(1874-08-22) Death of a Dragon
Death of Dragon
Summary: A Partharian Prince visits Sokar Court with a very interesting proposition. This leads to the death of Isabel Sokar and the rise of Jarret Sokar.
Date: (1874-08-22)
Related: None
NPCs: Prince Cadan Mu'Dala Ostenail
Players:
Isabel  Jarret  Rowena  Chessa  Lianna  

Cadan  

Dalcen Fortress: Great Hall
The glory of Dalcen Fortress is plain to see, it is one of Galenthia's greatest fortresses and the stonework stands resolute and insurmountable it would seem. The stone walls are lined with a good many rich tapestries all depicting local scenes or historical references, while the furniture is often carved and engraved with many a curled and fierce looking dragon as per the Sokar heraldry. The Great Hall itself allows for a good many to stand within, while upon a raised dais two large and exquisitely carved chairs rest, each gazing over the Great Hall and when necessary, those within it. Warmed in the colder months by great fires either side, light is provided by many sconced torches hung upon the walls and the pillars that support the high vaulted ceiling. Within it is a veritable maze of corridors and passageways leading to many levels and greater depths. Storerooms and barracks, armories, forges and personal quarters. Servants and soldiers move freely about the fortress as they go about their duties, the steady clank of armour often heard upon the cold stone floors.
(1874-08-23)

The Throne room in Dalcen is immaculate and ornate. Hanging from pillars are the house banners of all whom the Sokars can call to banner. Underneath each is a servant in the livery of that house, ready to assist and or serve the head of that house should they require it. These servants are gifts from the matron of House Sokar, Isabel Sokar, Arch-Duchess of Galenthia. Not in sight at all is the Snow Griffon of Galenthia, for this is a meeting of the House Sokar, and they will not let you forget it.

There is only one entracne into the Throne Room in Dalcen, and it has ten guards in polished breastplate and Sokar sashes. They check each person as they enter, confirming they are permitted inside. No peasants are permitted unless they are the servants gifted by the Arch-Duchess today. Not even personal guards are permitted.

Once inside there is ample seating each banner has a table underneath tended by that servant. The lighting is bright, with lanterns lit and glowing merrily. As each person enters a scribe at the door announces their presence in a clear and crisp tone.

Duchess Isabel Sokar strides into the hall, the scribe announces her appropriately, her gown of purple satin is dappled with black dragons with seed pearls for eyes. Upon her head, nestled in perfectly set curls, sits a diadem of purple and red jewels alternating, the rings on her finger match this display of wealth with her signet ring sitting on her right thumb.

She eyes her vassals and family members cooly, not terribly unkind but not terribly welcoming either. It is no small wonder why she is called the Dragon Lady of Sokar. She remains standing, speaking to her steward quietly, on the raised dais watching and waiting for everyone to settle in, greet whomever they wish to greet and take their seats. When everyone has done so, she flicks her wrist to signal that the herald should announce their feature guest.

Once she's located her seat, Lianna takes her chair as the others file in and seek their places to sit as well. In deference to the Duchess and out of respect to the court, she's dressed in one of her finest gowns instead of the usual traveling attire she prefers. Keeping a wary eye upon the Duchess as she smooths the skirt of her dress with both hands, Lianna goes quiet and still in her chair, never fidget in front of the Duchess.

Rowena, having already returned to Dalcen a few days before, had had time to do, well, what most people do, or so she assumes, when being called to the Archduchess' court. She spent a few days lamenting the state of her wardrobe, and deciding on something suitably appropriate for court. When she finds her way into the hall, she seems to have erred on the side of not embarrassing her mother. A flowing crimson velvet gown, richly embroidered in matching crimson thread, an equally matched corset overlaying the bodice of the gown. She's even done up her hair, gold locks pined up into the height of fashion. There's just a slight pause, as she steps inside, as though she were looking for someone in particular, before she simply moved to take a seat as quickly as possible, only a space over from Lianna. Seat acquired, she settled with hands folded politely in her lap.

While his clothing is finely made, it's rather simple, and some would say boring when it comes to colors. Which is exactly the way Jarret prefers it. His steps are slow as he enters the hall, expression rather stony as he makes his way over to find his own seat. His face looks a bit weary, like he has had trouble sleeping lately, as he looks around the hall for a few moments, then focuses on some spot in front of him.

Fidgeting is soemthing Chessa doesn't do… until, of course, she can't breathe anymore. She has maybe the tiniest bit of a golden glow to her usual pale countenance, and her blue eyes seem even paler against it. Her formal gown of deep rose magenta is decorated with soft dove gray, that matches the wristlets she wears to hide the mark of the wind. She finds a window, opens it if it's not already open, and takes a few deep lungfuls of air before she goes to take her place next to her sister.

"His Royal Highness and Prophet, the Prince of Ostenail of the Empire of Partharia, Caden Mu'Dala Ostenail." The man who enters is resplendent in shimmering golden scale. A flowing robe hangs loosely on him, trimmed in light silver thread and upon his brow a Rosegold Circlet. The man wears a kingdom's wealth, but despite this his movements are that of a stalking tiger. Fluid grace flows off him, from the way he steps to the way the respectful bow he makes to to Isabel. He stops midway down the aisle to Isabel's high seat and spreads his hands wide, hands, that if one can see them show the callouses associated with a swordsman.

"Greetings this day to you, Your Grace and assembled Lords and Ladies of the mighty House Sokar of Galenthia. I bring a Prophet's Blessing and joy to you and your Houses." He touches his forehead with two fingers and bows lightly again. "I come today in peace to bring prosperity if you will hear my words."

A head is tilted slightly in respect to the visiting Prince, "Greetings to you, as well, Prince Ostenail. Welcome to my domain. I hope your trip here wasn't too eventful?" For sure she knew his way up the river was a well enough trip as she saw to the arrangements herself, albeit quietly. What can only be taken as a smile from the old woman she gives the very smart-dressed man a nod of her head, "Yes, of course. Do tell all what you have come all this way to say." This is exceedingly pleasant speak for the old woman to be having, and more than one courtier looks slightly fidgety at this behavior.

Several whispered conversations occur at once as the Prince is both announced and greeted. Each table active in their discussions, but respectfully quiet as they wait to hear what words the Partharian Prince brings. After all, Partharia is an enemy, and has never before sent envoys to Galenthia except to quell minor skirmishes, and Galenthian retaliation.

Sharing a reassuring smile with Chessa once she claims her seat as well, Lianna remains quiet as the Duchess herself welcomes the Partharia prince. The wary look on the Sokar healers face is not at all disguised, though in truth it was initially aimed at the Duchess but now the Prince shares the same wary observation.

There are few things that would entice Rowena Sokar to look away from her mother at court, but the arrival of the announced guest is certainly one of those rare things. She does, at least, manage to keep her face neutral as her attention tracks the man as he makes his entrance, offers his greetings and then is received, very nearly warmly by her mother. A glance back to the prince to hear his words. Silence is the better part of valour, just right now.

The only movement from Jarret as he hears the announcement of the guest is that his eyes narrow. He remains looking straight in front of him, not turning to look at the prince, just looking at that point somewhere in front of him.

Chessa's expression seems more curious than anything else, her eyes studying every detail of the man, and his gesture of greeting. Her hands remain folded in her lap, and then she looks to Jarret for his reaction, and the others around the table in turn.

"My most noble hosts," the Prince begins turnsing slightly so that he can see the majority of the room, while still speaking to the Arch-Duchess. "We in Partharia have much in the way of respect for the great and powerful Red Sails. As you know, my people are also a naval people and we ply the Three Great Oceans of the West, trading with Aequor, Navali, Four Corners, and even sometimes White Hall in their far northern Colony in the Great Waste." He smiles fondly. "We of Partharia recieve through these trade partners sometimes things from Galenthia, much as I am sure you receive things from us such as the looking glass or exotic silks made from the Desert Lotus Spider. Silk, so soft it can make you," Here he gestures to Rowenna and bows deeply before her, "Even more beautiful than you already are." He stands and looks over the room again.

His eyes travel over all in the room. "The Emperor has bid me to come and make you a most fortuitous offer. One which will benefit you, and all of the Empire." He pauses and catches the eyes of Isabel before he gives a slightly mirthful, and playful smile to the Arch Duchess. "The Emperor would like to gift you, Your Grace, Fortress Duval."

Isabel looks out over the gathered nobles, her eyes scanning everyone's faces before landing back on the Prince, giving him a faint smirk. It would seem she already knows all of this information, she goes back to watching her kin and vassals, listening for now to what they all have to say about this proposal. Her grin deepens as he offers her Fortress Duval, but still she awaits her people.

That wary look on Lianna's face alters, subtly, but only to allow the inclusion of a reasonable, or unreasonable, measure of suspicion. Without Brenn here to lend his voice it falls to Lianna to do it instead. "In Exchange for what, your highness?" She rises from her chair as she voices this question. "A gift is only a gift if there are no strings attached," she eyes the Prince as she asks this before shifting that same look toward the Duchess.

For those curious about Jarret's reaction to this, things might be a bit disappointing. Because he still doesn't move, aside from taking a deep breath. His gaze straight ahead still. If someone watches him closely, they can see that it takes a bit of effort for him to stay quiet and seated, though.

Rowena listened in silence, though her lips quirked just a touch, at the mention of the Red Sails, her head dipping only a fraction in some sort of acknowledgment. Her head was already lifted, when Prince Ostenail looked her way, and though she did not rise to respond to the full courtesy, she the dip of her head was respectful and gracious, an acknowledgment of the compliment. Once the floor was silent, awaiting response, she glanced from family member to family member, pausing as she reached Lianna, listening to her words, "And at what cost, as the lands are currently held by a fellow vassal House to Romante."

There's a slight perplexed knit of Chessa's brows before she smoothes her expression, taking a cue from Jarret. She does allow herself a slight smile at the mention of the Red Sails, and the compliment to Rowena, not in her usual ship wardrobe. The question from Rowena brings her attention back to their guest.

The Prince smiles to Lianna and Chessa and then tilts his head slightly. "Why. Your friendship of course my lady." He states and spreads his arms wide. "We very much would enjoy being your friend." He smiles slightly and looks out at the room again. "To do this, we would need to of course TAKE Fortress Duval from House Tarris. Even the Betrayer can not defend with what we are preparing to attack with, but we would rather have friends on the border of the conflict. Friends who can, once the invasion begins merely declare themselves the Kingdom of Sokar." He looks over to Isabel, "And you, as the Queen, we would enjoy a close friendship with."

Isabel gives Lianna a glance as she asks a question, though that's not where her attention wishes to be at the moment. It is on that of her children. Jarret, most especially, and his effort doesn't go unnoticed by the Dragon Lady of Sokar. "Speak, son," partly sounding like a command, she adds, "I wish to hear your thoughts." As to Rowena's words, another bit of answering she leaves to the prince, but she waits and sees some more even as the Prince speaks further. Ever watchful like a hawk, angry miens are noted, and even more so are the loud voices of dissent, only so loud because of the relative silence of the court as they all digest what the prince is saying. The Prince is given another smile, this one brighter than the last, though she doesn't say which way she chooses to lean on this topic. Not yet, anyway, she seems entirely aware of this offer and exceedingly curious about the words floating around her court.

Sinking slowly into her chair, Lianna shoots a look toward Jarret before she folds her hands in her lap before aiming a look toward Chessa and Rowena beyond. Queen Isabel.

This time, Chessa's confusion shows on her face for longer than a moment, and she turns to Jarret, her frown pulling down at the corners of her mouth more than usual. She shifts her hands in her lap, her young naivete trying to figure out what is going on, but she keeps her mouth shut.

The whispers get louder, and even full blown conversations occur all at once at the announcement. Several shush others to hear what the Heir of Sokar has to say.

That last bit on information has Lord Worley from the March slamming his fist down on the table in front of him, muttering quite loudly about 'idiotic plans' and 'signing death warrants,' he goes and stands, walking out of the Hall. Isabel's watchful gaze sees all of this and murmurs something to her Steward who in turns to the Captain in charge, a few swift orders to the men standing behind him, who go and leave behind the March lord. Through the chaos, this exchange and movement could possibly go unnoticed by most, but Lord Fuchs from Kaedon sees and goes to make his leave as well. He turns and points a finger at Isabel. He doesn't say anything, just glares at her before turning to leave behind Lord Worley.

Rowena meets Lianna's eyes, again offering a slight nod, but no words. She does offer a thoughtful expression to the Prince as he answers Chessa's question, offering one of her own in turn. "While many would consider friendship a laudable goal, such forces as you would need to not only take the fortress, but to hold it against Tarris is quite a large investment for mere friendship. And should the attempt fail, and our House be held complicit in the attempt, it would be the ruin of Sokar, would it not, Mother?" Here, Rowena shifted her gaze momentarily to the Archduchess. "And that is a heavy price to pay for friendship. You will, I hope, forgive me for saying, that I cannot but wonder what else you wish from Sokar. We have, as you said, enjoyed profitable trade with your kingdom, albeit through our mutual trade partners, and I cannot help but think that the recent skirmishes the Red Sails have fought against your own naval vessels have not instilled in me the sense that you wish for friendship with our House." She pauses for a moment, "And even should we choose to side with you in this venture, given the response already scene, it might well lead to civil war amongst our vassal Houses."

The Prince smiles to Rowena. "Your daughter Your Grace is an educated and thoughtful girl." He dips his head in respect toward Rowena. "As our friend you would be protected from such reprisals, and surely your Mother, Her Grace the implacable Isabel Sokar can muster forces to quell what small uprising you have. Why, you boast the Blood Axe among your fellows. Word he is coming is enough to put fear into the hearts of many my dear." He smiles to Rowena again and then looks to Jarret. Wondering what words the Heir of Sokar will bring.

Her gaze shifts from Jarret to that of Rowena. Her voice is clear and firm, edged with a bit of bite, "The Rose Queen, however laudable in her efforts to keep this kingdom together, is highly inept to handle what she has on her plate right now. It is unseemly that a vassal house, such as Cassomir, should be allowed to break faith with the Queen. When one goes to a horse race, my dear," she eyes Rowena intently, "one doesn't bet on the lamed horse." She waves off the question about the ships and fighting with the Red Sails, and lets the Prince handle that bit of information. The Prince's words are given a curt nod, "Quite right, Prince."

Lianna stares after Lord Worley and then Lord Fuchs before she moves, restless, in her chair again, sharing another of those sidelong looks with Chessa. Rowena's words draw her attention back to the point at hand, causing her to look again at the Prince. "My brother is engaged to the Lady of Duval. Supporting this.. madness," she flicks a look toward the Duchess then around the room and back, "is exactly that. Madness. You think this man is dealing honestly? in good faith? They stretch forth an offer of this nature, have the entire host of Sokar betray Galenthia? Because the phrase 'Sokar, those traitors' will look fantastic on a banner."

"It would not just be vassal houses that we would have to face," Chessa begins quietly, perhaps too quietly to be heard by many. But then Lianna speaks up and she draws in a long breath, then exhales it. "I do think one Betrayer is enough in Galenthia," she agrees. "If the Queen's efforts are laudable, then should we not seek to assist her, to build them up? Rather than tear them down? If I were more cynical, I might think that this offer to give us Duval, something we already have through marriage, yes? -is a ploy to destroy us by making a target for the rest of Galenthia, as well as tearing us apart from within by our own vassals, rather than a gift."

Having said as much as she seemed currently feel prudent, Rowena offered only a respectful nod to the Archduchess, as she turned her attention back to the remaining members of the Sokar court, her attention once again moving from each of her cousins in turn, on to her brother, still so utterly silent and distant. For the moment, it would seem that she was more interested in hearing the answers to the other questioned posed, before offering anything else.

Frowning as he listens to what's been said, Jarret's eyes narrow a bit further as he hears his mother's words. Muttering something under his breath, he gets to his feet, frowning as he looks around the hall, gaze stopping on the Partharian prince as he narrows his eyes even more. But it's when he hears his mother's words about the Queen, and betting on the lamed horse that he lets out another breath. Looking around, he lets out a bit of a sigh, before he makes his way over towards the Archduchess, steps a bit slow. "My thoughts, mother?" He lets out a bit of a breath as he steps the rest of the way over, keeping his attention on his mother. Lowering his voice, he watches her carefully, as one hand moves to get hold of something he's carrying with him. "Forgive me, I do this for the sake of House Sokar…" he mutters to her, as he pulls out one of those lightsilver daggers of his, the ones he won in a tournament so many years ago. The blade is pulled out, and swiftly struck at his mother's throat, to do his best to ensure a quick demise for the old woman. "I do this for the sake of House Sokar…" It's repeated loud enough for the entire hall to hear now.

Lord Charwin stands and bellows out toward Lianna, "Fuck those Tarris Whoresons! First they send in Holy men to change our faith, and then they attack Rosendal and get away with it? Why? Because the Queen is weak and afraid. My People are not Afraid of the Tarris shits Your Grace! Put us in the vanguard and we'll help this Prince kick their ass!" A few lords nod their heads.

Lord Raleigh shouts to Charwin, "Shut up Charwin. The Many doesn't need - "

And then Jarret straight up murders Isabel Sokar.

Guards gasp and lower weapons at Jarret, staring in disbelief, Lord shout and all stand, some gasping in surprise.

The Prince or Partharia? He's making a fast walk toward the exit without a single word.

Isabel's gaze falls back on Jarret again. "Are you a mewling babe, unable to speak?" she spits out at her son and would-be heir. "These moments, we must make a choice. What is yours?" Lianna is given a glare. "Your brother, he made his choice," she also is given a bit of that venom the woman is known to spit out, "if you would like to follow him to destruction, do leave." She turns and gives another word to her Steward who once again turns to the Captain and issues a quite word.

Jarret is once again turned to, and a slight smile flits across her face as her son approches her. Any guards that would come forward are waved away, he is her son after all. Loyal and steadfast. If he wants a quiet word with her, she'd easily grant it.

Isabel's eyes go wide as the blade cuts her throat, blood wells and then throbs with every beat of her failing heart. Guards are caught with indecision, but the Captain stills their blades and awaits Jarret's command.

Isobel, The Dragon Lady of Sokar, lands on the lovely floor, the purple of her gown meeting the red of her own blood. An ironic end for anyone that pays attention to those sorts of things. Isabel is dead, Jarret is now Duke Sokar. Still, his guards await his order.

Bolting from her chair, because it's just madness right now, Lianna's focus is on the Prince of Parthia as he's trying to fast walk his way for the door. "Oh no you don't," she mutters as she races to beat him to the door.

Rowena remained in her seat, as she saw Jarret approach their mother, but the attack lifts her to her feet, the chair she was sitting on crashing back away from her as she moves swiftly, not towards Jarret, as his guards gather around him, but towards her cousin Lianna, her voice rising, every once of the command she's learned over the years with the Red Sails brought to bear in her voice. "Bar the doors, the Parthanian is not to leave the room." As she moved, she reached out, to attempt to grab one of the swords from whatever guard was closest to her.

It is Chaos, and the man who caused it is getting away. Chessa's stunned, and then she stumbles to her feet. "Can't breathe.." she gasps. "Need air… don't let him get away… need air…" She stumbles to a window, and takes a deep breath, turning towards the doors, and repeats her sister's words, louder, carrying across the room. "No. You. Don't." From the window, the wind whips past her, tugging it from its coils, then speeds past her towards the doors. One of the guards starting forward is slammed back against the doors as they are closed with the force of the speeding air. The Prince, himself, is also blown flat on the floor before them, so close to safety. Chessa swallos, leaning back against the wall by the window, and she can't meet anyone's eyes, she just looks at the now closed doors.

Chasing down the Prince as well, Lianna lets out a startled sort of 'Yip' as the wind smacks one of the guards right past her as the doors are slammed shut. She windmills, just a bit, trying to maintain her balance but hit the doors as well a few feet away from where the Prince is squashed against the door. "Well," she blinks, eyes watering, "that'll do it."

There's a brief moment of pause, as he watches Isabel fall, and then the lightsilver dagger slips out of Jarret's fingers, landing on the floor next to the fallen Archduchess. "I guess I made my choice," he mutters to the dying woman. "I'm sorry, but it had to be done…" Why does it feel like he's at least twenty years older than he was a minute or two ago? Turning towards the Captain of the Guards, he lets out a breath, looking about to say something when the winds blow the door shut. For a few moments, he just stands there, before he lets out a breath, looking forst at the fallen prince, then towards Chessa, then back towards the prince. "Captain, have our guest…" Is there venom dripping in that word? "… detained until I have decided what to do with him…" There's a brief pause, before he adds, "Whatever my mother commanded you to do about the Lords Worley and Fuchs, have them brought back here, unharmed." There's a few moments as he just looks around at the people in the hall, before he raises his voice again. "I did not make my choice lightly," he tells them all, before he adds, "But if she had taken the offer, I'm fairly certain we would have simply been used as a shield for the Partharians. It would have led us all to far more death and destruction, and I could not let her do that." While it may not have been needed for him to explain his actions right here and now, he feels he needs it, for himself.

She can't look at the body of her aunt on the floor, and she can't really see beyond a couple feet in front of her. That's enough for Chessa to stumble against the chair she'd left, and grab the back. She tries to maneuver her way around to sit on it, but there's too much blood pounding in her ears. She doesn't quite her rear end to the seat as she slides down, and ends up unceremoniously flumping on the floor next to the chair, her arms crossing on the seat of it for her to lay her aching head on it. She closes her eyes against the confusion around her.

Rowena was a lady born and bred on the still earth, but had spent most of her life on the roiling seas, and she moved now, as she would then, moving into the wind as she felt it blow, allowing the force of it to send her careening into one of the guards a hand reaching down the rip the gladius he had returned to its sheath out and into her hand, her free hand pushing him out of her way as the gust, having done it work, seemed to lose some of its power, and she moved to stand over the downed Prince. And now it was another Sokar blade at a throat, the tip pressed in hard under his chin, though she paused, in that moment to wait for her brother's command. As she hears Jarret's words, sees the guards moving to gather around the Prince, she steps back, allowing them to secure the man. She does not, however, release the sword, though she does move to approach her brother.

Many Lords blink and simply stare at Jarret. Before Lord Raleigh walks up to the dias where Jarret stands over his dead mother. "I'm a follower of the Many, despite what the Tarris or the Church try. I know you are a follower of the One, and I say, as a follower of the many we CAN get along. All of us. The One is just another god, and when Magik clearly exists," He points toward the door and guard picking himself up while the Captain exits to get the other Lords, and another guard Grabs the Prince's arm. "Why can't multiple pantheons of gods? I'm your man Sokar. You have my Oath before my gods and your One." He then Kneels.

Charwin looks to the man then stands next to him. "You have my Oath, before my gods and your One."

It started as one, and then a flood as lords and ladies and Viscounts all bend the knee to Jarret, swearing their oaths to their new Duke.

Until finally Gregory Sokar stands before his son. His eyes are hard as he looks to the man. Then he backhands him. It is NOt a soft blow, and all in the room can swear they feel the strike. Jarret's lip splits and while his nose doens't break, blood pours from it mixing with the blood from the split lip. "That is for killing my wife. She was a vitch, but she was my wife and One help me I loved her. There was good there. In your mother. What you did was right for the kingdom, and as a Knight I support it. That was the only strike I will make for the murder of my Love." He then kneels before Jarret. "You have my Oath. Son."

Watching the guard that handles the Parthian Princeling, Lianna stands close to the pair as the rest of the room comes to some form of response that won't get each other killed by their respective neighbor. One hand rests on the small knife she carries at her side; the guard is most certainly armed, but there's a particular hatred in her eyes for the prince anyway; perhaps she's looking for an excuse.

While he makes sure to keep the relief he feels inside from his expression, Jarret greets that flood of people swearing their oaths to him as best he can. That's until it's his own father that steps up. "Fath…" he begins, the words cut off by the older man's strike. Stumbling backwards, a hand moves to his mouth first, to check that all teeth are still there, then to his bleeding lip and nose. He nods a little at the words about his mother, lowering his voice. "She gave me no choice. I wish I didn't have to do it, but…" Trailing off, he's no longer able to hide the relief as his father swears his oath, watching the man in quiet right now.

The Partharian Prince is dragged off. He, to his credit doesn't fight back. Just before he's dragged out of the room he calls to Jarret, "You have time Jarret Sokar. Think about my offer. The Emperor can bea great friend, or a deadly enemy. Decide what kind of a man you want to be." Then the Guard shoves him outside to take him to be detained.

Rowena's expression is implacable, as she passes the guards, as though she were daring them, any of them, to try to stop her getting to her brother. The wince is visible, as she sees her father strike Jarret, the other men swearing their oaths almost entirely ignored. Her eyes are for any who are not bending the knee. Once she finally reaches Jarret, she allowed her free hand to reach out to attempt to touch his arm, before she looks to some of the guards. "Once the Parthanian is secured, bring a shroud for my mother. She was the Archduchess Isabel Sokar, and she deserves our respect and honor." Her end, no matter how ignoble, did not negate her life or her deeds in support of her house. Jarret, she did not approach further, but instead moved to offer her father what support she could. If he would accept it.

Before the guards can take the princeling away, Lianna steps in and - with an expert use of a small blade that's fitted to her hand and for her use - sinks the blade into the muscle of his upper arm. Right arm, in fact. "He's a Sokar, Princeling, and his answer is no." She yanks the blade back out just as fast as she'd sliced it into him in the first place.

The Prince snarls at being stabbed but doesn't yell or scream. One hand merely clasps over the wound and he locks eyes with Lianna. "So you say little Sokar. So you say." He bows his head, and is then dragged out to be led to his new accommodations.

As he hears the prince's words, Jarret lets out a bit of a breath, before he blinks a bit at Lianna's actions. He doesn't say anything, simply watching as the prince is dragged off. He pauses a little at Rowena's actions and words, offering her a quiet nod, before he sinks to one knee, next to their mother's body. Reaching out to turn the body into a more dignified position, he's unable to hold back tears. No matter how he has felt, and the fact that it was his blade that ended her life, she was still his mother, and it was not lightly that he did what he did. For now, he simply remains there, on one knee, watching over the body until a shroud is brought.

Guards arrive and using a fine Sokar cloak cover Isabel, then they lift her to a liter and four men take her out. Gregory stand and nods. "I will act as Vigil." Then followed him out. The other nobles follow, making a quiet procession.!)

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