Eleven energies permeate the world.

Balance manifested in Wood.

Change manifested in Water.

Disturbance manifested in Air.

Heat manifested in Fire.

Stability manifested in Earth.

The original five.

Calm manifested in Ice.

Purpose manifested in Crystal.

Speed manifested in Lightning.

Warp manifested in Metal.

The derived four.

Logic manifested in Mind.

Restfulness manifested in Necromancy.

Two outliers.

And from these eleven energies Variations doth manifest.

A Treatise on the Energies of the World by Nino don Lazifez

Nightfall found Valerina pacing before the door of the room and second-guessing herself. Seven hours alone within the room had let her go over her 'grand plan' with the added pessimism nervousness and anxiety brought with them. The second part of the plan was easy on paper. Get into the main house and get out. Simple. Easy. Godsdamned suicide, she griped. How in the thousand realms didn't I see it from the start? The girl frowned in annoyance. Getting into the main building would be easy enough - she was wearing a servant's dress after all - but from there she would have to improvise. She didn't want to improvise. Valerina sighed, pushed the door open, and walked out before she could stop herself. She was just giving excuses now. She needed to do this, and as quickly as possible too. It took Valerina more than a few minutes to find the main house. Not only was the manor obscenely expansive, Valerina also didn't know where exactly the building was. She and Rowe had seen the main house from across the fence and had managed to figure out that the house was vaguely west from her point of entry but it was a thousand times harder to get to the house while navigating around the dozens of courtyards and structures within the compound. When, eventually, her stumbling about had borne fruit and she caught sight of the main house, she had to sit beneath a tree to catch her breath, work up the courage to move forward, and to simply observe the building. The main house was a two-story building - the only story building in the manor as a matter of fact - and was currently the source of the churning anxiety trying to claw its way into the girl's heart. Valerina pushed the feeling down as much as she could manage, got to her feet, and started toward the house at a brisk pace. She spotted servants hurrying about as she neared and her stomach did flips. It seemed like something was going on. Valerina bit her lips and continued to tell herself that so long as she kept her head down, her chin tucked in, and her pace urgent, she could easily power through. And for the most part, it worked. She slipped into the house through the servant's entrance and went looking around the first floor for the city lord's study or a private library. At first, she was wary of running into the owners of the house but after a while of not seeing anyone, she relaxed, and that caused her to practically waltz right into the kitchen. It was one of the few remaining rooms she had yet to explore on the first floor and, to be fair, she hadn't heard any noise when she was approaching so she was not prepared for the burst of air so hot it made her flush, or the sight of servants bustling about hurriedly, entering and exiting the massive kitchen through one of three doors that lined the walls of the kitchen. It took Valerina all of three seconds to realize that, firstly, no; this certainly wasn't a place she should be in, and secondly, yes; she would be better off getting the hell out of there. Three seconds she could have spent moving. "Hey! You there! The one at the door," someone called. Valerina took a sharp step back before someone yanked on her arm, pulling her forward and leading her deeper into the room. A quick glance at the person revealed that it was a high maid and if the painful throb coming from her wrist was any indication, one with a grip like a vice. Go with the flow, she reminded herself. Just go with the flow. Not only couldn't she throw the lady off, but attempting to do so would garner attention and she could do with as little of that as possible. They weaved through the throng of servants, the high maid stopping ever so frequently to snap out commands at the kitchen staff. Then she came to a stop as a stocky male servant came through the door carrying a wooden barrel. "Drop it there Joheven," she said, dragging Valerina next to the barrel. She left Valerina's wrist to open the barrel's lid, send a maid scurrying off for a silver jug and dip a huge cup into what Valerina only just realized was wine of some sort. "Still good, thank goodness," the high maid muttered upon sniffing the wine and Valerina took advantage of the shift in her focus to slip away. She made it a total of three steps before someone bumped into her from behind. "Watch your feet!" Snapped a servant, stepping deftly around her to hand the high maid a silver jug. The high maid turned to receive the jug and spotted Valerina. "What are you doing standing there girl?" She demanded. "Get over here will you?" Valerina began to step forward and the high maid returned her focus to the barrel of wine. Swiftly, she filled the silver jug, thrust it into Valerina's hands, and began to drag her toward one of the three doors. "No one yet attends the chalice of the maeser from Studor," the high maid explained hurriedly. "That is the station you shall occupy for the duration of the feast." She pushed Valerina through the door and out into a rectangular, occupied hall. Valerina froze for a second, taking in the new room she was in as the door closed silently behind her. A long rectangular table took up the center of the room and a couple of people sat around the table eating and talking. Her eyes danced across the room and she noticed that every seat had a maid holding a jug behind it except one. Thinking fast, she surmised that the blonde-haired boy sitting there was the Studorn heir and made her way behind that particular seat. She kept her head down and her eyes from roaming around as she took her stand behind the seat and next to the wall. Valerina let the conversation from the table go over her head as she huddled close to the wall, staring hard at the floor and trying to calm her racing heart. She took deep breaths, centering herself and trying to make the best of the situation. Firstly, she was a thief that had snuck into the city lord's manor in Sealarios and was now stuck in a brightly-lit dining hall with honoraries of some sort feasting. That was bad. But they didn't know she was a thief and weren't paying her any mind. That was good. She was dressed as a servant. That was good. If she messed up, they would or would not turn their attention to her and her cover may or may not be blown since high maids ran tight ships wherever they were employed and would figure her out in a jiffy if they put their mind to it. That was bad but still up in the future and that she could work on. I am here to attend the Studorn heir's chalice. My attention should be on it, she thought, raising her head and glancing at the chalice sitting at the prince's elbow. It was still full hence she surmised she wouldn't be needed anytime soon. That left her with nothing to do save wallow in anxiety and she refused to do that. She took her eyes off the chalice and, out of idle curiosity, swept her gaze over the seated guests. There were eleven people seated at the table, all dressed in rich finery, but two people stuck out like sore thumbs. Good-looking ones, granted, but sore thumbs nonetheless. The sight of both of them made Valerina throw her gaze down to the floor once more, eyes wide. What in the realms is he doing here!? She screamed mentally. Only Alusian imperials had hair that solid a gold color and as far as she knew, imperial heirs didn't partake in the Tournament. And by the gods, she shouldn't be here either, she complained internally and snuck a peek at the girl sporting impossibly silver hair talking with the boy she had run into that noon. That was the Xerdian heiress alright. Normal hair would never gleam that much under candlelight. Valerina tightened her grip on the jug as her brain worked overtime trying to make sense of the situation. Imperial heirs have never partaken of the Tournament, she reasoned. That leaves an invitation as the logical conclusion. Considering that they are dining with the city lord, it is safe to assume he invited them over. Valerina gulped. She had an idea who the rest of the people at the table were, but just to make sure, she scanned the table once more, matching titles to faces. Alusian heir... Xerdian heiress... Heiress of Mescary... Heir of Studor... Maeser Voscov... And their frickin aides too. Shit. Things were turning out to be bad. Very, very bad. If she was caught, there would be a fallout of international proportions. An expansionist state such as Studor would no doubt find a way to twist it into an excuse to invade Alusia; Siadro would milk her nation for all it was worth, and Xerdes... well, the Xerdian emperor was unpredictable so Valerina wasn't sure what he would do. What she was sure of, though, was that she would be better off dead and buried six feet under. Valerina pushed down the feeling of panic rising within her and kept reminding herself that no one knew who she was yet. Except maybe prince Gabriel. He had been present at her social debut party so it was possible he would recognize her. She prayed he didn't. Her prayer fell flat on its face. Sitting across from princess Émilie, Gabriel only paid half a mind to the discussion going on at the table, as he poked at the rare steak before him with a knife. From time to time his eyes strayed up to the girl standing to the side and behind Maeser Arvel, as he pondered the reason she was there. A good while later, he was no closer to figuring out the reason why Valerina was garbed as a servant and seemed to be attending to the Maeser of Studor and so he tuned out thoughts of her from his head and brought his attention back to the table. "Personally, I do not believe in the existence of the ethereal possessions," prince Alver was saying. "Items able to grant your any wish? Impossible. Even as powerful as the Ethereal four were, even they would be unable to craft such items." "What about some wishes?" Princess Émilie asked conversationally. "Only wishes that can be met through the natural order of things unlike, say, getting someone to love you or some such." "As much as your wish would be granted, it would probably create just as much trouble. The best way to get things done is to do it yourself." "Or delegate," Arint quipped. "Or delegate," Alver amended. "To the right person. Most commoners just don't have the necessary IQ to do things right." The statement made Gabriel glance at the man sitting to the right of city lord Kimmel. He looked to be in his mid-twenties or so, with a mop of unruly brown hair, and was slightly grimacing. Gabriel thought he knew why. There were eleven people seated at the table - Émilie's aide was feeling sick and Studors didn't have aides - and he was the only one with a commoner mother. Given the fact that he was also, technically, a prince of Mescary but wasn't the Maeser even though he was older than Émilie, Gabriel could safely conclude that he was looked down upon within the noble circles of Mescary and was not deemed important in the grand scheme of things. Alver's last comment was, in a word, tactless. He could as well have insulted Raoul to his face. "Okay," lady Camilla said, continuing the conversation. "So you don't believe in the existence of the Possessions. But you certainly do believe in records do you not? Nino Lazifez did write on the existence of such did he not? Surely you have read his book Marauders. Such a dedicated scholar would never lie now would he?" Alver drank from his chalice, using the time to ponder. In the end, it was not he who spoke up but Voscov. "You do know that the man was a fraud right?" The prince asked, his tone dry and unchanging. "A fraud?" Camilla asked, turning to him in surprise. "I thought he was hailed as one of the most experienced scholars of the world following the Scourge War," the city lord's wife asked, looking at Voscov with interest. "He was hailed indeed, and rightfully so too," Voscov said and paused for a moment in thought. "Okay, I may have been exaggerating a little," he amended. "He was not a fraud per se. He was bombastic and paid little thought to the meaning of the adjectives he used and hence was prone to either blowing things well out of proportion-" "Ha!" Exclaimed prince Alver, interrupting Vocov. "It is certain he did the same with the Possessions." "-or downplaying them to the point of falsehood," Voscov finished, fixing his indifferent gaze on the prince for a moment. "Though at times he just manages to come across as confusing. It was also a habit of his to instill as much drama and pomp into his works as possible in as much as most of them were academic pursuits." "And which side do you take Lord Voscov?" Ellen prodded. "He likely downplayed the power of the Possessions," Voscov answered. "It is also as probable that he up-scaled it though, so what makes you so sure Maeser Voscov?" The city lord inquired. "I am not sure city lord," Voscov replied. "But I choose to believe." "Speaking on sureties, how did you get to know Nino don Lazifez wrote that way?" Gabriel asked. "I've read his Treatise on the Energies of the World. It gets the main points across but is full of pointless drivel too," Voscov paused. "I've also read his biography by McLean," he added almost as an afterthought. Ellen shook her head slightly. "And the ice cube knows humor," she muttered under her breath. "Dry, featureless humor, but humor nonetheless." "And what do you think, sir Arint?" Lord Kimmel's wife, Hybna, asked. Arint smiled slightly at the question. "Well," he said. "I think it exists. Not for any reason but for the fact that it would solve myriad problems if it does and like all humans, I tend to think that if I believe something exists hard enough, then it probably does." "That is quite... unreasonable, don't you think?" Raoul commented. Arint opened his mouth to speak but Ellen beat him to it. "Unreasonable?" She asked. "I don't think so. It makes perfect sense does it not?" Alver drank from his cup once more, trying hard to withhold an eye roll. Only one such as she could find sense in the bull talk Arint had spouted. The Rantiavums were known for being unreasonable and wrong in the head. So much so, in fact, that it was considered common knowledge they were half crazy. Alver dropped his chalice and Gabriel noticed a couple of things happen almost immediately. Firstly, Valerina stepped forward to fill the cup. Secondly, Voscov's eye paused on her form for a second. Thirdly, Ellen noticed since she sat directly before him and she tracked his line of sight, settling finally on Valerina. Something sparked with her uncannily purple eyes.