The Mantis and the Oriole behind

The Strega Valleys,

Far North Of Greenfields, Souville province

Near the Quilton-Algrim Border.

…

BARON BLUMUN CARESSED THE POMMEL of his sword as he watched his men prepare, his eyes flickering with a hint of foreboding. “I have a bad feeling about this, Ralph,” the baron said to the man standing by his side.

“Are you afraid, Blumun?” the other baron replied, the faintest hints of disdain leaking into his tone.

“Of course not,” Baron Blumun replied with a scoff of his own, “I only fear we may be underestimating that boy a little more than is necessary.”

Lord Blumun did not appreciate the other man’s chuckling in response to his unease.

“You seem to have started to grow senile, old man,” the younger baron replied still chuckling. “We plan to murder Sean in his bed under the cover of darkness with our most skilled and trusted knights in tow, not face Duke Aden and the royal knights in a battle to the death on an open field. If you have not the courage to face a slumbering gryphon’s cub with the night on your side, what gave you the guts to steal from the dark gryphon itself.”

Blumun seethed silently as he contemplated the younger baron’s words. While the words were indeed scathing to his ears, there appeared to be a kernel of truth in them. Maybe he was being overly cautious and there was really nothing to worry about. With a faint sigh, Lord Blumun rubbed his face, pulling on his grizzled beard as his hands slid down. Turning back to face the other baron who was still chuckling to himself a hint of killing intent flashed in his eyes, but he was quick to conceal it.

‘Not now,’ Blumun mumbled to himself, blinking as he reined his emotions in, his facial expression smoothing out into an indiscernible stare.

“I think it’s time we move out,” Lord Ralph said, turning his gaze to the nearly moonless night sky, Blumun looked up as well. The waning crescent above hung past its apex and had already begun its descent back toward the horizon. Dawn would not be too far off from now.

“Ok,” Blumun replied simply, his expression unchanging. With a few murmured orders the group moved out of their camp and stealthily began on a roundabout route towards their target’s location.

Three dead guards later, the group arrived just outside earl Sean’s tent, surrounding it. One of his men lifted the tent flap as he pulled out his bullock dagger. The tent flap closed behind the knight preventing the baron and the rest of the group from seeing what transpired inside. Blumun heaved a sigh of relief as he listened to the muffled screams escaping the confines of the tent. 'That had been easy,' the lord thought to himself. Perhaps he was truly being just a bit too cautious.

The knight soon crawled out.

“So?” Blumun asked.

“It is done, my liege,” the knight replied.

“Good. Bring the body out."

Blumun watched with a small frown as the corpse was pulled out of the tent. It was lanky yes, but much more than he had expected. Suspicion blossomed in the baron's heart as he crouched down to examine the corpse only to freeze for a moment before he immediately drew his sword, his gaze snapping to Ralph's the next moment.

“What is this, Ralph,” Blumun growled, kicking the corpse of the manservant by his feet. “Where is Sean?”

“What do you―” the other baron began just before an arrow punctured his skull, silencing him forever. in a span of two seconds, six other men fell to the ground with dull thuds, some with more than one arrow sticking from their corpses.

Blumun froze as he felt warm blood sliding down the back of his neck. He reached a gloved hand towards his scalp only withdrawing it when he felt the burning cut now present there. A near miss.

Moments later multiple footsteps echoed out from the darkness. The baron swivelled towards the sound. From the darkness, about a dozen armed figures materialised. Leading the group was Sean von Grifenburg―first son and heir apparent of the dark gryphon of Algrim, Aden von Grifenburg―with his assistant, Sir Drake in tow, two steps behind.

With his own men dead and only his now-deceased rival’s knights as allies, Lord Blumun suddenly realised he had made a grievous error.

This was no gryphon cub. A snake with bared fangs will always remain unmistakable after all.

{COS}

Earlier.

Shrouded in an eerie silence, Sean gazed calmly at the campsite well within the effective range of his longbow. His kneeling form was blanketed by the moonless night sky as he listened to the occasional nervous neighing of horses in the distance. It seemed even animals as clueless as they could sense the treacherous scheme brewing underway.

Still, Sean patiently awaited his prey. It was what he did best after all.

Then suddenly, a hint of a smile, derisive as it may be, graced the corner of the young lord’s lips as he stared at ten cloaked figures creeping out of the darkness. The aspiring assassins stalked towards his tent with what he assumed was supposed to be predatory grace. Amused, Sean watched as one assailant entered the tent, a muffled scream sounding a split second later.

Sean glanced towards Drake who crouched by his side, giving the knight a consenting nod before turning back towards the campsite. At long last, the hunt could finally begin.

The earl heaved as he drew his bow taut, taking aim and watching with a small smile as the cloaked assailants dragged the corpse of one of his manservants out of the tent. Confusion and panic were evident in the muffled argument that broke out immediately after.

With a resonant twang promptly followed by a dozen others, Sean released his grip and his bow snapped back as an arrow arced towards one of the figures in the distance. His target along with six others fell to the ground with dull thuds and at least one arrow through the head. Dead.

Putting aside his bow, Sean playfully watched as the survivors panicked. Drawing his sword he sauntered out into the open towards the would-be assassins before calling out, his voice condescending.

“Baron Blumun, you should have told me you were going to stopover.”

The cornered baron and what remained of his men turned to face Sean. “You bloody son of a whore,” The baron growled, his sword pointing towards the young lord. The man could not hide his fear from Sean’s experienced eyes.

Stopping just a few metres away from the group with his men moving to cut off the baron’s escape route, Sean glanced downwards towards the corpses on the floor.

“Oh, how terrible, it appears the venerable Baron Ralph is no longer with us,” he sighed as he lightly kicked the corpse of a blond-haired man laying in his path.

Sean sighed, before cocking his head as he turned to face lord Blumun. “You should still have informed me before you visited, and at such a time as well? I could have at least prepared a proper reception for your honourable selves."

"Cut the crap, you bastard! I should have expected at least this much from a slippery vermin such as yourself," the baron spat venomously. It almost felt like the man was harbouring some sort of a grudge. Fine then.

“And here I was thinking we could both have a civil conversation, but I guess I was wrong,” Sean replied before gesturing to his men with a free hand.

“Kill them all.”

{COS}

The Royal Palace...

Riverville the Capital,

Verum.

19.13.1623 ST

...

Princess Alina stood on the palace balcony listening to the sound of robins tweeting in the distance as she stared out at the magnificent scenery splayed out before her. As the cool late summer wind blew through her auburn hair, Alina could not help but wish she could have at least enjoyed the scene in solitude. that wasn't too much to ask for right?

But no. No, she couldn’t.

"Father, you truly sent an army to aid the Hertaleans in their folly?" the ignorant first prince asked, barging into the balcony with his face fixed in a permanent scowl. “If they cannot deal with even just pirates without our help, how do they intend to be of any use to us then?”

Alina did not need to turn to glance at the king who summoned her to sense his muted anger. Prince Brandon had always been a thick-skulled fool, but even this is a first for him. Directly disputing the king’s opinions without even the barest pretence of courtesy? Now that is just simply courting death.

“I see you have grown bolder during your absence from the palace, Brandon,” King Lender Scymaester replied as serenely as Alina had expected of him. “But do you truly think that is wise, my son? I hope you remember the last noble who proved bold in my presence did not live long enough to understand the consequence of his folly.”

Alina's lips faintly curled into a small smile as the bulling prince almost stumbled to a stop. "I am sorry, father" Brandon replied, with the barest hints of a stammer.

“Take caution, first prince,” the king said turning away from the prince. "You might be my heir in the future, that is the only reason I continue to tolerate this from you. Do not force me to reconsider my choices."

"Y-yes, Father." Brandon stammered fully this time, fear flashing in his eyes.

“...You still fail to see the bigger picture,” the king said to the prince with a small sigh after a small pause, “this will cost you, dearly my son. Aside from the well-endowed Aries, we are the most economically capable of the seven kingdoms. Hence, by a rule of thumb, we can field the second-largest army in the entirety of Udoris. Now, what do you think would happen if we suddenly annexed another kingdom might, adding it to our own?"

No one dared reply to the king's question lest they answer incorrectly and anger him further. At least Prince Brandon didn't. Alina just didn't care.

“Udorian political balance is a very fragile one and person of significance importance knows," the king continued nonetheless. "No king would ever allow any other, friend or foe, to succeed in growing too strong. But, I just broke that rule. I gave the weakest kingdom in Udoris the might to control another. And although it took two tries despite Algrim’s growing internal disunity, I succeeded in the end.

“Now, if you ask what my gain is, I want you to also remember I can withdraw that granted control with a single order. Our second fleet at Cinden Island would easily seal off Ignis bay if Hertalese ever becomes uncooperative. Without Ignis bay, the Hertaleans cannot control Algrim. If they cannot control Algrim, the Algrian vassals would recover the lost capital, soon crowning a new king before moving to behest Hertalese with restored unity. All while possessing indisputable justification for their actions.

“I know this. Tuhkus knows this. All the other kings probably know this as well. This is why they are all scared. Yet, unless the rest of the kingdoms resort to all-out war, there is very little they can do to stop me.

"But they obviously would not," The king said with scorn, "none of them wants to see a repeat of the Great calamity that wrecked the Udoris years ago. The prolonged peace has utterly dulled their fangs. Do you understand now, Brandon? Why we must protect Hertalese, at least until the day it is no longer useful.”

“...Yes, father,” the prince replied carefully.

"Alina..." the king said, suddenly turning his attention to her. The princess sighed internally, preferring rather to have been left alone.

"Yes, Royal Father?" she replied struggling to suppress a tired sigh, her words eventually emerging devoid of emotions.

"What do you think of king Tukhus's son, that Everhard boy?" King Lendar asked.

Alina fell silent for a moment, contemplating the question. Then she replied. "Obsessive, naive and short-sighted."

"Yes. He is naive,” the king said with a soft chuckle as he turned to leave, “but that only makes him a slightly more useful tool. You would do well to remember that."

Alina faintly frowned but replied nonetheless. “Yes, Royal Father.”

She stared at the back of the man who unfortunately happened to be her father as he walked off, her expression pensive as his words echoed in her head. Then suddenly, a shadow fell upon her, breaking her out of her thoughts. Alina glanced up to stare at the figure towering before her. Prince Brandon was a full head taller than her with his hair, the same colour as hers, blowing in the wind. The prince would have appeared fairly handsome if not for the fact that Alina knew that inside he was nothing more than a self-opinionated, hedonistic, airheaded fool.

“What?” She asked coldly, staring him down.

Prince Brandon scowled, grabbing her jaw. "I don't like those eyes of yours.”

"Well, don't look at them," Alina replied, slapping his hand away.

Brandon chuckled at her defiance, glaring at her before spitting at her feet in disgust as he walked away. "Women, tch! Creatures as useless as yourself should at least know the only place in this world you are useful is under a man's crotch."

Alina stood there with a calming late-summer wind blowing through her hair, her eyes glinting with ominous intent as she stared at the prince walking off into the distance.

“Soon,” she muttered under her breath.

“Soon.”