The small, angular man seemed even more sharp than usual as he slide within the castle's shadows. There was no real need for secrecy today, but it wouldn't have occurred to this man to move otherwise. He was, after all, an Observer. A man gifted by birth with the talent of blending into his surroundings, much like the fabled chameleon. Some said his forbears had paid a magician to breed their most precious daughter with a chameleon, but that's another story....

His purpose today was actually very simple. He was here to bring news to the King of Northan. News he must personally deliver to the King. The Observer loved Northan. It was the kingdom home of his wife. It had adopted him and honored his birthright. He spied for them always. It was his life, and he was proud of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much pomp came after The Observer's entry to the King's court, but he didn't wait long. The King always wanted to see him as soon as he returned. King Tyre knew Barean faithfully returned with information that would strengthen his kingdom.

The Observer bowed deeply before the King, then righted himself and said, "Your Majesty, I pray that all good things have poured upon you and Northan in my absence. I am returned. With a report as always. And anxiously await the convenience of Your Majesty, and to do your bidding in all things."

The old King smiled slightly. It was a sincere, but cautious smile. He knew The Observer's loyalty and value. It pleased him that The Observer greeted him thusly; always consistent in his want to show his willingness to serve.

"Your Majesty," he continued, "There has been a great and weighty change. The King of Mana has died. And it is the opinion of your loyal Servants in Disguise that this death is suspect. The king was found dead in Blood River and no real investigation has proceeded. Moreover, Dear Majesty, a new King has already taken his place."

"So soon?" said the King, showing his disturbance by the rearrangement of the many folds of his face.

"Yes, Majesty," said The Observer.

"Disturbing and grievesome this is," continued the King, "and to whom did the King give the Right of Ascension?

"A slave from the King's own household, Maj...."

"A slave, you say!" shouted the King. "This makes no sense. The old King had Issue!"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Barean continued, not surprised by his King's reaction. (His King would grieve this passing, but now was not the time to dwell upon it.) "He goes by the name of Drake. He is raised up of the King's own household having been found a foundling. However, at no time was there awareness of his specialty to King Amod, and, we too, wonder about the King's blood. None of them are found. Nor is there a whisper about this strangeness. However, there is a fog upon the minds of people in the King's Palace District."

"How could this have happened?" mumbled the King. The question was self-addressed. All of the Kings understood their responsibility to secure succession. It was not just their lives, or that of their family's; proper succession secured everything that existed. (A fact upon which the Royal Families lived and died since the Alpha. Much sacrifice and the basis of all good legend, the Royal Families lived to serve and secure to The Rights and Balance for all.)

The Observer continued, "It is especially curious, your Majesty, as the slave gained the court's approval within a the day of King Amod's death."

"This is all very wrong," began the King. "Even in unexpected death, King Amod would have ordered a proper succession. We must know what has happened and the Principal Kings must meet as soon as possible. I expect they are already making preparation. We must understand what this all means. Why Amod's Right didn't go to his own, and where they are. We must know quickly of this strangeness and if there is danger." The King paused and the folds of his face softened. He realized he had what he needed before him in Barean and it comforted.

"Barean, I make this request of you although I know it undervalues your skill. I would that you take it upon yourself to go to each of the Principal Kings and get their agreement to meet at Northan Mount as soon as possible. Tell them, too, to bring Delegates and Trainers, their persons of highest skill. If Amod's birthstone is gone to evil, we will need their most talented to survive."

"I am honored by this undertaking, Your Majesty, and upon your blessing, shall depart immediately. "

"Then it is good and go, Barean, go swiftly by The Balance, and know that I too will depart and await you all at Northan Mount."

As the Observer left, he sighed in relief. The King had seen him today. The Observer's tendency to blend into the background sometimes made it difficult for the King to see who he was talking to. He smiled. He supposed this blessing came from anxious nerves. He noted that his skin was a shade warmer and darker than his environment. Oh well, it served for today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep within a mountain, who's center had been hollowed so that the world's suns flooded light inside, stood the three Kings. They stood sternly erect; each at one of three of the four equally divided stations established by a large center circle. This place was made for such times; times when the existence of all was in peril. Gladly, it had been eons since they'd needed to convene here.

The center circle formed of a thick crystalline railing. Upon it each king had placed His documents, and their stone. Each stone sparkled in the great light shooting prisms of color beans throughout the space. The colors bounced upon the walls lighting up even the cavern's perimeters with light. These were the largest and most perfectly colored stones of their world. Even those possessing their own stone were awed and humbled by them. But one was missing. The Southeastern place of Amod and it's stone were empty.

Such extreme danger had occurred in the distant past, but no one today had ever experienced such. All of the Principal Kings felt this weight and had paused for composure. Then finally...

"So," began one of the kings, "we are here to consider what has happened to The Right entrusted to Amod, and to ensure The Balance. We must plan how to do so, and who we must send to confirm or secure its safety. Our finest delegates and trainers are without. They are ready. Yet only a few should go. Stealth must be as useful a tool as Right in this case."

"Ay," said another king, and then the third, "Ay, they are ready, and we must choose among them. So, then, let us begin."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Now the fate of The Four Kingdoms rests in your hands. You must be one who has either been chosen by the kings, or been chosen by fate, to confirm or secure The Right of Mana and The Balance. To do so You must discover. You must survive. You must play Birthright RTD.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing among warriors, delegates and trainers are Vladimir Mihaylov and Iron Mauler. They make eye contact in the briefest acknowledgement. They have known each other only well enough to share respect. They did, after all, share the same Trainer, and it was to that one that they both returned their attention. Their trainer. It was he who had asked them to come to this place and meeting. They were both honored to be asked.

In the frey of people, beasts and weaponry their trainer stood, a man of age beyond guessing. He is small, almost naught but a shell, yet there are no questions about his presence. It would be it's lack that raised questions. It is as obvious that he belongs, as it is sure that he won't be one sent forth. He is here to make sure that others, the best others, are sent. He is, simply and greatly, a Trainer. To some, The Trainer.

Watching him, both Vlad and Iron Mauler are filled with pride and reassured of their own capabilities, and as was natural to them follow their Trainer's que -- they are the first to notice the sound of approaching marching feet...


A huge double-door pushes open and three of the Principle Kings enter together with their guard.

Vlad and Mauler recognize the Kings as King Northan begins, "My people, we are told that you are best of us all. So you are here, at this grave moment, to have the rumors confirmed." The King paused to swollow grief for his friend, Amod. He continued, "Some days ago King Amod of Mana was found dead, and his people have installed an Unknown without investigation. If this were not queer enough, our fears have been confirmed with the return of Barean, The Spy. We now know that King Amod was murdered. His throat slashed and body thrown in Blood River!"

A collective gasp followed Amod's last statement. He was glad. The people should be shocked, and it glad him moments to collect his pain.

Another King interceded. His voice higher in pitch, but as resolute in concern. "The Mananian people have not asked for investigation! More, we are told that a fog hangs over their minds and memory! That a new king already sits on Amod's thrown and all is taken for granted. However, this new king is not one of Amod's line. This one is An Unknown. An Unsworn. And mostly likely an Untrained."

The sudden stench of sweat entered the space, and despite the brave and powerful audience, fear began to creep throughout the gathering.

The third King began slower and lower, "So, this gathering claims the most urgent purpose: We MUST determine the meaning behind these events, the where of Amod's Right, and confirm or secure it. At any cost The Balance must be preserved."

A round of acknoledgedments rippled through the assembly and then Northan with a firmed back continued, "Thus, some shall be sent forth, but most will remain. Those who remain must show steadfast peace. We are determined not to cause anguish among the people. So we ask that you return home with purpose: lend peace by your courage, but prepare for battle."

Northan's comments faded leaving only a painful stillness interrupted by the sound of shifting feet unaccustomed to nerves. After a breath he continued, "If you've remained untapped, than we ask that you return home with urgency. Those who received the mark are to stay." In moments, the sounds of departing peoples, animals and weapons were deafening. The noise continued for some time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Neither Vladimir Mihaylov or Iron Mauler had been tapped, but both remained still. Neither wanted to be excluded from this heartof activity. As fewer and fewer remained, Vlad and Mauler found themselves near their trainer and one another. Then, from behind, both felt a gentle tap of shoulder. The Kings had waited and observed. It was the ones who'd remained, the still and cautious ones, the ones who wanted this quest in their bones that were then tapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No one had been tapped before the greater mass had departed, but now both Vlad and Mauler where.

So, too, were the others that the Kings commissioned. Although they didn't know one another, yet....

Then suddenly, a sound so loud it overwhelmed the mind surrounded them, and then consciousness was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his last moments of awareness, Iron Mauler prays to strengthen his armor. He feels his skin burn and then cool. He smiles. Then nothing.

Next to him Vlad's mind tried desperately to hang on to the world. He tried to speak, but it comes out a breath as he slips away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometime later, with eyes yet opened, Mauler whispers, "What has happened?"

The is no answer.

Finally, he pushes open his eyes, seeing only haze. Then to his left a movement, and he turns his head to see the most beautiful woman of his experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vlad's return to consciousness was an awareness that his ears were ringing. He was unable to make out the meaning of the whispered words next to him, but his instincts were true. With unbelievable swiftness he grabs for a stone remembered as dropped near him. Instantly, he realizes his mind is filled with foreign tongues! Languages he has never known are making up his thoughts! As rapidly as be became aware, he threw the stone to Mauler.

As the stone leaves his hand Vlad, sees the most beautiful woman in existence. She is standing above him with long dark blue hair blowing in an unknown breeze and curves like the best of dwarven architecture. Her eyes are an unfathomable, cold blue.

Mauler picks the stone out of the air and feels his skin go hot with contact. Then he cools, and he knows that something is different, and in that difference he sees the world as if looking through a jaggers eyes. Hidden, stalking and fierce.

They are both looking at the woman, anticipation gripping them. She is extraordinary in appearence, but her presence causes unease. In the background they hear screaming and the sound of metal scraping stone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My name is Violet," she smiles, "and now, you both owe me."

"What in the name of the King has happened?" Mauler demands. Then, hearing himself he softens toward the woman. She smiles again, withholding a response. Not caring for these games Mauler continues, "WHAT THE HELL SORT OF TRICK DID YOU PULL ON US? WHO ARE YOU? AND WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE THRICE-DAMNED GODS DID YOU DO TO THE GATHERING?"