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*Funny... And here I was going to say that I didn't enjoy the commoners.*
Nonetheless, Marcello does a small bow towards Fate. Small, but low enough to make the lesser crown roll of his head. He was not used to wearing anything else than helmets on his head...
Picking the crown up, circlet might be more fitting, he puts it back on his head. "As you command..." He turns and follows Crystal through the main gate, back to the city.
Victor, comically placed in his throne, complete with upstanding head and open eyes, manages to shudder slightly, those taking notice might even notice his fingers furling and unfurling.
Victor suddenly sits up right in his throne, his eyes split up and feverish and manages to utter a few, feeble words: "The pain!" He pauses for a moment and falls back in his position, only to whisper a few last phrases: "Remove.... the... flesh. Tear... off... my.. flesh. It... burns."
Crystal looks around at the others, surprised at the outburst. "I'm not doing it." She says flatly, crossing her arms and looking at Victor with curiosity. Was this similar to what lay in store for her?
Shaking her head in disgust, she quickly walks forward, taking out her dagger. Without much hesitation, she sticks it into the wizard's chest, pressing down on it and slowly drawing it downward, opening his skin up from neck to groin. She then steps back to see if this provided the necessary relief Victor was seeking.
Victor's hand flexes, his fingers digging into his palm and drawing black blood that doesn't seem to flow.
Victor, whenever the rest of the group leaves the keep or is unwilling to command the constructs, commits to ensure a modicum of control over the mechanical beings. Unless anything spectacular happens, he merely resigns himself to keeping their standard directives active.
Crystal watches with a sick fascination as Sarcon flays the skin off the wizard, wondering if Victor's struggles are an effort to help or the frantic movements of a man being slowly peeled apart.
Marcello's search reveals that each lesser ruler had several ruined fineries, with only their crowns intact. The dead king was wearing large full plate armor and carrying a large heavy steel shield as well as a large longsword. They appear somewhat damaged, but were surely fine works in their time.
Notably missing is a crown appropriate to the great throne.
Based on your description, I'm not really sure how to value the sword, shield, & plate.
Crystal will also inspect the thrones each day until she is certain she knows their complete functionality.
Crystal spends her free time out amongst the City's rabble, preaching her religion and of course reminding them that she and her companions are now in charge.
Victor uses his first few days to fiddle through the initial pages of the Keep's archives, looking into the handwriting used and searches for the seal of the former ruler's noble house. Especially if it should be a ring or a loose seal marker.
He also uses a few hours to discover the old Lord's name and checks through the books to see if he can find mention of any remaining relatives or just to make sure that the line has withered away completely.
Fate claims the round table in the dais as her workspace while plotting her deniably sinister rule.
Victor commands the sentinels to begin their taxing duties, then retires to the library for some eyeless reading, because that's how skeletons do. He finds that the last ruler of the City was a giant from the northern wastelands who seized the throne by force and ended the previous line through bloodshed. The giant-king had no known relatives. The lesser rulers are mentioned only by first name, and no mention of dynastic privilege is found.
Sarcon giddily sits in the oversized throne and begins scrying on sentinels all over the City until he finds the half-orc Garroth. He pilots a sentinel around, following his apparent nemesis in a very obvious manner.
Crystal and Marcello take their new crowns for a test drive, enjoying the awe and respect they garner while strutting through the City, proclaiming the glories of some god they prefer not to name explicitly.
Victor, having learnt that the archives are clearly faulty brings the corresponding books back to the throne room. Only offering a short, unmoved glance at Sarcon before he brings over his light-weight, pre-prepared writing table to his own throne. He grips his feather pen, and after having dipped it gently in the ink house he proceeds to change the following factors in some of the available books. Specifically changing the following factors in the different books:
- The giant turned out to a blessing from the deities to the city, a just ruler that gave the city some of its finest years.
- A heir was produced through a blessing from Abadar, but the heir moved to Ustalav and it is hinted by old local rumors that the heir became a noble house, accord to the very same folktales, has been ruled by "fate".
- A neatly written folktale, dated back to a few years after the giant's demise. Detailing the events further. Of course, it has been written with the grammatical rules and writing methods of that time period in mind. Which Victor, with his great knowledge of language and history made sure to replicate to the smallest detail.
After having completed such a tedious work, Victor draws upon his knowledge of jura, nobility and history to replicate Fate's family tree and weave in the forgotten heir. The half-celestial towering man that to this very day has blessed the Fate line with unusual luck. Beyond that, he draws upon the lines of written text from the archive itself to replicate a will from the heir, one designating that the member of his line known as Victoria Fate should become the rightful taker of the throne.
After having done so, he returns his attention upon Sarcon, poking the savage on the shoulder. The skull remains closed and yet a cold, feelingless replication of Victor's voice flows through the room. "Cease your activity, Sarcon. We will have to change history here. How? Why, as it has been done before, by replacing it."
Victor doesn't falter, he keeps poking Sarcon until he relents... or tears his arms off. "I require the crown for my project."
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These construct guards may be commanded mentally by anyone seated in a throne. One or more of them may be scried upon as with arcane eye, but only one such sensor may be active at a time. What the eye sees is displayed magically above the dais in the center of the throne room. This action can only be performed by someone seated in the greater throne. If commands given to construct guards conflict, the individual seated in the greater throne has the final word. If lesser rulers give conflicting orders, the guards may simply stand paralyzed or may even combat each other
The sketal fingers clutches around the golden crown and Victor spares a moment to nod courtly towards Sarcon, before returning to his throne. He takes a seat and for a moment only twists and turns the crown between his fingers, then his empty skull twitches suddenly as Victor realizes that the construct's orders has been changed to something most despairingly and he turns towards Sarcon with a timid skeletal grin.
"Remove yourself from the throne and cease your control over the constructs, Sarcon. I cannot allow that you ruin our facade of goodwill through one of your whims. I shall say this only once."
"Lets just get some confirmation from her Ladyship before we proceed murdering her subjects in any measure preceding a handful, right?
"Her Ladyship has yet to complain, so I shall support the two remaining members of our group in the battlefield. Saron's tactic might not be opposed by her Ladyship, however, both Mister Winterish and Miss Crystal are currently in the city and it would be most regrettable if they were to perish. And it seem one of our strongest, most brutal members would rather fight through toys than meet his enemies in person."
The skeletal figure grips a clear cut wooden mask from his rope, pulling up over his skull. It covers both his eyes and mouth, leaving not apparent clues to how the being speaks or sees. With a set of two leather straps, the mask is secured properly to the skull and a hood is quickly pulled over it. Leaving only what could appear as a dark-roped priest of Norgorber. Victor sets out in a mad dash, not pausing until he reaches the stadium where he beholds from the lower seats of the spectator boots.
While Victor and Sarcon spoke, Fate stood silent with her arms crossed behind her back, turned away.
"Do not mistake the silence of Fate for lack of interest, Herr Viktor. A few moments of extra contemplation might save us veeks or months of trouble."
Fate lacks all of her usual flourishes As she turns, clacks of metal reverberate through the chamber. She lightly pushes her cloak aside as she turns, an afterthought.
"Vat are your intentions, Sarcon? Fate approves of a show of force, as it vould show the stability and power of our rule. However..." Fate approaches Sarcon with deliberate steps. "She vants assurances that you vill not take it too far. Ve do not vant the people to rally to the cause of our enemies."
Fate taps the chin of her mask.
"Cause...yes. The common people are lazy of mind, and will happily ignore the plight of their fellows." She tilts her head towards Victor. "Herr Viktor. You have done vell vith the spinning of stories. Could you perhaps engineer a pretext for this show of force?"
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"Ah, you have learned much, I see!" Fate holds up an open hand in front of her. "Ve vill turn the people against these so-called 'heroes' vone by vone by vone." With each of those last five words, she turns one of her fingers down, leaving only a fist.
"Und then..."
Fate slams her gauntlet onto the armrest of the throne.
"Ve vill show them their final Fate."