Jhyrs' stone walls towered over the men, some forty feet high. Even on his horse, Jaiko felt small looking up at them. Square shaped towers embedded within the stone sat even higher, only a hundred feet between each of them, they encompassed the entirety of the inner city.
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The gates were even more imposing, made of dark wood and steel, caparisoned with gargoyles in the shape of a dragon's head that spat liquid fire. Jhyrians called it dragon's blood, a substance so volatile and so ferocious that it burned even on water and they alone were its cultivators and masters. Death by fire threatened all wishing to enter the inner city.
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The gates parted and the dragons gave way to the bastard of House Giatt. He could make out the palace; raised high above the ordinary drab-brick buildings of the city; it was a beacon to the eyes; the burgundy roofing of its towers visible even in the distance, and still just a speck on the canvas that was Jhyr.
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Within the walls the night was alive, crowds of peasants had gathered to cheer for Jaiko, wish him well and publically thank the gods for his safe return. He looked into the sea of olive and brown-skinned people.
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They care for the bastard of Giatt now because... He thought. Why do they care now, for favor with my family? He pushed his petty thoughts to the back of his mind.
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He had it easy and he knew it; bastards could rise to very high places in Gresan, especially in Jhyr. Bastards were not hated here or looked down upon like they are in Skanhelm or the Sazeen Sultanate, and he was thankful for it.
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Rhaxor waved to the peasants that cheered for them; he loved the attention. Jaiko felt the impulse to wave to them, to accept the love of his people, but he did not return their affections.
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"Jaiko, these people have woken from their slumber to wish you well." Rhaxor furrowed his brow, giving Jaiko a look of disappointment. "The least you could do is acknowledge the presence of your people."
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A twinge of anger burned behind Jaiko's cheeks. "They are only half my people, Rhaxor," he said, maintaining a respectful composure.
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"Jaiko, I mean no disrespect when I say this but you are immensely apathetic," he said, with the hardness returning to his face. "You cannot continue this line of reason. What could you even mean by that, 'half your people', it-"
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"Do not lecture me about apathy and flawed reasoning. I know my mind in much greater detail than you could ever. I don't need your favor, or anyone's, for that matter." Jaiko's tone had shifted from composed to agitated. "Why should I live my life for the approval of strangers?"
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Rhaxor opened his mouth but gave no reply.
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The palace, no longer a speck, but a giant made of hard drab-gray brick. It stood high and dark with stained glass and marble walling, ornamented with black wood; proud and imposing. At two hundred and forty feet high the palace was one of the tallest buildings in Jhyr.
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The approach was long and as night had quieted, the crowds no longer cheered and the citizens had all but dissipated. City guards shouted commands from the ground to the guards atop the palace walls, and the gate rose to allow the party entry to the outer courtyard. They were greeted by stable boys and priestesses in long blue dresses and shawls, the Wives of Aran, who served as doctors, caretakers and holy representatives of the church itself.
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Jaiko dismounted, handing the reins and a gold coin to a stable boy who thanked him and took his horse.
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As several priestesses rushed to examine him for wounds, Jaiko brushed them all aside "I am unharmed sisters, thank you for your concern." The sisters moved out of his path. A sense of ease pressed up from his chest as he climbed the steps to the main hall.
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Before he could reach the hall, Divine sister Cleo emerged and moved in front of him. She was the leader of the Priestess-hood of Jhyr and a common annoyance for Jaiko. She was a middle-aged woman of typical Gresani olive-brown complexion.
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Her words seemed to slither out of her sour face, and she spoke in a harsh overly condescending tone. "We will be examining you as per her request of your mother, boy." Jaiko glanced to her beady eyes, then to the hair that rested on her upper lip, it sported a mole that always bothered him; he wanted to flick it.
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"No," he said. Without even a moment to consider her, he placed his hand over her face and firmly removed her from his path.
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"How dare you!" she screamed. "You insolent bastard! You have reached a new level of disrespect!"
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"You don't sound very priestly, sister." He shouted back, but he could not hear her reply nor did he care to.
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The halls of the palace were well lit by wall-mounted braziers and low hanging chandeliers. Lavender, silk canopies edged with gemstone beads, drooped from the ceiling, gingerly brushing against the white, marble floors. The walls, engraved with gold and obsidian, told tales of lives past and foreign lands, ancient conquerors and hidden dragons through lavish tapestries and paintings.
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Servants scrambled to him offering water and food, but he simply brushed past them. Two servants rushed to open the doors to the great hall. The doors opened to reveal a massive room capable of seating hundreds. The room was alive, busy. Soldiers and servants rushed about their tasks.
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The great hall was oriented north to south, its walls sat high. Eight pillars ran down the length of the hall, four on each side with silk canopies connecting them in between and across. Light and warmth from the room emanated on Jaiko as he walked into the hall with his head held high. His family waited for him on the three thrones at the end of the hall raised up by a dais. The middle throne unoccupied, his brother sat to the right, his sister to left.
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"Jaiko!" Zayrrine shrieked. She leaped off her throne and sprinted down to him, her curly raven hair racing behind her. She was a girl of thirteen with an inquisitive nature, she was tall for her age and always had been.
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She hugged him tightly. Her light brown eyes stared up at him with welling tears. She heavily favored their mother in appearance and stature.
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He hugged her back as tight as he could, "Hello, sister."
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A second embrace came from his brother, Xandio, even though Jaiko was four years his senior he had to crane his neck to meet eyes with him. Xandio shared a similar look to Zayrrine, dark olive skin, and curly black hair. The two had the same father, only Xandio favored him more.
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Xandio reached for Jaiko's shoulder. "Mother said King Ander is after us and you're being framed for assassinations that happened in his dominion."
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"No," Zayrrine corrected him. "Mother said she wasn't sure of anything yet. She said King Ander has no evidence and that you have an alibi." Her eyes dropped to the floor. "There are reports of King Ander calling for your head, Jaiko, and the deposition of our house. "Jaiko, he's threatening to call the other kingdoms into war against us if you aren't delivered to him."
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Commander Rhaxor rushed into the hall before Jaiko could respond, with a flustered look about his face. "Jaiko, we have received a few new reports, none of them good. Your mother is summoning you to the council chamber."
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After he had washed and changed into fitting attire Jaiko met Rhaxor in the hall leading to what would undoubtedly be one of the worst lectures of his young life. A thousand thoughts in one ran through his mind as Rhaxor escorted him.
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A look of worry ran across Rhaxor's face replacing its normal rigidness. "My lord, it would seem as though someone has put a contract on you or possibly your family."
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"Surely they know a declaration of war against one of the great Gresani families is a declaration of war against the entire country."
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"We have heard whispers of a plot against your family alone, Jaiko. Your mother's agents found undeniable proof of this scheme this morning after you left." Breathing deep he met Jaiko's eyes and his brow furrowed in worry. "There is evidence that this plot is not only the work of Skanhelm. However, we know that King Ander specifically has brought these charges."
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"Always me..."
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"Now is not the time for self-pity Jaiko."
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"Leave me...please."
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Jaiko stood outside the council chambers, between the guards with the door cracked, listening to the familiar voices of his mother's councilmen locked in an argument.
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"Who would dare attack Jhyr through conventional means? They would find themselves ignited and wishing for the sword," Councillor Estor said in a deep raspy voice.
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Councillor Marccos retorted, in his typical flamboyant inflection."You're a fool if you think our walls could withstand the massive combined effort that he is calling for!"
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A third voice chimed in, this one a woman, she spoke with a passion that he could feel even in the hall. "Our military might exceeds even the armies of our capital. Let them come!" Councillor Rayne said.
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Jaiko pressed the doors open and entered the room.
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The council chamber was a small round room made of hard stone and smooth obsidian that protruded from the walls. It was dimly lit save for the ceremonial barrier of blue fire, dragons blood, that separated his mother from the rest of the council.
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Holding the economic power of Jhyr in her left hand, and its military prowess in her right, she was among the most powerful women in all of Thacia; even the Blessed Mother of Aran feared her.
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When she spoke the room fell silent. "Jaiko. Many nobles from Skanhelm and beyond claim witness to the alleged crimes King Ander claims to be true."
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The firelight cast shadows beneath her sharp cheekbones and a diamond-shaped face, giving a blue hue to her deep olive skin. She sat rigid and upright, wavy black hair graced her shoulders.
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"Like whom?" Jaiko asked his mother.
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Keilah sat forward, the light from the blue flames mingled and danced with her hazel eyes. "The Blessed Mother of Aran, Jarl Bjorn of Torr, Jarl Oskar of Endale, Jarl Felix of Svaen; the list goes on. King Ander himself is willing to testify at a summit against you," she said. "This conspiracy against you and our family runs deeper than we originally thought."
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"But why me and why now?" The gravity of his situation began to set in and Jaiko felt sick but kept his face still. He would give her no reaction.
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"We suspect that it was easier for Ander to attack me through a child of mine and defamation rather than directly. You were simply the easiest target, son," she leaned in with a burning stare. "Curious though, even with the years of training and discipline you managed to execute near all of the assailants, our only concrete leads."
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"I did not execute them and I left two alive."
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Her voice roared and the flames seemed to rise with it. "You left one alive!" And whatever you did to him out there has warped his mind; getting any form of information from him proved fruitless thus far."
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Jaiko stepped forward, unflinching. "Was I not taught to defend myself?"
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Keilah narrowed her eyes. "Were you not taught restraint, boy?"
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"So I should have restrained myself from killing those who would have all killed me?
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"When I took Jhyr from the hands of its despot, it was sudden. I was left with...many decisions to make, which loyalists do I execute? Which do I banish? Which do I pardon?" She folded her hands across her lap. "There were so many merchants and guardsmen, even the Castellan, Rhaxor, that remained loyal until the very end. No doubt, nineteen years ago if given the opportunity Rhaxor would have taken my head. Yet now he is one of my most trusted advisors and friends. He has won us more battles than any soldier to date, many of which were hyper-critical to the advancement of our lands and great city."
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"But he would have killed you," Jaiko retorted.
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"And yet here I sit, Lady of Jhyr. Because I showed him restraint and mercy he, in turn, helped me hunt and end the remnants of what would have reformed into dangerous enemies."
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"So you believe those men would have turned cloak and aided us? Doubtful."
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"I believe that the opportunity for more allies and information is infinitely more useful than a momentary safety. Now step back."
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Jaiko exhaled through his nostrils, stepped back and kept his mouth shut and gritted his teeth.
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"I thought you were a Titan, Jaiko. Contain yourself."
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Keilah gestured at one of the councilmen, and he stepped forward to hand Jaiko a letter. It was sealed with the insignia of a raging bull atop a hill, House Camdius, his father's house.
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"Your father seemed to be aware of our...situation even before I was. He advises you come stay with him." She exhaled loudly. "As a prerequisite, he asks that you renounce your bastard name and ties to House Giatt." She paused for a moment, eyebrow raised, to analyze his face.
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Jaiko gave her no reaction.
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"After that, my son, he seeks to legitimize you and make you a 'true heir', as he says."
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Jaiko's face remained emotionless. "I will need time to reflect on this. It could be beneficial..." He trailed off.
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"All you need worry about is your conclave in the morning," she reassured him.
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"The conclave is still on?" he said, attempting to hide his excitement.
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With hands clasped together, she assured him. "We cannot afford to postpone a new class of Titans." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
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"Go now, get your rest. Tomorrow you fight."
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