Valada Kylorinkin
The peasants shuffled nervously into the great hall of the palace of Kylorin in Cevedes. Their cloths were little more than Rags, and they were awed by the Majestic Grandeur of the tapestries depicting the Amurite Past: Amurite Phalanxes in battle with the white beast, the Amurite, The North Wind felled by swarms of Amurite arrows, and, behind the Great Throne of the Amurites, Kylorin himself smiting down the Lord of Winter. It was the first time any of the peasants had been in Cevedes, let alone the Amurite Palace. Finally, their gaze turned upwards towards the person sitting in the Throne, surrounded by various courtiers.
Valada Kylorinkin gazed coldly down towards the peasants. She wore the Crimson robes of the Magus, the Lord of the Amurites, and on her face and right cheek were Tattooed the blue spiral representative of her mastery over the people she ruled.
Her voice cut through their muddled and awestruck minds, drawing them towards her flies towards light. “You have been persistent in trying to get in to speak to me. You have succeeded. What is it you wished to say?”
“well, ma’rm, it’s this way,” spoke the cleanest of the peasants, “Like I were say’n to Hobbin, t’it aint fair, what be happen’n to we. It aint right for us to be kept to work like we was animals. We aint animals, we aren’t. ma’rm.”
“Who treats you as though you were animals?” her voice was still pleasant.
“Our lor’ ma’rm. He do!”
“Fools” Valada spoke, and though her words were insulting, the men were still enthralled by her Beauty and Charm. To their minds, she spoke as if in a manner to reprimand an erring child. “Poor Fools! If you are unhappy, all you must do is magic your way away. Melt the chains that bond you! It is the Amurite way.” Now she spoke to her court as much as to the peasants “Only those unworthy of being free are kept, for those without the slightest talent are only little better than Animals. Guards, take these men away, bind them in chains, and send them back to their Lord. Should they manage to escape, they shall be free.” And with this, She smiled at the peasants.
As they were herded away, she knew that the peasants were henceforth as devoted servants as any could be. They would travel home praising her fairness and beauty.
She had always been good at charming people, at getting her way, and she suspected her considerable magic talent may have had something to do with it. Though she wasn’t fully conscious of her power over others, she had small suspicions that if she had the time and inclination to study the texts of the past, she would find something about Kylorin’s power over others using nothing but his Mind.
Her Grandfather, Thomas, may his soul forever travel with Kylorin’s, had the same power. She had recognized it when she had first met the wizened old man in the council of elders. He had them all wrapped around his finger, even the old doddering senile ones.
She remembered his burial well. She still went down into the catacombs to sit near his bones and speak to him of matters of state: she almost thought he would answer sometimes.
A cough brought her back to the present. The Bannor Ambassador was Walking into the great hall.
He bowed, his fist over his heart, in Bannor Manner. “My Lady, I Bring gifts of friendship from the Bannor People.” He looked up and smiled, and she realized she had never before seen a more beautiful smile. She smiled back at him.
“Oh, and what are these Gifts?”
Wordlessly, though he continued to look at her, he gestured, and a magnificent tapestry was brought forth. It Spoke of the Bannor Exodus from hell, of Capria Standing in the center of the gate, Standing alone against the Forces of the Lord of Hope, as the bannor people streamed out beneath her outstretched arms. The Courtiers all gasped. Never had they scene anything as beautiful. Valada merely smiled.
“And I too, have a gift for the Bannor.” As She spoke, artisans brought in a Tapestry of the Slaying of Mulcarn, the Amurites standing united behind Kylorin, as the Doviello kissed his feet. Behind them them, Mulcarn lay, His divine Body laying on the ground, pierced by the Sword of the Compact. “The Bannor are not the Only ones with a great and proud History. They would do well to treasure this as well as we will treasure their gift.”
Yeah, it gets more and more sprawling with time.. 
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