As befits the seat of the Power of Stealth and the military background he shares with the Lady Nox, the massive defensive strength of the Citadel is subtlety hidden. The casual visitor sees only the grand galleries, the beautiful performance halls, the great libraries, the craftsmanship and artwork, the grandeur and splendor of the home of the Lady of Dreams and the Marchessa of Music. Only the trained eye picks out the careful, systematic placement of towers and strongpoints to give the defenders every advantage of line of sight and field of fire; notices the heavy portcullis tucked away in hidden alcoves and the solid steel behind ornate wooden door facades, ready on a moment’s notice to compartmentalize the fortress into defensible portions; observes the ambush points, the nightingale hallways, the network of hidden doors and passages unknown to outsiders but as familiar to the defenders as the backs of their hands. In time of war the Citadel would be a place that broke enemies like waves upon rock. But Xypinos is, for now, at peace.

The Citadel at peace is museum and performance center; place of diplomacy and the entertainment of honored guests; a place of ceremony, of education, of exchange of ideas. And it is the administrative heart of the Chancel, center of the lives of the tens of thousands who call the Chancel home. While the Nobles carry the duties of their offices and the burdens of the War, the daily life of the Chancel is carried on within the banner-hung halls of the Citadel. There are, after all, contracts to be signed; transactions to be notarized; disputes to be settled; taxes to be paid; licenses to be issued; and the thousand other bits of adminstrata that knit together a civilized people.

It is into the bustling heart of the “public” part of the Chancel, the part that the average citizen of Xypnios might have business in, that Warden Taylor enters, for the very first time, the evening of the first day of her tenure in Xypnios…

Abbie reaches the top of the wide staircase as the orange light of sunset filters in through the windows. The last of the day’s petitioners are headed the other way, down towards the foyer of the Great Hall, the main gate, and back to their homes. Here, at the center of this portion of the Citadel, is the large, round, high-ceilinged rotunda called the Agora.

At regular intervals around the Agora’s circumference, archways branch off at regular intervals to the chambers of the Seneschal and his staff; the offices of the Exchequers; the spaces of the Heralds, the Chroniclers, the Chatelaines, and all the many others whose service keep the Chancel running. In between each of the portals now being closed for the day stands a series of alcoves in which great portraits, starting from waist-high all the way to the ceiling high above, hangs for each of the Nobles; the subject and style –indeed, whether the portrait is painting, fresco or tapestry—changes as the Citadel does.

Abbie stops for a moment to take all of this in, then strides forward, across the great seal of the Chancel set into the polished stone floor, towards the pair of doors that stand directly across the Agora from the main stairwell, the door watched by two of the Citadel’s permanent guard, the pair of doors in which is set the Seal of Sartael Rex surrounded by the sigils of his Nobles. Behind these doors, Abbie knows, flanked on either side by the offices of the servants of the Chancel, right here in the middle of the daily life of the people of Xypnios, are the rooms of the Warden.

The first room inside the outer doors is a large, magnificently appointed office, filled with artworks, bookshelves, hanging maps, display cases. The left side of the office is occupied by a set of comfortable chairs surround a low table, a place for informal conferences, or for people to wait. To the right, a large, U-shaped desk and a comfortable chair, presumably for an executive assistant to handle the correspondence and paperwork of the Warden. Will one be assigned to her, or must she choose her own? Abbie makes a mental note to explore the question and moves on.

Directly across the outer office, in front of the outer door, is an inner set of doors, again marked with the sigils of Sartael and his Nobles; and through them the War Room of Locus Xypnios. A conference room as opulent as the outer office; this oval room surrounds a great conference table and it’s chairs. Around the walls are volumes of references; shelves of maps; scrolls and artifacts; mirrors mounted on walls, some perhaps magic. At one end of the room hangs a giant map of Xypnios, one of several maps on screens there. The War Room is a comfortable, almost cozy place; Abbie can imagine private dinners and personal conferences being held here at all hours, safe from prying ears.

Closing the door between the office and the War Room behind her, Abbie skirts around the edge of the great table, running her hands over the backs of the luxurious chairs, then makes her way to the third and last set of double doors on the opposite side of the War Room from the doorway to the outer office through which she originally entered. These last set of doors have no sigil, no sign upon them; and the key for this third set of doors is different than the key for the first two doors, keys only the Warden and her Anchor have, the keys to the personal sanctum of the Viscountess of Fear.

Abbie works the lock and enters, her heart beating in uncertain anticipation as to what she might find…and gasps as she lays eyes on her own personal quarters for the very first time…