Bale was sitting comfortably in the apartment’s main living room. He was rather astounded by the lavishness of it all. Being chairmen in was not at all what he thought it would be. [i]’Still, It’s never polite to look a gift horse in the mouth’[/i] he thinks, sinking further into the couch as he reminisced his travels to Nesia. 

He had not taken to travel in airships well, motion sickness quickly setting in. There was something about the floating vessel that threw his equilibrium for a vicious loop. Vomiting off the port side to the heckling laughter of sailors was hardly what he wanted for his first outing as an emissary for Avrith. Still, it had given him time to converse with a charming sailor woman (when his mouth was not otherwise occupied) who had been order to make sure he didn’t fall overboard (an endearing gesture until one realizes they would only get paid upon his safe arrival.)

He had managed to get his sea (er,…sky?) legs by the time they his Nesia. Idly, he hoped that the ship was back in town, he never got to properly thank the young woman for her companionship. “Bale,” says a voice, ripping him out of his thoughts with a flinch. “might you come in here? I have something I must talk to you about." Bale eyes his associate with muted annoyance, somewhat irritated by him not using the Mirn’s full title. He stands up, walking to the room. “Of course chairmen Sylian Simt of Avirth” he says, politely but pointedly. “How might I be of assistance to you today? I presume it is because of Prince Vina of Folgoth’s recent troubles?”