After only a little over a week under siege by the first wave of Kenyon's forces, the kingdom-state of Ahylss seemed to have fallen. The citizens were nearly all either fled or dead in the streets under the castle keep and the keep itself was a smoldering ruin of stone and wood. Only the tower still remained, and it was crumbling fast from the onslaught of siege engines perched on the mountain above. The rest of the Ahlyssian soldiers had disappeared into that tower in what seemed a last bid for survival.

The Jericho Contingent as a whole needed no orders now. They were to crush their enemy completely. It was not enough simply to win. From the beginning of the newly established kingdom, the Jericho Contingent had understood the necessity of strength, but more importantly, the necessity of the appearance of strength. For all its expansive movement in the last decade, it was still a young country and still freshly established, compared to other lands. To have other warrior nations believing that Kenyon was an easy target would be to spell out - at best - the beginnings of a lengthy war, and at worst, the end of the very home they'd sought so hard to protect.

So when a kingdom dared to send emissaries to attack Kenyon at its very heart, there could be only one response: pure and utter destruction of the enemy. Under such drive, Ahylss indeed seemed to have fallen.

At the camp, General Iathad of the Emerald Shield muttered to his Commander astride horseback beside him, "It seemed almost too easy."

As if that comment were the herald of doom, the distant cries of victory began to wink out quickly. And then an unexpected shaft of light rose straight from the center of the crumbling tower, incinerating the vampire legions that had gathered there, and charring the other races wearing Kenyon's garb. The blast lasted only seconds, and the radius of its power extended only as far as the farthest stone of the tower, but it had been enough of a blow to shock most of its witnesses. Over the battlefield settled an unnatural silence. Horror. Awe. Fury.

After eight hard days and nights of battle, the great wall encircling the bulk of Ahlyss' city had finally breached under the onslaught of the Contingent's forces. The battle was not over, however, not by a sight. Much of the city had already been abandoned by its people, leaving room for Ahlyss' militia to range throughout instead. Range they did, using the homes and the shops of their people as bunkers or strongholds from which they launched their counterattacks, there was rarely a moment when they allowed themselves to be drawn into the open. The Magi and Sorcerers of the Azure Staff worked together with the Crimson Lance and the Emerald Shield, laying down what protections they could afford and launching coordinated attacks as well. Nevertheless, the battle inside the city was furious and brutal, and the ground that the Contingent won was won hard.

Towering over the city, the great castle of Ahylss rose strong and steady, the home of the ruling house of Ralac -- and site of the second front of Kenyon's attack. As it was built into the side of the mountain, attack from below could only occur from a winding road that led down into the city. That was why General Iathad of the Emerald Shield - the highest ranking officer from Monchale - sent a third of his men to climb the forested mountain and circle around to the back of the castle. While the frontal assault on the city drew the attention of Ahylss' militia, the second front constructed in secret a series of small catapults, their range meant to arch high enough to clear the trees, but not so high as to miss the castle and careen into the city below. Magic muted their work; magic aided their work. But only the steady pressure of the frontal assault could push the Ahylssians into doing what would trigger the second attack -- and that was to attempt to destroy the path leading up to the castle holding.

That sign of desperation had come earlier in the day, and the dual-front attack was in full swing as part of Ahylss' militia raced up the incline instead of destroying it. From his vantage point in the hills toward the west, General Iathad watched with cautious optimism. The battle was, thus far, going well. It seemed almost too good to be true, that Ahylss was so relatively easily overcome. From what his scouts reported - and from the report from Kenyon City itself - he had expected a magical fight far harder than the one they waged now. Then, the victory was not yet declared. He watched a moment longer as the fires of the battle illuminated the midnight scene, then turned his steed away and urged the beast down into the encampment where his human soldiers took their rest and tended their wounds.

It would not be long now, if the messenger was accurate, before the Commander himself appeared at the head of the force from Kenyon City. He left his horse saddled by the flap to his tent, then ducked inside and began collecting his reports. A large part of his heart longed to be in the midst of his men, fighting beside them as he did when he was a Captain. The role of a General, however, demanded more than just brawn and more than just strategy. He led. And sometimes, to lead meant to remain apart from the battle. It still sat uncomfortably.

Although the torches burned against the wall - throwing off their odd green-tinged light - the high council room was cold. Even colder were its occupants. There were no smiles to be shared or jokes to pass between them; only a collective silence greeted her when Loria finally made it to the room. Loria was glad for that. She'd been summoned from her chamber minutes before entering the room. Dealing with merchants, wives of contingent members, and numbers that could drive a normal man insane was something Loria normally found thrill in. Today she did not. Shade was resting now. That was the only good that any of them would likely see today. He was alive, and he was resting. Loria wanted to speak with Rayne in private because of it, but instead she was here.

In the past weeks, she'd had too much to deal with to see her friend. There were merchants who wanted to argue about the price of spices and their goods. Loria did her best not to lose her temper around them, but with what felt like war brimming over the horizon, how could she focus on such a meager debate? When war came, if it did, there was too much to think about. The supplies an entire country needed that they could be denied once war was set on their borders… They already had thieves to deal with, let alone convoys of men who sought to suffocate the very people who lived and breathed in a country. It was a lot to think about, and squabbling over coins was not something Loria had the patience for these days. She knew too much. She knew how many lives were lost - twenty and counting, fifteen wounded, and some missing entirely. The price of pepper and salt would stay as it had no matter how much the merchants argued over it. Loria's prices were set in stone. If they wanted the goods - and the ability to sell them to those poor wives who could lose the men who made them their money - then they'd have to stop arguing with her.

( Now their eyes were on her. )

The news had come in the form of one of the only Knights of the Contingent - a vampire so ancient and, until Kenyon, so very wild that he himself had forgotten his old name. Here, he went by the somewhat over-dramatic moniker of Lord Apocalyptic -- or, at least, it seemed over-dramatic until one was face to face with him. The creature - for it was difficult to call him 'man' - approached seven feet, was possessed of violently tempestuous green eyes, and had a mane of golden hair that ran in wild waves down to the center of his back. More often than not, pieces of un-worked leather tied the mane back against the nape of his neck, but tonight it was down, untamed. Soot or ash covered the black uniform he wore, which was unusual. Despite his barbaric appearance, Apocalyptic typically showed a great respect for the uniform of the military that had once saved his life. Together, now, and with speed that no human could have followed with their eyes, he and the Chatelaine navigated the latticework of tunnels deep under the temple.

Best that Lord Apocalyptic had come alone; they'd argued, and passionately, about her leaving the safety of the chambers where she had been waiting. In the end, they'd had to bend to each other in stalemate; as Chatelaine, she had no power over a Knight. As a Knight, he had no power to order the Chatelaine. The checks and balances of the military and ruling forces that her mother and father set in place were well and truly stable; but that did not mitigate the frustration both vampires felt - and showed - each other. Both felt their place was at the Commander's side, however, and that is where they went. Later, Rayne would regret the harsh words she'd given her Knight; for now, her mind had focused on her brother, ( and her brother alone. )

OOC Note: This is a group thread, which means that if you cannot reply in a day or so, the next person in line should reply... and so on, and so forth...

---

The sound of muted chatter drifted from the Great Hall and into the corridor where Salassa ol Ralac waited ... drifted, paused, and died. Shortly after, a feminine voice filled with gravitas and mesmerizing beauty spilled gracefully onward, introducing the celebration to which she and her party had been invited. The page who had debriefed them on the particulars of this gala had informed them that the woman speaking was the most senior priestess of the temple of Amasa at Kenyon - and that she was introducing the newly-appointed High Priest of Kenyon, the magician whose name was Saedus. That one gave her pause; every creature with a hidden talent did. But in a few hours, it would matter very little to the people of Kenyon just what talents High Priest Saedus possessed - and it would matter even less to her. Beads of moisture collected in the center of her back under her garments, pooled, then trickled slowly downward. Still she waited, poised in silk and gold on the arm of her kingdom's Grand Chancellor. Behind her, their warrior stood as well, although he lacked Kaelyx' cool and patient stillness. It would be tonight. Her skin was hot, her throat was dry. It would be tonight. A part of her was frightened - they said that it would only be natural - but the rest of her heart was ready. ( Tonight, tonight, the deaths of their ancestors would be redeemed. )

Monchale stood as one of the three military outposts that served to compliment the natural defense of the Arentine Mountain Range on the eastern border of Kenyon. Though the mountains were if nothing else daunting, and seemingly impregnable by military force, Graelin never the less saw to it that these three outposts tirelessly send out patrols to scout and map each and every potential path an enemy army could find and use to its advantage. While he trusted the Knight who presided over Monchale and the troops under him, he frequently tested them, as he did all of his forces. Instead of merely reading reports of what his men and officers found in their scouting ventures, he himself took to the mountains on a frequent basis, to see if the men under him could discern the same potential threats he did. If the scouts caught the dangers he did, he would make the time to personally praise them, but...if they missed something, especially something that should have been particularly obvious, he was not quite as welcoming. The disapproval of the Commander was something no serving man or woman in the Contingent wanted.

( Tonight, he would not be disappointed. )