Checking in with Lord Silva...

As you and Azul come to grips with the sudden disappearance of your new Elven "friend" your cousin Silva receives a summons his father, Lord Frederick. Accompanied by his Marshal, Ser Faucon, he walks through the halls of his castle with unease... knowing a summons from his father is never positive.

"He isn't happy about Prince John escaping... he will want my head for this..." Lord Silva snarls at Ser Faucon.

Ser Faucon, a strong and renowned warrior replies, "Come now my lord, I am sure he will give you quite the tongue lashing but **** is a bit steep."

"Yes you're right... but I had him and failed... he hates failure." Silva mutters as he approaches his Father's quarters, hearing the sound of steel swords bashing together.

Rounding the corner, Silva sees his father in full black plate armor topped with a new intimating helmet adorned with large wings. He is surrounded by 12 of his trusted bodyguards in a similar garb, with his seal, a red serpent, on their chests. He watches as the skilled warriors surgical blows are deflected easily by Lord Frederick's sword and shield. His speed and power in combat only increasing with age. At 43, an age many weaker men retire, Frederick is in his prime and known as the deadliest swordsman alive, second only to his slain brother.

With several impressive counters, he disarms and knocks down the 12 men who all kneel in respect before him as he says in a gruff voice, "Excellent work men... but perhaps one day one of you can rise to the challenge of knocking me down...."

"My lord!" Ser Faucon shouts before kneeling, "Lord Silva has arrived as commanded."

Turning as he lifts his helmet off his head, he stares at the Marshal, his scarred face and piercing eyes enraged as he replies, "Who is this twat who interrupts me in front of my warband...?"

Stepping forward, Lord Silva bows and answers, "Father it's my Marshal, Ser Faucon, the most skilled warrior in my lands..."

"Are you...?" Lord Frederick says with a smile before taunting, "From the looks of you I am certain that any common boy with a sword can spill your guts..."

Insulted, Ser Faucon rises and says angrily, "My Lord I must protest... I have won many tournaments...."

Cutting him off, Lord Frederick says with a laugh, "You must... Protest? Well aren't you a bold little shit standing up before I give you permission... and tournaments you say!" His bodyguard chuckling as he steps closer to the Marshal, "Any spoiled nobleman can get lucky in a tournament... I don't fight in tournaments..." Motioning to one of his men he takes his sword and hands it to Ser Faucon before adding, "Perhaps you can fight better than you can imprison someone..."

"Father please! It's not his fault..." Lord Silva says nervously as he steps between them.

Pushing him aside Lord Frederick dons his helm before drawing his sword and the fight commences. Ser Faucon's initial confidence fading as his quick and coordinated strikes are blocked by Lord Frederick before he executes a perfect counter, driving his sword into Ser Faucon's chest and kicking him to the ground. Tossing his helmet aside, he grabs Silva by the throat and shouts, "You let that little shit escape because your men are just as incompetent as you are..."

"Father please!" He begs, squirming in his grip. "I had him! But..."

"Yes you had him! You had him when he was locked up in the gladiator pens with that Orcish whore... unaware you knew of his presence... eating food you could have poisoned... but you just had to have your fun didn't you...?" He snarls before a woman's voice behind him interrupts him.

"Its not his fault he doesn't know his limits father... he should have never been entrusted with such a prisoner." Your cousin Aria says as she removes her helmet.

Releasing him, Lord Frederick looks at his daughter and says, "Just like his mother... a conniving little cunt who sometimes had her uses..."

"A useless woman who deserved her end for betraying you father..." Aria says with a grin before adding, "But while lacking grace, Silva is at least useful... for now..."

Smiling proudly he adds, "Everyday you remind me how much you take after me... at least I know you are mine... Unlike your brother..." Sheathing his sword, he motions to the corner and a hooded man, Enzo the assassin, appears from the shadows. "From now on Enzo takes orders from me... you are unworthy of such an asset Silva..."

"Father I... Ahhughh!" Silva mumbles before Frederick kicks him in the side.

"No you listen to me now! In the morning... I ride south to crush Shabana's little rebellion and eliminate her useless bloodline once and for all..." Grabbing him and holding him against the wall, Frederick continues, "You will give whatever assistance Enzo needs to find prince John... and when he is found... he will be eliminated... no games... understand...?"

"Yes father..." He grunts before adding, "I will ride out at dawn and..."

Cutting him off, Lord Frederick shouts, "No! Your sister will ride with your scouts... I think you have done enough for now..." Motioning to his guards they gather their equipment as he orders, "Prepare the wagon trains and horses for our march... Aria walk with me."

Grinning at her brother, she looks over at Ser Faucon's body and teases, "You really should have that mess cleaned up..." Before following her father out the door, Silva's rage turning to you as he vows to take your head.

"You certainly know how to send a message father..." Aria says with a grin as she joins Lord Frederick in the hallway.

"I have never been accused of being subtle..." He replies with a grin, as he heads out the door to his bodyguard, mounting his horse he adds, "I will send news of our victory... when you receive word gather whatever men we can spare... we will need them."

"Yes father... and good luck." Aria replies with a bow.

"I make my own luck!" He shouts before riding off.

Meanwhile in your cabin, you and Azul have packed up and helped yourselves to some of the Elven Woman's supplies before departing on your long journey. The two of you unsure of what dangers you could face on the way... you have to choose where to go.