War of Cabbages and Kings

[22:56] Asta's eyes squint into a narrow, focused glare. Her inhuman pupils constrict into impossibly-thin slits. Bothe eyes, focused on Finley. Largely ignoring everyone around her. If any were foolhardy enough to charge her, they'd be eviscerated by her field of ruby.

Thirty seconds.

"He doesn't understand that nobody but myself can wear this crown and live," she says. "It's not some fake, superficial bauble like his own crown."

She raises her left hand up to the air, and the Crown of Aschea atop her head fades away in a mist of mana.

It appears in Finley's grasp.

And instantly, his mind is invaded by a harsh cacophony of spirits, angered by the sudden exchange.

Words begin to spill out into the room. Dozens of voices, primal. Enraged.

WHY. WHY. WHY. HOW. WHERE. OUR MOTHER. WHY. WHY OUR MOTHER. WHY ASCHEA. WHY.

It's mostly nonsensical questions repeated again and again, but it is clear that some form of supernatural forces were greatly disturbed by what was happening.

And it was reflected in the death glare of the High Lady.

"I don't need the Crown, nor Aschea, to carve through all of your Knights."

She folds her arms.

"So go ahead. Betray your words, and order your people to attack. You know you want to. It is the human in you, the petty human, that yearns to."
(Asta Hargrave)
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[22:59] Lloyd feels a particularly brutalizing shrill grating through his ears like fingers to a chalk board hit him the second Finley gets his hands on the crown. When it does, Lloyd nearly keels over, hand grasped tight to his blade, but ultimately faltering in his steps. His legs went rubbery and loose for a second, and he almost keels over, but he keeps standing.

Sweat racks up on his face now, and he groans.

His sword remains clasped in hand, and his eyes are wide and open.

The crown was removed, but would that be enough to sate the King? He looks over now, quietly.
(Lloyd Durages)
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[23:04] The crown is suddenly within Finley's grasp, appearing there in the palm of his crystal hand, the solid gem fingers wrapping around its edge with speed and delicate motion. Almost immediately there was an obvious change, not only with the room being filled with the echoes, but in the young Teraphim who now held the sacred artifact.

The glow to his right forearm darkened to a grim violet, only to counteract itself into a brilliant blue. Finley grit his teeth, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead as he grappled over the weight the crown carried with it. His left hand came around, not to hold the relic, but to clutch the inner part of his opposing arm.

"Don't harm her." he called out, his voice louder and more firm than it had ever been within the walls of Osrona, perhaps even more than it had ever been on Esshar's soil.

"Let it end here."

He knew this was already the end to an era of neighborly peace between the kingdoms. The spirits that now coiled and hissed in his ears flashed a vision of those burning ships outside of Starfall, of bridges quite literally crumbling and burning away.

"Go."

he said to Asta, daring in this moment to command her, even if the word was an obvious plea.
(Finley)
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[23:08] The gold and blue eyes would stare towards Finley, giving him a small nod as the Teraphim received the crown. There is a single swallow from the Priest, turning a small bit, if only to hold both Alexander and Asta in his gaze at once.

"She has given the crown to Finley. You asked for it to be removed from her head."

"What are our current orders, King Alexander?"
(Romani cos Montclaire)
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[23:09] Romani was...

Radiant.

The sight leaves dear Sethon in awe, silenced and bewildered. Though a Keeper by admission, Sethon might never have anticipated the figure that smouldered with guiding light.

It inspires him. Empowers him. A promise made and a promise kept, he lingers aside Ophelia always;

Starlight floods forth, a potent and resplendent wash of the cosmic. Had they come to an uneasy truce?

Well, it didn't matter much. He stood ready to defend.
(Sethon)
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[23:09] Surprised... That Asta would even remove it from her head, and give in to the demands. Even after both the King and Queen made their view on them obvious, seeing as Regulus would risk even his title for the woman.

But to walk out of here without even a scratch? After such threats of slaughtering Knights, and standing so high above others. Wasn't that the behavior that got her here? Nox felt conflicted...

As if she should say something but in a room filled like this? Her word meant little compared to so many others, bringing a hand down to Cerise's shoulder to comfort her.

"Don't worry... She isn't going to cut anyone down, not if she's doing as she is told. Hopefully, we won't have to see any bloodshed, as it would be a shame."
(Nox)
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[23:09] An auditory force had almost calmed his nerves for a few seconds, forcing him to turn behind the pillar to clear his head.. and once he had, the Hargrave returns. His weapon, still holstered at his side as the Wraith's hilt sat strapped to his other side, the Leonaus blessed's attention turns on Asta and Regulus.

"Leave. Now!" He shouts, trying to, as Finley had, command his mother and the nobleman. Even if he felt to be at odds, this isn't how he wanted things to end for the High Lady..
(Mikael Hargrave)
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[23:15] The voices that spilled out when the crown was pulled away were loud, intense, and definitely hitting Kofe right in the spiritual guts. There was something about it. From the moment Asta took off the crown, he could hear it himself. All of that had been... contained within her mind?

Is that the whispers she mentionned hearing?

His mother had gone mad with a few from a crystal, but this was intense. Maddening to anyone even around it; he couldn't imagine what it was like for Finley to hold it on his own.

A breath was drawn in, and Kofe decided to take a step forward. He might've been interrupting some transfer of said crown, or someone else's intent, but he sure as Hel wasn't going to leave Finley behind to die in a whisper-filled mind ditch.

His right hand reached out for the Teraphim's shoulder. His brows furrowed, and a light frown came as he tried to reach him. This wasn't just a bit of a shot in the dark or a performance to further enhance something he was trying to communicate. This was Kofe doing his damn best to try and pry Finley out of the madness that may soon be consuming him.

A light.. surge of mana came forth, and then more. And more. A hum filled the room to counteract the whispers for all, though it was a mere side-effect of what Kofe was truly attempting to do. His sounds, his inner song reached into the Teraphim's mind. All of it came straight from his heart and pushed aside any and all voices in its way.

Will. Emotions. Attachments.

They were all put on display as he gave the most unique performance in the world, playing a tune to soothe out the screams the white-haired one would be subjected to from holding the crown. Defying Aschea's will and in hopes of silencing the whispers with a melodic repose that drew from the heavens themselves, all to be played, to be transmitted within Finley's mind.

To snuff out the whispers.
To overwhelm the screams.
To quiet the madness.

How long would Kofe hold?
How much mana did he have left?
The answer was the same in both cases.

He'd rather not see his friend completely lose it like he'd seen Penelope.
(Kofe)
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[23:27] "When my people are put under foul magics and their lives not considered then I act." A short few words to Ophelia. References to the fake holy-wars, the pull-out of the Siege. The King could not imagine walking up to someone and shooting time magic in their face, yet time and time again Asta seemed to push her bounds.

"Even now, without the crown, you still talk of murder. I am starting to think the person that wants nothing more than murder and bloodshed is yourself. I still remember what you said. And now I have a reply. Do not corrupt your own crown," eyes on Asta - a callback to their previous conversation, the exchange of the crown not unnoticed. Nor Finley's pleas. Blue eyes catch it, but he has his blade trained, focused like a laser.

"Lord Grimmore. Your final act between Myllenoris and Osrona relations will be a peaceful transfer of power. Write it down now. And then once you are finished, you can join your wife who will be waiting outside the city. For I have no trust that she will not take her rage out on my citizens. After that, you can both retire peacefully with your daughter."

With that said, he spares a glance to Asta Hargrave, then his Knights. She had the chance to leave peacefully and it was the final order he would bark.

"Go, Asta Hargrave. And do not threaten my people again."
(Alexander rei Petrakis)
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[23:31] While Finley and Kofe jointly struggle against the Crown's influence, Asta cracks a strange smile and waves her hand in the air dismissively.

She turns around, faces the three knights to the south.

"Well, Finley, I will see you back in Myllenoris," she says.


"You can hand me the crown when we're home."

She looks over her shoulder at Finley, a look of concern spared toward her Mistseer. She knew that he probably was not taking the relic very well.
(Asta Hargrave)
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[23:32] With the transfer of the crown and the King's words to follow, Garm eases his posture some as the prospect of a difficult battle had begun to fade for the immediate, near future.

Expelling a quiet breath, he remains stood where he is as to not startle anyone with a sudden movement; Though, he would freely step aside to allow the Teraphim and company through.

A glance to Lloyd, whom had fallen-- probably the drink?

"Get up! At least until they're gone."

(Garm)
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[23:34] There's their job. Tending to the injured. The intoxicated Lloyd toppled over and Del went to pick him up. But who could expect him to keep attentive when just some moments ago he drank his heart out? They eventually got him up and dragged him onto the stool where they'd stand beside him.

It's... something. This situation. Something also political which causes them to skate a very thin fine or wanting to zone out and pay attention. The latter occurs, lives are at stack. A watchful darkblue gaze is kept on the High Lady.
(Del mer Joyau)
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[23:41] The alternating glow within the Teraphim's crystal forearm continued, a visual example of the ever present swinging pendulum of light and darkness that existed within the arcanium circlet. The veins in Finley's organic arm were strained, his grasp shaking, as he continued to keep his hold as the only person within the room who could even likely touch Aschea's crown.

It was only by the touch on his shoulder that there came a change, and though the Mistseer could not take his eyes from his target, a very forced and almost growled smile appeared on his face, the kind of rare sight that only few had seen before. It was just as strange as any of Finley's smiles, and though it was meant to be comforting, it likely came across more as something else entirely, given the gritted teeth and light snarl on his face.

But Kofe's music filled his senses, and just as Finley's magic had done a small part in anchoring Asta'smotives away from those of the shadows, the bard's tune did its job. Finley's crystal arm's pattern slowed in its tempo, until it came to a stop and settled on a low indigo, a compromise between whatever phantoms and powers were not filtered away by the song.

"Th-thank. You. K-kofe." he hissed through his teeth, still battling with the crown, even if the fight was coming to something of a steady close. It's weight would not leave his mind, it's power was not so easily banished. And its curse was not so easily ignored.

Finley's left arm finally released his right, if only to bring his cloak over his front so that he could stow the crown within it and away from sight. He held it there, as if he was clutching some wound at his side, and somehow appeared paler than before. Asta's words were heard, but the Mistseer could do little to respond aside from a single nod.

No matter what Regulus said next, no matter what Osrona declared, both Teraphim present knew that no words or official papers could change the course of the Vale, for its decisions were not those to be made by men.

The High Lord would only ever be chosen by spirits.
(Finley)
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[23:42] There's a moment of complete and utter silence from the Nobleman at Alexander's demand. And then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"The only person not considering the lives of their people is you. You have no authority to demand a Myllenoran succession, as it is an independent Kingdom. You act in a manner that demands conflict. I taught you better than that."

He reaches into his coat, produce a pin with the symbol of Osrona upon it. His badge of office as Royal Spymaster. Its tossed at the King's feet.

"I hope you understand what you're doing here Alexander. You've broken an alliance and cast out one of your closest supporters at the same time." His eyes briefly flickered over to Nebula. "For her. Destroyed the work of the past six years, over a woman. And to think I thought you a better king than your father."

He looked over at those assembled.

"This is what I warned against. What I have struggled against. Consider your choices carefully, all of you."

He glanced over to Ophelia.

"Good luck, Ms Soleis. With a King so determined to break a treaty, you're going to need it."

He stepped back to his wife, illusionary magic twisting around him to display a normal appearance whilst he began to silently shift his fingers in the correct tuts to begin preparing several magical circles. Nothing any runescribe would see as aggression, if they could see through the illusion. Glyphs shaped with his fingers that seemed to suggest some sort of safety for a journey, even if no mana shimmered forth. That would come at the end.

"Osrona has no right to decide Osrona suggestion, and I'll not insult the spirits by suggesting they do."


(Regulus ven Grimmore)
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[23:46] Hrist couldn't sustain this level of fight preparedness for this long without risking spiraling out of control. Her sheathe falls back to the floor, landing with a thunk and then spinning around like a circle.

An auric eye focuses, now, on the new Queen regnant. Hrist is inscrutable.
(Hrist)
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[23:47] Ophelia was silent, ready to help those injured should it happen but thankfully? It had yet to happen as of yet. She watched as Regulus produced that pin, that badge of his office... And she watched as it was thrown at Alexander's feet. His glance over towards her has her eyes widen just a tad.

There was a painful swallow that came and she offered the briefest little nods to the Grimmore. The wish of luck was appreciated, of course, but Ophelia found herself stunned into silence once more from the proceedings of this party turned into...…

… Something else entirely.
(Ophelia Soleis)
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[23:50] Kofe wasn't confident in giving up his grasp upon Finley's shoulder, nor would the melody within his mindscape would calm down. Where the Teraphim's own rhythm and shift slowed down, the Rhoynish's own heartbeat slowly scaled up.

He never had trouble manifesting heartfelt feelings before, though none of them were present to battle something... else. Perhaps a warning, or a shock, but nothing as crazy as drowning the voices of the damned for another being.

He couldn't imagine how it would be if he grasped that dangerous relic. His lips parted, giving out a smile to Finley's own unusual showing.

"Hey... Hang on, Fin. You're not alone in this."

What would he even do when the Teraphim was going to be ready to leave? Would he have to walk him back home? He definitely didn't think he'd outlast the crown's grasp upon one's spirit. This wasn't going to be easy, yet those worries would have to come for later.

The longer the debate held on, the longer it'd take for Finley to find a proper moment where he could toss aside the crown and relax for a bit.

Perhaps this was for a moment like this one that Kofe had pushed himself. To help those who couldn't help themselves. To protect his friends— the source of his livelihood.

He'd discovered that during his rite of passage, how had it not been obvious until this very moment?
(Kofe)

[23:50] "An alliance that was a farce."

"A treaty that was only respected when it was convenient for Myllenoris."

If he was going to mention it, then so will she.

Alexander allowed Asta to leave, and frankly-- Nebula cared not for if it was with the crown or without. She knew it wouldn't strip the woman of the title, not until the Teraphim were willing to do so themselves. "One of his closest supporters... Yes, yes. We've heard plenty of your self-absorbed praise."

"And yet here you are, ready to toss your home away. Your name. Everything for a woman. Isn't that funny?"

The hypocrisy in his words.
Nebula and Alexander's marriage came from love, whereas Asta and Regulus' was only an alliance.

"She belongs in Myllenoris, I'll give you that. But you are still a citizen of Osrona, Regulus. You are still a member of the Grimmore house."

His words, his crimes, his insolence.

His punishment.

"So you will be arrested."

"A fair and just trial will be held for all to see where you've gone wrong, where you've sold your morals..."

"Arrest him."
(Nebula rei Petrakis)
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[23:57] So. It was going to be a fight, after all.

She couldn't take every single one of them. She could take a fair few of them, but eventually, she would be knocked down and beaten.

"So be it. The Treaty of 1733 is now forfeit."

The High Lady raises her hand up to the air, and in an instant, the Crown of Aschea disappears from Finley's hand. Back to her head.

Her handing it over was only ever a facade. It's clear that she could just summon it back to her head at any moment. No paper, no treaty, could transfer the title of High Lord away from her. Only Aschea could. Only the spirits could.

Her voice rings out, projected with magic. It screeches, high-pitched, into the minds of all present. Like an enraged primordial beast.

"The kingdom of Myllenoris officially declares war upon the Empire of Esshar."

Without warning, the High Lady grabs Regulus' arm violently, yanks him toward her. Even with Alexander's time magic weighing her down, she manages to unleash a swift flurry of crystal spires in every direction.

Shadowy figures begin to fade into being and attack every member of the First Light, dueling them. Distracting them.

All the while, the High Lady engages anyone that attempts to block their escape.



War.
(Asta Hargrave)
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[00:06] Alexander rei Petrakis has no words for what follows. He knew Asta to be evil but to blatantly declare war? Anything he would or had said is drowned out.

"Finley, stay back," a firm order.

And then the King moves forth, hand clenching air and the entire area coming into a cut-scene due to the dilation of time magics as Knights rush forward. The shadowy figures and the crystal spires start to slow, and Alexander, second of his name moves across the battle field.

"Regulus Hargrave, you dishonor your ancestors but more than that the stars," he moves from foot to foot, stepping across crystal. "Your nobility is revoked, your lands and titles."

"Osrona. Stop them."
(Alexander rei Petrakis)
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[00:08] Asta called for her crown back, but before it could vanish entirely from Finley's grasp, the Mistseer's crystal hand tightened. With her words spoken aloud, another call for war that his heart very much opposed, his head began to shake in a panicked back and forth, a silent yet screamed,

NO.

Nebula called for Regulus' arrest. The knights that could moved to action did so. The people of Osrona moved to defend their people. Finley scowled, his distaste more evident with his efforts expended on maintaining his keep on the crown.

With his free hand he clutched Kofe's cloak and tugged backward, the two apparently about to collide with the floor-

only for a flash of blue light to disappear them both away.

Runic patterns of bright light encircled where the duo had fallen away, leaving nothing more than their ethereal whisper on the wind.

The crown did not appear on Asta's head.
(Finley)