The Path of Invasion

[Phaedra]

The sound emanating from the large captain's quarters at the back of the boat was something akin to a hammer smacking something solid. The crew of the ship, under the express orders of one Ryothan Valari, stayed away from the door. No one wanted to go against him, even if it meant that his witch wife was taking his life. Chances were, though, that she was not.

"Hold still..." Phaedre breathed against Ryothan's neck, amusement filtering her words as she raised the thick wooden mallet with strong slender hands. The hammer connected with a bunch of quill-like needles that punctured the flesh of Ryo's back. They pushed a thick black ink beneath his skin, slowly working out the pattern of what looked to be a sigil of safety that could only be worked by the most deft hands, and a witch.

Phaedra was a witch, the people were right to fear her power and abilities, but she was also a human woman -- susceptible to all of the pitfalls of womanhood. Ryothan had captured her himself during a raid, threw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and tossed her in with the rest of the loot. She recalled being the only one of her people to survive that raid, and for that she was thankful. Later, Ryothan jokingly claimed witchcraft had kept her alive, but that wasn't something he flaunted among the rudimentary court he held back home.

What had drawn her to this huge man? It hadn't been an easy journey to get to the relationship they had now. Phaedra had been his slave, cooking his meals for some time before he even noticed her. It had been her quick thinking and fast reflexes, however, that had saved Ryothan's life during one dinner. A rogue agent of some far off land that wanted him dead...

Phaedra shuddered slightly and placed a kiss at the base of Ryothan's skull. It was a gesture she did often when she was around him, thankful for his strong presence. She didn't like the idea of him being susceptible to harm, so she went to great lengths -- such as tattooing his broad back with a protection sigil -- to keep him safe. She even cooked his meals by hand herself, no one else was allowed to be around while she did it either. Rumor had it that she poisoned the King with her witch woman ways.

The truth was that Ryo trusted no one else the way he trusted Phaedra. She was his right hand and his confidante. It was amusing to rise from slave to mistress to wife, but she had. Ryo did nothing without consulting her and asking her to divine or consult spirits. In fact, she traveled everywhere with him in order to be at his every whim when asked.

"It's almost done." Phaedra muttered softly, pushing her jet black hair behind one ear as she eyed his back, seeing things on the skin, power lines and the next step of the tattoo like no one else might. With a towel she blotted the blood that had begun to ooze from the latest assault wounds on his freshly tattooed back. She placed the needles continuously, throughout the whole circle that marked the intricate pattern, tapping without hesitation. The whole process had taken most of the morning.

When the last tap of the needles was finished, Phaedra wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, heedless of the ink and blood she smeared across her pale skin. She walked around to the front of Ryo and smiled, cleaning the needles in a bowl of water that had been set aside for the occassion. The water quickly turned pink and she glanced over at her husband, looking quite like a wild woman with the smear of his blood and ink across her forehead. Her brilliant jade green eyes were observant, as always, and stood out in the wildness of her features with thick black lashes to frame them.

She vaguely wondered if Ryo hadn't stolen her because of her looks. She suspected that had been his original purpose.

To this thought she laughed and shook her head, though Ryo wouldn't be privy to her thoughts and might question her gesture.

[Ryothan]

If one were to view war & conquest as a great and brilliant mural, Ryothan Valari would be the artist responsible. The sword he wields the brush, absolute dominion his ever inspirational muse. The truest of disciples to the 'pantheon of slaughter.' In nearly every faucet of his life he viewed the world in bloody crimsons and last goodbyes; paving stones to the realization of his most potent ambitions. It was this unwavering drive that earned him the affectionate moniker "Blight King" from those swept aside in the storm of his wake. So as time yawned by and the wooden craft languidly danced the waves, the irony of his current situation was not lost on him. Ryothan currently found himself at mercy of a comparably tiny woman and her hammer. Ah yes, the woman...both prize and blessing.

The woman stamping sigils and wards of her own craft into the raw flesh of his back was his wife, the reassuring kiss she gave and the knowing grin laying claim to his lips in response stated that as obvious, but they were more than just carefree lovers. Together they formed the ruling body of a particularly brutal empire & legacy. Before Ryothan had laid claims to the crown of Numantia it had been nothing more than a sleeper territory that had yet make its mark on the world, yet everything changed after his succession to throne. Never again could the world ignore the quiet kingdom of and its seemingly mundane pedigree.

Numantia's unbridled potential had been set ablaze by his ironfisted rule and it became a nigh unstoppable beast with an unquenchable appetite for conquering other lands and taking power from the sniveling kings who ruled them. And though his coffers soon swelled to bursting it was that woman who would forever remain the most valuable of all his treasures. Literally the last of her bloodline he had snuffed out his beloved Phaedra shared a similar tale of 'rags-to-riches' with blood-soaked Numantia. Serving him once as slave she now served as foundation and core, she is his right hand and his Witch Queen.

Her voice plucked him out of the reverie of his memories and pitched him ungracefully back into reality. His back had grown raw under the tireless assault, his muscles ached from stiffness as he had remained slouched over for the better half of a morning. Neither complaint nor her reassuring words prompted anything more than a conformational grunt. Even still time moved incalculably slow drawing out the final strikes of the inking ritual as she brought the sigils to their graphical conclusion. Upon undeniable completion the tattoo sprung to life with supernatural vigor, it felt warm on his flesh, and the protective enchantments woven throughout the artwork now buzzed with their vigil.

Without hesitation he seized the opportunity to rise to his feet and stretch the fatigue from his limbs, the sensation instantly made him feel human again. Ryo was a tall man with an imposingly powerful frame covered in vaguely tanned skin and a series of proud scars. Long hair stylized with thick warrior's braids framed a strong-featured fear, wild blue eyes, and a well kept beard. At current the personal effects on his person stretched no further than chain mail leggings and the matching greaves. Weaponless and only armored a fraction of standard he stalked towards her with a predator's easy stride. Silently he noted the combination of tattoo black and contrasting sanguine carelessly strewn across her face reminded him of warpaint which served to make her fiercely beautiful.

Now they were separated by mere inches, large hands found purchase on her tiny waist, blues met greens, and he held the gaze.

"Does that ease your concern? Now would my wife care to share what private musings humor her so?"

Even in good spirits the man spoke thunder, the voice deep and resonate, an authoritative rumble from deep within his chest.

[Phaedra]

"I was pondering whether you spirited me away from my homeland because of my looks, Husband." She was tiny in comparison to Ryothan. Phaedra was slight, gentle looking, and yet fiercly wild when provoked. Her hair was long and slightly wavy, her figure curved in the right areas, and her eyes were an eerie shade of brilliant jade that bespoke volumes of the gift passed down from her mother's line. Phaedra's mother had died when she was a young child, not at the hands of Ryothan and his men, but it was long enough for her mother to teach Phaedra a few tricks. She had learned the rest on her own, having studied her mother's Grimoire and added to it over the years.

"I had just decided that you might have thought me a witch when you put your hands on me. I dare say it was my looks." She smiled an impish little smile and kissed Ryothan's chest on another sigil she had tattooed some years ago. It made him unscryable, virtually untouchable by any sort of divination means, and thoroughly unattainable by any other witch consort that might try to find him for her master.

Ryo's hands were incredibly warm as they seeped through the tight leather dress she wore. It was a deep rich brown shade lined with fur along the perilously deep neckline and along the thigh high slits on both sides. The neckline was strung together by a sinewy thread that kept her dress together in several places. It worked like armor and it also worked to show off the tattoo that marked her as a Numantian Queen. She flaunted that among the court as often as she could. Ryothan had chosen her as his wife, she had his love and his confidence. The rest of the women at court would be loathe to cross into her territory. Most were too terrified to defy her claim on his heart, though there were a few that thought they might weather the tempest that Ryothan left in his wake.

He would never leave her for another woman though. He trusted her too deeply. They could try all they liked, though, it would be amusing to have a reason to try new potions...and poisons.

"Do you think we can take some time to assess the flora and fauna of this Island nation. What is it called again? Xexoria?" Phaedra tilted her head back, her long black hair spilling back from her shoulders and neck, revealing her collar bones down to her belly button. Everything important was covered with the white wolf's fur that Ryothan had brought her, so he'd have to look harder for anything else. She could be persuasive when she wanted something, and he usually let her do as she pleased when it was safe. He couldn't exactly let her go off by herself either, especially in a strange land, what would he do if she was captured by enemy forces? That would be unacceptable.

"Do you know what the terrain is like where we will land? What I scryed seemed to show me desert and jungle, a strange mix. Do you think they would have Wolfsbane? I'm running low on it in my travelling stores." Phaedra leaned into her husband's hands and let her head fall along the middle of his chest. He was massive in comparison to her but she enjoyed the steady thrum of his heart, it was one of her favorite places to be, in the protective circle of his arms.

[Ryothan]

Digits absorbed the curvature of her waist and held firm while slowly reeling her in as she addressed him in that soothing voice. Fierce, wild blue eyes softened and narrowed under brow as Ryothan fought a grin -- an expression a vast majority of those he ruled would find difficult him capable of. Tilting his head and taking a deep breath, basking in her proximity for a brief moment, he spoke in that rumbling voice of his, although tempered in the fires of affection, "There is truth in your words," pausing briefly to soften his response with a kiss placed lovingly on her forehead, "I have been to many lands and seen many places. I have seen expensive cities, exotic women and creatures, I've laid hands on gems and jewels as big as my fist. I've conquered, pillaged, and taken as I pleased of all those things, yet all fell drastically, and remain to do so, short of your beauty..."

Heart of the matter was he had in fact claimed her as treasure all those years ago; to the victor goes the spoils. It was no secret her village fell beneath the war-machine of Ryothan's aggressive reign and that was where their saga began. A relationship now defined by total devotion, love, and trust born of a bloody genesis. In time she had torn down barriers he once thought impregnable and won his heart, and even his more heavily guarded trust, and not to be out done he had returned the favor in kind. The rest is history as they say.

"Yet even so, only a fool would have been blinded to you being so much more," with that he continued to embrace her and enjoy the small, playful gestures of their diverse relationship. Soon though it had become obvious why she was laying it on so thick. She had decided she wanted something and she would have it, much like he, but instead of taking it at the end of a spear she used a more sinister weapon privy to her sex. And the Numantian queen wielded this weapon particularly effective. Feminine wile and charm -- a ruthless battle tactic bringing men of even the most hardy resolve to their knees. Phaedra abused this often, exploited that one chink in his otherwise impervious armor, and even he couldn't argue with the results.

Coyly using her shape as a carnal weapon while weaving in a spell of puppy dog eyes and pleases, she nuzzled up to his welcoming body. After all, how could one deny such a persuasively crafted request? Breaking apart from her with a regretful grunt and crossing thick arms across wide chest he briefly considered denying her, but the cost would be too dear. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and this particular woman was a devilishly powerful witch. Turning his back to her he strolled contemplatively about the martially decorated Captain's quarters and found himself in front of a veritable armory hanging from the far wall.

A long sigh broke into his response, "It would be wise to get a better lay of the land firsthand before I call the war council to session. Also advisable to get your sight seeing in now, if Xexoria offers resistance it may find itself a scorched and barren shell of its present glory," he further punctuated the implications by snatching a particularly vicious cut of steel from the rack and testing the flawless balance with a few strokes. The all business speech his version of a yes. As would be obvious, he could not allow her to simply wander about solo and he trusted her life to no other. Ryo would suffer the indignities of helping her gather indigenous plant life and other valuable materials associated with her profession with a grim smile.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and through the other side a voice reported the sighting of land. They would spend their first night camped and in the preparation phase, but by the rising of the next sun the denizens of the island would be introduced to the 'Blight King' and his edge-of-the-sword diplomacy. With practiced ease he began slipping on the missing pieces of his battle raiment and topped it all off by throwing a pelt cloak over broad shoulders. Dressed for bloodshed the dreaded lord resonated a presence more akin to field artillery than mortal man. Woe be unto Xexoria; the hungry beast of Numantia has come to feast.

[Phaedra]

Phaedra smiled brilliantly, showing her pearly white teeth before joining her husband in preparing to disembark from the ship. She slipped a shirt of chain mail over her head, one that had been tailored specifically for her shape, and fit over her leather dress easily. she left it a little large to distract from the actual size of her body. She reached the weapons cabinet after her husband, amused at the much depleated supply of weapons. She grabbed her bow with the string undone and a quiver of arrows. The quiver was designed specifically for her so that it could house the bow and arrows without them getting all tangled up in one another. She slipped the quiver over her head and under one arm, the strap coming to rest between her breasts.

"I think we have come to an agreement I can handle, Husband." Phaedra picked up a few knives, slipping them in various places on her body, all under the watchful eye of her husband. She glanced up at him and winked rougishly.

"I fully expect you to continue teaching me the art of the knife while we camp tonight. It could come in handy for me, later."

After that there was no time for words. Phaedra pulled on a pair of dark leather boots that covered just above her knees. They matched the leather dress she was wearing and she liked how they looked besides. She reached the sparse vanity she had requested be placed in the quarters they shared, carefully she pulled her hair back to keep it out of her face. The pony tail suited her, though she had other fairer things for when they made announcements of state. A single thong of leather kept her hair back easily enough, making her archery abilities almost par to none in the gathered group -- thanks to the loving tutelage of her husband of course.

"Shall we?" Phaedra didn't wait for Ryo to open the door for her, she was above such things and capable of doing things on her own. It just helped to have a powerful husband to lend his physical prowess to any decision she made. The sun was bright as she stepped on deck of the lead warship. She protected her eyes with one hand as she spied the not so distant shore of Xexoria. They were coming to land in a protected cove, though it looked as if it were deserted. If it were truely so, then their entry point into Xexoria would be an easy one.

Preparing some fifty thousand men for departure however...that would be a chore.

Once their ship was landed, coached into the protected cove with ease by their captain, Phaedra glanced over her shoulder at her husband with a wickedly sweet smile. She arched one slender brow at him before walking down the gang plank after the contingent of soldiers they had on their ship. She put her hands on her hips and glanced around at the jungle that was encroaching on the sandy beach. She inhaled sharply and tried to pick out certain scents that she knew. There were few that she did know, which lead her to believe that this tropical paradise could be deeply useful to her.

While the other ships unloaded, Phaedra busied herself making a bowl in the sand. She then used a big leaf she found on the shore to gather up the crisp clear sea water. It took a few trips but it wasn't long before she had a bowl of water with which to work. She was well out of the way of the camps being made and so she ran her fingertips through the water, murmuring a soft word of power.

Images began flickering and racing across the surface of the water. There was past bloodshed on this beach, which apparantly was not always a beach. War, lots of war, it was a brutal nation this Xexoria. Kings and Queens aplenty, though now there was a strange lull. Power, too, there was a strange power in these lands -- one that wouldn't be called to the top of the other images and memories. Phaedra sighed as the images raced past, though she paid careful attention to the ones that showed the current lay of the land. They were around a large body of trees, though it seemed to be that part of this island was covered in desert sands -- losing quickly to the ever encroaching jungle.

Phaedra was really incapable of scrying for plants and animals this way, so that was useless to her, but the information she gleaned was quite useful. With the flat of her hand she splashed the water to disrupt the images. She drained the bowl of sea water methodically, allowing it to flow back into the sea -- taking the images it had shared with it.

"Ryothan." Phaedra said in a light tone with a smile as she walked up to him. She knew he would have met with some of his war advisors, and she knew that she would have to gather her coven together to discuss matters with them. They were scattered across several ships. The twelve most important ships with the most important advisors had a witch at their disposal. Phaedra, of course, was the most powerful of the group -- but she only protected Ryothan and his immediate advisors. Anyone important to Ryothan's cause was under Phaedra's perview -- granted she only tattooed the ones he couldn't afford to lose. He always warned her when she would have to use her powers to subdue a particularly unruly advisor or slave.

In war, she knew when her powers were needed. It was as if she had a link with Ryothan's mind that let her know what he was thinking, what power it was she would need to use. They were a well oiled machine after all, speech wasn't always necessary -- which often lead to confusion among the inner circle when Phaedra was around. Being with a person so closely, dealing with his innermost thoughts and feelings, being privy to all of his plans -- it just lead to being able to predict what he would want.

"I have scryed. It would seem that there has been a lot of war in this nation. Leaders have come and gone, fallen or left the throne. The last true ruler, by what I can decipher, was a woman. The water suggested she was still alive though far away. She was the last to walk away from this Kingdom before it was an island. There were others after her, but her lineage will suffice -- if we need someone to keep the throne warm while we're abroad, of course." Phaedra spoke quietly to Ryothan, though the immediate circle would hear the information. They had to know too.

"It also appears that the Jungle encroaches on what appears to be desert sands. The Island is large but it is at least half of what it once was as a Kingdom. The lumber could be a profitable source of income from the island if we ever needed it." Phaedra tilted her head back and looked up at Ryothan, her gaze penetrating but her smile discreet. He would know that she was more interested in the herbs that could be farmed and sent back to Numantia for her. That might be arranged if she found anything particularly inviting.

"I have a feeling that woman, the old Queen, will be coming back. She seems drawn to this place. It was where she was born I think." Phaedra's gaze turned from Ryothan to the beach where the camp was already in full swing.

"What would you like for dinner, Ryo? We have some of the chickens left, or I can fish? I saw several shoals near the ship where it's moored." She would have to strip for that, but no man living or dead would even consider looking at her twice -- and never in lust. It would be the last thing he ever thought about, or saw.

Phaedra was Ryothan's woman, his soulmate as it were, and anyone else would be loathe to part her from him.

[Ryothan]

Ryothan Valari was in fact both warrior and king, though he put extensive emphasis on the former, and his armor would attest to that. Regality thrown to the winds, it was an unceremonious set of plate set in a deep obsidian shade and enscrolled with accents of bone white. It bore the burden of years of death, and the entire ensemble seemed to share more in common with the Abyss than the realm in which they stood. It was fitting imagery and paired well with the hellish furor in which he fought. In spite of the malignant visuals, Ryothan treated the set with a quiet reverence. After each engagment he personally tended to it. It was religiously polished and repaired, as was his private arsenal.

There was little reason to offer more than one of his customary grunts in response to her request, both of them knew it was going to happen and he could not deny the reasoning.

Expressing some of that fanaticism in regards to his gear now, he deftly went over straps and fittings, ensuring the range of motion was as it should be, and running down a mental checklist one-by-one. However absorbed he appeared to be, she remained at the forefront of his attention. He noted she inspired a quiet sense of awe as she transformed from gentle lover to battle maiden, bolstering her already fierce presence layer-by-layer she soon became fit for taking lives. Boasting an array of talents from archery to witchcraft, a razor-sharp intellect, and a drive to help the conquering king realize his dreams that was borderline zealotry, there was no doubt she would be a devastating presence on morrow's killing fields. A more fitting queen there was not.

Phaedra was of fiery spirit and basked liberally in the liberties afforded her by station with regularity, now appeared to be no exception. She was the first of the two masters to step foot upon the deck, though he was not far behind. Armed as if he planned to fight the entire war himself, even a thick spear resting in the clutch of his right hand, the titan of a man found himself under the late morning sun and in the middle of the bustling activity of crewmen and soldiers. Both Valaris were given their proper salutes and respects, though everyone aboard short of advisory level positions knew better than to tether longer than was necessary. Best not to irritate, especially with a promise of blood on the winds.

In response to her sly wink he offered a fiend's grin but got no further before his officers and attendants swarmed him like ants at a picnic -- even a Warrior King was slave to the administrative duties of running an empire. Over the next several minutes they held preliminary court to finish immediate details in preparation for tonight's encampment and war council. It was a list of stuff that was, even he admitted, important but still ground away at his patience and he was briefly reminded of the dull monotony of Phaedra's hammer meeting flesh-hungry needles earlier in the day. And as if on que she appeared at his side and chalked full of important information.

With a dismissive gesture that held about as much respect as someone shooing away a stray dog he scattered the assembly from immediate vicinity, they remained in earshot. Everything she had to say would be of more urgency and less grinding on the nerves. With silent interest and a poised calm he awaited to hear her report in its entirety before making those gathered privy to his thoughts...

"War," there was a pause for a hard chuckle, "they know nothing of war. Numantia will grind them beneath heel and they shall realize they knew nothing more than backyard brawls before Ryothan Valari and his Witch Queen." Burying the business end of his spear in the ground and cinching hands together at the small of his back he continued, "Consult your coven at camp tonight, divine her location if at all possible, if you are successful we will detach one of your witches and a host of my men to track her down. She will swear the oath of fealty and run Xexoria in our name or she will witness her past be torn down stone by stone and her people slaughtered for her defiance. No sense in awaiting her return if we can force it."

Business set aside, the hard face of a cold king now warmed to the welcoming features of husband, "Fish for dinner," he turned to walk away before looking back, " I'll send a small scouting party ahead to survey our immediate area, I'll have them make note of the surrounding wildlife both animal and floral. If anything is of interest we'll just have to have a look, wont we?"

[Phaedra]

Phaedra bowed her head at his request, her thoughts skipping ahead to the details that would need to be secured before they sent the troops ahead to obtain the wayward Queen.

"As you wish, my lord. It shall be done with the greatest attention to detail." When he spoke of the flora and fauna, and her potentially getting a chance to observe and take samples...

Phaedra broke into a brilliant smile and, in a rare display of affection in public, took one of Ryothan's hands in hers and kissed his palm. She let him go and turned to the calm sheltered waters of the cove. She made it to the water, sitting on the sand to take her boots off, before she frowned. She sat there for a few moments, her toes in the wet sand and water before looking back over her shoulder. She smiled at Ryothan's back as he began walking away and she called to him.

"Ryothan. I may need someone to cover me. I have to leave all but one weapon behind when I fish." She grinned as she pulled the quiver with her bow and arrows over her head, the chainmail overshirt, and her boots which she laid carefully out on the sand behind her. Phaedra began unlacing the stays of her leather dress, the dress would become too heavy to wear in the water. Once the dress was off, she carefully pulled a scrap of black fabric from one of the inner pockets and wrapped her breasts tightly with it. She didn't exactly want to be the reason half the army was killed by Ryothan's hands after all. If they were alone she would have gladly swam naked in order to get his food. As it stood though, she tightly bound her chest and kept her black panties on -- it looked like a rudimentary bikini and it really only enhanced the beauty and wild nature that she possessed. The archaic tattoo that ran down her spine in beautiful whirls and symbols seemed to make her skin glow with it's deep black ink.

No one but Ryothan and Phaedra knew what that tattoo meant.

Without asking for anything else, Phaedra picked up one of the knives and quickly made a net of the fronds laying about on the beach, then she walked into the water. The sea water was cold and she shivered but soon got over it. She dove beneath the surface, the net was well made because it didn't come apart. Phaedra swam the short distance to the reef along the bottom, too deep to disturb the ships above it. She speared a few fish with her knife before surfacing and diving one more time. When the net was full of fish she surfaced one last time and swam for shore.

Phaedra walked out of the water looking like a wild selkie come to life. She picked up driftwood, dripping wet as she was, and quickly made a fire -- whispering a word of power to start it. It wasn't long before the fish were cooking merrily and Phaedra was sitting with her chin on her knees, watching the fire quietly. She hadn't put her dress back on, but she was still too wet to really deal with the heavy leather and chainmail. She would get a fresh dress from her trunks when dinner was done. She knew better than to leave Ryothan's dinner alone and unattended. She would see it's production through to the end without losing sight of it. Then she would get dressed.

"Ryothan. Your dinner is almost ready." Phaedra said with a smile, knowing he would be within ear shot of her. He wouldn't be able to resist the smell of the fish or the sight of his wife cooking it for him without complaint.

[Ryothan]

In the early years of Ryothan and Phaedra's tale, the years after the chapter of slave & master came to a close and from the ashes rose the novel perfect relationship, the forcibly loyal subjects of Numantia's vigil learned better than to cast their affection in judging light. Had the scenario and their country as it was today been one of normal origins there would have been no cause for raised brows, but the Ryo the people knew was a cut of a more sinister stock. Positive adjectives could hardly define his reign and it appeared as if no heart beat within his chest, as if he was nothing more than a fleshy golem fueled by hatred and war. Then comes along a simple slave woman from a foreign territory and in her presence seemingly the lion was as lamb. With downward gazes the people submitted that nothing was further from the truth. His law was absolute. So when she delivered a public display, although exceptionally rare, it caused no ripples -- it did however dawn the briefest of grins from him.

Original intentions of squashing the remainder of his kingly duties at current were swept aside by her waves, silently noting she was more than capable of handling herself in camp but the invitation was soon apparent. Lassoed into a one-eighty with the sound of her voice he watched her strip to the bear minimum with predatory vigor, a man of little words but much appreciation. As was with their relationship, the men of Numantia knew her body was not for their stares and a brutal regiment of eye-plucking was a constant reminder for those who tempted mistress Fate. Snatching the upturned weapon from earthy clutch he stalked the sandy distances towards his wife, stopping just short of the tide's reach. Like some fabled and stoic guardian he watched over Phaedra as she went about her business. Admirable skill displayed in the quick work net and the ease in which she procured their meal.

It wasn't long before his queen took her leave of ocean blue. Exiting the water and making headway on the beach she could have been the inspiration of a hundred sailor's tales. Elegant, graceful, wicked. Mental flattery aside, and with a baleful look ensuring there was a proper lack of gawking, he remained at his post until she was safe and busy with cooking her catch. Personal chef was just another of her personal qualities he had grown fond of and her meals never fell short of the mark.

Ruefully he returned to the demands of leadership. . .

Thankfully Numantia was spartan in society. They brought with them only what was necessary for conquest. Men, weapons, ships, provisions and blood lust. There was no lavish or indulgent luxuries. Not even the quarters in which the ruling Valaris would spend their sleep would be considered high class by normal standards. So tents, temporary stables, and other such important features to their campaign were erected without a hitch. Documents were signed, advisers were humored, and matters of immediate concern were dealt with swiftly, even dispatching the exploratory patrol as was promised to his wife with explicit instructions to take precise notes. Until the official council was called to meet in the twilight hours Ryothan had finally wrestled free some personal time.

Returning to the witch queen's side, now in the final stages of preparing supper, he sat close and stared into the crackling whips of fire. A minute or two passed before he spoke, "As promised my scouts are making note of the area, detailed reports should begin arriving within the hour."

Picking a piece of fish off the spit a touch before its time and tossing into his mouth he continued, "I want to break their resolve before we even step foot inside their castle walls tomorrow. I plan to capture Xexoria intact if they do not test me. This woman, whoever she is, will be given a full kingdom to run if she complies. In case we are met with open defiance, I want you and your coven to prepare something especially vicious to persuade her."

The king made way for the husband. That chesty voice turned to the proper decibels of private conversation...

"It would seem that you have had your day's workout," reflecting on her swim and the cool rivulets of water highlighting flesh, "I think after things are settled for the night I'll take mine in the bedroom." He was no poet, but his words came with a certain roguish charm and slipping the wolf pelt cloak of his off his shoulders and around her's only served to make that charm more endearing. Some would wager their love made their hearts and resolve weak, but they both knew the truth. It was the inspiration and drive that would drown the world in both blood and flame.

[Phaedra]

Phaedra smiled, a wicked little roguish smile, and pulled the wolf pelt around her to cover her body. When the fish was done she pulled it off of the fire, using large banana leaves she'd found while scavaging for the drift wood. She pulled off a piece of the fish and put it in her mouth, a ritual she had done from the moment she started cooking for Ryo. She then got on her knees and picked off a piece of fish and pushed it into his mouth and kissed his lips. She looked every inch the Witch that the army knew she was wearing Ryo's wolf pelt.

"I love that idea, Ryo." Phaedra winked and handed him a banana leaf. She sat close to him, picking at her own fish and nibbling at it. The witch in her was curious about what powers this new land would bring to light, and she was curious too about this wayward Queen that she had seen while scrying.

"I will consult my Coven after they dine. I can feel that they are all settling down to a campfire dinner. This Queen, she is not a Queen at this time, I could see by her clothing and surroundings that she has not been one for some time. She is one of the few that has walked away from the crown this Country provides it's monarchy." Phaedra spoke between bites of fish. She glanced up at Ryothan from beneath her drying black hair and she smiled. "I think if we find her she would be interested though. I will scry for her to see where we might find her, but I think that because she walked away from the crowd that torturing the people of this country will not draw her out as you planned. She might actually enjoy it."

That was an assumption of course, but from what Phaedra had scried from the salt water bowl...this red haired Queen was not someone that took matters lightly. She was probably offended enough to walk away from a legacy by the very people that Ryothan had desired to use against her. Phaedra could respect that about the woman, if what she had gathered was true, and she was very rarely wrong about such readings.

"I can't wait until tonight." Phaedra winked and grinned, setting aside her banana leaf to stand. Ryothan was so much taller and broader than her that his wolf pelt covered her completely. She slipped it off of her shoulders and draped it over his, letting her fingertips linger along the nape of his neck and in his hair. It was a discreet but loving gesture and she smiled. "I had better get dressed so that I might converse with my Coven. The quicker it's over the quicker I can get back to you." Her lips were close to his ear as she spoke.

Phaedra walked away from Ryothan and gathered up her belongings. She brought them back to the ship where she could get dressed in private. Most of their belongings had been brought onto the beach, for they would be sleeping on the beach with the rest of the army -- however she doubted that Ryothan wanted to exercise his wife in the camp. With an amused smile on her lips Phaedra stripped out of her damp 'bikini' and dug through her trunk for some under clothes and a light gauzy dress.

Phaedra settled on a black dress that criss crossed over her breasts and tied behind her neck. The back was left wide open and she belted her waist seamlessly with a piece of leather. She slipped her boots on again and untied her hair to let it fall freely around her shoulders. The salt water had made it look wavier than usual, giving her a dreamy sea witch appeal.

She made a mental note to get a few of the men to bring the trunk to their tent. She couldn't exactly go without clothing through this new land. Phaedra made her way down the gangplank again, her thoughts reaching out to her Coven of twelve witches and indicating the fire she had built earlier. Before long they were there standing around the fire. Their faces were illuminated by the orange and yellow flames, their eyes reflecting the brilliant blue of the fire's core.

"We have a job to do. I know several of you have scried and found out some of the information I have. Ryothan wants us to pinpoint the red haired Queen. He wants her to hold the crown because she is still alive. He is willing to go to great lengths in order to obtain her consent to be Queen -- whether willingly or not." They immediately set to work. Within an hour, after the sun had set, they were all working diligently on some aspect of a task Phaedra had set them to. Phaedra herself was scrying again by the firelight with more salt water -- this time though in a large silver bowl.

Once the circle was broken, each of the witches gathered having said their blessings and wrapped up their task, Phaedra located Ryothan.

"We have found that this Queen's name is Caela Xanathi. The chicken's blood was mixed with a little fish blood, something new mixed with something familiar, and the name was pulled from that. This Caela, though, is elusive. I can tell that she has lived here and she still lives here -- but she is not on this island at this time. She is abroad. Wherever she is there is a block between us and her. It is like a thick film over the water." Phaedra's eyes glazed over as she remembered the scrying she had done by firelight. "I don't know where she is and that bothers me. The runes were cast, blood was offered, nothing. There are very powerful charms that separate her from us, and it is not of her chosing. I would tenatively say, even, that she is on a different plane of existence. If that is so, then she is deeply powerful in ways that we cannot comprehend. We should tread lightly with the plane walkers. They are capable of a magick that is harnessable but the damage they can wreak on us..."

Phaedra shook her head and looked up at her husband. By firelight she was a handsome woman, the angular features that made her wild and exotic looking by day, softened and made her enticing by night. She was looking forward to spending a well deserved night with her husband.

"How goes your council, Husband?" There was a question in her voice, but there was also a heavier meaning behind her words. She knew that he would want to retire to the ship as soon as he could. Ryothan was not a man that liked to...wait.

[Ryothan]

Private moments as of late had proven to be few and far between, but by the gods mercy today had proven to be generous to the duo. Ryothan's world became that little space, that brilliant fire, and his wife. Not even the steady hum of encamped patrons or tomorrow's bloodstained forecast could gain a foothold. She filled his vision, beautiful and bearing gifts, and with approving enthusiasm he accepted her offerings. Taking first the bite of fish, then returning the kiss with welcoming lips. Lastly, he took the organic plate and his cut of the portions in hand while settling down for a much deserved dinner.

Words carried on a voice both suggestive and playful, "I knew you would. Just try to leave me enough energy to wake this time," he spoke from experience, their bedroom meetings were intense to say the least, and given the coming morning it may not be an advisable repeat. That was the methodical warrior speaking, the man, however, conceded to the fact he wouldn't mind in the least. In spite of the tension between the two that spoke volumes of a night to come, they could not escape the ever gnawing necessity to talk shop. There was still plenty of I's to dot and T's to cross.

Fueled by a hardy appetite he picked apart his food with greed, it almost seemed as wolfing down his meal had turned him deaf to her words, but the reality was a struggle with a seed of impatience planted from this newest tidbit of information. "If her loyalties will not be swayed at the sight of her people being rundown and butchered, we shall have to be more creative. Everyone has a price. I meant what I said earlier, I fully intend to give her an intact kingdom to run, but this is not an open negotiation." Both of them were well aware of the horrors at their disposal, and each possessed an indomitable will that would not let even the impossible break their stride. His queen knew failure was unacceptable, her king knew she'd rise to the challenge without flaw. Nothing more to be said.

In her presence his mood could be as fickle as the tides, current circumstance provided no exceptions. Her words and proximity reignited hungry eyes, the foul tempers of a moment ago melted into distant memories. Shoulders soon bore the weight of his cloak, the nape of his neck set ablaze by her discreet touch. "I full heartedly agree," with him it was what remained unsaid that sometimes spoke the loudest. He watched in silence as she went about collecting her things and watched with thorough appreciation as she walked away, admirable assets and all.

Phaedra had her coven to attend, Ryothan had his generals. Lingering promises proved ample motivation. Pitching the remaining few scraps into the flames he stood to his towering height. With no more hesitation he trudged the distance to the tent that would serve as both command center and sleeping quarter. It was a larger tent than the rest, in the name of function rather than over indulgence, and was marked by pinions stitched with his personal sigil. Throwing wide the flap, he stepped in and immediately began retiring the heavy plate and personal arsenal, minus a favored broadsword, to their awaiting racks. Changing swiftly, the new affair consisted of mostly hides and leathers, a swath of chainmail protected the vitals. It all served to give him a rather savage appearance. Slipping the Numantian crown, a wicked band to say the least, into place he was prepared to take council.

* * *

Seated before him was three generals and their serving captains, it was an elite group of able bodies, Ryo had hand picked each of them and they were among the few in his service whose names and lives held value. They all surrounded a large table with a crude map of Xexoria sprawled across, rough hewn pieces of metal served as markers to signify their assembled forces. Several other tubes of scrolls lined the wall, most of which insignificant to the situation at hand, others the reports he knew his wife would be most interested in. Council was smooth, as per usual. These seven were born to end lives. None his personal equal, but all more than a match for the champions of those they'd conquer. Warriors to their core, soldiery in their blood, they laid down a fine mix of finesse and brutality in their stratagems. He'd finalize the role of Phaedra and her witches in the early hours.

Perfect timing. Could he add that to her list of qualities? There were key details awaiting her latest intel. She shared her findings and with eager ears he listened...to a heap of bad news. This estranged queen's immediate presence was not required for the success of his plans, but it would become an irritable bother to find an able body to run the day-to-day. Ryothan held within his dominion many kingdoms and territories, but he always ruled from Numantia. Thus, agents were used in his stead to maintain said kingdoms and he always preferred those already in the know. Things were much smoother and there was less of a headache for all involved. To top it all off, he wasn't one to appreciate being told when to back down. Caela Xanathi would bend her knee to him one way or another.

Her question prompted a response to the whole scenario, "It is of no immediate concern. Tomorrow we march and sacking the city does not require her presence. Your coven will continue to divine for more answers to her whereabouts when their duties allow it, although I trust your initial assessment is correct." She rarely was wrong, her power had become quite impressive. "I'll busy the men with slaughter until the issue can be resolved." Backed by the corded muscle of his powerful arm his fist became as mace as it bore down upon the table, sweeping aside the pieces representing Xexorian resistance. "Life by life we'll rebuild Xexoria in our image." Ryo spent another ten minutes consumed in speeches and triple checking plans...

Without warning he took what was his and threw his wife over a shoulder. It was reminiscent of their very first encounter, though he was certain her opinion of the situation would be drastically different this time around. Immediately he made a b-line for their ship. Up the gangplank, across the deck, and down into the Captain's quarters. Tossing her on the bed leathers and hides were already hitting the floor...

[Phaedra]

If watching Ryothan at work was an awe inspiring event for most, being in his bed was equally as inspiring for Phaedra. The sheer physical presence that the man had was impressive, and he had effectively blotted out moon and stars for her on countless nights. He was her protector, her lover, and her husband. He gave her everything she could ever desire and more. Most witches were undesired and soon killed for their powers -- but not Ryothan. He knew he could use her to further his ends...in more ways than one.

In the very early days of their relationship, when she was but a simple mistress and slave, he would darken her doorway in the early hours. His very presenced caused her blood to quicken and her pulse to fly through the roof. The first time it happened, she panicked slightly, fearing that he was coming to end her -- but he didn't. He showed her an ardor that left her breathless and bedridden for the rest of the day. That memory caused her to smile impishly as she watched him undress now, propped back on her arms as she was.

The passion between Ryothan and Phaedra was something akin to legendary. Each could find solace in the other when the pressures of the day proved to be too high. She was capable of creating a shelter for him to return to, warm arms and a willing body to comfort him with, and a wicked ability to cook and control her Coven for his needs.

She consented in only one request, and that was to leave him enough strength to fight the next day. So when the discreet scratch on the door came the following morning, pre-dawn as usual, Phaedra groaned against his chest. She was laying beside him with her arm cast carelessly over his bare chest. Her naked flesh was glowing in the low moon that was sinking below the horizon.

"Morning comes all too soon when I'm with you." Phaedra mused as she kissed Ryothan's chest. Heedless of her nakedness she rolled out of bed and wandered to her chest. Her tattoo, created by his hands at her insistence, rippled across her strong back as she bent over her trunk and pulled out the required clothing she would need for a ride through jungle and desert landscapes. She picked a high necked sand colored dress with slits running high up either side, to just under her rib cage. All of these were deftly tied after she tied off her breasts with a piece of sand colored silk. A pair of tight tan leggings covered her legs, but a closer look would reveal that they were lined with pieces of plate in vital areas to prevent any serious leg injuries.

Phaedra shook out her hair and tied it up high on her head, creating a careless but beautiful series of knots that looked stylish but were incredibly effective at keeping her long hair out of her eyes.

"Should I wear the plate armor today?" Phaedra asked without looking at Ryothan. She had a set of light plate armor that covered vital areas and allowed a free range of movement should she need to use her magic or her arrows. It wasn't a full set of armor by any stretch of the imagination, but it was light weight and offered more immediate protection for her if the fighting was thought to get too close for comfort. Chain wouldn't deflect certain weapons after all, it would only slow them down.

[Ryothan]

From the personal quarters he kept both home and abroad, from the 'essentials' operation of the camps he held, and his barbaric fashion sense one could say Ryothan was a man of little cravings. In the same breath, however, it could also be said that when he chose to wet his tongue on one of these indulgences, he did so ferociously. She was one. He took of Phaedra and her body with unquenchable vigor until the hours lost individuality and time became a wonderful blur until the the call of dawn. A mouse of a knock, neither favored interruption, on his door signaled to the entangled lovers that the night held dominion no more. The infant hours of morning had culled the twilight, robbed the view of stars and replaced the horizon with vivid blues and pinks, and such awe heralded inevitable bloodshed.

She slipped from bed first, he remained within. Soft eyes followed her every step, watched her slender frame in flight, and marveled in silence. In passing he noted how ridiculous he found her practice of packing so many outfits, but it was a notion that tugged mouth corners into boyish grin. Her tattoo caught his attention and with those blues he followed the intricacy of its outline, he rather enjoyed the fact it told a story only they could decode. It was at that moment that he felt a small twang of regret, it was an emotion he considered foreign at best, but not even violent kings were immune to its touch. How he wished he would have continued her lessons in knife, even wished he had been able to take her exploring for craft goods, but it was the realization that this moment was at its end that was most profound. Swiftly he reconciled with these emotions and put them to rest; he was not his heart's fool.

It was his turn to rise and brave the cold. Retrieving a cut of hide from the floor he threw it about his waist and cinched it with belt. Graceful for a big man, he moved on cat's paws until he pushed up behind her, she was clothed by now and in a heated internal debate over her accessories, and he aimed to bring such silliness to a close. He swallowed her from behind in a tight hug and savored. Words finally found tongue."Yes." he squeezed just slightly, "I would kill the world to keep this moment from ending," and on the last syllable the husband was consumed in hardening fire. Brow narrowed, lips tight with purpose, his arms uncoiled from her body and he turned to take his leave, "Have your coven ward the generals and their captains."

In what seemed only a heartbeat's time, Ryothan found himself within his command tent. Hunched over a water basin he washed the tired from his eyes and spared a second's gaze in a mirror. He was a wild looking man; a tiger among wolves. He bound his beard in several braids, his hair much the same. As was ritual, he inspected the puckered badges of scars networking his flesh, each a lesson and reminder of a mistake never to be repeated. He would not be haunted by the past, it was time to answer war's call.

Veteran hands grabbed piece by piece the hell-scape that passed as his personal regalia from display. First he would dawn a thin set of leather consisting of breeches and shirt -- a measure to soften the harsh touch of plate. Then playtime was over. First leggings and greaves found position, followed by sinister chest piece and reticulated gauntlets; with each new addition of nightmare-born steel his humanity slipped further. Feeling far more subtle than yesterday he scaled down his weapon's spread, he invested time in readying matching short words with oils and scrutiny. One now rested latched at the hip, its sister strung across his back. Securing his helm in the crook of his arm he emerged.

Camp was in full swing. Details ironed out with meticulous compulsion on the eve before had ensured the men would be roused and readied by this time. Already they melted into formation and teemed like a relentless tide of metal. To understand the Numantian machine, one would first have to understand Ryothan. He could recall spending his youth lost in tales recanted by his father of brave men and vile villains. Perhaps obviously, he favored the bad guy. Not because he was a particular fan of villainy, or innately wicked, but because of their refusal to let man's conception of Fate determine their lives. He would not grow old a pauper, no. He would seize Fate by the throat and rip from her belly his own destiny, a story sure to be told in blood and shattered lives. The world would never forget. The advent of Xexoria's reckoning was his next chapter.

Assembled and kneeling before him was his officer's core to receive his final marching orders. . .

"Kill all resistance, run the streets red, refuse to allow bloodthirst to be quenched until they bend knee," the thunder had returned to his voice, "Take from them all ideals of free will and defiance. The body count is of no consequence, but there is to be no tolerance for heedless destruction. Xexoria will fly the Numantian banner, it will serve our cause, in return we offer her a stay of annihilation." Knuckles paled to ghost white under the strain of fists, adrenaline spiking with anticipation. "But if this dog insists on biting its master it will be put down for good."

Rising from the sand with bowed heads the gathered men returned to their units. Like wildfire his commands would reach the ears of every man. The wheels were in motion, it was only a matter of time.

[Phaedra]

Wearing the plate pieces over her sand colored dress, Phaedra walked to each encampment of her Husband's most important men. She looked like a warrior queen, the quiver with her arrows and bow slung over her shoulder, freeing her hands to do what would be necessary as a formidable witch. Her Coven was arrayed behind her, each wearing a variation of what she wore -- marking them as hers and as the Witches they were. Phaedra dealt with the most important man in the group herself, marking sigils and smudging him with smoke. Her Coven took care of the men important to the captain in Phaedra's hands. They went on this way to each group until returning to Ryothan's main group.

Phaedra herself went to each and every important person surrounding Ryothan, a ritual for each to ensure that he couldn't be turned against his King. A ritual for safe measures. A smudging to clear the mind. And a few sigils etched in blood to coat their armor. When she was done she turned to Ryothan and with a grim set to her features worked her magick on him. She started at his feet and worked her way up his well known body, having made a mental catalogue of all of his scars early in their relationship.

Phaedra cut her hand deep enough to bleed well, but shallow enough that it wouldn't sting and reopen later. She carefully made sigils on his chest in her own blood. She smudged him to clear his mind and went further when she laid her hands on his chest and pushed firmly against him, making certain that no influence was going to weigh on his decisions. When she was certain he was clear of any taint, Phaedra looked up at him and licked her bleeding hand to clean it. A smirk curled the corners of her lips and she let him go with a kiss, blood lingering in her mouth. This too was a ritual for her -- a sort of 'take a piece of me with you for protection'.

Phaedra let him go and discussed things with her Coven as they all mounted their horses. Phaedra twitched her reins away from an over zealous servant that tried to lead her horse.

"I'm capable of riding." Phaedra snapped at the man and he hurried away. She let her horse have it's head and went to meet up with Ryothan. Her Coven rode with his section of the large 50,000 man army. It didn't really matter how big the army got, Ryothan always wanted Phaedra close to him. So when she caught up with him and saw a camp wench lingering around him...

A coldness settled about her as she watched the woman flutter about, trying to divert Ryothan's attention. She just wanted him to notice her and Ryo was not the sort of man that noticed much. It was a sign of Phaedra's beauty and worth to him that she had made it from slave to Queen, and she wasn't going to suffer some camp following whore attempting to distract him on a day of battle.

"Ryothan, all is secured." Phaedra leaned over and muttered something to one of her Witches before pointing at the woman dancing around Ryothan. She was oblivious to all but him which was fine by Phaedra. She needed a sacrafice for her ritual anyway and human organs and blood did so much better than animal.

"My ladies have noted that the major city is half a day's march from here. It apparantly used to be further before some cataclysm turned this country into an island." Phaedra's eyes lingered on the woman for a moment longer before turning her attention to her husband. It was a general amusement between them that her coven of witches were her ladies in waiting, a fearsome lot indeed -- and no useless like most court ladies were. Like that wench hanging around Ryothan.

"We shouldn't meet with much resistance, I don't think there are very many people around this particular area." Phaedra said as she rode beside her husband.

------------------------------------------

Almost exactly at a half day's march the city of Rivenfelde would loom. It was a sparse thing, looking more like a gathering of ramshackle wooden buildings with some of sand and stone being constructed. The buildings didn't look exceptionally old either, but it didn't look like a major city at all.

However.

A glance to the left, at the rise of the jungle where it jutted out of the sand like vicious teeth, a single tower would be visible. Upon further investigation there would be a temple and a huge lake. The lake would send scouts scrambling back to Ryothan for Phaedra's assistance.

The lake was blood red with vicious black flames dancing across the surface. No one would want to go near it, and the symbols etched on the face of the temple were intimidating at best for the unlearned. There would still be no castle, ruins littering the sand around the lake. The tower would be the only thing left standing intact like a lone sentry.

[Ryothan]

Numantia's ascension into the bloody host assembled here today had not been a swift ordeal. Like a soulless blade to clay, Ryothan's will had reshaped the old ways. Without mercy he violated the sanctity of her traditions, struck down her cultural signatures, and paved way for his life-stained vision. At one time her walls could boast no more than a standing militia, a formality at best, but now its ranks swelled with true warriors. Yes, warriors. The slaves who could not fight did not march under the banner Valari, no. They tended the meager tasks of home; human vermin was the most generous of compliments. Ryothan himself even faced the baptism by fire, and on that day the world shuddered. His rebirth the savage incarnation as he is presently known -- Rivenfelde would be next to bear witness.

In the minds of all his men he had instilled the notion that the strong take of the weak, that strength above all else shaped a man's Fate. It was a dangerous belief system for a man who now held so much, it planted the seeds of discourse and plot, forced men to covet him and all his in their dreams. As a result, Phaedra and her cast of ladies took the necessary precautions to cull these rebellions before they saw light of day, warding them against lifting a harmful finger to their lord patron. They also invigorated the men with clearer frame of mind and bolstered resolve, measures to hone their killing prowess even further. Ryothan was no exception, he too received these blessings and strictly under his queen's hands. She took extra care when it came to him, proof of the matter could be felt on his back where runic ink kissed sun touched flesh. The blood-markings served to make the twisted scene of his battle dress even more perversely inhuman. His lips accepted of her kiss, returned in kind, and he tasted of her gift.

Rituals and traditions aside the officers returned to their assigned positions. Camp was being broken down by attendants; a small work force of those aforementioned human vermin. One such in particularly dimwitted bitch of a slave decided to buzz around Ryothan like a trash eating fly. Her presence was a nuisance easily ignored while he readied his mount -- a rather large steed dressed akin to him and with a love for trampling the enemy -- but it wasn't long before he caught wind of Phaedra and her jealousies with a glance. More than likely, he noted, she had already consented to some form of dark, twisted retribution. The very thought made his mind wander to the carnal activities of their bed.

Speaking of the devil, she rode up next to him and reported in...

"We will make quick time," horns rang out and the forces lurched into motion falling into a disciplined march. "We'll take point. I've already sent a scouting party forward, we'll know soon enough know the worth of Xexoria's men." Before taking to the saddle he decided to offer his queen a parting gift; his approval. Violently his hand slung forward with ballistic force, fingers seized the fragile throat of the flirty wench, and with a jerk only her toes found purchase in the sands, "I have no interest in your rancid cunt." Unceremoniously he tossed her to her knees and struck her across the face with gauntlet, it easily tore asunder the flesh of her cheek and crimson vitality spilled from the disfiguring wound. She was of no further consequence and he mounted up. Sliding his helmet into place he signaled for his squad to move out.

King, queen, and their personal company spearheaded the march, when swords crossed they would be the first to revel in it. Scouts returned. With frantic reports they told stories of abandoned temples and a lake of fire, matters that were strictly of coven domain, the discovery shocking them so profoundly intel on Rivenfelde had not been acquired -- it mattered little. Ryothan called his wife to quick council and he decided an outcome. He'd divert a number of units to the location described. Their task was simple. Slaughter the residents, hold the grounds until proper inspection was possible, and secure the tree lines from Rivenfelde retreat when they inevitably tucked tail and ran. She'd been instructed to send a seasoned witch to begin preliminary studies. No distractions, no matter how unreal, would drive him from purpose.

Time ticked by and jungle swallowed desert like a remorseless cancer. The tower from scout's sightings loomed ahead. Battle awaited around the bend. . .

War. It was strange to reflect that such a simple three letter word wielded such ungodly power. It was a weapon not fickle with those that would wield it, but always in yearning for a true master to unlock the raw potential buried within and share with the world its unbridled wrath. Ryothan was that master and that was the power he brought to bear against Xexoria and it's cities. That weapon came in the shape of fifty-thousand men and their ruthless commander. However, judging from what seemed to be the pitiful gatherings of Noble-called resistance and a rather unimpressive cityscape, he quickly realized he would have needed no more than Numantia's children to win the day...it was an insult.

The army settled in formation behind him separated by classification and banner. Horses stomped, men shifted, both feeling a feral sense of anticipation. . .

"The greatest warlord the world has ever known has taken their shores and they offer me this? Is this all? Why even spare this island? It would be a mercy to erase its spineless taint from this world." Being humble was not his forte. The orders to charge were but a stone's throw away.

[Phaedra]

There was a limit to Ryothan’s patience in everything, and Phaedra was amused by the way he treated the whore. A self-satisfied smile lit her face as she lifted her chin and looked down at the woman, bleeding miserably at his feet. She thought she could handle Ryothan Valari in the presence of his witch wife? What a complete idiot. Her plans were unknown to Ryothan but he had given her his permission with that public show of hostility.

During travel, Phaedra was allowed to ride alongside Ryothan. It was an unspoken gesture between them that she was comfortable being at his side through every aspect of his life, and that she supported him. However, as the war machine scented the resistance of so few men, Phaedra melted behind the front lines. Ryo had argued with her at length, detailing how he wouldn’t put her in danger willingly, and how she was not to put herself in a compromising position – unless it was in bed.

A ghost of a smile caught her lips as she took her position behind Ryothan. Phaedra’s mind wandered to the Witch she’d sent to see to this ‘lake of fire’ that the scouts had frantically reported. The Witch was one of the oldest of the Coven. It was a common misconception that the witches surrounding Phaedra were all young and supple. The young members of her group were actually older than herself, but not from a vain desire to be the youngest of her Coven. No, Phaedra was of the rare breed of witch that was born from a long line and thus was invested into her powers at a young age. She knew more, was taught more, and learned quickly, by such a young age. Indeed, she was the most powerful of her Coven by a good amount. Being born into a skill was better than picking it up and Phaedra was not above telling someone that.

War of this magnitude was always brief. Ryothan had the superior forces and the superior skill. A shame, really, from what Phaedra had seen of the country in her scrying bowl. They used to be a fighting force to be reckoned with, constantly fighting over something or another. Perhaps it was a testament to the dramatic changes of their native land that had given them some manner of ease. Maybe it was only a matter of time before a force such as Ryothan’s came and created a new order among the savages left behind by a long dead monarchy.

With a meticulous care Phaedra strung her bow and tested it, nocking one arrow and sighting down the shaft. She raised up in her saddle and searched with well-schooled eyes, looking for the leaders of the troops. She noticed one more to the center and back, a chicken by the sight of him.

“Ryothan, the leader of this disgustingly inadequate army is toward the back and center of his army. He would put the lives of others before his. He must not find it as thrilling.”

Phaedra settled back on her saddle and listened as the Witch reported, having been let in through the back of the army hastily. No one wanted to make Phaedra wait. It was never a good idea to delay a witch that was hurrying anywhere – it was usually something important and could save lives on their side of the battle.

Phaedra’s mouth twitched slightly as she listened to the report. She called up to Ryothan with a grim smile.

“I have to go see to this lake, but after the battle. We’ll have this settled before nightfall if they’re not complete fools. I’ll need you to come with me, there is no telling what may come of this strange lake. The report is that there are no troops or living people in that area. I can only imagine what created that lake.” Phaedra’s voice trailed off as she thought, dismissing the witch to go see to another task within the army itself. She waited for Ryothan’s war cry, a strange exultant thing that inspired savage fear in the hearts of those around him.