"Image"

It was betwixt the dawning hours of the morning, the yet weak blanket of the sun gently rising eastward as the dark of night was banished for yet another day. Standing proudly before the rising sun stood those great walls, similar in color and just as mighty in their stature, casting a long yet faint shadow upon the vast swath of land that hid beneath it. No mere city walls, these colossal palisades of amber-yellow face parted the heavens themselves, that one who stood at their base could not see their peak even with his head crowed upwards. Its opulent spirals and lifelike statues gently stood amidst the morning's breeze, some older than the very Empire and some so new as to still have not been finished.

Lone sentries, already tired from their nightly watch, joyfully greated their replacements, that they could at last depart to the many soldier villages that stood at the mountain-wall's peak. So vast and wide was the reach of these fortifications, that a network of villages had been born around their farthest reach. Indeed, one's visage atop these 'walls' was taken not by swathes of urban construction, but by an vast sea of plantation fields. Farmhouses scattered there and about, small villages that dotted the land - that which one would have expected to see outside remained within. It was in the far distance that stood the heart of such fortifications, that very reason why they remained atop these golden distant walls - the shining city of Margiotte.

In that distant city, where the early sunlight shone upon the morning dew that fell from the brightly covered rooftops, the people had long awakened, for in that land where merchants did meet, the city never slept. Drunken men continued their drinking binges well into the first rays, and traders hitched their wagons with coin and goods, preparing themselves for the long journey ahead to places far beyond.

Margiotte was an ornate place - ornate tradehouses built from colored bricks bordered ornate taverns made of ornate stucco, both close to an domicile of ornate ivory wood. It was an old city of traders, whose buildings, statues, and alehouses were like a record of the empire's architectural past. Yet none were older than the ancient villa that stood at the city's epicenter, hanging upon the sides of one of the multiple rivers that passed through the city. This villa, whose gilded walls had been erected centuries before the Empire's birth, in a time when countless realms dotted the lands today known as Teloria, stood proudly, indigo pennants of the three white-golden stars flying upon the wind, noting to all the owners of such an baroque building. It was the Palazzo Barca, home of the first founders of Margiotte, and it's ever-prideful rulers - the House of Barca.

Yet as though the morning sun continued to rise, peeking it's face ever so slightly through the Golden Walls of Margiotte, so too did the day of the current proprietor of that sumptuous house had already began. Already dressed in his daily noble's wear, Vicaro de Barca, latest scion of the ancient house, had begun to consume of his luxurious breakfast. And what a breakfast - soft bread rolls made from the finest wheat of Arcashire, freshly cooked salmon from Groan, and cheese from the mountainous snowy lands of the north, all washed down with the finest of spiced wine from within Margiotte's vast domain. As her partook of the meal before him, he sat alone, servants sent to another room as he continued to talk, a sole hooded figure standing at attention in the balcony door.

"Are you certain you have no desire to partake of this morning repast, old friend? I have always believed that a proper morning meal is the secret to maintaining one's vigor during the toils of the day."said the noble, grabbing for himself another slice of bread. In response, the figure continued to stand unmovably, before replying with an unmistakably female voice.
"I am thankful, but i must say no, Your Grace. In my line of work, one cannot be accustomed to such lavish victuals. I have taken to replacing many of my meals with a curious elixir i had found in the markets of Dragonbad. They are impossible to poison, and certainly more efficient than the consumption of foods."
"An intriguing concoction, indeed! Yet, I hold reservations regarding wares procured from the markets of that realm...I have little trust for a man whose demesne produces so little yet makes so much. Such exchangers of money ill have reputable intentions, from mine own experiences past - as useful to my cause as they may be."
"Speaking of thine cause..."

The hooded figure, a woman of stout build and unmarked clothing, walked towards the increasingly empty table, producing an sealed scroll from within her robes. Extending her hand, she handed the scroll to her ducal master, who for a moment stopped his meal to look at the mysterious paper.
"It appears that the Baron of Ligammont has relented at last. He proved far more amenable upon being apprised of the dire legal consequences awaiting him should his clandestine dealings come to light before the ecclesiastical authorities. He has pledged to cease his vexatious tolls upon our convoys."
"Explendid. Feeble as though he may be, that canal within his domain remains to be the shortest path to the eastern lands. To avoid it would have incurred weeks of additional travel...and to cross it, a considerable expense."

*Taking down a final sip of his spiced wine, Vicaro finished his "meal" at last, raising himself from the table as he took the scroll. He fidgeted it within his hand, carefully twirling it around his fingers as he stepped into the balcony. The azure sky of dawn was fast replaced by the yellow light of the sun, shining down upon his land as it rose from the distant visage of the golden walls. Even from his city distant as it was, the mighty walls were visible, like a titanic mountain upon the reaches of a valley. *

"Doth thou know why I had spent so much to repair and expand the ornamentations of the Golden Wall, Lady Vott?"
"An unordinary inquiry, my liege...might it be for 'prestige', perchance?"
"Though it is certainly a considerable benefit of such a work, not quite. There lies another purpose...you see, Dear Lady, I did it because of the image of Margiotte itself!"

Beneath her her hood, the cloaked woman seems to crack a smile.
"What an curious answer...and what, pray tell, do you mean by 'image'?"
"Margiotte is a realm resplendent in its wealth, its fertile fields sprawl as an crucial crossing of commerce, funneling most trade destined for the Empire's heart through our gates. It is a domain fit for the lordship of other realms. Yet..."
"Yet?"
"Such wealth, naturally, breeds envy...my throne has been coveted for as long as the Barca family first built it. That is why they had erected the golden walls. Far too many are the hosts that had been repelled by it's mighty bulwark! Yet in this era, history alone is not enough....

He raises his hand, measuring his hand against the distant sight of the Golden Walls.
"When any living man gazes beyond him the towering ramparts, he shall perceive before him an indomitable colossus. The spirals and statues turn to living sentinels, unassailable heights which they can never climb! The Golden walls of Margiotte are, have always been, will always be.."

He turns back to her.
"Or so, they shall perceive."

His speech finished, he turns back to the balcony, continuing to stare at the city below him.
"You know what comes next. Many other noblemen persist in troubling our endeavors. If we are to safeguard another era of prosperity for the Barca House, we must waste no time."
"As you command, my liege."