The Hall of Nobles.

A place of honor for those whose ambition is to see their names glorified next to the king's.

A place of cathedral-like majesty where shimmering waxed floors span in red-carpeted fields and marble pillars soar like towers to a stained-glass domed ceiling. Tapestries hung from every wall boldly presenting the coat of arms of every regal family charged with lordship over the Kingsland provinces.

And at the very heart of the grand hall, ascended a single throne where sat a mortal man of deified respect and authority.

King William Estfeld IV.

Robed in the Royalist colors of red and gold, his primly trimmed short, gray beard and crested hair that lined the edge of an otherwise bald head hidden beneath a shimmering crown, complimented a regal stature matched only by the hard gaze of his sunken, pale blue eyes as they peered over the court of nobles that stood at his flanks in proud rows beneath him.

"The heads of the families and their court. How kind of you all to observe my return."

A young lady of wavy, silver hair and fiery red eyes, clad in formal military dressings marched down the aisle towards her respected uncle while a broad shouldered, red bearded captain hovered close at her side.

"Lady Alianora," the King said. "The prodigal niece graces us with her presence."

All gazes turned to her, but she retained only a vague interest for her audience while the King remained her sole focus. The echoed thump of her boots as she stepped along the red-carpeted floor brought a cautious hush to the once murmering crowd. Even the doorman whose disciplined scrutiny of anyone who arrived unannounced wisely kept his objection of the intruding girl to himself.

The trumpeteer, whose sole task was to announce the arrival of nobility showed no regret in declining to sound her presence. After all, announcement or no, her approach was undeniably felt.

"How fortunate that all of you are here," she declared. "No doubt gossip travels fast. And if you are not aware yet dear uncle, then let me clarify my recent exploits with news-"

"News of my conquests."

The bellowed voice attacked her words and drew her attention to the similarly uniformed man at the entrance.

"Presenting Count Adalair," the doorman said, and the trumpeteer concluded the announcement with a short tune from his horn.

Though clean shaven and removed of every strand of hair from his gleaming head, the deeply carved wrinkles on his face, accented by the beady recesses of his darkly brown eyes, exuded an aura of wisdom and experience that hardly any grandly displayed beard could match. He walked in with a wide gate and heavy-booted heels that reverberated with an intensity that rivaled that of court's previously unannounced visitor.

The stern faces of the stalwart Count and the unyielding Baroness met mid-aisle amidst a both, expectant and bewildered noble audience.

"This assembly was called for me," the Count said in a calm, yet deliberate manner.

Alianora scoffed.

"And yet every house was invited except for mine."

"Every house was indeed called." He scanned the girl up and down with judgemental regard. "Do not delude yourself by persisting in this illusion that you are one of them."

Duly drunk by his own words, he proceeded past her, but quickly found his path blocked by the humble form of her red-bearded captain. His hand rested idly on the hilt of his sword.

"Sir Ingram." The count glanced down at the man's weapon. "This is hardly the place to assert yourself."

The captain's expression grew all the more jovial as he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about. All I know, is that a lady has been talked-down to, and if you'll forgive my brashness, it seems I've given in to my instinct to act. Of course, seeing as I am sure that was not your intention-"

"Oh, it absolutely was. Now let me through, or I shall make quite the spectacle of you."

Keeping to his festive mood, Sir Ingram paused for just a moment before he gave a small bow and stepped aside.

"My King," the Count continued. "Honored Royalists. I have recently concluded my campaign to the east and return both a victor and a hero."

He clapped his hands, summoning a proud procession of servants into the hall.

Carts of coal and open chests of gold and silver-colored wares and goods paraded past anxious and excited noble eyes while the king looked on with a vaguely appreciative gaze.

His luxurious presentation tickled praises and polite cheers while Alianora persisted in her defiantly neutral candor.

The Count's affinity for pageantry quickly became the source of the young lady's displeasure, and she found herself affronted all the more by the tittering sounds of flutes and drums as her rival's personal musicians trotted through the door and heralded the arrival of even more carts of glittering prizes.

Several minutes had passed and though the presentation was well received, even the King started to show hints of boredom.

The Count however, had anticipated such a moment.

"My King, my fellow nobles. There is yet one more gift I have yet to offer. One, which I am sure, is undeniable in its value."

He snapped his fingers and a single cart was pushed into the room. Then, with a grand gesture, he threw off the white tarp that covered its contents and before his intrigued audience, reached inside. Meeting gazes with an air of debonair pride, he lifted a handful of darkly rich soil high over his head for all to see.

Grinning, he announced, "worth more than gold. More than even that palid rubbish from the sky. . ." He glanced triumphantly at the baroness who returned a somewhat restrained, but all-too-apparent cold regard for his lavish taunting. ". . . the rarest gift of all, harvested from newly won lands and transported here to further enrich our divine kingdom.

With this, our crops shall grow ten-fold and we will soon forget what it means to starve."

The audience erupted in adulation, clapping and cheering at a man who seemed almost infallible in the face of his recent acheivements.

However, as he looked down and gingerly tossed the precious contents in his hand back into the cart. . . he froze, for he found, reaching towards him from the soil, a twitching arm attached to a barely conscious, uniformed body as it agonized under the dirt.

"Your service to the kingdom is admirable," the King said. "To what end do you see the resolution of your campaign?"

The Count, shaking off his surprise, cleared his throat. Reaching for the tarp, he quickly re-covered the cart and victim within.

"I will not rest your highness," he announced shakily at first. "Until we monopolize every bit of fertile land. As the barren wastes continue to grow, so shall we. As we shall become a bastion of all that remains of proper civilization on this Earth."

He turned a brief, accusing eye at the baroness, whose expression suddenly seemed a bit. . . content.

"Is something wrong?" the King inquired.

The Count bowed his head. "Nothing of worry your highness. If you'll forgive me for being so distracted, my mind is somewhat occupied with the details of my next conquest."

The King's facade remained seemingly indifferent as he watched both the stalwart man and the imposing girl with somewhat scrutinous intent.

Alianora waited patiently at the top of the steps near the entrance of the grand hall. Watching the afternoon clouds roll by, her hand idly tapped her hip, as if infatuated at the loss of something important, something powerful and reassuring that should have already been hanging from her waist and clacking sternly at the sound of her every step, but remained accusingly absent.

"Steady my lady," Sir Ingram consoled, his enormous shadow shading her from the blistering heat of the sun.

"I ordered to have it ready before my meeting with the King, did I not?" she said grimly.

"These things take time my lady. Especially if the metals used are of unknown quality and origin."

"Excuses."

He grunted thoughtfully. "Well, if you'd like a proper excuse my lady, the ravish sounds coming from my gut informs me that I am quite famished and judging by the fact that it's been a day since your last meal, you are as well. Maybe it would be best that we take a break from all this snobbery and claim ourselves a proper meal. As much I've enjoyed the travel rations this past week, I think some good old fashioned hot food is in order."

As if taunted, her stomach responded quite loudly to his mention of food. Though she remained stone-faced, she let slip the tiniest hint of blush on her cheeks.

"No, we wait."

A moment later, the rhythmic sounds of muffled thumps and toy-like squeaks laced the air in a steady, yet eerie crescendo. Alianora crossed her arms while Sir Ingram sighed heavily at the familiar sound. Rounding a pillar at the base of the steps, a bulbously round figure steadily emerged, its sturdy, yet plush-brown furry exterior wobbling about as it hobbled towards her like a toddler.

Black beady eyes, circular ears adorned with fluttering bows and a face composed of a mismatched patchwork of clashing colored cloth, it stood large enough that it was easily two feet taller than Sir Ingram. Unabashedly, it hissed steam from the canisters stored underneath its fist-sized cotton ball tail.

"I should have expected," Alianora said with marked dissapointment. "Sending her automoton teddy bear in her place."

The plush mechanical creature bowed its disproportionably ball-shaped head as it extended its paws, presenting a gleaming sword and scabbard.

"It's no secret my lady that you do scare her," Sir Ingram declared.

"Everything scares her." She took the sword and hastily unsheathed the pale white blade, carefully inspecting its craftsmanship. "If Tanya wasn't so useful, I would have banished her cowardly hide and her accursed collection of stuffed bears long ago."

Sir Ingram chuckled. "Actually I rather admire her hobbies, both her infatuation with crafting weapons and plush animals. There's no denying that she's quite a charming and adorable accessory to your loyal troop of oddities."

"You included." She affirmed her captain.

Swinging her newly minted sword, she reveled in the near euphoria of the moment as she listened to the unnaturally vibrating metal sing through the air. Weightless in her practiced hand the weapon seemed to guide itself.

The whispy breath that left her lips betrayed an unnoble-like air of self-satisfied bloodlust as she finally returned it back to its sheath. But it was in the wake of her deceptively harmless action, that her vicious resolve became clear.

The automoton stuffed bear stood frozen as its delightfully pleasant demeanor was brought to an end by the abrupt decapitation of its fuzzy head.

"Send Tanya my compliments," she said to the now headless bear. "And tell her that if she continues to send toys in her place, she will find them all most grievously in pieces."

Surprisingly still functional, the damaged bear bowed, then picked up its head and toddled away.

Sensing another significantly less engaging presence, she turned to see Count Adalaire by the doors of the grand hall.

"A new sword I see," he said.

"Yes; and as you've undoubtedly witnessed, a powerful one at that." Strapping the scabbard to her waist, she approached with a sly curl in her lips. "It was something I found amongst the . . .what did you call it; oh yes, 'rubbish from the sky'."

"I stand by my words girl. You can keep your trinkets."

"And this one as well?" She held up a large golden button, letting it shimmer in the sun.

He was unmoved; and he lifted his chin to defy the insulting nature of the object.

"So you were the one who found my man. I suppose I should thank you. He was a rather trusted official who curiously went missing after an argument with me that left him reeling. Although I would have preferred you returning him in better form."

"Your so-called official, was returned alive, and that's all he deserved. The next time you send an assassin after me, make sure they're not registered with my spy guilds, nor wearing a uniform with buttons forged of your house's crest."

The Count afforded a small, yet noticeably satisfied look of respect.

"I don't know what you're talking about. But I've noticed your ludicrous infatuation with taking the second button of your victims. Tell me, why?"

She studied her gleaming trophy as she turned it between her fingers, then appreciatively tucked it into her jacket pocket.

Then she said, "because it's the button closest to the heart."

With a commanding, echoing clatter, the doors of the grand hall opened and a man of prideful stature stepped through.

Unabashedly locking his sight upon the baroness, he announced, "The King will see you properly now."