The courtyard was busy with greenery and women in black and blue livery darting about with brass pitchers. A fountain dominated the center, with water splashing down in great leaping arcs. A man, not seeming to care for the fountain's lavish show, perched precariously on the marble edge of the fountain.

Malth Alsol was a fairly new ruler to Multein. At least, as far as the common man was concerned. Even eight years after the dethroning of the previous king, people still seemed surprised that the Sominian noble had taken up the role. Some thought of him as a usurper, while others claimed he had saved their nation from the brink of disaster. Either way, one thing was still glaringly obvious, he was a foreigner; even though he was only from a nation right next door.

Two of his personal guards stood a few feet away; just enough to keep an eye on him, but not too close as to intrude on his personal space. Yet the guards were hardly needed, seeing how most wouldn't recognize him and nothing about his physical features suggested royalty. Save for the finery of his clothing, Malth Alsol looked like a common villager. He was in his mid-thirties with short wavy auburn hair and dull blue eyes. His face was plain and could be called neither handsome or ugly.

As he awaited the return of his advisor, he pondered on the hastily scribbled letter he had received from his sister only a week ago: Maerin's run off, Ora put ideas of the Hall in her head. Keep an eye out.

Corleen always was brief and to-the-point when dealing with familiar relations. The letter itself hadn't come off as fearful, it seemed the queen was frustrated more than anything. This had been Maerin's third successful runaway. The first two had only gotten her to the edge of Somin's capital city. This had been the only time she'd gotten so far or been missing for so long.

Yesterday afternoon, a report delivered from one of Bere's agents, whom were more like her personal spies, said that a potential magic user had requested a meeting with the contact for the white necromancers. The contact being a talent scout of sorts for the art in which the potential youth aspired. If the youth was satisfactory, the contact would get the child enrolled in the Hall. Bere's agent claimed that this particular candidate wore expensive traveling garments and carried a pricey bowl that should have been on some collector's shelf.

The heavily designed iron wrought gates of the courtyard opened and Bere's carriage rode in. The advisor and the heiress of Somin stepped down from it. Stable hands rushed over to silently lead the horse and carriage away.

Bere looked serious, as usual. Maerin, on the other hand, kept darting fidgety glances at the woman, as if she had been uncomfortable being in such close proximity to her. Malth recognized that look as the one Corleen often wore as a girl when she was being evasive towards an authority figure.

Malth stood from his perch and asked casually, "Quite a long ways to travel, I'd say."

Maerin opened her mouth then closed it again and glanced up at Bere, seeming not to know where to start. Bere looked down expectantly at the girl. The blonde turned to her uncle and tried to sound reassuring, "I wasn't alone or anything. I mostly walked, but I wasn't alone."

"Is that so? Who were these traveling companions of yours? Anyone your mother would like to hear about?" Malth said has he bent down to her level.

"I... uh... She was... Just a friend I made."

"You trusted a stranger? Someone you met on the road, who you were lucky didn't mug you and leave you for dead?" interrupted Bere, her afternoon shadow seemed to loom over the youth. Making the girl's shoulders hunch, but at the same time the child's hackles rose with indignation.

"No, I said she was a friend! We meet in Somin, she wouldn't have done anything mean to me."

"Alright, a friend. Was this her idea?" Malth said patiently. Half humoring the girl, he was aware of how few friends Maerin had made around the palace. Most the nobles wouldn't let their children associate with the offspring of Mlow Liser, even if she was also Queen Corleen's scion.

"No, she just thought it was a good idea. She thought it'd be fun if I learned magic. She wanted to teach me stuff too, but she didn't always have enough time."

Bere suddenly looked very alert, arms folded across her chest in a way that almost made her stance seem militaristic, "Did she teach you that trick you showed me earlier?"

Maerin shrugged, rocking back and forth on her heels, "Not really. She just told me how I could do it better."

Bere took in a sharp intake of air and grabbed the girl's shoulder, giving it a little shake, “A name? Quickly! What was her name?”

The blonde looked stunned for a moment and then tears welled in her eyes, “She isn't in trouble, is she?”

Malth quickly cut in, as it was obvious Bere was going to tell the child just how much trouble her new found friend was in, “Of course not, we just want to talk to her.”

Maerin nodded with a sniffle, “Her name was Tamina. But I lost her once I reached the city.”

Unannounced, Riddia Nahimana entered the courtyard from the large double doors that were the main entrance into the palace foyer. Riddia was the wife of Malth Alsol and mother to their only child, Sinaria Alsol. Maerin's mouth formed a little frown at the woman's entrance. She didn't hate Riddia personally but her own mother did. Corleen never approved of Malth's decision to marry the woman. She often made long speeches about how a simpler woman would have suited her brother better. But Corleen's tirades often sounded like no one was good enough for her younger sibling. Riddia was known for not being particularly fond of children, except for perhaps her own daughter.

"So, the heir of Somin has been found," said the woman with a twist to the word heir. Riddia doubted the girl would remain such for long, seeing how the Liser bloodline was deemed untrustworthy by the people. The last of Liser's followers had either been executed or run out of Somin by a mob of the Queen's supporters. Maerin's little frown deepened. Now she did have a reason to dislike the woman. She knew for herself that half of Somin didn't see her fit to rule, she didn't need it rubbed in her face.

Riddia was willowy with skin that seemed permanently drained of color and brown eyes. Her hair was cut in a chin length bob, short hair being fashionable amongst Multienin women. It was blade straight in a deep red color that was a shade away from being unnatural.

"What was she doing all the way out here?" asked Riddia sounding condescending with a hand resting lightly on her chin. Maerin was glad that the newcomer's shadow was not also looming over her.

Not seeming bothered by Riddia's tone, Malth nodded to his wife's question and stood to his full height. He had forgotten to ask such when caught up in the stranger that seemed so skilled in smuggling princesses out of their homeland.

"She wishes to go to the Losiandian Learning Hall and train in the art of white necromancy. Ora and myself have seen great potential in her. I would like the chance to convince Queen Corleen to allow such," Bere answered before the girl could. Maerin looked wide eyed at the woman beside her, wondering if she had suddenly gone mad. Her heart fluttered in excitement, Bere Nilyave had been the last person she'd expect to support her in her decision to go to the Hall. Especially after the way she reacted to mention of Tamina.

"Are you quite certain?" questioned Malth. Although, he didn't understand what it had been to upset the woman enough to manhandle a daughter of royalty. Surely, it was something significant.

"Most certain. The Hall is safer than any nation in Velone."

The auburn haired man fingered his chin, wondering why Bere thought the young heiress was in any danger, "Corleen knew she would come here. I'll send word of your request. We'll wait for her reply before we do anything drastic. Have a maid show her to a room and meet me in my study."

Bere nodded, "If you would allow it, I would like a private word with the girl.”

Maerin gulped audibly at hearing this. She seemed to shrink back from the woman even more.

“If you see it necessary.”

Before Malth and Riddia returned to the foyer, Riddia mentioned casually at the last moment, “It would be quite a thing to have two Alsol children attending the Hall at the same time. Sinaria will be leaving for the new semester soon.”

Maerin's temporary excitement that she could learn alongside her cousin, who she had grown fond of during the formal family events in which they saw each other, was quickly extinguished by the expectant presence of Bere. She tried to smile meekly; she knew Bere's reputation and that she wouldn't hesitate to spank a princess. Maerin could only hope she wouldn't be in too much trouble.

The strange woman sat languidly in her high backed chair, strumming her long nails on the hard wood desk. Demith Orin'gaia watched the swirling black portal into the Anath. The funneling passage moved with a lazy pace that seemed unnatural with it's misty texture. The summoning of spirits, both dark and light, was the work of white necromancers, but it had it's uses. For Demith, more widely known as the High Archmage of the black necromancers, needed information; not a slave.

Suddenly, the portal caved inward, reversing it's conical flow and molding into a vaguely humanoid shape. It was a ragged blurry black, like a shadow brought to life. It's movements were flickery, like dancing smoke. Demith recognized the entity, she almost gasped aloud but managed to stifle the noise. She didn't want to give this creature the satisfaction of surprise by it's visit.

It had no name amongst the living, but seemed to command respect amongst the dead. It spoke with two voices simultaneously, one louder than the other. It was really two entities in one form, but they had become inseparable. The louder voice was dominate but the quieter voice was more powerful, it was as if age had merely dimmed it. A force of presence floated off the being, forming a sharpness to the air that would make a lesser mage's head feel light. It could easily leave Demith's summoning circle whenever it pleased; but the creature had come on it's own accord, as it had many times before.

This being often worried her. For not even she could hold sway over it. It's power was a mystery. Who knew how this thing drew energy from the abyss that was Anath?

"Why is it you come calling into the my home?" asked the dual voices, it's form seeming to sway in some imaginary breeze.

The High Archmage straightened in her seat, still trying to look casual, "It's arising again... who is it?"

The thing snickered, an odd little laugh that sounded like a mix of ten other voices, "A child in the lands of the gauntleted fist. Look to the Black Rose but don't trust her."

Demith chanced to ask, her elbows resting rigidly on the arms of her chair, "How do I stop it?"

"Why would I know that?" chuckled the shadowy figure, "I do suggest you send the Faceless One. He will get you what you want."

Glaring icy eyes at the creature, she half snarled, "You're being more helpful than usual."

"Today, it pleases me to do so."

"You would betray your only hope?"

"I don't need saving. Besides, it always comes back to try again."

Almost cutting itself off, the being crumbled into it's center until it was just a pinpoint of darkness that further collapsed upon itself until it was nothing. Demith raked a hand through her long black hair, the clicking noise of her nails on the desk was the only sound to fill the room. Arnon was not going to like this.