~She slowly shifts her gaze, staring at the last noble houses of Harad, those who managed to last through the Jaldeans’ Rebellion. How many did she see? More than twenty, yet nowhere near what they once were. So many seats left empty…so many Houses Gone. Had the Jaldeans really slaughtered so many powerful nobles? She gently moves the crown, placing it better atop her golden hair. Long had she ruled over the land, yet now so much had changed. Maps, Fleets, and even cities, were now being re-made. Harad had lost the north, and now they were less than half what they had once been.
Even now, she was no longer Empress; a title that had been destroyed by the Jaldeans. Now she sat atop the Carnelian Throne, a throne that had once served as the seat of power for the Caids. She was no longer Empress, but Tarkin. She no longer had elders to look to for advice, but was singular power over all her lands. Now, to the East, the Great King, and to the West, the Sun King, were but mere peons in comparison to her newly acquired power. She was the Second Tarkin, ruler of the East, and master of all masters She was above the Clan of Kings, and beyond the Gods’ Authority. She was supreme Commander of all the East, and it would now bow to her, and her alone.~
“To my side, I shall draw but one representative, from each house.”
~She calls to the Houses, prompting them each to stand. Many men and women, Houses themselves, and some to represent a House too old to come his or herself.~
“First and foremost, House Tenebro, House Valdomar, House Trevel, House Zelionora, and House Mirandeth, shall be my Advisors. The Kir from each house shall serve as One of my Advisors. These Houses shall alternate with those other Houses that remain, each serving Four Birth Moons, then stepping down for the next House-Kir to take up the place. No longer shall The Marked be cast out and ignored, but revered members of our society. Tomans, marked or not, shall forever have a place of safety in Harad, and they shall be under the direct protection of both the Tarkin and the Carnelian Guard.”
~She waves her hand, signaling that she had finished her speech, and that none should speak further of the meeting. She slowly raises, dismissing the gathered, save those of the Houses who would now serve as her Advisors, for the next four years. Her silver-blue eyes, those eyes of the Espadryni, shine in the darkness of the Carnelian Dome, lit only by a few, talon-shaped, torches. Looking through the Crimson-colored glass, she sees the Great Sea, that stretches far beyond this realm, to those mighty Eastern shores, spoken of in so much fear, that even to mention them is considered a curse upon your lips.
Her thoughts turn simply to one man: The Great King, the man who once called himself her friend, who had left the Brotherhood, as she later had done, to return to his lands, to rule. His face flashes before her eyes, that Blood-Colored Hair, those dark eyes, and that scar. His laughter plays on her ears as she thinks how long since she and he had been Partnered, a bond that should have only ended in the death of one or both of the two. ~
How long ago was the Battle of Sadron? The Battle of Arcosa, Bhexyllia, and Pasillon? Had those battles been so long ago? Had so much time really passed?
~She stares out the window, not even noticing as the servants begin to clean the chamber, bowing to their Tarkin as they pass. She long since forgot the servants, lost in the memories of her days as a Mercenary.~
“Servant?”
~She calls, prompting one of the maids to come running.~ “Yes, Mi’Lady?”
~The girl’s weak voice is barely above whisper, as is custom among the servants, but Lucia pays no heed.~
“I wonder if we could send word to the East?”
~The maid stares at her Tarkin, eyes widened by the mere thought.~
“Do not stare at me so, Child. I asked of you a simple question. Can we send a ship to the East; to the Great King in Imrion, personally?”
~The girl nods, daring not speak protests to the Tarkin.~
“Then it should be so.”
Subject: <:The Carnelian Throne:> 
Wed Oct 10, 2007 9:01 am