up the writing again, welcome back!

    [Remain on topic: state your opinion]

    [Suggest postponing the conquest and focusing on the Jogos Nhai]

    So, I believe this is the absolute worst time to try and conquer the Empire. The Jogos Nhai are a threat, we know that much, we also know there's darker things on the horizon and even if that wouldn't be the case, starting a war with what is still the most powerful nation of its time is foolish, especially as they have common enemies and a war would only benefit these in the long run.

    Nitric posted: »

    Alexandros A bloody ire resided in Dalton Dunn’s deathly glare as his eyes narrowed down on Alexandros Karalis, who only sighed with some

  • Remain on topic: state your opinion]

    [Suggest postponing the conquest and focusing on the Jogos Nhai]

    Nitric posted: »

    Alexandros A bloody ire resided in Dalton Dunn’s deathly glare as his eyes narrowed down on Alexandros Karalis, who only sighed with some

  • Alright, well this voting was quite clear. Alexandros will remain on topic of the conversation and suggest postponing the conquest to focus on the impending Jogos Nhai threat. This is likely the most sensible option, at least in reference to the good of the kingdom, but holding back information on the imminent Dothraki threat and rumoured news of one of his wives will not hold Lex any favours in the short term. We will see how much of Alexandros' influence rubs off on Markus in his next part.

    For now, I have the newest part ready, which goes to Mulan. The last time we saw our Empress-to-be, she was dining with her council members, of which there was still some tension between the justiciar: Zhen Ju, and the Ghiscari eunuch: Raqhis. Mulan held the order until the arrival of her brother and cousin, Jingim Jidao, a member of the legendary Dawn Guard who defend the Five Forts. Jingim informed Mulan of the mystical threats that marched towards the Forts, and explained that Xiang Wuhan; the Governess-General of the Five Forts, requested that Mulan come to the Five Forts to see the real threats for herself. In doubt, and aided by the heavy scepticism from her council, you decided that Mulan's duties to the Empire were too important for her to part from Tiqui, and that she would instead send her brother in her place. This part picks up where the last left off.

    Nitric posted: »

    Alexandros A bloody ire resided in Dalton Dunn’s deathly glare as his eyes narrowed down on Alexandros Karalis, who only sighed with some

  • Mulan

    A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched his expression, making it only harder for Mulan to say what he already knew. “I’m sorry, cousin. Truly, but I cannot leave to chase after a tale while my empire needs me,” Mulan tried to explain, but Jingim only shook his head in frustration. “It’s no tale, Mulan! If the threats beyond the Forts go unwarranted then it will consume all of the lands that we swore to protect,” Jingim exclaimed, desperately trying to win Mulan’s favour.

    At the end of the table, Zhen Ju released a small chuckle. “If the Dawn Guard can’t handle a few fairy tales, I’m afraid the order truly has no right in having an oath that swears to protect the people of the Further East,” he jested, and Mulan could feel Jingim clench his fist underneath her hand. She frowned, turning her gaze to her brother before looking back at Jingim. “Whether or not this is truth, I understand your concern, Jingim. It is the same worry I must have for this empire, which is why I will allow Remi to go with you,” Mulan decided, and from the corner of the eye she could see a grin forming on her brother’s face.

    Jingim only shook his head, the tension in his hands releasing as he placed his free hand on top of Mulan’s. “This was something we desperately needed you to see, cousin. You will never understand if you do not see it with your own eyes,” Jingim tried to explain, and Mulan could tell there was something he was not revealing to her. “Understand what?” she queried, but before he could answer, Chancellor Ji interrupted.

    “If that’s all, Master Jidao, I would ask you to remove yourself from our council while we return to discussing the important matters of the Empire,” Gen Ji exclaimed with a condescending tone, making Jingim let out a heavy sigh. “Apologies, my Lords,” Jingim stated sarcastically, arising from the table. “I hope you find quick solutions to your petty troubles, so that you may find the time to consider the importance of your lives and your families when the creatures beyond reveal themselves to you,” Jingim muttered in spite, grabbing his gauntlets and helm.

    “Is that a threat, Master Jidao?” Zhen Ju questioned, summoning the guards to remove him, but Remi intercepted them with his authority. “That is a promise, Lord Ju,” Jingim assured him, before bowing and taking his leave, to which he was quickly followed out by the guards. Remi cleared his throat, lifting his napkin to his lips before standing from the table as well. “Excuse me, my Lords,” he pardoned, giving a nod to Mulan before taking his leave as well, no doubt to chase after Jingim.

    After a moment of silence, the council quietly returned to their meals, feeding away at the rice and fried fish curry that had freshly been served with spices imported from Asshai. Mulan frowned as she fiddled around with her food, feeling she had lost her appetite with her dampened mood. Princess Fei Min was the first to speak up, her high pitched YiTish voice was unbearable to most ears, and her laugh was abhorred, which left little doubt as to why she was still unmarried and a virgin.

    “Princess, I have had a thought. My mother just received a shipment of luxurious lavender dyed silk. If you’d like, I could measure you tomorrow and sew you a dress for the coronation?” she persisted, to which Mulan just nodded. She was impatient, but she knew it was unladylike and certainly disrespectful to shun her family, or nobles in general. “Thank you, Fei Min.” Mulan faked a smile, which was enough for the gullible cousin to blush and give an appreciative nod.

    “Princess?” Yang Wuhan spoke up, and Mulan raised her gaze momentarily to meet the concerned eyes of the aging duke. “I’d like to accompany Prince Jingim and Prince Remi to the Five Forts to also witness this account. My son would be more than capable to take responsibility for my duties in my absence,” Yang explained with his request, but Mulan focused on her meal.

    “You wish to see your daughter,” Mulan corrected him, taking a bite of her fish. She had to admit it was cooked to perfection. Glazed in honey soy sauce, and marinated with herbs and spices from all across the Empire. Yang nodded awkwardly. “Well, yes, that as well,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. Mulan only sighed and gave him a nod. “Very well,” Mulan muttered, and the confused and conflicted Yang was unsure whether to apologise or be thankful, so he settled with an appreciative nod.

    “Princess?” Zhen Ju sparked up, but Mulan had enough. “Please, my Lords, I am weary and hungry. I have much on my mind, and I would appreciate silence to relieve the tension in my head,” she pleaded, to which all the lords of the council gave a firm and apologetic nod. After a moment of silence, the ever lovely Koko Lin spoke up. “Could I get you some poppy tea for the pain, my Princess?” she asked, and Mulan snapped.

    “No!” she yelled, snapping her chopsticks in frustration and burying her head in her hands. She felt weak, vulnerable and a disappointment, and it put her on the brink of tears. She needed to remind herself constantly of who she now was and all the duties that entitled her, but it was so overwhelming. She arose from the table, unwilling to look at the startled Jidao’s in the corner, and the empathetic councilmen beside her.

    “Forgive me,” she muttered, quickly turning to take her escape. She fled out the doors and past the silent golden soldiers that guarded them. She barely made it around the corner before she felt the lump in her throat choking at her, and the tears flowing down her cheeks uncontrollably. Her head was throbbing, her mind was streaming, and she was not fully aware what was causing her to break down into tears. The stress? The pain? Perhaps all of it, things had become unbearable. She missed her father, even though she knew they had their differences, he had named her to be his heir. She loved him dearly, and she missed him.

    Mulan let out a long, heartfelt sigh as she leaned against the marble wall to regain her balance, and let her head rest from the dizziness she felt. She needed rest, desperately. Duty kept her awake till late in the night, and worry kept her awake for the remainder of it, leaving her restless but in an endless draining loop. She felt herself weakening as her body began to demand the sleep she forbid it, and her spinning head failed to cease. The suffering we must endure to ensure a better world, Mulan thought as she recalled the dying words that her father whispered in her ear before his passing.

    She had never felt these words be so accurate until now, until she felt the true weight of her burden crushing down upon her. She was not even the empress yet, but she felt the true struggle of leadership already, and nothing her father could have done or said could have prepared her for this. “The suffering we must endure to ensure a better world,” Mulan remarked sweetly, lifting her hand to wipe away the tears. She thought of how that phrase applied to all the different scenarios of her rule, and then, of how it applied to Jingim’s message. Perhaps she had made the wrong choice, maybe she should have agreed to Xiang’s plead. She didn’t know what the right thing to do was, but she knew she had to be certain with her decisions, she was now to be the empress, and there was no room for doubt now.

    With this reconciliation, Mulan pulled herself to her feet and composed herself with what remaining dignity she had in the lone hallway. She could not let herself appear weak, not even to herself, now was the time that everything for her had to change. She had to be ready. Without a second thought, Mulan settled on her initial plan to head for her chambers, acknowledging that at least some of her breakdown had to do with her deprivation of sleep.

    One step in front of the other, she led herself to her chambers, where she stopped a moment to rest. Bowing her head against the wood, she took in a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh and unlocking the door. “Empress Mulan?” a warm boisterous voice called from down the hall, in part startling the Amethyst Princess as she quickly turned her gaze down the hall to meet an unfamiliar gaze.

    The voice belonged to a large man, the largest man Mulan had ever sets eyes on, who carried his belly with his soft plump hands, each bearing rings; yet something that was also noticeable were the abundance of scars that coated his hands. Mulan lifted her gaze to his face, studying his hazel eyes, and then his long grey hair, which was tied back into a ponytail. He had plump facial features, with large cheeks and fat lips, and while he wore a warm smile on his big lips, there was something dubious in his eyes.

    Within a second heartbeat, Mulan heard the clinking of steel on marble as the royal guards rushed down the hall in their Princess’ defence, their armour glinting in the lantern light, and their spears pointed and ready to strike at the now shocked nobleman; of whom came to an immediate halt.

    At the head of her guard was her father’s most trusted protector: Commander Quon Zhai, the head of the Emperor’s Personal Guard. He was a strict man, donned in his golden armour and steel chainmail, his gauntlet resting on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “You are trespassing in the Royal Palace, state your business,” Quon Zhai ordered, his tone harsh and stern. The obese man lifted his open palms in surrender, a small smile residing on his lips.

    “Friends, please. I am here on invitation by Kiaan Samar,” the man explained, but it was clear Quon was not buying his story. “The treasurer is absent from Tiqui on behalf of royal affairs,” the commander informed, “now, state your business.” Mulan could hear the strictness in his tone, she knew this was the nobleman’s final warning. It was clear he too knew this, observing him gulp and wipe the sweat that ran down his forehead.

    “I am Raquest, the leader of the Howling Company,” he announced, correcting his posture and lowering his hands by his side. Commander Quon unsheathed his blade and positioned it on the man’s shoulder, a warning look on his eyes. “Hands where I can see them!” Quon shouted, making Raquest’s eyes widen as he quickly obeyed, his eyes switching from the commander and the blade that was now at his neck.

    “Please, I only came to speak with the Empress,” he mumbled in plea, but before Quon could shout again, Mulan made herself known to the situation. “It’s alright, Zhai. Lower your weapon,” she ordered, and the commander obeyed with reluctance, keeping his blade ready. Mulan passed the guards and took her place behind Quon. “What is it you want, Raquest?” she queried. Raquest let out an irritable but relieved sigh, brushing down his attire and freeing a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe down his brow.

    “As I said, I am the leader of the Howling Company,” he stated, yet his tone was no longer warm or boisterous, but awkward and rushed. Mulan raised an eyebrow. “Who are the Howling Company?” she asked naively, bringing a smile to Raquest’s lips as he uplifted his hands. “My Empress, I have the pleasure of announcing that the Howling Company are the first economy lending business all of Essos! I assure you, we have earned quite the reputation west of the Mountains, having financially excelled both the Ghiscari Empire and the Kingdom of Sarnor,” he boasted, now grinning, but Mulan was at a loss.

    “You give... loans?” she perplexed naively, to which Raquest nodded with his large grin. “Oh yes, we invest our gold to your cause, allow you to fulfil your ambitions and then we all reap the rewards,” he briefly explained, now clasping his hands under his belly. “Your treasurer wrote to me, explaining that your empire is in need of our financial support,” Raquest stated, making Mulan scowl. “Did he?” She wondered what else Kiaan had done behind her back. He is fortunate he is in Qarth, she thought threateningly. Raquest nodded.

    “But of course, this conversation would be better held behind closed doors, it is warranted information that is only privy to certain ears,” he blatantly hinted, glaring at Commander Quon, who only returned the gesture. “My Princess, I would highly advise against this,” Quon counselled, tightening his grip around the hilt of his blade, but Raquest only smiled.

    “We can of course reconvene at a more convenient time, but the sooner the better,” Raquest urged, and she could see the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed, holding back a yawn. Another nobleman trying to sell his wares, she thought naively, but if Raquest was honest with his boastful introduction of the Howling Company, there was no doubt she could use their assistance in bringing the Empire back to its glory.

    [Continue discussion in your chambers] [Dismiss him and get rest]

  • [Continue discussion in your chambers]

    Nitric posted: »

    Mulan A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched

  • [Continue discussion in your chamber]
    I think,it's been a long since the last part of Nithral.When will we see him again and obviously Dickon.Missing that guy

    Nitric posted: »

    Mulan A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched

  • [Continue discussion in your chambers] The night is dark and full of terrors.
    While she is tired what he offers could be useful to know.

  • Well the next part will be Ria's, and following her's will be Kaliza's, but then after that I'll kick back and go to Dickon, Eldric and Nithral, since they haven't gotten some screen time in a while. Especially with my long absence.

    [Continue discussion in your chamber] I think,it's been a long since the last part of Nithral.When will we see him again and obviously Dickon.Missing that guy

  • [Continue discussion in your chambers]

    He and his group could be really useful,for the empire. She should probably do some research on them, after their meeting, to see if they really have such a renowned and good reputation before committing to anything.

    Nitric posted: »

    Mulan A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched

  • OKAY SIR!!!!

    Nitric posted: »

    Well the next part will be Ria's, and following her's will be Kaliza's, but then after that I'll kick back and go to Dickon, Eldric and Nithral, since they haven't gotten some screen time in a while. Especially with my long absence.

  • [Continue discussion in your chambers]

    I feel it would be kinda irresponsible to just dismiss him before thoroughly discussing this. She might not like this man, she might be tired, but such is the burden of an empress. Mulan cannot just dismiss him, she must carefully listen to what he has to offer, especially as financial support could be crucial. Here's the thing, if she insults him by dismissing him, it could be just as likely that he makes the same offer to her enemies and that might end badly for the empire.

    Nitric posted: »

    Mulan A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched

  • Alright, well this vote was more than clear. Mulan will continue the discussion in her chambers. This will certainly appease Raquest, and if what he says is true, his help is something the empire could certainly prosper from in their dire needs currently. At any rate, we will find out where this leads in Mulan's next part.

    I'd like to also briefly explain my absence here, as I've explained it a lot more thorough on my other story, but basically I've been unable to write or even access anything on my computer due to a windows error which denied me entry into my laptop. This has involved a strenuous expedition back and forth to the retail department where I purchased this computer (on the other side of the state) to get multiple repairs for it. Fortunately this issue has ceased, for now, and I've been able to resume writing. With that being said, I have the newest part ready, it's a Ria part.

    The last time we saw Ria she had decided to chase after the mysterious huntress who saved her life when she was battling the thugs that attacked a mother and her daughter. Searching for them down dark uncharted alleyways, Ria was baited into a trap where the huntress and her friend attacked her, fearing that Ria was a threat to them. Having completely put their ambush to shame, Ria was about to leave them to attend her duties before being boxed in by guards under the command of Prince Jalhar Zhad. Jalhar had a proposition to make which involved the protection of the future empress from a supposed planned usurper; the Ghiscari enuch: Raqhis. Refusing to reveal anymore information until knowing that Ria was on board with his offer, you decided that Ria should accept this offer, and this part is the continuation of the last.

    Nitric posted: »

    Mulan A sad expression found itself on Mulan’s face as she placed her hand on top of Jingim’s. A look of disappointment instantly touched

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