“It's been a few months since we last met, Lady Amelda. But the changes in Krakenfell Province are, I daresay… refreshing for a change. “Dame Isadora Solara quips as she seats herself beside Lady Amelda Krakenfell. Dressed in a body-hugging gown embroidered with the sigil of her House, a scorpion and a serpent scurrying under the hot sands, her wild shaggy hair properly done up for once, she looks no less exquisite, eye-catching and regal, as half the other guests at the wedding of Lord Noah Krakenfell, and Lady Charlotte Frostmark, held in an expensive seafood restaurant named in Krakenfell City, named Fiery Fin Restaurant, upon the suggestion of Third Prince Cain Vailtair Thaloria, a direct jab & mockery at The Holy Church, who think only they have the right to officiate weddings, as befits their traditional religious authority. “ And it's been a few months since I saw you dress like a proper lady. You look more regal, and less… dangerous that way, Isadora. All these rapid change

In the lush, rolling plains that surround Kasthirion town, a town directly under the territory of the vast Horselord Empire, collapsible trading tents are set up by horselords directly under Sir Percevel Delacroix, of House Delacroix. The fine, costly, swift, and hardy horses of the horselords are kept in temporary but sturdy stables built by the slaves of the horselords, with canals dug under the rivers along the lush rolling plains, and directed straight to the stables, so the horses will have plenty to drink, and the current of the river will automatically wash away the stink of horse manure, freeing the slaves from having to manually clean and shovel all that horse stink, which can cause sickness amongst the expensive horses if left for too long and not cleaned immediately. The horselords don't have to shout their wares, slaves, and lending services out loud, not like the merchant guild sellers they notice competing over every single customer in the Free Cities of the East, sinc

“ How fares the work on all those automated ballistas, catapults, and trebuchets, Arlington? “Pope Aurelian asks crisply to the chief smith of Thaloria Castle, whilst inspecting the siege machines magically automated to defend Thaloria City, and Thaloria Castle with approval. “ We have already finished creating the prototype to be shown to the rest of the smiths of Thaloria City, Your Holiness. ““ Very good, Arlington. Make sure even the docks are equipped with the same machines. Oh, and don't forget the battlements and walkways of Thaloria Castle. ““ That will make Theron & Cain cautious, Your Holiness. It will send a shiver down the spines of their banner lords and their dragonlords. ““ I mean to make them cautious, Arlington. If they have magically automated war machines, so shall we. I don't intend to be caught in a surprise attack with my breeches down. ““ If I may be so bold, Your Holiness, I highly suggest that you equip Blackmoor Province, and the Royal Marches with

In the Free City of Miravalin, a delegate of Third Prince Cain Vailtair Thaloria, named Lady Alicia Seafyre, of House Seafyre, is meeting with the Wavespeaker of Miravalin, Ezio Cantio, of House Cantio, the highest official who leads Miravalin. “ It's a pleasure to meet you in person, my lord. Third Prince Cain Vailtair Thaloria offers Miravalin generous terms, a marriage alliance, and a trade treaty. “Alicia says smoothly. “ Let me hear those terms then. You are blunt, my lady, so let's not waste time with all those empty little compliments. “Ezio says, his hands steepled underneath his chin, calculated and cunning as ever. “ Third Prince Cain offers you blueprints, a total renovation of your navy, an air force of your own, the assistance of dragons, and a modern way of life, my lord. He doesn't make empty offers. “As if on point, Lady Alicia Seafyre speaks something into her headpiece. The doors to Ezio’s private solar swings open, and two servants of House Seafyre, wearing

“ It's an honor to meet you in person, Your Highness. I come to you bearing an offer. “Melanie Jenkins, a young clerk of the Royal Merchant Guild, no older than 18, smoothly says in front of Third Prince Cain Vailtair Thaloria, in Prince Cain's private office high atop the Frostmark Governance Tower, while performing a polite and elegant curtsy. She wears a crisp uniform embossed with the sigil of the Royal Merchant Guild, an owl with flashing eyes, perched atop a closed chest filled with gold that hugs her sexy and petite body, complete with high heels. “ Oh, spare me the flattery Melanie. Do sit down before you fall from exhaustion. Climbing up and down the tower must be the most tiring task. “Third Prince Cain humors Melanie with an elegant yet mocking bow of his own, his voice smooth as silk, a charming smile plastered upon his lips, with his eyes as sharp and calculating as ever. He watches Melanie blush at the sight of him, and his charming, courtly manners, scrambling to c