A Highwayman's Tale

Subject: A Highwayman's Tale November 17th 2011, 9:43 pm

Chapter One
-A Step too Far
-Words of Marque
-The Last Ride of Silver Rose
-The Return of the Rose

Chapter Two
-Twinkle, Twinkle Robbing Star
-The Inn, the Bards, and the Highwayman
-Good Morning Mi'Ladies
-Infamous Glory

Chapter Three
-The Sleeper

Subject: A Step Too Far November 18th 2011, 7:56 pm

Peace exits between the Arelian Empire, and the Westland Kingdom. I myself have come to gain allies, both personally and internationally with many of the lords of the Westlands. However, others have not changed. They are still the power starved, half Griff gripping, snakes they have always been. The King, good man that he is, is unable to hinder them with out risking a civil war he can not win. When war is not an option, but punishment must be dealt what direction does one take?''

Fintan was seated with members of the Ocrier Clan. One of the many peoples of Westland who became personal allies of the Arelian count. They were laughing in one of the taverns of Helios over pints of ale. No one noticed the door open and a young man walk in. The young man was in ragged clothing, though the clothing itself was not at all old enough to be ragged. He looked as if he was of a decent class, most likely high middle. The clothes should have been in very good condition. What ever caused him to get them tattered and muddy was known only to him it would seem.

"Will no one do something about these tyrannical nobles?!" He shouted. "Are all of you such cowards that you keep your blades hidden during times of injustice? Yet a sixteen year old boy will draw his own blade in defiance?"

"We aren't cowards, but we aren't that stupid either!" Shouted a patron of the tavern. Fintan stayed silent beside his drinking companions, and took a puff off of a pipe he was offered.

"You clearly have no testicular fortitude!" The boy yelled, making Fintan and a few of his companions snicker. "You're all holing up here drinking and smoking while taxes are being raised, people are being abused. Hell! Even the Arelians here are hiding away, I thought they were the bravest of the nations?" There were several Arelian merchents in the tavern that day, and all of them, including the Count, had drawn their pistols and aimed them at the boy's head.

"Watch your tongue lad." Growled a weapon's merchant. "We ain't gonna involve ourselves in Westland affairs."

"Why? Are you the cowards you claim the Rogrican's to be?"

"BE SILENT ALL OF YOU!" Fintan shouted. "Lad, I understand you're anger. You've clearly stood up to them and been thrashed smartly for it. You clearly do have either more courage than us, or less intelligence. But you are talking about rebelling against an entire clan system. His Majesty has tried to control them, and I have spoken to him on several occasions, but his hands are tied." Fintan uncocked his pistol and lowered it. Most of the Arelian's followed, but not all.

"Then speak to him again! The people are tired of this!" The young man yelled. Five guards, bearing a golden pair or horns on their tunics walked in. They were personal guards for the lord of the Xonian clan's land.

"Boy, what did we tell you about trying to incite riots?" The taller of the group asked, gripping his spear tightly.

"Mind yourself, guard." Fintan warned him, a hand gripping his pistol tighter and his rapier.

"Shut up, Arelian. You have no place here." Fintan made a start, but instantly had a pair of spears at his throat. Fintan stepped back just slightly. The tall guard stepped closer to the boy, who shook in fear knowing what was coming. He was grabbed by the throat and dragged in to the back room, escorted by another of the guards. Fintan glared at them. The rest of the Arelians in the pub, about ten in all, looked to Fintan. He was a member of their Queen's Court, anything he said to do, they would diligently obey no matter the consequences.

"Stand fast..." He hissed to the art trader closest to him, who was gripping his rapier tightly. The guards slammed the door firmly shut, and instantly clattering sounds could be heard. The boy was most defiantly making a struggle. Within seconds the boy was screaming. The weapons merchant went for his pistol again, stopping only when Rogue held up his hand to say stop. The barmaid ran towards the door upon hearing the scream. "RESTRAIN HER!" Fintan yelled, two of his drinking companions grabbed her across the chest with a bar hold, keeping her from going further. She was screaming and sobbing about them harming her son. Seconds later, it was quiet again.

The guards walked out, without the young man. Their hands were both covered in blood. On Fintan's waving, the mother was released, but followed. She let out a shrieking scream upon entering the room. The guards threw something at Fintan's feet. It was red and muscle like. "That ought to shut him up." They snickered as Fintan picked it up.

"YOU MONSTERS!" The woman yelled, running out with a knife held ready to strike. The guard closest to her took the pistol from the art merchant and fired it at the woman. If Fintan had been slower, and not stepped in front of her she would have been dead instantly. As it was, Fintan was knocked off balance, his breath knocked out of him and in general put in a daze. His breast plate worked as it should have for a direct shot, keeping him alive but kicking his backside in the process. The guard 'hmmfed' and continued on his way out with his compatriots.

"Check...on...the...boy..." Fintan heaved to the weapon's merchant. The merchant was waiting to see if Rogue was alright. Apparently, he was just well enough. Fintan struggled to his feet. He knew he needed to quit doing that, one of these days the shot was not going to hit his chest and he would not live to tell the tale. Possibly one day he may never live again to tell the tale. But for now, he could get away with it, and he would exploit that fact.

"He's fine...almost." The merchant called. "I'm taking him to an apothecary."

"What happened to him?" The Orcier Clan lord asked.

"They took out his tongue." Fintan heaved. "I will be speaking to Atmos about this myself...He will have to see reason. This has gone too far."

Subject: Words of Marque November 18th 2011, 8:04 pm

Royalty has always had a need for the knowledge of the commoners morale. With out their love and loyalty, the monarch becomes a tyrant. But what about when the monarch knows well what his people want, but he is unable to give it to them with out the rage of war? A good king, or queen, will find a solution that fits everyone's need. Sometimes, however, that solution may cause the breaking of the king's very own law...

Fintan, garbed in his white robes of state, stood in the courtyard of King Atmos. The Royal Westland Guard keeping posts beside him, though trembling. Fintan had arrived in a very upset mood, and was rather brash when he demanded to speak with the High King. Two of the four guards just happened to have met Fintan before, and one still bore the mark across his cheek where Fintan plunged his rapier though the side of the guard's mouth. Fintan of course did not see why this caused the guard to fear him. It proved the Count did not have as good a skill with the sword as he thought. Fintan had aimed for the right eye.

"Do not shiver around me, it makes me look bad." Fintan stated with a slight chuckle to the guard on his forward left. The guard was shaking, nervous about having his back to Fintan. "I never kill a man." He used the word with a tone as if to define what a man really was. "Who can not see my eyes."

"I am grateful for that, Count de Marin." Atmos said as he walked down the stairs in to the courtyard. The guards parted and allowed Fintan to speak freely with the king. The king was not alone however, a middle aged woman accompanied him.

She was clearly a noble by the way she dressed. The crest that glittered on her ring on her left hand denoted she was one of the nobles of a clan held territory. Blond hair graced her shoulders under her diadem. She wore an elegant dress of gold and white silk. Her blue eyes pierced Fintan, glaring at him with loathing.

"Lady Matilda..." He strained out trying to keep composure. He bowed his head slightly, but never removed his hat. "Your Majesty, I would speak to you about affairs your people face. I feel their conditions could be greatly improved. If, His Majesty has no objections, I shall continue."

"I have none, but I have heard no complaints until just now..." He said cautiously.

"How could their conditions be better? We are not so privileged to be as Arelia, with little to no crime. The people should be content rather than envy another land."

"Interesting words from the Mistress of the guards who removed the tongue of a young boy for merely speaking his mind." Fintan blurted out at Matilda rather bluntly.

"If he had his tongue removed by my guards then he was guilty of speaking words of treason." She retorted. "And you are pressing your luck with me, Count."

"I'm not pressing anything with you...yet." His hand was resting on his pistol.

"Enough, both of you." Atmos groaned. "Lady Matilda, you will make reparations for this, and discharge the guards in question from your service. We are not Arelia, but should strive to use their codes. Fair trial before punishment. The dark ages are over. Count de Marin, come and we will speak alone."

Atmos turned and walked back in to the castle. Fintan strode past Matilda, his shoulder brushing hard against hers. Matilda's hand went to a dagger she carried in the folds of her dress. When the guards stepped forward, and blocked her ability to move with out going past them, she was forced to abandon it. "You'll have to pardon us, Mi'lady." The guard with the scar on his face said. "But we can't let nothin' happen to His Grace." Matilda huffed loudly and strode away.

Neither Atmos nor Fintan spoke as they walked the halls of the castle. Fintan followed Atmos as he made twists and turns. He went up stairs flights that led to the higher levels of the castle. The walls were beautifully decorated with paintings that depicted different locations in the Westlands. Along with swords and shields bearing crests, telling the history of the kingdom. Finally, Atmos made a sudden turn in to a room. Fintan, obviously, followed him in. As the king crossed the room, a pair of guards opened a set of doors that led to the balcony. Fintan's breath was almost stolen from him, looking out over all of the Westlands.

"A hermit wizard conjured this balcony, Count de Marin. It allows me to look over all of my kingdom. Tell me what is on your mind."

"Matilda, and many other members of your court and the barons of the land are causing unneeded pain upon your people."

"You think I do not know this?"

"But you do nothing to stop it?"

"What can I do? I would loose their support if I..."

"You worry too much about a few. There are more nobles who would stand with you against these oppressive pigs. Even if they will not, Arelia will back you and give you any aid you need."

"I do not want war. I saw what it did to Arelia."

"Then...." Fintan looked out at the Dark Forest where his summer home was nestled in the woods of Fairyhaunt. He could see the roads, the highways. His mind went to the times he use to ride those roads to inflict financial pain on the lords of Westland. He started to think of how bored he has been since the dismissal of Silver Rose. "I will stop them, with your permission."

"How? You are one man against thousands."

"If you do not know how I will do it, you will not be guilty of my crimes."

"Fintan...." The king used Rogue's first name on a basis of fear.

"If I am caught, I ask only that you pardon me swiftly before I drop from the gallows. I am not as skilled as I once was."

"You mean to ride the highways?" He asked shocked. "...Very well. Go with my blessing, but if you can, spare the lives of my nobles."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Fintan bowed, and left the balcony. He now had to plan...

Subject: The Last Ride of Silver Rose November 18th 2011, 8:19 pm

Privateers sail the seas, in times of war they capture enemy ships and claim their cargo for their own country. I can attest to the fact that not all privateers are, unscrupulous, worthless, seafaring dogs. Some of us, ride on the highways. Of course, this is not my first ride. I have rode the highways once before, but murder was legal then. I have come to miss those days, when highwaymen were both loved and feared.

Fintan was busy sewing new clasps on his old doublet. Happily he whistled a tune thinking of the 'fun' he use to have while on his rides. This time, however, was different. It was not for Queen and Country, but to protect the rights of the people. Suddenly, as he thought of his role, he scoffed. Thinking of his role reminded him of a story of an archer who always thwarted the evil sheriff and

"Why do I always end up playing the hero..." He muttered. There was a knock at the door. Fintan dropped the doublet on to the ground behind his desk. "Enter." He pulled a piece of paper over and acted as if he was working.

Charlotte walked in holding a tray. "I thought you might be hungry, Sir." She set the tray down on the desk and poured a cup of tea. She lifted the sugar bowl and waited until Fintan nodded. She poured two spoons in and then the cream until Fintan motioned for her to stop. She gave it two gentle stirs and put the cup and saucer infront of Fintan. Picking up she placed it on top of the teacake with Fintan's nod she cut in to it and placed a slice on another saucer and set it down infront of Fintan. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"

"Thank you, Miss Charlotte, no."

She smiled brightly and bowed her head. "I shall be back to gather the plates and cup later then." She picked the tray back up and walked out of the study.

After taking a sip of the tea, and a small bite of the cake Fintan resumed sewing. He had only a few more stitches before the clasp was satisfactorily attached to his doublet. He stared at the silver roses, his mind drifting to when Silver Rose became a memory for the westlands.

The Rose Highwayman gang was riding through the Dark Forest in Helios. Fintan himself tipped off the Westland Army that they would be in the forests. He had not expected the other four to actually ride with him. This was set up by Boudicca and Fintan alone. It caused Fintan to have to improvise.

As they rode slowly through the dark canopy, Fintan led them to the checkpoint he told the soldiers to set up.

"I want you all to go around. I will come from the south and cover you with the mist."

"Right away, Sir." Marcus said, clicking his tongue he and the other four galloped on towards the path that lead southward

Fintan went on alone, knowing he would meet up with the guards long before the others could catch up. The plan he had was very simple, it was putting it to work that was his only problem. He was so blinded with the worry he would fail he did not see the torch light that announced the checkpoint up ahead. The guards readied their pikes, knowing well who was coming.

As Fintan's trained ears heard the sound of pikes clacking together, he stopped Maria to avoid harm to her and dismounted. He drew his rapier and dagger. Making sure his mask was on tightly he walked forward. His spurs ringing with every step, he readied himself for a fight.

The soldiers stepped forward, their pikes raised. "Silver Rose, you are under arrest for crimes against the people of Westland. Put down your sword."

Silver raised his rapier in salute infront of his face. "I regret to inform you I shant be able to perform that particular task." He kept his salute until one soldier thrusted his pike at the highwayman's heart.

Taking a step to the right in a spin, Silver ensnared the shaft of the pike with his dagger quilion and tripped the soldier. Using the pike he now controlled he felled a soldier by parrying his thrusting charge, and skewering him. With the weight of the dead man on him, the fallen soldier could not get up. Fintan side stepped again as another pike was thrust at his chest. This time, he threw his dagger in the process, and delayed another soldier by hitting him in the arm. He grabbed the pike thrust at him, and used it's ongoing momentum to drive it in to a tree.

The soldier tried in vain to pull it out, but was kicked away by a hard kick to the chest. Silver put the plan in to motion now. When he made a lunge at one of the soldiers, and they parried he allowed the sword to fly out of his hand. He muttered in Infreanian, causing a dark fog to roll in. As he had hoped, the soldiers became fearful and all those who were able lunged at him with their weapons just as they lost full sight of him.

From the brush, Fintan watched as the fog rolled away. An manipulative image of him stood with four pikes piercing him. The soldiers cheered as they pulled out their pikes and let the likeness of Fintan fall to the ground, dead. Of course this was not nearly enough for them, they stabbed it repeatedly, until almost no part of the mirage could be made out to be Fintan.

During his reminiscing, Fintan had fallen to sleep in his chair, as Charlotte found out when she walked in. Laughing softly she walked over and started cleaning up the tea and cake. What was left of the tea had a film over it, and the cake was slightly hardened. Fintan had clearly been sleeping for a few hours. The Cooking Mistress walked around the desk and picked up the doublet Fintan had been working on and went to put it on a manikin. As she dusted it off and fastened it she gasped at seeing the style of the rose. The de Marin rose was an Outer Veil style, this was not that rose. She recognized it as the romantic rose of Silver Rose.

"Silver Rose...." She looked back at Fintan and back at the doublet. "Oh my God...."

Subject: Return of The Rose November 18th 2011, 8:27 pm

At long last, the time has come. The Silver Rose shall again bloom on the Highways.

A pistol of silver cocked in the dim light of Fintan's stables. It's holder looked down to ensure proper sighting. Emerald eyes gazed down it's barrel behind a mask of green velvet. It clicked again, being uncocked. A long silver rapier glittered as it was drawn. A brown gloved hand flicked it this way and that, then moved it in the light to check the edge.

Once Fintan was satisfied he put the sword back in to his scabbard. Pulling back on his gloves to tighten them around his hand he walked over his horse. Maria neighed softly.

"Now now, Maria. You're known to be the horse of an Arelian noble. Riding you would be dangerous. We shall take to the roads tomorrow to assess what has been done." Fintan said gently, stroking the percheron's side. He crossed the stables to the slightly smaller horse. A gray stallion, who was bread for speed rather than power and intimidation. Fintan stroked Mist's side as he checked the saddle he had put on a brief hour ago. With the grace of a nobleman, the highwayman mounted his steed. Clicking his tongue he navigated Mist out of the stables, once they were out the horse broke in to a trot.

The moon was like a Half Griff in the sky, shining down brightly. The rays hardly penetrated the canopy. While he rode, simply searching, it dawned on Fintan. His prey had grown wiser, and no longer traveled the forests at night. He had caused this wisdom to grow within them. With a groan, and sigh, he steered Mist towards the Highway of Karros, a large open road that went from the north to the south of Westland.

Subject: Twinkle, Twinkle Robbing Star November 19th 2011, 10:07 pm

Stars are the source of light for people of my profession. We work by the light of stars and the moon. For me however, the silver star is my greatest threat, or is it my ally?

Fintan groaned as he leaned forward in the saddle. It was nearing midnight, and still no one had come across his chosen part of the road. He had never made a robbery before without assurance that his prey would cross his path. In fact, this was his first solo ride. The other four members of the Rose Highwaymen were either settled down or serving only as soldiers.

Sitting upright in the saddle, Fintan clicked his tongue. He had no intention of wasting an entire night out on the highway when no one was out. As he started to steer his horse, the most cliché of events occurred; a coach bearing a crest on the door came speeding down the road.

The crest was beyond familiar to Fintan. It was one he once cared for, long ago when he was more brash and foolish. She was one of the nobles during the tensions between the Empire and the Westlands. Unfortunately, Silver Rose crossed her path many times and robbed her of her great wealth. For a fifth or sixth time, Fintan had long lost count, Silver Rose would again rob Lady Hanna Linani.

"STAND AND DELIVER! YOUR MONEY OR YOUR LIFE!" Silver Rose cried, galloping in front of the coach with a pistol drawn. Out of fear, the horses pulling the coach stopped and reared back. Mist, Silver's horse, did not seem to care about the loud noises nor the terror in the other two horses.

"I've not much money sir." The coachman stated, throwing his small purse of gold to Silver, who caught it quickly with his free hand.

"That'll do." He gestured his pistol, telling the man without words to get off of the coach. Without question, the coachman did just that. Navigating his horse over to the window of the coach. The platinum blonde woman flashed a fanged smile to him, trying to act as if she did not know what was happening.

"Your money or life, Mi'lady" He stated, smirking.

"Surely, Silver Rose, you know I've no money left. You've taken it all already, along with my heart." Her left hand could not be seen under her dress as it moved in a motion that made even Fintan flush red.

"I shan't leave here without what ever wealth you've with you. And if you've not any money left where did you get those opal studded earrings, and necklace?"

"Family heirlooms, my mother left them to me." She remarked just as innocently as before.

"You lie, your mother is a vampire as much as you. She can not pass on to leave anything."

"Is there nothing else I can give to you, in return for letting me go?" Fintan heard the ruffle of fabric, as he noticed her dress being hiked up showing off her lower legs.

"I think not...I do not care to visit the apothecary because of a flaming sword, or the sudden existence of the sea's bounty."

Hanna's face was suddenly drained of color. She pulled her hand from under her dress, holding a pistol. She had been preparing it for one reason or another. It was thrust in to Fintan's face, nearly touching his nose. "How dare you, insult me you insolate peasant."

"I should remove that from his face if I were you Lady Linani" A voice from the other side of the coach spoke.

Straddling a black stallion was a man in black. Breeches of tan doeskin were fitted without a wrinkle. His boots came up to the knee and were as dark as his steed. Fintan could not see the spurs he wore, which would have told the Rose more than anything else. A white shirt with almost as much lace as Fintan was worn under a black silk waistcoat that had silver and gold starry designs. His coat was obviously velvet with silver celestial trimming. He wore a tri-corn hat, void of any decoration, but it covered his hair and the majority of the mask that the black clad highwayman wore.

"Have you gotten so old fashioned, Silver Rose that you must depend on another accomplice?" She lowered her pistol. "I can see I will not leave here alive, or untouched, otherwise." Reaching under the seat across from her, and pulled out two pouches of gold. She threw one to each of the highwaymen.

"Neither of us would touch you, Lady Linani, as I have the same wish as my fellow highwayman." Remarked the new arrival as he caught the money. Hanna gave the man a very harsh look that could have burned a hole through one's soul.

"I thank you, Miss Linani for you generous donation." Silver said, moving away from the coach. "Have a good evening." He fired a shot in to the air. The spooked coach horses reared back again and took off at a gallop.

"I will see you both hanged!" She screamed as the coach barreled down the road. The two highwaymen laughed at the threat. Silver did so only because he knew he was far superior than anyone Hanna could send after him.

"You shall have to forgive me." Fintan stated to the other rider, his laughter subsiding. "But I'm not quite familiar with your symbol."

"I go by Silver Star." He stated, counting the money. "No need for me to ask of you. You're well known amongst the riders. ....Even if your clothing is far outdated." He laughed slightly.

"I beg your pardon?" Fintan was about to ride away, but stopped at what he considered an insult.

"You heard me, Silver." The highwayman looked up and tucked his money away. "Your wardrobe is drastically outdated. No one wears thigh high boots, a doublet, and a cavalier hat any longer. You should spend some of that to update yourself." With that, Silver Star spurred his horse, galloping away from Fintan.

"Pompous ass." Fintan turned Mist around, and headed towards the Phoenix Inn

Subject: The Inn, the Bards, and the Highwayman November 19th 2011, 10:10 pm

This segment is dedicated to my friends and shipmates; Israel and Kristi, who inspired the characters Losreal and Christine.
Next to highwaymen, bards are the most egotistical creatures on earth. They are without a doubt the most blind as well. They always seem to think they can be like the heroes of their stories. Yet, if you give one a sword and challenge him to a duel most children can outfight him. Tylendol was enough of a pain, and when I killed him I thought I was rid of bards. I thought wrong.

As Fintan walked in to the inn, he removed his cloak and hat. Not trying to mask his annoyance, he lumbered over to the bar. As late as it was, there were few people in the Phoenix. Only a pair of people talking over piles of papers at one of the larger tables, a traveler who was having his dinner, and a passed out drunkard. It was the pair speaking about their work that intrigued Fintan for a brief moment. One was a young man, and the other a she-elf.

The she-elf was, as Fintan guessed, either a Westland born, or just trying to prove herself as she carried a very large sword on her back. A cloak covered only her left side. It was dark brown, soft leather with what looked like a wool lining. Fintan assumed it was for more of a practical use rather than the fashion his velvet and silk cape was. Short brown boots came up to her calves. A pair of dark brown and light tan leggings were tucked in to the boots. Her wool tunic was a slight brown and tan. Her long dirty blond hair was pulled back behind her pointed ears.

"What would make this story more interesting?" Asked the female bard to the male.

The male wore a black cloak, thrown behind his shoulders at the current moment. A short sleeved olive green jerkin clad his upper body. His black trousers were tucked in to knee high boots. But it was the rapier that caught Fintan's eye. It was a soldier's rapier from the Empire. Of course those were easily accessible to anyone with a bit of gold. However, Fintan wondered if he had ever been in the service of Boudicca or Keeva. The young man's hair was just down to his shoulders, and pulled back behind his head in a ponytail.

"What do you have so far?" He asked, putting his quill down.

"So far, the dragon queen has killed her lover because she's going insane."

"Not to discourage you, Lady Elf. But stories of dragon are outdated." Fintan interjected. "From what I have seen, highwaymen are the new topic of interest."

"I don't care." The she elf stated. "Highwaymen are boring and I can't write about them."

"He's got a point though..." The young man stated.

"Thank you good sir." Fintan took his mug of ale from Wendy, who gave it with her usual flirtatious smile to him. "Forgive my lack of manners. I am Count Fintan de Marin Erlise." He bowed his head. "If I may inquire as to your names?"

"Christine Uisceglan" The elf said, starting to scribble on a piece of paper again.

"Losrael Riddle" The human replied.

"A pleasure." Fintan bowed his head again. "Lord Riddle...did you by chance serve Boudicca or Keeva in the past?" Fintan gestured to the sword on Losrael's side.
"Oh, no. I bought the sword from an Arelian merchant a few years ago."

"I see...a duel some times perhaps? I should like to see your skill with it." He glanced to Christine. "And you, Lady Uisceglan? A past adventurer? I've never seen a lady carry a sword of that girth without there being some reason. Dare I say you both strike me as the traveling sort...what are your professions?"

"We're writers, not really adventurers." Losrael announced. "And I would enjoy that test."

"You just accepted a challenge from Queen Keeva's Musketeer Captain....smart Losrael. You're gonna have your butt kicked." Christine gave a slight huffing laugh and a toothy smile. Losrael looked back at Fintan and gulped slightly. "And we are bards, Your Grace, not writers. We write on the side."

"I shall go easy on you Lord Riddle." Fintan pulled his right glove off and stuffed it in his belt. "For I've never known but one bard to carry a blade, and he was quickly dispatched." Fintan's mind went back to the time he was in New Daron, and removed the back of a bard's skull for insulting the Arelian Crown and trying to claim what was Arelia's. "But then, I did shoot him...."

Losrael's eyes widened, not fear but excitement. "You carry a pistol?"

"I carry several....fancy yourself a marksman as well?" Fintan quickly drew and fired his pistol, striking the cork of a bottle, cutting it off cleanly with the mouth of the bottle.

"Whoa! Nice shot!" Losreal exclaimed, laughing slightly.

"Damnit Fintan! Stop doing that in my Inn!" Wendy yelled at him, swatting at his hand with her towel. Fintan put back the pistol.

"My apologies Miss Wendy." Christine was laughing as Fintan tried to fend off the swats. Wendy finally let him be and went back to cleaning the bar. Fintan looked back to the two bards. "I'll tell you what, mate. I've got an extra pair of pistols I'm not using. They're both in prime condition. If you beat me in the duel, they're yours. Sound fair?"

"Absolutely!" Losrael looked extremely excited.

Fintan took a sip of his ale, and turned his gaze back to Christine who was back to writing. "Taking my advice?"

"No, I don't like highwaymen. Besides, I already have a villain in the story. I need a hero."

"What implied that the highwayman was the villain? I've yet to meet a lady who does not have some sort of romantic feeling towards a rider."

"You just did." Losrael grumbled softly to Fintan.

"I don't. They're murderous traitors who deserve a short rope and a quick drop." The highwayman cleared his throat gruffly, taking slight offence to the statement, though he said nothing of it.

"I'm sure not all are like that...what about that Silver Rose. He seemed loved by the people, the nobles hated him though..."

"Exactly what makes him a traitor."

"I would think that the love of the people is more important than that of the court. After all, the Crown can do nothing with out the people's loyalty."

"Do you ever have a twisted sense of politics." Losreal stated.

"My Lord Riddle. I am a politician. I believe the government should fear her people, and do all it takes to keep them content. It is a pity that the Westlands are not like that. I shall admit, the Empire is not, but she is far closer to that perfect country status."

Christine only scoffed and continued writing. "I won't write about a murderer, not as a hero anyway."

"Fine, fine. Far be it from me to judge the work of a master bard." Fintan drained his ale, and set the mug down gently on the bar. "Good evening to both of you." He offered his hand to Losreal. The young man grasped the Count's wrist firmly. Fintan then walked over to Christine and offered his hand to her. Upon her hand meeting his, he spoke again. "May Clerin's shadows watch over you this night." And kissed her hand. The very moment his lips met her hand, her face went bright red, and her left foot which was crossed over her right knee came up and met his groin.

"Sorry, I prefer other males." She stated, with a poison honey smile. Losreal burst out laughing, as did Wendy, causing her do drop a glass.

"Under stood Miss Uisceglan." Fintan responded in a relatively higher voice than usual. "I bid you both, once more, good evening....." He turned, and headed up the stairs to his usual room for the night, now unable to sit properly in the saddle.

Subject: Good Morning, Mi'Ladies November 19th 2011, 10:12 pm

Mornings are the start a new day, new challenges, and new things to learn. Now that the cheesy statement has been dealt with, I shall silence myself and let the bard do his job.

A chirping bird woke Fintan from his slumber. The robber sat up in his bed and gave a content sigh. It had been years since he had a truly restful night. He always had something on his mind. Afairs of the State, a war, the safety of the Crown, or even how long he could keep his job as a soldier. But the most recent events seemed to have eased his mind.

Fintan began to think of his past. Not fifteen years ago he was a common soldier, living only to fight during the day and drink the night away. His past was haunted by the face of his parents murderers. Westland and Arelia were in a state of cold war. The 'Empire' consisted of little more than forty thousand square miles of grassland. Fertile, but lacking in many resources. The world itself was in a state of darkness, with religious fanatics claiming wars in the name of their gods. Life was hard for even the highest of nobles.

Briskly, he pushed those thoughts aside. He had nothing but good fortune to think of today. The Empire has never been stronger, and covers two and a half continents, and spans an ocean. The world has seen a rebirth of knowledge. The Westlands have declared peace and entered a political alliance with Arelia. The last of the murdering dogs was dead at Fintan's own hand. What's more, Fintan now saw a real purpose to live. He was much wiser than he was, and thinks twice before his blade is drawn. Not that he gave up drinking.

All of these thoughts, good and ill, ran though the mind of the Count as he dressed. He could not help but smile as he tied his hair back with a silk green ribbon. "If only I'd brought my coat...." he muttered staring in to the looking glass.
Without lingering any longer, Rogue stepped out of his room and made his way downstairs. He softly whistled an old marching song, sung by the Kingdom of Arelia long before it had any real power. He hardly touched the stairs on his way down. Much to Wendy's surprise, who was passing by the bottom of the stairs as Fintan came down, Fintan grabbed her hand. He spun her around and waltzed her across the floor to a table.

"My heaven's Fintan.... in bit of a good mood are you?" She laughed, stepping over to pick up clay mugs that had been left over night on the table she was taken to.

"I've never felt better, Miss Wendy.....I see my playwright friends were up late in to the evening." Fintan looked at the table he had met Christine and Losreal at the night before. The man had a brown wool cap pulled over his eyes, and the she-elf had a quill gripped in her hand with her head propped on the other.

"They were there all night. I offered them a room, but they wouldn't have it."

Fintan picked up a mug that was in front of Losreal. It smelled of a beer made mostly of hard hops. "They drank Kelin's Brew?"

"He did, she drank naught but water."

"That's why they did not take a room..."

"I'm sorry? I don't understand."

"I would like a frothed chocolate, and I shall pay for their room whilst they are here."

"The room can be arranged." Wendy's expression saddened. "But I'm afraid I've not got any chocolate. The prices are too high. What with the tax on chocolate, and the price it already is...I haven't been able to afford any for a few weeks now."

"What a pity...what are the prices?"

"Twenty gold a pound, with a six piece tax per pound. I swear, is shipping really that difficult? Doesn't Arelia have most of the islands where cocoa comes from?" The innkeeper walked around the bar and put two small wooden cups on the smooth surface.

"We do, but we can only do so much about the prices. The merchants have a right to make a profit, and if that means raising their pricing due to the trade routes there is little that can be done. " He walked over and leaned on the bar with his left arm, causing a slight clunk.

"Well then until prices go down, or I get enough people asking about it...." Wendy pulled a personally kept bottle of whiskey and filled the two cups. "I will not have any on stock, and Heaven help us if anything else goes up in price." She pushed one cup to her company and raised her own.

"Then let's drink to low prices, and little taxation." Fintan raised his own cup and clinked it with Wendy's. The young woman laughed and took a sip of the whiskey in synch with Fintan.

"Plans for the day, Rogue?"

"Shopping. I'm long over due for a new suit, and am coming very close to falling behind in the times."

"But you fall behind the times so classically, with a flare I've never seen." She giggled.

"A true enough statement. But if I'm to be taken seriously in this country, I shall need to be the height of fashion."

"Why bother with fashion...." Christine's voice chimed in as she awoke. " As long as the clothing is practical, and you're comfortable. "

"Nobility hardly dresses practically, as for comfort, that consists of four inch heels, tights, wool lace, stupid looking hats" Fintan laughed. "Though it's better than dressing like a Naturip. They're simple all black dressings would kill me. No style in it at all." Wendy shivered at the mention of the fanatics.

Naturips existed primarily only in Arelia. They pledged simple lives of purity, simplicity, opposition of the Crown, and pure distaste of Avalonists. Or as was the joke in most sectors of the Royal Court, they were anti-de Marin. Fintan was just the opposite, finding joy in the lavish, swore his life to the Crown, and claimed to be Clerin's hand.

"They aren't that bad, what's wrong with simple clothing? If that's what they like then-" Fintan cut her off.

"It's not the clothing, that's just boring. I was simply making point, Miss Uisceglan." Fintan drained his cup and set it down. While Wendy was putting it away Fintan was drawing a small pouch of gold out of his larger pouch. Wendy held her hand up, refusing payment. "Then consider it for the nonexistent chocolate." Fintan took her hand and put the money in to it. As he reached the door, he spun on his heel and bowed, making the hat in his right hand flutter in the air. "Good morning, Mi'ladies."

"Ass." Wendy smirked as Fintan stepped out, whirling his hat on to his brow.

Subject: Infamous Glory November 19th 2011, 10:15 pm

I do not know if any of you have felt as if you accomplished something at some point. Though I hope you have. For a highwayman, the greatest achievement is to walk along the street like any other person, and see your other name on a wanted poster. What is better than that? To hear your name slandered by a recent heist.

The ride from the Phoenix Inn, to the town of Helios was a short yet pleasant one. Helios was, with out a doubt, Fintan's favorite town in the Westlands. It was located near a lively forest, and was the trade hub of the kingdom. It was the trade that drew Fintan to the city on a regular basis.

Fintan was headed towards a small shop in the richer district of the town. The name of the shop was 'The Cavalier Cat', a tailor who had made many of Fintan's clothes. His only hesitance towards the district of the town was the fact it was inhabited by the wealthier people of the town. Mainly lords of local clans who despised the alliance between Arelia and Westland. This, Rogue could ignore, as well as any jives he was given. It was the possibility of an insult towards the Empire, Fintan would not stand for.

By fortune, it was too early for many people, let alone nobles who fancy themselves as gods, to be up. It left Fintan to take an easy ride through the town. Maria's hooves pattering softly on the cobblestone street. It was a rare sight for Fintan to see Helios when people were not bustling around the street. The buildings were gray in the early sunlight, as opposed to their usual off white. The steeple of a cathedral on the far side of town cast a long shadow, which ended just beside Fintan. The calmness of the town was comforting for Fintan.

Fintan became so ensnared by the quiet morning that he had not seen his destination was only feet away from him. He chuckled at the sign that swayed back and forth on it's hanger. It was a orange cat's head, wearing a cavalier hat. 'What an interesting story that would make...a dueling cat.' He thought to himself, as he swung off of his horse.

With none of the shops currently open to the public, the musketeer decided to take a walk around town. He lead the horse to a hitching post. He had hardly stepped away when the door to the tailor shop opened. A young woman stepped out of the establishment.

She had soft brown hair tied up in a bun, with a single strand hanging down over her right eye. An white apron over a simple dress of common wool and cotton. Her round face was lit up by a cheery smile at the sight of Fintan. "Fintan! How nice to see you again!"

"Isadora!" Fintan turned at the voice and walked over, his hands extended. The tailor walked out and grasped his hands, only to have them brought up and kissed. "Always a pleasure. Still in Helios working for your aunt?"

"Yes, I have decided to make my residency in the Westlands permanent. It is far better than Da'Hara."

"Well obviously."

"What brings you out here this morning?"

"I was hoping to have a new suit made."

"But you look so dashing in this one, Fintan."

"Yes, but the colors are starting to become a little too summery. I was thinking something more rustic, with a great cloak rather than a cape."

"The de Marin rose?"

"Perhaps, but not it's bright silver."

"Gold?"

"Perfect."

"Come inside, we can get to work on it immediately." Isadora grabbed Fintan's wrist and tugged him inside.

Fintan was put on to a pedestal while the seamstress selected a rolls of fabric for Fintan to judge. She looked over and smirked. "Velvet I assume." Fintan gave her a look that spoke for him. With that, she knew she need not ask. She brought over her personally chosen colors first. A rust brown and a dark golden yellow. She took the corners and put them up to Fintan's neck. "These do complement your complexion. Or would you like to see something else?"

"This is fine...." Fintan said with a monotone as he looked in the mirror at the fabrics up next to his skin. He did not want to give the impression they were exactly what he was thinking, or seem too excited.

"Well, then you know how this starts." She turned around and walked do the door, drawing the curtains to keep Fintan in as much privacy as possible. When she turned around, Fintan already had his doublet, boots and trousers off. He untied his shirt and pulled it off as well. Isabella instantly noticed his left hand, though as she never did before she said nothing about it. She picked up a measurement rope and walked over. "Arms up." Fintan lifted his arms out to the side. With each measurement, Isabella would audibly whisper the numbers. As many of the measurings were with Fintan, there was an awkward silence unless she was asking Fintan to do a certain movement.

“So what I was thinking...” Fintan broke the silence. “ Was a pair of trousers and a cloak , and light doublet out of the brown. The gold would serve as trim as well as a lining for the lot.”

“That sounds magnificent...if I may ask, what is the occasion for the new clothes?”

“I am hosting a festival on the Eve of Samhane .” Upon mentioning the night the festival was held, Isadora looked at Fintan as if he was crazy.

“Is that not the night where the spirits are said to return to the earth?”

“Precisely why I hold the festival that night. It shall make for a lively festival. It shall be most interesting because of who died four years ago this night.”

“Who?” Isadora wrapped the measuring rope up, intrigue and a slight hint of fear in her eyes.

“Silver Rose. He tried to fight sixteen Westland Guards and was killed brutally as a result.”

“That murderer had that coming. He’s nothing to complain about, considering how many others are with out family because of him.” With out knowing it, Fintan had shot Isadora's brother during a robbery. It was that reason he patrons her shop rather than making his clothes himself which he was more than capable of. Guilt holds on to Fintan’s soul easily.

“I’m sorry, I forgot your distaste of him. I won’t.....In the name of Avalon?” Fintan heard some kind of yelling from outside. He quickly got dressed again and walked towards the door, with Isadora following.

“It’s too damned early for people to be shouting in the streets....oh, why am I not surprised it’s her?” Fintan had opened the door only to show Hanna Linani yelling at some man who dressed like a wannabe noble.

The man wore black leggings and boots that had a, as Fintan thought, useless shine, and a tanned jerkin with a wide shoulder necklace. An eagle, with wings spread wide, was hanging from the necklace. A broadsword hung from his hip, though by the way it hung Fintan guessed the sheriff had no clue how to actually use the sword. A black wool cap was hung on his brow, and had the same eagle embroidered on it. “Listen, I understand that....” The man paused as if he was having some kind of seizure, but quickly continued. “You feel wronged.” He paused again. “But Silver Rose is not alive.”

Isadora shivered and stepped closer to Fintan, keeping mostly behind him. “Sheriff Jogluan is just disturbing...” She whispered to Fintan.

“YES HE IS! HE HELD ME UP LAST NIGHT YOU BUGEYED CREEP OF A LAW ENFORCER!” Hanna screamed at the top of her lungs. “Him and some other fairy dressed.” Fintan growled under his breath. “highwayman held me up last night for all my worth! One of them even tried to take advantage of me!”

“Look, I’ll put warnings out, but he’s dead. There is no way he held you up.”

“Perhaps Her Ladyship was seeing things, or had a little too much to drink last night.” Fintan called out, walking towards them with Isadora keeping within six inches of Fintan at any given time.

“Good morning, de Marin.” Jogluan stated

“I did not drink anything, Count de Marin. I was held up by that scoundrel! You provided the wrong information four years ago, and he’s come out of hiding!”

“I am Your Grace, to you Jogluan. Or learn how to not frighten young children with your seizure like smile and maybe you may call me by a name.” Fintan stated dryly, only to get a look of contempt from Jogluan. Isadora was giggling from the statement, though she tried not to let it show too much. “And Lady Linani, this is the one time this mentally challenged oaf is right, Silver Rose is dead. I myself saw him die.”

The sheriff put his hand on his sword and started to draw it. “What the hell gives you the right to talk to me like that, you insol-” Fintan had stepped forward and put his hand on Jogluan’s wrist, letting his weight keep the sword from coming out. In his right hand he had a pistol at the throat of the Helios Sheriff.

“The fact I am able of completing a coherent sentence without stuttering or having a seizure. My ability to actually use my weapons without hurting myself, and for the fact I am simply better than you. Now shut up, Sheriff Simpleton and let the adults talk.”

“Yes Jogulan, shut your disgusting face.” Hanna groaned. “And go do something useful, like putting up wanted posters of Silver Rose again.”

“He’s not ba....”

“JUST GO BEFORE I BLAST YOUR DAMNED HEAD OFF WITH ONE OF COUNT DE MARIN’S PISTOLS!” Hanna shrieked, now thoroughly annoyed. It was the first time that Fintan actually agreed with her. Rather than testing the pair further, the sheriff turned and walked away, muttering under his breath about people not respecting him. Fintan lowered his pistol and uncocked it. “I will not hesitate next time. I will destroy that horrid little creature.”

“I shan’t bother stopping you.” Fintan grumbled.

“I am talking about Silver Rose, Your Grace.” Hanna corrected him.

“Ah, yes well....have fun doing so. If you will excuse me, I’ve clothes to finish getting made.” With that, Fintan walked back in to the tailor-shop with Isabella keeping closely beside him.

Subject: The Informant November 20th 2011, 10:21 am

(This segment is dedicated to my friend, and shipmate, Rosemary , who inspired Isabella)

Everyone needs information. Especially those of us in my line of work. What better way to get that information from someone within the inner circle of your enemies? Even better, play on the enemy's sense of male chauvinism

With a week passing since the return of Silver Rose, posters had begun to make their way various surfaces. Many young maidens had started listening to any scrap of news about the highwayman. It was their dream that while walking one night, they may meet the him, and a silver rose might be given to them. Most nobles who had heard of it were stricken with terror, fearing the loss of their wealth.

It was not until one afternoon out in town that Fintan learned how severe the situation with Silver Rose really was. He had come to go to a tavern, the Black Swan, to meet an old friend. The Black Swan was a quiet little tavern near the military district of Helios. It had mostly soldiers as patrons, making the musketeer feel at home. He sat at a table, with a few of his Westland counterparts telling jokes and stories over an ale.

"Now the problem with us is simple. We have a different language." Fintan smirked, sipping his drink.

"I understand you right enough, de Marin." Chimed in a Westlander.

"Not what I mean. If you tell a Royal Musketeer to secure a building, we will occupy it and defend it with musket and artilleries, not allowing anyone near it."

"Aye..." The soldier spoke.

"And if you tell a Westlander to secure it, then you kill everyone inside and set fire to the building."

"And it bloody works too!" Shouted a second, earning a modest laugh from most.

"Tell a Decrian, or as you know them, Dwarfs to secure a building, the fools lock the doors and go to a tavern." Several men laughed at the joke. "Meanwhile the bloody dragons take out a ten month lease, with option to by on the damned thing!" The tavern erupted in laughter.

"Causing trouble again, Mr. de Marin?" Asked a voice from the door. Fintan gazed back to the door to see who had spoken. It was the young lady he had come to meet. She looked a few years older than the Count. Short brown hair, very short for a woman. Blue gray eyes were lit up in her smile as Fintan crossed the floor to her.

"My dear Isabella." He took her hand and kissed it. "You look as lovely as always." She wore a deep blue skirt and bodice, trimmed with silver.

"Always the charmer. Hello Rogue." A few people looked at Isabella with either a look of sympathy or a look of bewilderment. They all expected Fintan to cut her down where she stood for calling him a rogue. It was beyond a shock when the highwayman laughed.

"As always, Bell. Shall I get you a drink?"

"No, but thank you. I don't drink anymore, it only gets me in to trouble."

"But that's the excitement of the drink, my dear."

"I do not trust you enough, not to make inappropriate suggestions if I were to get drunk."

"Miss Devarla, I am shocked!" Fintan had a look of mock offense. "Would I do something like that?"

The entire tavern shouted out a resounding. "Yes!"

"To Infrean with the lot of you. Miss Devarla, I shan't attempt to persuade you if you are set in your conviction. But I hope you do not mind if I indulge in a drink?" Isabella only smiled and sat down at a table.

"If you get inappropriate, I will have to stop you." She smirked, sitting across from him.

The two began talking about everything under the sun. From the coming festival, sponsored by the Empire, to the crusades being held in Da'Hara.

"I am surprised you are not in the thick of those battles at the moment, Fintan. Aren't you always talking about how you would like the chance to bash a few of those 'heathen dogs'?" Isabella leaned back and crossed her arms.

"I am, but I believe that the suffering of those closer to home must be dealt with first." Fintan looked off in to space as he answered.

"I thought that Arelia-" She was cut off.

"Arelia is not what I'm talking about. Our allies need help as well. Surely you've heard about that highwayman." He gave a wink.

"Oh yes, I've heard he's riding again. But I thought he was killed?" Isabella leaned forward, putting her hands down on the table.

"Apparently, those guards did not do a very good job of taking his life." Fintan's hand slid across the table and rested on Isabella's. "Would you like to get a room?"

"I thought you said you were going to behave?" Isabella laughed, sounding half serious. Fintan lowered his doublet collar, showing the silver rose on his shirt collar. The lady in waiting took a brief moment to think, and gave a single nod.

The highwayman stood up and stepped over to the bar. Wendy only looked up at him, wiping out a mug with a cloth.. He set down a four Griffs and motioned to upstairs. The barmaid nodded as he turned away. Isabella stood up and joined Fintan as he walked upstairs.

Once the two were in the room, Fintan shut and locked the door, and blew out the candles. Except for one that was on a table. He drew the curtains shut. "Fintan...what exactly are you planning?" Isabella gave him a cautious look, though she was pressing back a laugh.

"Well first I was thinking we would start on the table and then move to the bed."

"FINTAN!"

"I'm only joking, I do not want to arouse suspicions." Fintan leaned on the table, and folded his arms. "What can you tell me?"

"Well...what do you want to know?"

"Exactly what you use to tell me. The ins and outs of the nobles. Who has the most wealth? Who is the most vulnerable? Who is on what roads? When are they on those roads?"

"They are more cautious now. There is another highwayman on the roads these days. Silver Star. We, or at least those of us employed by the nobles, believe him to be a mimicker. Trying to live up to Silver Rose's stories and legends. I think someone I work with fancies them both..." She trailed off for a moment, but snapped out of it quickly. "Most of the wealth is held in the Ortfox Family, the Eslipmantle Family, and the Osiris Family."

Isabella thought for a moment, before speaking again. "The road to Kratos us currently under constant gaze of the military. Due to Silver Star. No one travels it with out being in a large convoy that is heavily armed. The Ordin Highway is worthless as always. The Helios is your best bet, for now. Eventually it will again become watched as heavy as Kratos. The Icarus Highway is the most traveled. The stormy weather between Icarus and Triton make it too difficult to try and ride on those roads, so it's the safest."

"Thank you, Miss Devarla. This information shall be put to good work. ...Are you sure I can not persuade you to join the Empire's forces? We could use someone of your talents."

"I only repeat what I hear, I'm really not that good of a spy."

"I must disagree."

"You're sweet."

"I know." Fintan stood up straight, took Isabella's hand once more and kissed it again.

Subject: The Festival of the Harvest Part One November 20th 2011, 3:31 pm

In times of hardship a festival can take one’s mind off of the troubles. It also serves as a wonderful way to come to know your adversaries without exposing yourself.

With time running out before the Festival of the Harvest, Fintan became more preoccupied getting things ready around his manor. It was here that the festival would take place. Of course the last five days of the festival would be open to the public, it was the night before that was of the most value to Fintan. He meant to invite only the most powerful and wealthy in the land.

He had already sent personal invitations to the Osiris Family, and to the Ortfox Family. The Eslipmantal Family however, had already stated they would be coming, without an invitation. It seemed to be their thought that the world revolved around them. Fintan agreed with most of that belief of the Eslipmantals, basing it solely on the fact that Hanna Linani was part of that family line.

Fintan was in his study cleaning his pistols when Charlotte stepped in. She timidly stepped closer to Fintan. "C...can I g..g..gg...get you any...th...thing?" She asked, her hands wringing together as if she was worried about something. Fintan glanced up with a risen brow as to why she sounded so afraid. "SIR!" she snapped out, realizing she forgot it, now even more afraid because of the look.

"I'm fine, Miss Charlotte. Is everything alright? You look terrified." Fintan set his pistols down and stood up. When he walked around the desk, Charlotte backed away. "Miss Charlotte...what..."

"I KNOW YOU'RE THE MURDERING SILVER ROSE!" She blurted out, not taking a second thought about it. Fintan blinked, and Charlotte instantly dropped to her knees and started shaking uncontrollably. Her former slave mentality took over once again. She was waiting for a punishment of some sort, but something in her mind said she was not going to walk out of the room alive.

"Miss Charlotte..." Fintan walked over and kneeled in front of the cook. "I have killed only two men behind the mask. Both times, they were in self defense." Charlotte said nothing. "I know you are thinking that they were fighting in their defense, and you're right. But I do not take pleasure in stalking the highways." He extended his hand to her. "Please do not cower in front of me. I do not strike my employees. You will not be harmed here for knowing who I am. I only ask that you keep silent about it. I ride for the safety and well being of the people who are oppressed by the less scrupulous nobles."

As Charlotte was helped up, Angel poked her head in to the room. "Your Grace, a pair of...armed bards, are here to see you. The young man says you threw down the glove to him, two evenings ago. He is here to regain his honor."

"What?" Fintan rose a brow, offering his handkerchief to Charlotte who had begun crying in fear. "Is one an elf?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Let them in, escort them to the parlor."

Losreal and Christine were seated in to the parlor, both looking around at everything on the wall. Losreal's eyes were glued to the pistols and muskets that were decoratively displayed above the mantel. One of the muskets in particular had his attention. It had a cherry stock, with intricate floral carvings on it. The barrel was embossed in silver, and had the same designs. The hammer's head was shaped like a wolf's head with it's jaws clamping down on the flint.

Christine's eyes were darting back and forth to paintings of dragons that hung on the walls. She was examining Fintan's personal favorite when he walked in. The painting was of a great silver dragon, soaring over a battlefield. The dragon itself was clutching a man in his claw, the man's horse in it's mouth. Below the dragon, there were two armies, locked in a battle. It was a romantically painted image. The obviously winning side looked pristine and untouched. While the losers were falling back with their tattered colors.

"That is the Victory of Stromwall." Fintan said, stepping in to the parlor and breaking silence. "The dragon's name is Lesiren. It was by him that Camdules, the usurper king met his death. A pity in my mind."

"Why? The king met his death at the claws of a dragon." Christine rose a brow, and stood up.

"Because I wanted to kill the bastard, after mutilating him beyond recognition for what he did to My Queen. It was him who caused the Civil War, beheaded Bouddica, and drove the Royalists in to hiding."

"And the musket?" Losreal asked, his eyes still glued to the weapon. Fintan walked over and took it down from it's position. He loosened the jaw and removed the black glass that was used in place of flint.

"This was the musket I used during the conquests of Dachrine, where our colonies are. It's claimed more Trow lives than I can count." He handed the musket to Losreal to look at himself. Fintan continued speaking while the musket was examined. "Miss Angel has told me you came to take me up on the duel."

"Oh, yes, I have."

"Why not save it until tomorrow, during the festival."

"Yes, Losreal. Why not save it so the entire population can see you get your ass handed to you." Christine grinned.

"I insist, that you both stay here for the evening, so that you may be here when the rest of the guests arrive tomorrow morning." Fintan took the musket back as it was offered to him, and put it up on the mantel where it belonged. He then walked out of the parlor, and called Angel. After instructing her to show the pair to a room they could use, he went back to his study until dinner, not allowing either to protest staying.

Subject: The Festival of the Harvest Part Two November 26th 2011, 5:23 pm

Rogue was awakened to the sounds of birds outside his window, and to the sound of hammers beating on wood outside. He rose out of his bed and stepped over to the window. Below, on the grounds there were last minute preparations were being made for the festival.

Workers were tapping in to the large kegs that held specially brewed ales, and specially spiced wines. The flavors complemented the crisp time of year that was being entered. Fire pits were being checked for safety and the lamb, beef, and pheasants being put on the spit. Further away, there were targets being checked to make sure that nothing to aid in cheating had been inserted or cast on to them. The rails for the joust were being polished to a gleam.

Fintan quickly got dressed in his new suit. Dark brown boots with golden spurs, still in the rose shape, fit snuggly up to his thighs. His trousers were a browned orange and were tucked in to the boots. His shirt, an off white tan had more lace than usual, laced all the way up to his Adam's apple where the collar then turned downward and extended back to the base of his throat. It was turned over the collar of his doublet which was about an inch higher than the last tie of the shirt. It was fastened by golden leaves up the front, and had gold ivy along the skirting. He fixed his rapier on to his dark brown belt, and swung his new cloak around him. The cloak was worn similarly to his sword capes, the only difference is that it came down to his calves rather than his hip. It had a golden chain that came around under his right arm much like his capes. Almost instantly, Fintan pulled on his dark brown gloves to avoid his silver hand from clashing with the autumn colors.

Fintan stared at his new hat for a brief moment before picking it up off it's holder and setting it gently on his head. He had purchased a new dark brown hat for the occasion. This one, rather than being cocked on the right side was bowled on the left. It came up only slightly, and the golden plumes went from the front of the hat to the left behind a band of velvet that matched the rest of his outfit, and had golden floral studding. The count examined himself in the looking glass as he slid a maple stocked, brass finished, pistol in to the holster on his right side.

Rogue removed his hat as he exited his room and made his way through his manor to breakfast. The manor was quieter that morning than Fintan had ever seen it before. Especially on the morning of a festival, which he often held. It was an almost deathlike silence. The jingling of his spurs echoed through the halls, for a short time. They were interrupted by the clacking of boots on the marble floor.

"Welcome home, Iliecit." Fintan called down the hall, seeing the black clothed figure of his wife.

"Thank you." She returned, very suddenly beside her political husband.

"I hope you intend to wear something more festive for the festival...I think black may cause a bit of depression." He announced in a slight joking manner as to not offend the countess.

"Is this not the feast of your god Samhane? Lord of the Living Souls?" She returned with a smirk, her fangs showing.

"Yes dear, however that is no reason to look so gloomy. ... I am sure Lady Linani will be wearing bright festive clothing..." He returned the smirk, looking out of the corner of his eyes. Iliecit's face drained of what little color existed, and her smirk disappeared.

"I shall dress to match you...I am sure I can find something." She stated as if she had the idea of dressing colorfully herself.

"I had a matching dress made."

"Even better. I shall dress, and meet you for dinner."

"Breakfast."

"Of course." The vampiress turned on a heel and walked in the other direction towards her chambers. The count shook his head and continued on his way to breakfast.

When Fintan entered the dining room, he saw Christine and Losreal already sitting down, and discussing their works. For the occasion both bards had dressed formally. Where they got the clothing, Fintan did not ask, nor did he truly care. He presumed they had simply gone out and purchased something. Though in Losrael's case it looked more as if he had brought the suit with him.

The man was clothed in what looked like a military uniform. An indigo blue jacket, styled so that it remained open, was worn over a white shirt and waistcoat. The waistcoat was fastened up to the collar of the shit, which had a red neck wrap. The trousers came down just below the knee. Boots were up to the middle of the thigh, fully covering the hem of the trouser legs. A buckle of brass was fixed on a white leather belt, and bore the engrave of "FA".

"Dare I say, you are a soldier in the Army of the Federation of Acmoria, Mr. Riddle?" Fintan joked as he set his hat on the table, next to Losrael's black wool tricorn.

"Former, Your Grace." He stated proudly. "I retired a few years ago to take up writing."

"For how long?" Fintan asked, sitting down.

"Four years, I joined just after your country graciously donated six thousand muskets to our cause."

"Oh yes...I remember that. To hold your revolution against D'Hara. I am happy we could have been of some assistance."

"If I remember correctly, you were one of the people against it....saying that a democracy could never work out." Losreal stated dryly with a risen brow.

"For ten years you have been doing well enough. I am pleased to say I was wrong." Fintan snapped in defense. However, he was still a monarchist, and would stand against any revolution held to overthrow the Arelian Crown. "Miss Uisceglan."

The she-elf was clothed in a simple gown of red silk, with a gold chain belt around her waist. Her hair was the most intricate. Clearly done by one of the maids as there were obvious Arelian designs braided in to it. She wore a pair of dangling gold earrings, which were crafted in to spinning spirals that looped each other.. "What of you? Are you a ...." He thought for a moment and spoke in a full joke. "Courtesan? Your beauty easily surpasses one." He took a sip of a sweet wine that was set in front of him.

"Yes, I was one for a good ten years." She stated plainly. Fintan choked on the wine, much to Losrael's amusement.

"I...I..."

"I'm kidding." Christine shook her head while smirking. "I was a scholar. I simply grew tired of that life, learning about all these different lands. I wanted to see them, and becoming a traveling bard was the best way."

"That does not quite explain your sword." Fintan rose a brow.

"A bard must be able to defend herself."

"Indeed they must. I would think My Lord knows this already." Iliecit stepped in to the room, her clothing now matching Fintan's. An elaborate gown of the same velvet that gave Fintan's suit, with golden silk trim. The skirt was a traditional hoopskirt, decorated by golden tool and designs of golden leaves. The corset was tight around her waist, but the sleeves were loose around the arms and shoulders, allowing for movement. Rouge had been applied to her cheeks, to give them a sense of color. Her hair had been let loose and put in to waves, most likely the cause of her constant braid. A small tea hat was cocked to the left on her head, and had a veil rolled up around it for her to pull down when she wished. She extended her hand to her husband as he stood up.

"I would like to introduce my wife." Fintan used the moment to his advantage. "Countess Iliecit de Marin." The woman did not respond to the offering of Losrael's hand when the ex soldier offered it. Rather, she flashed a smile where she hid her fangs and nodded. Christine gave a small wave, making both nobles raise a brow, but neither said anything of it.

"Charmed, I'm sure." She let go of Fintan's hand and sat down. When a plate was set in front of her, she gave a look to Angel. "I am more thirsty, than hunger dear. My usual...please." She shot her a look. Though she had no problems with her vampire blood, Iliecit did not wish to scare either of her husband's guests.

Angel brought Iliecit her usual blood, put in to a goblet to avoid the consistency being seen. The vampiress gently lifted it to her lips and sipped. She minded herself to avoid any blood trickling out, or being left on her lips.

Breakfast remained quiet from that point. Losreal occasionally glanced at Iliecit, wondering what was in her drink, but never asked anything about it. The vampiress' gaze switched between the three. Every time she landed her eyes on Losreal, she would smile knowing he was looking at her. She was however, careful enough not to show her fangs.

Christine remained silent through breakfast. She was concentrating on eating, and writing her stories. Occasionally, out of interest, Fintan would try to sneak a peak. Each time, Christine would cover what she'd written and give him a look.

The large clock in the hall struck nine. Fintan wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. "The festival guests shall be arriving soon." He started to stand. Iliecit put her hand on his.

"Sit, what kind of wife would I be if I were not the first one outside? I believe Jon and Anna Marie will be here shortly. I will go and greet your guests as they arrive, and you may follow your fashion rules as they are needed." Christine rolled her eyes at the thought of anything to do with fashion. "Come along you two, let us give His Grace some time. He will be dealing with pompous Westland nobles today...Angel, be a darling and get him a whiskey." Iliecit pulled her gloves on, they fit her hands perfectly, as if a second skin. She began to roll down the veil on her tea hat. The veil was just barely dark enough to not allow light to pierce it. Fintan stood and kissed Iliecit's hand before she turned and walked out, beckoning Losreal and Christine to come with her.

Subject: Part Three December 26th 2011, 5:53 pm

Fintan went to his study to finish preparing for the festival. There was to be a small gathering at the end of the evening, and he trusted no one else to clean the room but him. Of course, Charlotte and Angel were trusted enough, but Angel was busy and Charlotte was no where to be found.

On the grounds, Iliecit was greeting the guests as they arrived, or at least she was waiting to do so. Losreal and Christine hung around her, not sure what to do otherwise. Angel stood on Iliecit's right, ready to introduce the guests. Iliecit let out a groan of annoyance when a roar sounded in the distance. "Damnit...must she always do that?"

"Must who do what?" Losreal asked.

"You will see, Master Riddle...." She growled, her fangs showing by accident. Christine blinked at the fangs, just barely catching a glimpse of them. She was curious, and wondering if she had seen that correctly. The roar was let out yet again, only to have Iliecit groan "Would you shut up! We all know you're here...the entire Westland knows your fucking here!"

The three stepped back from Iliecit as she was trying to recover herself. "Excuse me dears...I...was out of place."

"It would be better if we knew what you were...Oh my gods" Losreal stared at the sky, eyes wide in a combination of fear and excitement. Christine's eyes were glued to the heaven's as well, except they were filled with excitement and wonder. The massive red dragon form of Queen Liani showed itself, dipping under the clouds. Once again, she let out a ear splitting roar. Groaning Iliecit readied herself to curtsy when she landed.

Liani beat her wings in the air as a pair of brakes, to slow her landing. Never the less, she landed with a force that caused the entire manor to shake. Iliecit curtsied, with a bow of her head, along with Angel who signaled Losreal and Christine to do the same. Losreal removed his hat and bowed while Christine put her hand over her heart and bowed in the elf fashion. "Good morning, Your Majesty. It is an honor and a privilege for you to grace us with your presence this morning." Iliecit greeted her.

The dragon queen bowed her head before she glowed a soft red. As the glow receeded Liani took her human form. “Good morning, Countess Iliecit. Please...all rise, there is no need to bow for me.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Losreal responded, rising from his bow. Angel gave him a brisk whack on the head with her hand. “It’s Majesty” She hissed. Losreal flushed with embarassment.

“It’s alright Angel. There’s no harm done. I am the first to arive, I take it?”

“You are, Your Majesty.” Angel smiled. “There is a seat reserved for you in the festival area if you would like to rest. Will any of your ....subjects be joining us?”

“Only a few of the younger dragons....are you alright Miss?” Liani glanced at Christine who was just smiling as she stared at Liani.

“I’m great...” She giggled. Liani nodded and departed for the festival area. Losreal shook his head slowly, hiding his eyes behind his hand.

"KATIE!" Angel exclaimed as she saw a brown haired woman walk up the path. Katlyn Osiris smiled and opened her arms, walking faster.

"Good to see you again, Angel!" Katie squeeled as they embraced. Iliecit cleared her throat, having no idea who this really was.

Angel recomposed herself. "Your Grace, may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Katlyn Osiris of the Dragon Kingdom."

"Welcome to the de Marin Manor, Your Highness." Iliecit bowed her head, though her face was strained to keep from saying what she thought. 'More dragons, why?'
"A pleasure, Countess de Marin.-" She was cut off by the crack of a whip as a team of horses galloped along the road towards the manor. They pulled a coach that bore the coat of arms of the Droverson family. "Fintan invited them?" She groaned softly. Angel scowled at the coach as it came alongside the manor.

"I can not stand Matilda." Angel muttered. "After what she did to that poor child, she makes my former master look like a saint."

Matilda stepped out of the coach in a dark green dress with golden trim. "Hello, Countess de Marin. Where is the Count?"

"Busy, preparing himself for the festival."

"He must take longer than a woman." Announced another voice that made what little color left in Iliecit's face drain. Hanna Linani stepped out of the coach, wearing a dazzling white gown that caused her complexion to appear even whiter.

"He wishes to look his best, he does have a reputation to uphold after all." Iliecit said in her husband's defense.

"I'm well awear of his reputation, taking the hearts of women and stabbing them with his infidelity." Hanna glanced at Losreal and Christine. "And who are these little darlings?" She had a dark smile. "Your children? This one somewhat reminds me of Rogue." The vampriess stroked Losreal's chin with a long fingernail.

"No, human children can not grow that fast. Fintan and I have been married less than five years." Iliecit snapped.

"Precisely why I asked. With your blood, the vampire in them would cause them to mature faster."

The two bards blinked. Losreal's hand went to rest on his sword. He had heard stories of vampires, but never thought to think the creatures actually existed. He now wondered how accurate the stories were. Christine hwas not as fearful as her partner, though she was cautious. She too had heard stories but never thought she would actually meet a living vampire. Hanna saw the surprise in their eyes, and then the utter anger in Iliecit's eyes.

"Oh...they did not know? Are you ashamed of what you are? No...perhapse you are a shmed you are wed to a human. This human in paticular. After all, we all know what he did to our kind in Me-"

"I am honored." Iliecit cut in. "To be wed to Count de Marin."

Hanna showed no disapointment that she was unable to push Iliecit off the edge of snapping. She simply did what she always did when she failed at such an atempt. "I was held at gunpoint a few weeks ago." She switched the attention back to her. "By Silver Rose."

"I'm sure." Iliecit rolled her eyes, then gestured to the road where more guests were lining up to gain enterence. "If you will excuse me." Hanna Scoffed and continued on her way alongside Matilda, who was shaking her head at Iliecit.

With a heavy sigh Iliecit turned to face her husband's guests. "I did not mean to decieve you in insult."

"So, you are a vampire?" Christine inquired to ensure she was understanding everything.

"Yes...but with Fintan's reqputation none outside the Arelian Courts and the Covens know for certian. It must appear to remain so." The two nodded, sealing the unspoken pact that they would remain silent on the mater.

None of them spoke further of the subject. The countess went back to greeting the ariving guests. A good many of the arrivals were commoners rather than the usual nobles that attended Fintan's gatherings. Arelian soldiers, Westland guards, Borin archers, hunters, and the occasional 'street rat' as Fintan called them. Of course there were nobles from Westland and Arelia. Primarily knights, who had come to take part in the jousting competition.

Iliecit and the bards followed the last of the guests to the festival area. Christine was trying to get ideas for her writings from the guest, who she found interesting based on the fact Twili had both a pair of wolf ears and tail. Both were perked and wagging in excitement of the festivities around her.

People were chatting over drinks, and for once at a gathering they were not at each other's throats. Music played for the enjoyment of the guests, festive songs of old heroes and tales of haunting to celebrate the time. Others were sighing up for the competitions. Great Sword fights, fencing, marksmanship, archery, a horse race, and a joust between the two courts.

A pistol sounded loudly though the festival, bringing the musicians to silence. "Distinguished guests!" Fintan, who was standing on the dueling dais lowered his pistol. "I hope you will forgive my tardiness." Stated the fashionably late highwayman. "The gauntlet has been cast to the ground, and accepted. Mr. Riddle, if you would care to join me on the dais, we shall see who is the better. The Arelian Royalist, or the Acmorian Federalist. To First Blood"

Losreal hesitated for a brief moment before Christine gave him a nudge. "Go on, you won't get those pistols otherwise." She whispered.

"Alright, alright...I'm going." He muttered.

"Yay! Good luck, Losreal!" Twili whispered to him. The wolf on Twili's right, Usko snickered muttering to his companion. 'That Federalist is gonna have his ass kicked. Fintan doesn't fight fair." The wolf's eldest sister, Cera hit him with a paw "Be quiet, Usko! Fintan would not cheat on a public duel"

The revolutionary stood up and stepped on to the dais. "The Federalist is, we have to earn our standings." The crowd drew a sharp breath at the exceedingly brave words. Losreal did not seem to care as he removed the belt, the jacket and hat, setting them to the side.

"Perhaps, but we are raised with the sword." The cavalier tossed his hat off, to his wife who caught it with a grin. He pulled off his cloak and doublet. "It gorilic, Banon Losreal." Fintan drew his rapier.

The pair brought their swords to their face in salute to each other. Fintan turned to face the crowd and saluted, after a flamboyant bow. Christine scoffed with a grin at the bow. "Show off." She muttered. The two faced each other and waited for the Field Marshal to give the order to fight. The Field Marshal, raised his hand holding a handkerchief. He looked between the two three times, and allowed it to fall to the ground.

The moment the handkerchief hit the ground Losreal lunged, and Fintan stepped back. Without hesitation Fintan had drawn a pistol and cocked it, leveled with Losreal's head. "You loose." He smirked. Usko barked in laughter. Several of the guests laughed, others called shouts of unfairness. Losreal just stood there, not knowing if he should dare move.

"Forgive me, a slight joke at your expense. I swear to you as a fellow soldier, this will be a fair fight." Fintan then tossed his pistol aside, along with another two he pulled from the back of his belt, and two daggers from his boots. "With that said...we are still in the middle of a duel."

With out another word, Fintan made a balistic lunge, which was parried with a rear step. The Acmorian swung his sword over Fintan's head and brought it down. Fintan thrusted his sword upward, catching the guard of Losreal's sword with his own. The bard tugged and tugged, but the quilion two guards were well interlocked.

"This is called, for those of you who do not know, The Snare of Kilmara. It is nearly impossible to remove one's sword once ensnared." Fintan gave his sword a flick and a jerk, yanking Losreal's blade from his hand. It was flung in to the air after a twist of his sword. Fintan caught the airborne sword in his left hand. "Unless one knows how. I believe that would be the end of it." Fintan brought both blades up to rest about a foot from Losreal's throat.

"Not quite." The bard stepped forward, gripped the two blade edges and hit them together with enough force that it weaked Fintan's grip. With a hefty tug, Losreal took his sword back from Fintan, and flipped it around to the grip. "That, Your Grace, was the Borlierian Disarm. I'm sure you're familiar with it." A member of the crowd laughed loudly.

"Shut up, Fionoch!" Fintan shouted to the man who laughed. "I'm familiar...but are you familiar with, this?" Fintan flicked his blade to the left, and suddenly the right. He feinted several times in a lunge, causing Losreal to parry blindly. Suddenly, Fintan balisted past Losreal, their arms grazing. In the speed of the moment, Fintan flicked his own sword on his left arm.

"OUCH!" Fintan held up his sword tip as Losreal exclaimed in pain.

"That, is the end of it. First blood is mine." There was a small trickle of blood on the rapier blade, and Losreal's left arm was bleeding just slightly, through the uncut shirt. "The trick of a rogue, I'm afraid. Well fought though."

"That is dishonorable, Rogue." Hanna exclaimed from where she sat.

"No, it's a good move." Losreal said in Rogue's defense. "He drew blood fairly, I only wish we knew which did so first." He held up his own blade, a trickle of blood on it as well. Fintan began searching himself for where the wound was made. "Your left leg, I'm surprised you did not feel it. I did so during a parry."

Fintan felt his left leg, and sure enough he was bleeding just slightly. Though he had never felt the pain. "The results of a battle. I have no feeling in that particular part of my left leg. Well done. Since you have drawn the blood by skill rather than...a trick. I award the first blood to you." Fintan flipped his sword around, swinging it so he held it by the blade and the guard rested on his forward hand. "Arelian tradition states my sword is yours for winning the duel. Unless, you would rather the pistols."

"I would rather the pistols, as agreed." Losreal snapped quickly in excitement.

"So be it." Fintan stepped off the dais and retrieved a solid oak box held by Angel. He stood back infront of Losreal and opened it for him to see, and then showed the pistols off to the crowd. Inside of the box were two pistols, a flask of powder and a bag of bullets. "56 round Arelian pistol, used with 35 grains of powder for the main charge, and 10 for the primer. Solid cherry wood stock, and hardened steel barrels. The butts are solid brass, with engravings of eagle heads. Use them in good health." Fintan closed the box and surrendered it to Losreal.

"Now, let us commence with the celebration! Samhane leic ort benine!" The musicians struck back up at the counts words as he stepped down.

Subject: The Grand Finale December 26th 2011, 5:54 pm

"Miss Devarla, how good to see you!" Fintan exclaimed as he saw Isabella speaking with another young woman.

"Count de Marin!" Isabella curtsied, to keep up appearances. "Lovely to see you again. You know Claire Summers?" The maid reintroduced her co worker. Fintan had met Claire a brief week ago, when he paid a visit to speak with Isabella on highwayman maters.

"I am familiar with her. Good morning, Miss Summers." Fintan extended his hand to her.

Claire smiled and took his hand, making sure she didn't blush. At least not too badly. "Good morning, Your Grace." she greeted in return and curtsied.

The aristocrat kissed the hand she placed in his. "I trust you are both enjoying the festival?"

Isabella sipped the cider she had in her hand and nodded at the same time, being asked in mid drink. "Yes..." She managed just after a swallow "I'm having a wonderful time so far....despite some of the unsavory guests...." Her eyes darted to Lady Hanna who was currently attempting to seduce an Arelian Earl.

"I'm enjoying it just fine, thank you." Claire replied as she sipped at her own mild drink, not very fond of strong ones. She eyed the lady from across the way for moment, seeing the act then rolled her own green eyes at. "I suppose manners and the words 'keep hands to yourself' doesn't exist in that woman's world." She added lowly, focusing her gaze on something more merry to cheer up.

"They do not. But then again, neither does 'trust' nor the concept." Erlise gritted. "That just happens to be Earl Decrine, the wealthiest man in the Daron Provence next to Lord Aeguris..." "Oh, well we all know what she's after then." Isabella retorted with a laugh. "Whore." she added with a smirk as Hanna looked in their direction.

"Not like she's better in anything else." Claire smriked, sipping on her drink again. "That's all she knows how to get by and quite frankly, she's not very good at it." Ignoring Hanna for the moment, not caring if she was glaring at them or not, she smiled at the group with her. "And how is everyone today? I should've asked that first."

"I am quite well thank you, Miss Summers." A waiter stopped by the three holding a tray of drinks. Steam rolled off the tops of the wine and ale, indicating they had been warmed to further keep the chill off the guests. "Oh, thank you." Fintan took a cup of the warmed spiced wine, then gestured to the tray for the other two. Isabella shook her head gently.

Claire politely declined the offer, not wanting to be too tipsy. "No thank you." She smiled and thought back to the duel that had occurred earlier. "That was a very good duel, haven't seen anything like it, at least of that caliber." She had been watching, fascinated by the fight. It was like straight from the stories she read and heard. Granted it was a little spoiled by the call out but she assumed the woman didn't know a good fight if it came up and hit her in the face. "Felt like I was seeing a story being played out in front of me."

Fintan smiled "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Will either of you be taking part in the competitions this afternoon? There shall be more duels if you wish to try your own blade."
Isabella chuckled and shook her head. "I am quite content to sit and watch."

Claire tilted her head in thought, interested in doing so but was hesitant. She knew she wouldn't hold up very well in a duel. She'd be lucky if she did win at all. She smiled uncertainly. "That sounds fun, problem is I don't know how to fight. The only blade I ever wielded was a kitchen knife. But..." she smirked mischievously and shrugged. "I'll give it a shot. Tis all in good fun."

"Will you really? I'm impressed, Claire." Isabella stated with a laughing smile of surprise.

"Well met!" Fintan exclaimed. "It will be only to a disarm. Can't have blood being spilled on a peaceful day." Fintan took another sip of his drink. "So, what do the two of you think about this little highwayman problem? Silver Rose back from the grave? And Silver Star trying to make his own legacy to surpass Silver Rose? What are your thoughts?"

"You want my honest opinion of Silver Star?" Claire stated more than asked, sipping her drink.

"I think they are both devilishly handsome." Isabella stated, only to have Fintan choke on a sip of wine. "But yes, what is your honest opinion of it all, Claire?" Fintan was working on not dying as Isabella spoke with a smirk.

"Silver Star's an idiot." Claire stated dryly, trying to look like she had no emotion on her face, but failed when she couldn't help but grin and giggle. "He's handsome alright, but conceited and not up to par with Silver Rose. At least from the stories I've heard of Silver Rose." She giggled at Fintan's expression at Isabella's statement. "He can try, but he won't be on even ground. Him and that gaudy outfit he wears. Now as for Silver Rose, I'm glad at least someone with charm and class returns. I look forward to more stories that will float about sooner or later."

"Not to mention it says something about a highwayman who can never fire a single shot, and hold up twenty seven coaches, vises a highwayman who must fire at every hold up and kill someone before being taken seriously." Isabella added. "I'm afraid I do not follow you on the outfit, Miss Summers. They both dress rather elaborately. One is simply a Cavalier style the other a Grenadier. But it baffles me to no end that people actually seem to believe that a dead highwayman is riding again. I would sooner believe that a woman was riding as a highwayman."

"From what I hear, its seems too... flashy. He's trying too hard with looks, and killing everything that moves." Claire replied, sipping her drink. "Silver Star's far too aggressive to be a highwayman." Though she dropped her tone to a mumble, "Not to mention I met the so called highwayman... not a very good first impression on his end." But the maid dropped the subject for something else, taking a longer sip of her drink to hide her smirk and thought of taking up such an idea of Riding.

"I like your way of thinking Miss Summers. I would say he will be killed within months, or he will be facing the noose in a fortnight. It is Rose that we must be wary of, or his ghost, which ever it is. I highly doubt it is a woman riding as Silver Rose though..."

"How do you know it's not a woman though, Fintan?" Isabella laughed. "I beg your pardon?" "I suppose I should confess. I! I am Silver Rose! Now, stand and deliver!"

Fintan smirked and laughed at Isabella's joke. "If you will both excuse me. I must tend to the other guests. It has been a pleasure, as always Miss Devarla." Fintan kissed her hand, before offering his hand again to Claire. "Miss Summers." He kissed her hand as well, when she placed it in his.

"You're right, Star's too predictable, Rose is the one that no one knows what he thinks of next." Claire laughed as he kissed her hand again and smiled. "And a pleasure to chat with you again, Count de Marin."

Lady Hanna had just failed horibly at seducing the Earl, and decided on a consolation prize. When Fintan walked in to the manor to speak with guests, she moved. She walked over to where Claire and Isabella were standing. "What got you two ladies in the Count's favor? I he still sleeping around with commoners?"

Claire narrowed her eyes, sipping her drink to refrain from saying the many words that ran through her mind, instead started selecting choice terms that wouldn't be too rude. "No, it's called talking to guests and making sure they're having a merry time at a festival." the maid managed with a calm tone, despite wanting to smack the vampiress. But that was what Hanna wanted, and Claire would be damned to fall into such a trap. "It's known as being friendly with others. You should take notes on it, you can use the lessons."

"The only one on these grounds who sleeps around, is you Lady Hanna." Isabella drained her cider and set the mug down. "Which you really should stop doing. It makes it very hard for me to find a good man who has not been tainted by you. I have exhausted my search in Westland, and will most likely have to start looking in Arelia."

Hanna's eyes widened in utter surprise that she was spoken to in that way. "You insolent little humans. I should-" She was cut off by a scream, up at the other end of the grounds. Hanna turned around, shadows swarming around her hands ready to disappear if trouble appeared. Isabella's hand went in to her skirt folds where she produced a small silver pistol.

"Not like the men enjoyed themselves while in her-" Claire was cut off and jumped in surprise at the scream and looked toward the source of the scream. For a moment she glanced at Hanna and the shadows in her hands and sighed. "Coward." Claire muttered with a flat glare but then refocused on the matter at hand.

A group was gathering around a young lady who had just ran out of the woods that surrounded the manor's grounds. It was too far away to be heard by two human girls. Hanna's eyes widened and she allowed the shadows to swarm her. "Damn you Silver Rose." She muttered before she disappeared. From the woods, a horse thundered though the grounds. A large gray stallion galloped out of the woods, a rider in green on it's back.

Claire blinked in surprise by the words, ignoring the fact Hanna had just vanished. "Silver Rose?" she murmured in confusion, "Why would he show himself up here...?" The maid looked toward the rider, raising a brow in confusion and suspicion.

"Let there be no mistake!" Silver Rose yelled as he galloped through the festival. "I have returned! The cry of the people have reached my ears, and I once more Ride to end their hardships! As long as the aristocracy feed on the coffers of the poor, I shall feed upon their coffers on the highways!" The guards of Fintan's manor ran out, muskets at the ready. They unhesitatingly opened fire on the highwayman. It seemed however, that every shot missed. After the smoke cleared from the area of the musketeers, Silver Rose was riding towards the gate. He stopped just for a moment near Isabella and Claire, his horse turning around several times. He gave the pair a wink and tossed a pair of silver roses down on the ground. Fintan stepped out of his manor and fired a shot at the highwayman.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE! ARREST HIM! MAYBE HE'LL HAVE A FAIR TRIAL AT OUR HANDS!" The shot hit the cloak of the highwayman, who spurred off the instant it did.

Claire blinked in surprise then blushed as she picked up the rose. "Did we just get flirted with?" She smiled though, happy at getting a glimpse of the highwayman while she could. Never mind the fact it was ghost, considering nearly every shot missed, except one. But at least she knew now that even in death, Silver Rose still had charm. "The bards will have a field day with this... but the festival got a very interesting moment."

Isabella picked up her rose and put it in her bodice with a grin. "I think we might have." Isabella went off to get more cider as Fintan hurried up to Claire.

"Are you alright?" He looked at the rose, and rose a brow when he was there was an inscription on one of the pedals. It read simply 'Do not dare to dream, dare to Ride'
"Cheeky bastard he is..."

"Yes, I'm fine..." Claire muttered looking at the inscription. Fintan signaled over to his wife to wrap up the festivities,

"Ladies, you must excuse me. I plan to give chase to this highwayman, hopefully he will have a fair trial at Arelian hands, where as the Westland court shall be tainted." He kissed the hands of both Claire and Isabella and stepped away briskly.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Iliecit called from her spot at a table. "It saddens me to state, this festival is now at a close. Our host has become incapacitated with Silver Rose, and it seems foolish to continue when the head judge of the competitions is not here. I thank you all for coming, and offer my most sincere apologies for the events that had occurred."
And with that, the party began to breakup.

Subject: Dreaming Again January 25th 2012, 9:28 pm

Needless to say, the Festival did exactly as intended. Though, Marcus is a little miffed at me at the current moment, you will see why soon enough. People now fully understand Silver Rose has returned, and now are acting as all Westanders do. Sadly, it seems I can not keep my mind on a single thought any longer. And what I thought was long burried, returned to my mind.

When he was a good two miles away from the edge of his mannor's grounds, Fintan let out a bird like whistle.

"A little too close for comfourt, Sir." Came Marcus Levictic's voice from down the trail. He was holding up the right side of the cloak as he came it to view. It had been Marcus who rode through, claiming to be Silver Rose.

"Oh dear....I thought I grabbed my unloaded pistol." Fintan was hiding the snicker he desperately wanted to give out.

"Apparently not, Mi'Lord." Marcus stated dryly..

"Right well....give me my clothes back." The two stepped behind the brush and exchanged clothing. Fintan stepped back out adjusting his belt. He patted himself to locate something that he seemed to have misplaced.

"Looking for this, Rogue?" Marcus stepped out in Fintan's fall colored ensamble. He held up a small folded letter that was just large enough to fit in to one's palm.

"Ah, yes, thank you." Fintan took the letter from Marcus and opened it, reading it aloud. "Baronness Tamara Levictic of Noth Ordin. Crimes to fit the heist: Murder of her father, and robbery of the people." Fintan paused and read her name again. "Levictic.... a relation to you, Marcus?"

"My second cousin. I can not confirm that she murdered Uncle Richard, her father, but he did disapear under mysterious circumstances. She, naturally, inherited his vast wealth. Which I happen to know she has squandered. She is what the Acmorians may call 'high maintence' and is hardly worth it. She is a spoiled brat of 18....you'll have an easy time robbing her."

"Then you won't mind that I hold up part of your family?"

"She is no kin of mine." Marcus mounted the black horse Fintan rode up on, and galloped away without another word.

"Good to know..." Fintan muttered tucking the letter away in his doublet. "Oh lovely." He grumbled as he heard the sound of water on leather. Looking at his glove, it had a few small droplets of water. It had begun to rain. The highwayman adjusted his mask and clicked his tongue, putting his horse in to a trot on the road.

This was the hardest part about the job. Not knowing which road your prey was on. Raining only made it worse. Esspecially when it was raining as hard as it was. It was nearly impossible to see anything. Fintan had to put his pistols all under his cloak to avoid the powder getting wet. If they got wet, and she had guards, then it would mean a waste of energy dueling the guards in to submission.

As he thought, the highwayman's mind began drifting. The late hours of the night taking it's tole. He hardly noticed the sharp sting on the left side of his neck. Though his hand reached up and pulled down on his collar to feel the vampire bite. His mind drifted to fifty years ago, when he received the bite.

Bells rang in the dark night in Stromwall. They almost rang louder than a piercing scream...almost. A pair of guards who were walking the street stopped dead in their tracks. The pair dropped their pikes and took off in a sprint towards the scream. Their blue capes fluttered behind them. The one on the left ignored the cold water that splashed in to his boot as he ran through a puddle. It was this guard that gave the alarm. He drew a wheel lock pistol and fired in to the air, followed by swearing as the flare of the charge singed his left braid.

They did not slow down until they came to a house. A young woman came out of the house, her night dress covered in blood. The taller guard stopped, not daring to go inside. It was the braided guard, Fintan, who was bold enough. The woman fell in to Fionoch's arms and sobbed incoherently.

"Blessed Berthis." Fintan's voice came from within. Fionoch looked up and then back down at the woman.

"Miss, try and calm down, I can not understand you. Take a deep breath and tell me everything." He soothed her as a group of city guards approached, a few other members of Boar Infantry laced within them.

"I...wo..woooooo wooo woke u...up and ...he...he was...covcovcovcov...." She was too hysterical to get out a single sentence and burst in to sobs yet again. Fionoch shot one of the guards a direct look and used his eyes to tell him to go inside and help Rogue. With a scoff the guard went inside, only because he apparently wanted to know what was going on.

The guards of the city held a high amount of animosity towards the Boar Infantry. The Boar Infantry had been formed during the Gurie Liberation, and used extensively during the liberation of the rest of what now made up the young kingdom. The Boar Infantry was favored by Boudicca due to their undying loyalty and willingness to follow their orders to death. Only a hand full of men actually made it in to the elite group.

Fionoch's glance shot to the house. Someone inside was obviously vomiting by the sound of it. Then, Rogue's voice came with a scold. "If you're going to puke like a child, then get out of the house, and out of the army, and while you're out there, send in a real man."

The guard walked out, wiping the vomit off of his lips before he rushed to the gutter and spewed again. Fionoch gestured to two more members of the Boar Infantry that arrived to go in and help. As they went in, Rogue came out.

"Vampyra" He stated in Arelian, only to have the woman scream out in agony yet again. A large crowd had gathered without anyone noticing, and began muttering rumors at Fintan's words.

"I thought we were done with them after we gained control of Oric?" A guard shouted.

"Apparently...they do not live only in Oric, or this is a coven-" Fintan was cut off by another guard.

"What makes you think this is a coven?"

"Because no vampire lives alone, they know there is strength in numbers." Fintan snapped with a glare. "As I was saying, this may be a coven that has traveled here to exact revenge on us."

The two other Boarmen came out holding a body in what was once a white sheet that was now red and dripping with blood.

"How do we know she didn't murder him! There's too much blood for that to be a vampire!" Someone in the crowd shouted.

"I WOULD NEVER MURDER MY FATER!" The woman shrieked, lashing away from the Gryphon. It took him, Rogue, and two other Boarmen to restrain her.

"Until this mater is resolved, it is under the authority of the Arelian Army..." Fintan declared just to keep the guards from butchering it. He knew that they want to solve murders quickly and send someone to the gallows. And he would be damned if he would let an innocent woman take the fall for something he knew she did not cause.

"Mi'lady, your name?" Fionoch asked as the woman calmed back down in to mournful sobs.

"V...V...Veolate Tarentei *hic* le Gurie" She hiccupped

"Miss Tarentei, I promise you, in the name of Queen Boudicca, I will find your father's killer."

She said nothing as she began sobbing in to Fionoch's chest again. "Ile crain denate betrach techevian, Fintan." Fionoch said softly, which meant ' I will stay with her this evening." in Areian. Fintan nodded and began setting up guards around the area, and doubled them. He also put the Boar Infantry and Men at Arms on the look out to ensure that the guards kept their noses clean, and to keep on the look out. Fintan got no sleep that night. His mind was tossing and turning, as he was in his bed.

Four weeks passed, and there was no sign of any other murders. There was no trace of vampires in the city of Stromwall, nor the villages near it. Fintan spent hours in the Stone Circle of Clerin in prayer. He was praying for some way to find the murderer, or to know when the vampires were near. When Clerin never answered his prayers, he extended it to his mother's goddess, Berthis, Lady of the Earth. Still, weeks later there was no response, nor a sign of one.

That was, until the seventeenth day of summer. His prayers were answered, though not as he had hoped. He was in the village of Maples, hoping to get a drink of their famed drink. Arelian mead was made from maple syrup as opposed to honey, and was the villages best kept secret as they never exported it. The soldier was lucky, as a new keg had just been opened in the pub. He stayed there for hours, drinking and smoking. Originally tobacco was the inhalant of choice, but after taking over Borine Stranine was discovered. Stranine was favored among the people as it temporarily dulled ones senses for a brief few seconds after a puff, as well as slowing the affects of alcohol. This allowed one to drink more and become inebriated slower, at least until the effects wore off in ten minutes and drunkenness hit them full force.

Fintan had never gone that far, atleast not in his usual pub, The Talon. However, tonight he let all logic go. He continued puffing on his pipe as he walked out of the pub so that he would not become drunk on the way home. However, the plan failed.

Fintan rubbed his eyes. He could remember very little about what happened after he cast his pipe away. All he remembered was the hissing of a vampire, a sharp pain in his neck, and the screaming of a woman after he fired his pistol......

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