47th of Ashan, Arc 717
Step, and...
Zoom.
Fort Ravenclaw. The Coven's smallest base, new and only growing, acting as a satellite fortification to ward off the Seekers of Viden. It was a place he'd seen often, in his leaps and jumps between cities, now connected by the Eye he held in Etzos, within the bustling underground community of Rosenthal van Nostra. This place was unlike Rosenthal, Murdoch or Sarkanis - it was incredibly jovial in its nature, a thing Effren attempted to try and stamp out, though inevitably he joined in the Coven festivities just as often as he didn't. The establishment was Rharnian to an extreme, even though the mages they recruited tended to be outliers within society. Perhaps their repression at the hands of their own insecurity, personality or communicative disorders, left them hungry for the sort of rush their peers faced even despite the clear distinction they held in behaviors.
Simply put, maybe the people here longed for the norms they left, just with a community that could understand them. Whatever the case, they were boisterous by Coven standards, less so creepy and malign - though of course this was only due to the base's recruitment phase, and as they grew the grip would tighten and the cult mentality would be secure.
He was here, however, not to comment on the social properties of a bustling Coven base, but instead to meet with someone who'd recently sent him a letter. Kura Wolfsdotter, a woman he remembered indeed, and just as fondly as she remembered him. His time in Korlasir, away from the arbitration of his mother and the malevolence of his father, had been a golden age within his youth. He could only imagine now just where Kura was, both physically and mentally, and what sorts of thoughts her liege must have had in facing Rynmere for the foreseeable future. Alistair braced himself for a rigorous political discourse, though at the same time, he found himself incredibly relaxed at the idea of approaching a friendly foreign diplomat to discuss his plans for the nation he adored.
Rynmere had not gotten the treatment it deserved of late, and indeed, it was still an ambition of his to become King... whether or not he could do so with difficulty or ease. He did however agree that shrewd maneuvering was a far more effective tactic at the moment than violent rebellion, and he would only ever rebel if the odds of winning were above the eighty percent mark. Alistair was pragmatic, and cautious. He believed himself wise, even if he didn't say it... and it appeared others did as well, leaving him an endorsed candidate for the monarchy by more than just Kura, but Xander, Rafael, and perhaps quietly his own family.
He felt ready to become King. He felt ready to begin making moves. But before anything, he did have a lingering thought in his mind: what would the Empire seek to establish with a King of Rynmere who was, ultimately, pro-Empire? Alistair had no distaste for Raskalarn, even despite his Coven brainwashing on the matter, and instead valued the strict order and stability she offered her citizens. People like her, Ethelynda and Kura, were his political rolemodels of sorts and he'd sought to emulate the Empire's prosperous hierarchy for quite some time.
He was due to see Kura, indeed, and made his way from the isolated Fort Ravenclaw into the city proper, from Stormlands to one bourgeois Harpy Inn, where the ambassador of the Empire promised to be present. Stepping through the doors of the establishment, Alistair's eyes quickly scanned the room, though at first glance he did not see his intended partner for discussion. He would sit and wait at a table, for as long as it took for their eyes to meet. Of course when they did meet, the woman would likely wonder how he'd managed to arrive in Rharne only two days after receiving the letter, but surely she could imagine the answer. It wasn't something that needed to be said.
Step, and...
Zoom.
Fort Ravenclaw. The Coven's smallest base, new and only growing, acting as a satellite fortification to ward off the Seekers of Viden. It was a place he'd seen often, in his leaps and jumps between cities, now connected by the Eye he held in Etzos, within the bustling underground community of Rosenthal van Nostra. This place was unlike Rosenthal, Murdoch or Sarkanis - it was incredibly jovial in its nature, a thing Effren attempted to try and stamp out, though inevitably he joined in the Coven festivities just as often as he didn't. The establishment was Rharnian to an extreme, even though the mages they recruited tended to be outliers within society. Perhaps their repression at the hands of their own insecurity, personality or communicative disorders, left them hungry for the sort of rush their peers faced even despite the clear distinction they held in behaviors.
Simply put, maybe the people here longed for the norms they left, just with a community that could understand them. Whatever the case, they were boisterous by Coven standards, less so creepy and malign - though of course this was only due to the base's recruitment phase, and as they grew the grip would tighten and the cult mentality would be secure.
He was here, however, not to comment on the social properties of a bustling Coven base, but instead to meet with someone who'd recently sent him a letter. Kura Wolfsdotter, a woman he remembered indeed, and just as fondly as she remembered him. His time in Korlasir, away from the arbitration of his mother and the malevolence of his father, had been a golden age within his youth. He could only imagine now just where Kura was, both physically and mentally, and what sorts of thoughts her liege must have had in facing Rynmere for the foreseeable future. Alistair braced himself for a rigorous political discourse, though at the same time, he found himself incredibly relaxed at the idea of approaching a friendly foreign diplomat to discuss his plans for the nation he adored.
Rynmere had not gotten the treatment it deserved of late, and indeed, it was still an ambition of his to become King... whether or not he could do so with difficulty or ease. He did however agree that shrewd maneuvering was a far more effective tactic at the moment than violent rebellion, and he would only ever rebel if the odds of winning were above the eighty percent mark. Alistair was pragmatic, and cautious. He believed himself wise, even if he didn't say it... and it appeared others did as well, leaving him an endorsed candidate for the monarchy by more than just Kura, but Xander, Rafael, and perhaps quietly his own family.
He felt ready to become King. He felt ready to begin making moves. But before anything, he did have a lingering thought in his mind: what would the Empire seek to establish with a King of Rynmere who was, ultimately, pro-Empire? Alistair had no distaste for Raskalarn, even despite his Coven brainwashing on the matter, and instead valued the strict order and stability she offered her citizens. People like her, Ethelynda and Kura, were his political rolemodels of sorts and he'd sought to emulate the Empire's prosperous hierarchy for quite some time.
He was due to see Kura, indeed, and made his way from the isolated Fort Ravenclaw into the city proper, from Stormlands to one bourgeois Harpy Inn, where the ambassador of the Empire promised to be present. Stepping through the doors of the establishment, Alistair's eyes quickly scanned the room, though at first glance he did not see his intended partner for discussion. He would sit and wait at a table, for as long as it took for their eyes to meet. Of course when they did meet, the woman would likely wonder how he'd managed to arrive in Rharne only two days after receiving the letter, but surely she could imagine the answer. It wasn't something that needed to be said.
