Lady Morgana retains Kirin Keep and gains the services of a new retainer in Lady Manwallen

They say the blood of Manwallen runs cold and cunning.

When I was named Baronet of the province—Kirin Keep gleaming beneath the autumn sun—I knew the title would not come uncontested. The old bloodlines stir like ghosts when power shifts. And so came Lady Manwallen, cloaked in ancestral pride and petty vengeance, claiming the baronetcy by birthright. A distant cousin, yes, but close enough to sharpen her claim like a dagger.

She did not come alone.

Ariana, my ever-watchful elven ranger, returned from the northern woods with grim tidings: Manwallen had hired bandits, mercenaries, and deserters—filth who would burn the province to prove her worth. I smiled. Let her play at war. I had Dream Viper.

The assassin moved like smoke through the enemy camp, slipping into Manwallen’s room beneath the veil of night. Her staff—an heirloom of twisted yew and ruby flame—was gone before the lady stirred. With it, Rurik, my dwarven transmuter, began his art.

He molded his form into hers, every freckle and sneer replicated. Then, with the staff in hand, he strode into the bandit camp and spun tales of betrayal. “The Baronet Morgana has offered gold for your heads to the other camps,” he hissed. The camps erupted. Steel sang. By dawn, half her forces lay dead, the rest scattered like leaves.

Lady Manwallen herself was forced to parley, her pride bruised deeper than her flesh. Templar Uther stood beside me, his gauntlet aglow with divine truth. “Swear fealty,” he said. She ultimately bent the knee.

“I swear,” she said, voice trembling, “to serve Kirin Keep and its Baronet, Lady Morgana, as steward and protector of her lands.”

The zone of truth shimmered. She could not lie.

I swore to her in turn, her and her people would have my protection. 

And so the province was mine—not just by decree, but by conquest, cunning, and oath. Let the world know: Morgana of Kirin Keep does not inherit power. She earns it.