The servant's hands were shaking as he pulled on the length of rope that would unfurl the massive banner he had brought with him to the main gates of Dal'ib. It was a massive thing, this piece of material had required a cart to bring it this far, and a rather confused armed escort as well. They, along with the rest of foreign army, had received a rather perplexing speech from an unmasked Duke in the early hours of the morning, a few miles outside of the city. Apparently the man they had followed had never existed, he was as much a disguise as the mask he had worn. Instead their leader had been a ghost the entire time, or at least as close to a ghost as the servant was ever likely to see.

Balaric de Jure, the name still sent a shiver down his spine. The news had sent a ripple down down the force assembled there. The Fexlunders had mostly seemed too shocked to say anything, though a few of the officers looked as though they might have been ready to sick up. The Rodani had an entirely different reaction (and it must be noted, not one the Duke had been expecting), the initial gasp was replaced with a low murmur, as the career soldiers discussed what had just been said, a few shouting questions to their superiors. It was what happened next that shocked the Duke and the servant both (our nervous protagonist had been there also, being part of the Duke's household); lead by the very loud urging of one Rodani officer, a giant in mail and leather, the Rodani soldiers brought forth a cheer of 'de Jure!', scattered at first, but before long it had spread until even some of the Fexlunders were taking up the chant.

It made no sense, the servant thought to himself as he pulled diligently on his rope. What reason did those men have to love a dead monster? Surely it could not be simply the tales of the Duke personally riding to the rescue of his beleagured men in the battle outside Dal'ib? There had to be more to it! There had to be! Unless several thousand men had just suddenly come down with a case of total madness.

No, those were not the sort of thoughts he'd be sharing with anyone. The servant knew his place. It didn't matter who he worked for, if he kept his head down and his ears opened he'd be alright. He had a job to do now, that was something he could focus on. And focus he did! The clean white banner unfurled with his efforts, marred only by the fearsome-looking purple bull, rearing up in all its horned glory. Of course, the raising of this banner was not the only declaration to be made today. At the same time that our faithful (and terrified) servant was raising that banner, a thousand posters were being put up across Dal'ib, with many more already weighing down the saddlebags of riders who had left earlier that day.

PEOPLE OF AKNATAR

I regret to inform you that from the moment I came to this land, I have lied to you. My intentions in coming to Aknatar have not changed; peace and justice for the people of Aknatar, noble and common alike. The punishments I have laid out for those who would violate that peace, who would seek to subvert that justice, have not changed.

My deception lies simply in my name: Eadgar Nast does not exist, his entire life has been a mask, to shield myself, and my efforts here, from those enemies I gained for myself on the mainland. Eadgar Nast is not my name, I am Balaric de Jure.

But this changes nothing for me or you, my friends. Justice is still my goal here, and the wedding of which you have all heard is still going ahead. In honour of my new bride three days of games, races and festivities have been organised in a week's time, as both precursor and celebration of the wedding. All citizens are welcome regardless of station.

In faith,
His Grace,
Balaric de Jure