Alicia Le'roux-Lakeside

Alicia was probably the least rushed following the archer. She was hardly exerting any more strength or speed than the average human: despite the vampiric blood in her veins begging for an outlet for the vast amounts of frustrated, unfulfilled tension. She had been left thoroughly unsatisfied with the day's events. She'd been part of an only mildly successful operation, she'd not gotten a chance to fight the interesting member of the enemy party, and then she didn't even get to finish off her grunt. Oh sure, he walked away missing half of a face, but she would have much preferred the kill.

Alas, one can only do so much in such a heavily disadvantaged situation. The shade of the parasol was cooling though, as they headed towards the lake. She was unsure what to think of the man she ran beside: An idiot who fruitlessly began combat without even waiting for the front line, yet the person who most efficiently dealt with his foe. What he did after getting the first kill was a mystery. She had gone as far as to offer the second Half-orc's spine to him, and yet he never took a shot. Did he honestly not notice that? A dangerous lack of care for an archer, to be sure.

When Alicia arrived at the lake, alongside the inept archer, she was met with the awe-inspiring might of the queens. Corpses littered the battlefield like so many cattle at a slaughterhouse, and in the center of it all stood the blue-haired beauty and her lycanthropic mate. Normally it was an instinct to be instantly repulsed by the lupine monsters, but Alicia found her revulsion replaced by respect. Respect both for her power and for the simple fact that the attractive queen, who likely had her pick of the litter, as it were, chose the werewolf as a partner. You had to have something going to be made into a queen, after all.

The arrival of a bald man holding a gnome caused Alivia to sidestep the sniveling creature. She would have likely punted it, had the beast come close to her, instead of the queen. Thankfully, the Kobold proceeded to spill his guts...rather easily, in fact. Her thoughts went to Dirge, and the desire to challenge him returned.

And then Kasim decided to open his mouth.

The first urge was to kill him. She could just imagine the surprise on his face as he drove a Rapier through two ribs and pierced the heart. The fountain of blood that would follow should be a delicious bit of ramification for the slander dealt against her. She knew that urge would be unfulfilled today, but it didn't stop her imagining.

She walked up to Kasim and decided to do the only thing appropriate for such a slap in the face: a slap in the face. She delivered a quick blow to the archer's cheek, nothing bone breaking, but she hoped it left a red mark. "Are you done? I'm sure the Queens are delighted that you killed a single enemy..." she pauses and looks at the fields of carnage surrounding them. Had the archer really just boasted about killing one person? "...Although I'm sure they would be much less delighted when you tell them of how you spent the rest of the time seemingly playing with yourself, as opposed to helping the other fighters: A decision that has caused two members of the Queen's blades to die." Honestly, Alicia didn't even care about the deaths. The bug was interesting to look at and all, but she didn't even know the masked woman-man thing's name. Come to think of it, she didn't even know the archer's name.

"Now. If you are done polishing your little short sword, you would do well to show the monarchy some respect." Alicia turned her back on Kasim, outright ignoring him. It was about as big a disrespect as she could give to the contemptible creature. Such a low birth fool, trying to play the hero. She wouldn't have even said anything if his words didn't slander her.

Facing the queen of the Blades, Alicia paused to take a good, long look at both the Renaltan Queens, before offering a curtsy. "Queens of Renalta, my name is Alicia Le'roux of Liveria. To add to the archer's...report: we face three beings, only one of which was an orc, the other being half-orcs who protected the bomb. The leader called himself 'Dirge', a knightly orc who was as honourable as the archer is self-serving. He offered us the chance to retreat once the bomb was permanently sabotaged by our third surviving member." She points to Zayn, the first man to arrive. She left out a few details: the maiming of the orc, the way in which Dirge could communicate telepathically...all seemed like additions Zayn could make. She was trying to play the more humble card, after Kasim had acted the fool. It was the better way to stand out, after all.

Zayn - Lakeside Rendezvous

As he worked his way into the clearing, Zayn felt like he had been running through the streets of Southblood in the noon sun. The air was humid and heavy with the Queen’s magic, and the heat from the magical flames warmed Zayn’s skin. Zayn took a moment to take in the scene of carnage before him, and of course to take in the sight of his fiery employer. After catching the eye of both queens and seeing that any immediate danger was absent, Zayn offered them both a proper bow as the duelist and archer arrived on the scene.

He grimaced at Kasim’s boasts, and then at Alicia’s barbs. Zayn reached out and spoke into the other blades’ minds, If you’re going to fight, at the very least save it until we’re out of here. This day isn’t over yet, and your energies are needed to combat James Moriarty, not each other..

Besides, she’s only envious of your combat ability. That “duelist” wasn’t even able to best a single half-orc, unlike you. Prove yourself the better person now in front of the Queen, and then get back at her on your own time. Zayn whispered into Kasim’s thoughts alone.

Besides, you’ve already embarrassed him in front of the Queens themselves. A wound to an ego like that man's is a deep wound indeed. Continuing would only bring you down to his level. I'd suggest showing him his place when you don't have a royal audience. Zayn whispered into Alicia’s thoughts alone.

“Your majesties,“ Zayn paused, hoping Alicia and Kasim wouldn’t interrupt him with their honor duel, “the other Blades have scattered across the town to deal with the other bombs. Bravado aside, what the others have said is true. The bomb at the eastern tower is no longer a threat.” Zayn took a moment to hold up the triggering mechanism from the explosive, “Moriarty’s lieutenant was a telepath. Dirge was smart, efficient, and followed whatever our antagonistic illusionist’s orders were to the letter.”

“How else can we help?” Zayn finished, looking pointedly at Dean and his kobold captive.

Mars emptied the contents of a crate into a large bag which he promptly hid under the hay in the corner of the stable which kept his horse. He slid his hand along the side of his horse as he exited e stable, a creature with a horrendous coat, but a strong, smart horse none-the-less. Towards the town square the villagers were still picking up the debris, and aside from their commotion the town was quiet. Mars supposed that if there was still a threat to the village it would have descended on them by now. Deeming it safe, he made his way the lakeside where the Queens were supposed to be. Indeed, it appeared the Queen's had handled themselves quiet ably and where in no need of assistance, which was good considering Mars was beyond offering the assistance he felt paid for.

Besides the presence of the Queen, he saw the women from his own group, as well as three new Blades.

Lakeside

---

The lycan peers at the trio before her with yellowed eyes as they make a scene at the lakeside. She crooks her head back towards Kouri and huffs, tossing her head at them before she begins to stand upon her back haunches. As she does, her appearance begins to seemingly melt back into her human form. Upon her clothes, sigils burn brightly as she transforms. From her, popping, cracking, and faint noises of discomfort come from her as her body reorients itself. Back to being a human, she stands taller than Kouri, stretching herself out with a gasp and another sharp pop before the magic runes begin to fade and leave the clothes whole upon her. A simplified uniform more in place upon a noble man than a kind with a frock coat trimmed to fit her frame.

Alex pauses for a moment, taking a moment to brush gore and grass from herself that had stuck to her fur previously as she sizes up the three before her and tries to calculate her response. It was apparent on her face she wanted to go off on them, but with Kouri there beside her, she attempted to compose herself. “Listen, I don't really care if any of you killed some lackey or not,” she sighs and shoves her hands in her pockets. “Right now, you're all screaming of incompetence in some form.” She steps forward, “Cuz from what I've heard from the three of ya, is that you three barely scraped by disabling the bomb, while allowing the leader of the ruckus free to cause more trouble after he let you live. Your actions,” she gives a pause, allowing it to sink in. “Have brought the downfall of two of your compatriots. Two, who I might add, were chosen as carefully as you three for their own merits. Who possessed skills equal, not inferior, to your own in their own rights.”

Her gaze falls upon Kasim, “And yet, when there are still dangers to my friends and family, are here bragging and making a show about felling a single foe and seeking to do more against a foe liable to be far greater and with more followers at his command than the fight just undertook. I'm also hearing you simply idling about after this singular achievement, allowing allies to suffer their end. How many more will be allowed simply to die so one might bask in the limelight, hmm?”

Before Kasim even had a chance to respond or interrupt her flow, her attention snaps to Alicia, “This, followed by undermining and starting fights with your fellow Blades while there is still danger for this town. I don't know if you are aware, but here in the Blades, whatever social rank you held before coming here... It doesn't matter. You are all no better than each other. You may have your airs and flowered words, but I for one never cared for them. What I see here, are those equally to blame for the death of allies, shifting that burden as if they had no part in it. If you seek to impress us. Stand up to your enemies, not your companions... And take responsibility for your own actions, or lackthereof.”

Finally she directs herself before Zayn. “And, yet, the information is appreciated. You have done a good job in seeing the bomb disabled.” She bows her head, “You have my thanks this day for ensuring one part of this potential calamity did not come to be.” Alex looks at all three of them, “You all have my thanks, criticism aside. I am appreciative of all your contributions, minor or great. You have helped to save many lives this day, and I'm afraid I can't voice how much that means to me.”

She shifts back to Kouri's side, visibly stiff in her movements and the observant would notice her more than a little high-strung at this moment as adrenaline still ran through her and concern begins to slip through the flawed mask she had tried to keep it behind. “There's obviously more to be done in the town, but James is still a threat. I don't think he'll let us catch him so soon, though... We have no idea what he's capable of...”

"Amanda would know." Kouri states plainly. "She isn't due back for another week, however... We won't know anything more until the ball is settled." She says softly, more to Alex than to the trio. Looking around the area she spots others approaching. "I would say most of the Queen's Blades are experiencing some form of success, at least."

She relaxes some at that comment and nods, “We should hold off until Amanda arrives, then.” Alex looks out at the other arriving Blades and exhales deeply. “As much as I would enjoy ripping out his throat for what he has done...” she growls before reigning it back in, “It would be better to know what we're dealing with...” She searches the newly arriving faces. “I expected Mikan back by now...”

Out of the corner of their eyes, a small, brown ball of fur peddles its way through the waters of the lake, onto the shore. He stumbles and bounces his way back to Kouri and Alex, and hides between them: Thane, the marten, was safe.

---

Rayvon Krayvitch

---

Rayvon wipes her bloodied hand on her pants, Wayne failing to accept the ring and her donation of blood to him all but overlooked in the stream of villagers willingly running up to nourish him. She blinks and looks back at the carnage before shuddering and clenching her hand tight about the ring. The rogue was right, maybe. Wayne did not wish for the ring as a token or was too incoherent to accept it. The dead did not need it, especially a dead man who terrorized the people here. Confusion floods through her before she shakes her head, noticing people beginning to stream away from the Westward tower.

She crooks her head to the side, perhaps they were simply free and checking on their loved ones from this district. She allows her attention to roam across the area. The towns people appeared to be taking it upon themselves to clear up the troubles of this area. The commotions from East and West appeared to have died down. She had no clue what was going at the Inn, where she had seen so many rush off towards, but in the same instance, she did not wish to interfere. As much as could have gone wrong here, it was a possibility that a new presence might be enough to set off whatever foe was there and escalate the situation.

Her shoulders slump as she looks at the plume of fire. She had heard of the might of the Queens, so surely they must be faring well. Her presence would not likely be of use there. Guilt begins to flood her as she begins to walk the streets, holding the ring in her hand that she had been ready to act against another living man for. She did not wish to bear this weight upon herself. She pauses before a stone mason's before stepping inside, blinking her eyes as her eyes adjust to the dark. A man stood inside, holding his family close in the wake of the averted disaster. Rayvon flushes at walking in on such a personal moment, but before she could slip out once more, the man was looking up at her questioning.

“I am sorry, I... I had a request... The water fountain was destroyed... and it took the life of one of the Blades...” She shuffles on her feet as the man began to grow visibly irate. “I just thought, when you had time, if you could rebuild it... As a memorial to the one who sacrificed herself for this town.”

The man grows more somber at that and nods slowly, “Perhaps I can, when word has come that it is safe across the town and we needn't fret.”

Rayvon pauses before moving forward and setting down the silver ring and fishing out all the gold coins from her purse. “I hope this is enough...” She mumbles placing down the payment and turning to go, hastily. She felt embarrassed and dirty from utilizing the ring in such a way, but it put it to some use, and not as a mere thief's coin for self-serving purpose.

Departing from the stonemason's, Rayvon, at a loss for what to do with herself, heads to the lake. If the queens had any more instruction for her, she would fulfill that task. If not, she would return to the Town Square and help clean up the damage and see the dead to their final resting place.

Raven's Inn

Murderok the Horny
Gryff the Hung *like a horse*

---

Gryff and Muderok had followed Maher and Nadira to the top of the tower both having to lean down to prevent knocking their heads on the ceiling. The smell of the chamber was less than inspiring and the sight of the chest did little to encourage them. Gryff picked up the note and read it's contents.

"It's for you." He said handing the note to Maher. Without waiting for much by the way of confirmation Gryff turned to Murderok. "Nothing to hit on the head here Murd, but there is a bomb and a riddle, how about we go downstairs back to that big cat." Gryff turned to Maher and Nadira. "Hey guys, if you think you've gone and fucked up, please scream out so Murd and I can spend the last moments before it goes off playing wishbone with the Big Cats limbs.

Heading back down the stairs the two mercenaries went back downstairs to the big cat and decided that it'd be more fun if each grabbed a foreleg and hindleg each. A quick game of Scissors, Paper, Rock later and Murderok planned to take the left side of the big cat. "Now lissen here pussy." Murd remarked as he looked at the big cat. "Iffn our pals up there don't get this bomb right, our last moments will be tearing you in two, so be a good pussy and don't give us any trouble, or i'll take you like a farmers daughter looking for a good time, am I clear?"

Western Watch Tower.
Aëyr, selkie.
Abida, elf.
Gustavo, myster.

---

With a grunt of pain, Aëyr pushes herself off the ground, a hand placed precariously on her aching side. That kick hurt more than she would expect from an otherwise distracted guardian, but she'd gotten used to worse attacks. There was likely going to be some new bruising adorning her leathery skin, but definitely no broken ribs or damaged internal organs.

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any more fighting needed. Gustavo having been knocked aside, her companions had managed to take hold of the young girl, seemingly without harming her. Good. There need be no more bloodshed. It would suit Aëyr just fine to maintain the relative pacifism of her nature. There is little to be gained from killing those willing to be detained. And when faced with death, who wouldn't prefer containment?

Eü—

No. Now is not the time.

Looking over at her fallen companions as she rose to her feet, she saw that both the drow and human were being tended to by one of the villagers. Likely with far more skill than Aëyr could ever hope to achieve.

Looking over at Abida, she stepped forward and held out her hand to Gustavo in order to help him to his own feet.

As he stood, Abida levelled her sword at his chest. "Search him for more daggers," she said to Aeyr before addressing Gustavo. "Once we are sure that you are unarmed, we will accept your surrender."

Gustavo smacks the sword down quickly, taking a step back in the same motion, then hissing out quickly. "Your enemy will not be so patient with mistakes. Never level your sword to my chest unless I am on the ground. To my neck." He demonstrates by pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his own neck, indicating where she should put it. "Far more... Effective." He tosses the dagger into the dirt before him, then repeats this with an impressive seven more daggers hidden on his person. His hood continued to obscure his face, notable enough. "Now... Do you accept my surrender?"

After a moment's hesitation, Abida sheathed her sword and looked pointedly towards Gustavo's young charge. "Yes," she said. "I think you'll stay compliant." With a nod to Aeyr, the elf began to move off towards the town proper. "Keep an eye on him," she said over her shoulder, "and more importantly the small girl."

Impressed by the assertiveness of the two Aëyr was now bound to, she silently watched Abida stride away before turning to her own charge. She couldn't decide whether she could trust this man. He seemed willing enough to surrender, but at the same time, he had just tried to kill a lot of people. Did he even have a plan for escaping the bomb? she wondered. Did he intend to leave before it went off?

Foolish as it may be, she felt as though this man was willing to sacrifice himself, if not for the mission, than for the girl.

This could either make him an easy ally or a dangerous captive. She desperately hoped for the former, as much for their sake as his.

"I am Aëyr, and I have no intention of doing you harm." Her raw black eyes gazed placidly into his. "I swear to—" She hesitated for a moment, thinking things through. "—to honour your surrender on my own behalf and that of my fellows." She motioned over to the sprite and girl. "Shall we gather them? It might be wise to follow Abida and regroup, so that we may discuss your position."

"Indeed." Gustavo states, having nothing more to add to the situation. It seemed he was the type to stay quiet, unless she had any further questions for him.

Keeping an eye on him, Aëyr set about collecting them from the dirt and tying them—along with her sling—into her belt. She then led Gustavo over to where Draza and the young girl had run off to. "I would like to check up on the wounded, but we should quickly meet up with the others. There may yet be more to do." With a pique of curiosity, having been too preoccupied with her own affairs to notice, she looked over towards their mechanically inclined friend. "What's she trying to do?"

Maher & Nadira Adonai
Ravens Inn
Pretty Bomb Dilema

Maher looked down at the bomb and frowned, the riddle was fairly straight forward but depending on ones perspective could be solved any number of ways with the options available to them. "He has got to be kidding...." Maher said aloud as he looked down at the crystals.
Nadira shook her head "riddles... Why riddles!?" Nadira was never good with riddles. She knelt down to look at the images on the crystals and shook her head.
"Its not a riddle its a mind game." Maher replied as he ignored the banter from the two mercs leaving the tower. "It could be conceivably be any combination given the riddle and the symbols provided."
"Cycle of knowledge... Well the book to me seems to be a symbol of knowledge, as for the others.. The eye.. The planet.." Nadira threw her hands up on frustration. "I should boil his blood!"
"That would likely accomplish little." Maher said as he reflected breifly on his own rashness earlier. "I can think of a rationalisation for every possible combination of those symbols..." He added a moment or two later. "You were always lucky in the logic challanges father gave us, when actual logic failed you, you would still often come up with the right answer."
Nadira glared at her brother "those were not matters of life or death!" She sat for a moment before picking up the crystals. The eye first, and then the planet. "Cycle of knowledge... I don't know.. See the world perhaps?" She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "The book to me represents the knowledge, and the only thing I can pick would be man see's the world and in doing so gain knowledge" she looked to her brother for an opinion
"Its as good as any reasoning I can come up with for the posible combinations." Maher replied, "I'm happy to trust your gut on this."
Nadira just shook her head "I wouldn't" she muttered as she placed the crystals as she believed they should be placed.

“Answer with words or answer with your steel. Either way, I am eager to hear your response.” -Alicia, the Blood Duelist, Page 1.

---

West Watch Tower

---

As Draza speeds off with Meryl in tow, Maeven opens the detonator and finds an incredible complex set of mechanisms. Given a sufficient amount of time, she could likely understand it, but even at a glance she could tell what it was: Mechanist technology. Within the device she could feel the squirming of a soul, not human, though one couldn't tell if it had at any point been sentient. A device this small and simple wouldn't require a complex soul: Any living animal would do, really. Perhaps even certain, extremely complex plants.

As Aëyr joins Draza in her hasty retreat, taking Gustavo with her, she would hear Gustavo chuckle as he looked at Meryl, a slight, upward curve to the corners of his lips. "Really..." He mutters as he looks to Aëyr. She would finally be able to notice a red tinge to his skin, that alone might be enough to give away his birthright, given the circumstances. "You can tell your little friend she's dragging a doll anytime now." The lifeless illusion that followed after Draza stuck her tongue out at Gustavo. "You ruin all my fun!"

Meanwhile, Meryl appears beside Maeven, a small, black vial in hand. It was lighter fluid of some sort. "No explosion without this! Dirge said so." She says with a wild, mischievous grin. "Bomb is over there!" Pointing at the top of the outpost, one could see the crystals and the inactive bomb, partially disassembled. It would be of no harm to anyone. "No booms!" Throwing the vial into the air she points at it, and the fluid inside lights and explodes, shattering the glass around it. A small shard cuts Maeven's cheek, though only superficially. Meryl jumps in shock, then sees the blood rolling down her cheek. "... O-Oh, I damaged, sorry." Meryl says, with a surprising amount of genuine regret in her voice.

With the bomb defused and foes eliminated or captured, that left this area clear of any threat, as well.

Mission Complete.

---

Raven's Inn

---

As Nadira slowly fiddles with the bomb, removing the eye, the bomb shuddered, but didn't explode. The moment of truth came as she removed the second crystal, a white, searing bright light enveloped her and her brother, as well as the others just outside of the tower. Yet, no pain followed, and as the blinding light dimmed, they would see themselves inside a large Inn. The sabre tooth cat was there as well, it had apparently been keeping guard over the villagers, though as it awoke, it was no longer nearly as aggressive as it was before. Stretching out, he looks at the Adonai twins and seems to get a sheepish grin, exposing his sharp teeth before looking back at Murderok and Gryff, whimpering at his plight of having both hind legs held against his will.

The villagers inside the Inn seem to sigh collectively in relief as the militia burst through the front door. Seeing their friends and families safe, warm embraces were shared, as well as laughter and unbridled, pure joy in their every movement. They had done well.

Mikan slips away from the side of the sabre tooth. Pecking Aslo on the cheek, she smiles flirtatiously. "Well done..." Looking to Gryff and Murderok she places her hands on her hips, somewhat annoyed with them. "You can stop posturing now, I'm sure you're both big and all that... But you know... Ladies prefer men who know how to use them." Her eyes then wander over to the Adonai twins, a slight smirk crosses her lips looking them over. "Twins... Well, you both seemed to do well together. Nobody dies... Everyone goes home." Pulling out a dagger she twirls it dexterously around her hand for a moment, as a display of skill, before sheathing it again. "You're all welcome members of the Blades. I'll be sure to pass my compliments to the Queens... Speaking of, we should go see them. They should be by the lake. If not, they're already heading back to the capital." With that said, she moves quickly to the door, and winks one more time towards Aslo, before slipping outside.

Mission Complete.

---

Lakeside Rendezvous

---

At the lakeside, Kouri merely observed the scene that went on before her. Kasim admiring her garnered no real response beyond her shaking her head and muttering something about the infatuations of youth, though she didn't seem too bothered by it, either. Likely she was used to having men, and some women, admiring her where she went, and learned how to deal with it a long time ago. Albeit, Kasim's braggart attitude reminded her all too much of the many knights that tried the same when she was just a princess, and even some still to this day, who think two wives aren't... Capable, of bringing tools to the city gates. Alas. What little they knew.

Still. Alicia's belittling of him was taken way too far. Granted, Kasim's boasting was liable to be incorrect, but then, if that was incorrect, this was plainly stupefying. If this Alicia had any class as her bloodline claimed, it must have been entirely lost on her. Such a shame as it were: There were plenty enough wolves who hid in sheep's clothing, but she wasn't able to be particularly picky about who she could pick. There was no sense in throwing her away now, even if her arrogance was perhaps even greater than that of the man who just eyed her like a child would in a candy shop.

Then Zayn spoke, and was actually attempting to be helpful. Before Kouri could respond, however, Alex disciplined Kasim and Alicia. There was a small smile that greeted Kouri's lips, as her facial expression softened when Alex finally thanked them all for their help. Looking between the two, at this point, she felt she had to add something herself, even if her wife had summed up what she had been thinking. "Kasim, in the future, work with your compatriots. There is more honour and glory to be had in coming home knowing nobody died than in doing the same and having to explain to those you wish to win over, why it is that others they had hoped to see alive, are instead now feeding the carrion." She then turns her attention to Alicia, holding an almost special amount of annoyance towards her. "You come from a noble bloodline. Either renounce it or behave properly. You will not get special privileges by behaving like a drunken, abusive parent."

Finally, she could address Zayn as Zin, Rayvon, and Abida reach the area. Nodding appreciatively, she looks back to the kobold. "You heard what it said. James is long gone. We'll have to wait until scouts can confirm whatever he fesses up before we send you." She then looks back to the Queen's Blades, at least, those that were present. "Seeing as how the danger may not be contained just to this town, I will be brief, and I will inform the rest of your comrades when I can reach them. You've all been selected because you all bring some sort of special quality, identified either by Sarah Darkhammer or Amanda the Archmage. Maybe you are social butterflies, maybe you are warriors, maybe you are simply capable of doing what most of my morally ironclad knights could not. Regardless, you are the last line of defense against corruption. Your goal is quite simple: To serve the royalty of Renalta. To this end you will root out agents of the Nine Hells, and assist the other nations where possible in doing so, to secure alliances with us, or preserve existing ones. You are to gain as much power as you possible can muster, in men or magic, and when the time comes, bring it to bear against the incoming invasion. If you are successful, we will see through this long night. If you are not..." She motions around the area, the grassy hills, tranquil town upset by violence, the crystal clear lake they stood beside. "...Everything you see here, everything you knew, know, and will come to know... Will be consumed." She looks at Kasim. "All the women and glory..." Then to Alicia. "... Even those immortal, and civility..." Her eyes then move to Zayn. "Even concepts like freedom, even your lives... Everything will be lost if you fail. To that end, if you need anything, you need only ask, and we will see if we can get it for you. Manpower, magic... You will also have at your disposal the best tutors the world has ever seen. You will grow and master abilities faster than most could even imagine." Finally, she takes a deep breath, and sighs. "I wish you all luck, in your future troubles... Now. When you are finished with your business here, head to the stables and get a horse or riding lizard. Then down the southern road, back to the capital. In a week's time, there will be a ball, with important figures from all across this continent there... Be there. Beyond that, your time is yours to do with as you please for the week."

Kouri makes a quick motion to Dean, pointing in the direction of the capital he picked up on it and dutifully started dragging the Kobold over to the stables. "Oh, and..." Kouri turns and looks at Alicia and Kasim. "... You are figures representing the political body of Renalta. Remember that." She then leaves towards the centre of town, likely to try and catch the rest of the Queen's Blades. Alex follows her, and the two subconsciously go hand in hand, keeping each other close in such troubling times.

---

Transitions

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[Refer to OOC]

Transition - A Alicia Le'roux and Rayvon Krayvitch Collab

---

The events at the lakeside left Alicia with a bitter taste in her mouth. First the damnable archer belittled her efforts, then the queens felt her words were too harsh, and then: perhaps most biting of all, the damn assassin got all the accolades from the Renaltan royalty as well! It was enough to make a woman want to rip someone’s throat out.

Where was Jacque when she needed him?

The Liverian noble decided that the best course of action was simply to save face and leave. She offered a polite bow to both Queen Alex and Queen Kouri, as well as a curter one to the sneak who had, admittedly deservedly, stolen the spotlight from her: before departing the lake side with news of an upcoming ball cheering her up somewhat. She could perhaps prove her socialite pedigree there, and prove herself more than a spiteful oaf.

Away from the lake, she had her parasol aimed directly at the sun, shading herself from the oppressive light and away from anyone who might annoy her: it was a good enough system, until people decided to sneak up on you at least.

The last thing the paladin could possibly do, though, would be sneaking up on her as she approaches with chain and plate clinking together. She clears her throat to capture the attention of the vampire, whom she had followed back from the lakefront. Letting her Liverian commoner’s accent come through roughly, she calls out, “You’re from the noble courts back home, no?”

Alicia initially tried to ignore the clanking sound behind her, assuming that no one in that much metal would be after a social call with her. She was proven wrong when someone cleared their throat and, to her surprise: the familiar inflections of a Liverian accent caught her attention. She was positively beaming as she turned around, happy to grab a slice of home. To her surprise, she was met by the sight of a Paladin: armour seemingly catching the sun’s bright beams off of every facet of open plate. It forced Alicia to squint slightly, before she took a few steps towards the woman and raised the parasol over them both: blocking the sunlight somewhat. “Much better, my skin doesn’t fair well in the light you see: I don’t tan as well as I like.”

Offering a little curtsy, she took the time to examine the paladin: and found herself approving of the woman. “I am indeed of the noble courts: Alicia Le’roux, last of my line. It is a pleasure miss…?”

Even with the parasol blocking the light from above, the woman could be seen glowing with a faint light even still. “Rayvon Krayvitch. Of no noble line, I’m afraid. Though, my family has done service as Witch Hunters in the past.” She offers a smile before becoming apparently confused and looking up at the parasol above them. “Excuse me if I am wrong, but such a wonderful day, I would think one would delight in the rays from heaven above… Or are nobles far more delicate than I remember?” She chuckles more to herself at that, raising a questioning brow.

The fact that the woman glowed had Alicia close to snorting out in laughter: yet she maintained her composure, if only to attempt to prove to herself that social skills were still a skill she had. It was a pleasant light, one that reminded her of days in the sun: when she could afford herself such delights. “All of us have our delicate afflictions, Miss Krayvitch. I’m sure you are hiding a trick or two under those layers of steel: A naughty little secret that no one else should know.” She smirked at the woman, before lifting the parasol up higher, offering the Paladin the chance to freely move.

Rayvon gives her a quizzical look before stepping back and removing the hood of her cloak, letting herself bask in the sun with a pleasant smile. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ve no secrets to hide. Deception is far from my strong suit.” She sniffs and removes her gloves, tucking them beneath her arm as she pushes her hair back from her face. “Of course, feel free to discover it, if you must. I would be happy to know any flaws I might possess. How else would I work upon them, hmm?”

“Spoken like a true Liverian. I’m sure the Witch hunters are lucky to have you, Lie-less Miss Krayvitch.” Alicia gave off a little chuckle, amused by the exchange more than anything. “I’d be delighted to be given time to learn any secrets you might hide: perhaps over tea, or a spar, perhaps?”

Intrigue passes over Rayvon at that. “You spar? I would not have taken the delicate noble for fighting.” She smirks and shrugs, “We shall see. But I feel I’ve little time for play today.” She pauses, as if in thought before speaking up again, “Have you heard the tales of Arian Lake?”

The idea of delaying the pleasantries for another time was fine for Alicia: after all, she had all the time in the world. “You don’t need biceps as large as your head to fight. All it takes is a bit of skill and a lot of poise...” She taps the edge of her rapier slightly, as if to accentuate the point, “...: although dodging helps.” She smirks and leans back under the shade of the parasol, before speaking up again “Still, you have me interested: what are these tales of Arian Lake?”

She pauses, readjusting her weight and crosses her arms as she starts, “Well, we all hear about the indescribable beauty and purity of the lake. And even the occasional tale of the health of the lake being tied with the royal family… But there is another tale yet.” She licks her lips, nervous, “You see, they say that the lake has healing properties. Capable of healing afflictions of those who drink of it… But even more, they say one pure and noble, who if set into the water upon their death… Will come back to life, their soul swimming from the depth of the lake to reach their bodies.” She shakes her head, “I fear, though, that testing it on the compatriot of mine who passed at the city proper is impossible. Too far gone, her body ruined… But you had companions who passed on at the tower, right? Or atleast, from what I heard of the conversation…” She coughs, shuffling on her feet and apparently nervous to bring up such events, especially after the berating she had caught the end of.

“I fear I know none of them well enough to call them pure or noble. One was a strange thing that charged in, blood hungry while the other was...well...a bug. It skittered more than your average Court-goer.” She wiggles the fingers of her hand like some insect, trying to make a joke at her own expense. She didn’t know what this one thought of the nobles, but Alicia was aware that enough of them were detestable rogues that a Witch hunter might dislike them.

After all, she would probably top the list of detestable rogues, in the eyes of the Witch hunters.

She hesitates, stifling a laugh at the joke before shaking her head, “Perhaps. Yet, I imagine it might be worth a shot, to see an ally returned to the Blades. We serve a noble cause and I imagine every blade counts.” She sizes Alicia up at this point, uncertain what to think of this strange noble. The light aversion was enough to make her curious and wary, but her company was pleasant enough. “If you would not mind, would you perhaps lead me to the fallen? Even if the lake does not work… I would see they have a proper burial.”

Alicia could do naught but admire the stubborn-ness of the woman: She was determined to see this through, it seems. “We thought at the east-most Watchtower. When we departed though, enemies still remained. They were an honourable sort, of course, but still: they might still remain.”

Rayvon raises her chin, a steely expression on her face, “If they are so honourable, then they will allow us to collect our dead without harm. I will not see our compatriots become carrion for the ravens that still circle in the skies.”

Alicia pauses, then lets her shoulders drop in an open show of relenting. “Fair enough. I doubt anything I can say will stop you, so I suppose we shall have to stick together, we Liverian nobles, be it of birth or of spirit.” Alicia offers the woman a wink, before turning towards the east and beginning a brisk walking pace. “Let us go: The dead won’t get any fresher.” Her parasol seemed to bob on her shoulder as she walked: blocking out the sun’s rays yet allowing her the swaying grace that comes with a practiced noble’s walk.

Still puzzled, Rayvon watches her start off, shaking her head with a faint smile before following after with a commanding air. On the way, she attempts to strike up conversation with the noble once more to pass the time. “I cannot say I am aware of your line. Would you be so kind as to give a brief history to a curious commoner?”

She nods at the attempt at small talk: happy to fill the silence before what would likely be very morbid work. “You would be forgiven for not knowing of my line, for as noble families go, the Le’roux are infants. In fact, we only rose to the station of nobility in my father’s generation. We make our money off of the back of the silk trade. I, that is the Le’roux family, for I am the only living member, own three Silk farms and trade with some very fine merchants, both in the city and with the foreigners who come to the docks.” She spouted off the facts about her lineage like she was advertising the fine pedigree of her dog: despite how casually she talked about being the only living family member alive.

She chuckles and comments, “Then perhaps you are responsible for some of the finest silks I have ever owned. Of course, they are still in my travel bag, they hardly suit for anything but a special occasion. I would hate to ruin such lovely craft in the battlefield.” She rests her hand on the pommel of her sword as the tower comes into sight, suddenly vigilant for any signs of danger. “I have my speculations of you suddenly, you know. I imagine it is hard to rise to nobility in so swift a time. More so to do so in what would liable be my parents’ time without my knowing… You shy from the sun, even the reflection of it off my armour…” She pauses, “You do not happen to be another vampire, perhaps? Not of Malaki’s brood, though… The silver eyes would tell, then…”

Alicia is a bit stricken by the prospect of having been so readily ousted. She had hoped to keep her secret a little longer, if only for the sake of civility. Still, her little conversation partner had seemingly armed herself with enough facts to near enough figure it out. Alicia turns her head and smiles. “...Then perhaps you are right, or perhaps not. Unlike you, deception is very much in my nature: and secrets are oh so more rewarding when you find them out yourself, no?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “If you are so concerned of others knowing, then your secret is safe with me.” She scans over the area, taking note of the fallen littering the field. Any hostiles they could have come across were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the orcish fighter Alicia would have known of was no longer present. “If it would perhaps make you feel more comfortable, I will admit, I am angel-kin. Of course, there are those who are quite… Edgy about my kind, holding old grievances from the time of the gods.”

Alicia tutts lightly. “If you go and share your secrets so, I’m obliged to share mine as well. Indeed, I am a vampire: Diana’s brood, to be specific. I only keep up the visage of mystique because it is habitual. Apparently some nobles are less understanding about my heritage than you, as are most witch hunters. I am here with the Queen’s Blades at the behest of Xavier: he...informed me that refusal would lead him to informing other nobles of my secret. If I agreed to assist the Queen’s Blades, I could say the infliction is a war wound, as it were.” She obviously hid some details from the angel: such as how she sought out the Vampirism willingly, but still, the act of sharing was...uniquely refreshing.

“My mother would have executed you without a second thought. She was the Witch Hunter. I merely trained with them so I might have the skills to fulfill the duties I learned from my father’s sermons,” she approaches the first of the dead, a small thing that had any of them bothered to know the name of would be known simply as Child. She offers a quick gesture over her brow and heart to the dead and murmurs a soft prayer. “Personally, Alicia… I find no real hatred with the Vampires. I have my… pre-imposed notions of other races put into me by my culture, perhaps, but who would I be, to judge others for their kind when I would seek to be judged not for the crimes of Angels?”

Alicia had walked past Child and was moving closer to the fallen arachnid: Dreadfang. She once again felt the twinge of sadness that came with witnessing his, very literally, crushing defeat at Dirge’s hand. The denting in his chest cavity was painful just to look at. “It seems your mother had a bit of a wild side, if she chose to wed an angel: perhaps we could have got on after all.” She leans down and attempts to heft the Scarab onto her back, finding it surprisingly easy, thanks to her heritage and the fact he was a lighter, sneakier creature. “As for what it would make you: it makes you a good person. I’ve always been curious what that was like, perhaps you might show me in the coming time we spend as members of this orginisation.”

Rayvon has a fond smile for a moment as she lifts Child delicately into her arms, cradling him like a wee toddler in her embrace. “My mother was a good woman. Perhaps you would like her, should she ever be freed from the royal dungeon…” She shifts a hand, closing Child’s lifeless eyes, a hint of pain in her expression for this lost soul. “But, yes… I could show you. The Angelus Decretum, if I could manage it, would do well to be spread. Especially in a time of blight as this…”

Alicia shifted the parasol so that it hung off of the motionless body of Dreadfang, so that she might use both hands to carry the dog-sized Scarab. “Come now, let us dwell on less depressing things than blight and dungeons and religion. Let us talk about more interesting little tidbits. The ball, perhaps: or your own mission. I’m assuming everyone survived? Was there anyone particularly interesting on your team? You made mention of me as ‘another vampire’ after all.”

“There was one who sacrificed their own life in order to disarm the bomb. I am ashamed I did not know her name, given her martyrdom for the sake of so many…” Anger passes over her face for a moment as she recalls the events only so long ago, “One of the Blades defiled her body. And that of one of the vampires who passed. The cur… looted their corpses as if it was nothing…” She shakes her head, “But, yes… There were two vampires… Both of Malaki’s brood. One passed, taken by the explosion, but would have died regardless as he helped this James character… The other, kin of his, was wounded terribly assisting us. I suppose he does well, given blood to drink of in the wake of things.” She begins to walk back towards the lake, Child in her arms still. “There was… another interesting one, but a woman of terrible upbringing. Perhaps because she is drow, or simply because she is some uptight priestess of their culture.” She snorts disgustedly at the mention of her.

Alicia grins at the open disdain from the Angel-borne. It amused her, to be sure: but only because it surprised her. “Such disgust is normally reserved for lovers and villains. What on earth did she do to upset you more than the looter?” All the while, she began to follow after Rayvon, hauling the Scarab on her shoulders and balancing the parasol with relative ease. Vampirism sure had its perks.

Rayvon tenses and barks at Alicia, “She is no lover of mine!” She huffs and clutches the deceased closer as there comes a heavier, neigh angry motion to her steps. “The woman not only ignored the looting of the dead, but decided it was worthy to try and blast said looter away with magic over the organs of a deceased spider!” She fumes at that, barely giving pause for breath as she continues, “When I saw fit to interrupt it, the harlot stole a kiss from my lips and all but mocked me.” She sniffs indignantly, “So, perhaps she is a villain. She plays as one well enough. Such a temper on her over petty things.”

Alicia pauses at the sudden outburst, unaware that a person’s mood might shift over so simple a thing. Yet soon enough, the outburst becomes a bit more understandable and she giggles. “Truly? To think that a drow might be so scandalous. Still, your actions seemed to have kept a man alive, even if he was a cretin. Is that not worth a little indignation?” Alicia made a mental note to seek out this Drow at a later date, if only to see what kind of being had so easily figured out how to disarm Rayvon’s composed demeanour.

She flushes and shakes her head. “My dignity could take the blow, but the woman stole more from me than that,” she states simply.

“Your first kiss, then? Unless the drow is even more bold and even more swift than I thought possible.” Alicia takes a moment to heft the broken Dreadfang a bit more comfortably onto her shoulders: The scarab’s plating making it impossible to get a nice, comfortable position.

Her cheeks only serve to grow redder as she too quickly retorts, “This is hardly polite conversation for a noble.”

“Impolite conversations are the best kind though. Do you think anyone would actually want to be a noble if all we talked about was silk, honey and gold? Clearly you have much to learn about Courts and politics.” She was still smiling at the endearing sight of the armoured paladin with the pink-flushed cheeks, but she found her composure long enough to spot the lake in the distance. “Still, we can change the subject if you want. Are you excited for this ball to come? To think that we shall have a ball in our honour: the excitement is palpable.”

Rayvon furrows her brow, trying to coax down the colour in her cheeks. “I don’t really know. I do not really see the point in balls, nor have I the knowledge of what it must be like aside from stories. It might be pleasant, to learn more of other lands given the audience meant to partake, I suppose?”

“Old gods above, I think I’m going to have to teach you what balls are all about. One does not go to balls for simple pleasure: It is a show of power, as well as an opportunity to forge social ties. No doubt the Renaltan queens hope that we Queen’s Blades might secure friendships with any that might attend. Perhaps we might even find rumours, to be followed up by spies at a later time. You would be surprised how many noble families rise and fall upon the back of a secret spilled alongside the party’s wine.”

Rayvon frowns at that notion, “This ball sounds like a dreary thing. If I must attend, so be it, but I would rather spend my time in a more useful manner that does not indulge in the language of nobles and prove beneficial only to see skeletons to light that might be better unseen.”

“You can happily go to the ball and have a good time, my dear. If you so desire, think of it not as a time for that deception you think you lack, and as an occasion to wear one of those silk dresses you fear breaking. I’m sure a creature as radiant as you will be of great popularity at the ball. Men of all races and state shall line up to dance, I am certain. Men that would prove invaluable to the Queens, no doubt. Imagine the approval you shall gain if the radiant Rayvon might forge the alliance between a state and Renalta? There is power in a ball, and as Kouri said, our aim should be to gain power.”

Rayvon squares her shoulders. “I care little for power or approval, or…” she shudders and adds, “Dancing.” As they come up to the lake’s shore, Rayvon pauses, watching the lapping waves. Her attention averts back to Alicia, “Wait for a moment. There might be a chance for this one, but I am unsure how much can be done with that one… His body is so heavily damaged it may not do well.” As they look about, they would both notice the absence of the Queens. Only some militiamen could be seen, going about their business nearby.

“Dancing and fighting go hand in hand. We should make a wager when we eventually duel, but that is something for another time.” She places the broken Dreadfang on the ground, lying his corpse gently on the dirt as she watched the angel holding the Child-like corpse of the fallen. “Still, sometimes a man will seek you out just for the pleasure of your company...Or at least, that is what they will advertise as their intent. They would almost certainly seek a little bit more, not that any would dare try and take it by force from one such as you. A frail and delicate noble such as myself has much more to worry about.” Alicia offers the woman a wink, before plucking the parasol from the perched position atop Dreadfang.

Her amusement at the former piece of conversation was quick to die at the latter. A faint quiver comes to Rayvon at such conversation and she calls out, voice trembling, “Do not… talk about such. Not in my company. That is all I ask.” Rayvon begins to wade into the water, holding Child carefully above the lapping waves for now.

“I shall respect your wishes. It would hardly be wise to run off the first person I’ve been able to enjoy a civilised chat with since joining this strange expedition.” She smiles politely, watching the woman with a healthy interest. She wondered what truth there was to these waters. “I am sorry if I did offend you, I’m not sure on what conversational pieces are considered ‘safe’ among others. I have such a morbid curiosity, and sometimes I forget others don’t share it.” Still, as she sat on the lakeshore, she wondered what was really bothering the woman. There is shrewd, and then there is something a bit more.

“It is excused for now,” Rayvon calls back, now up to her waist in water. She worries what it might do to her armour and leathers, but cares little as she lowers Child into the depths of lake Arian. For a moment, nothing happens as Child’s lifeless form floats in the depths. Yet, even as her hopes began to sink, with the wind, whispers drift to her ears. Angelic voices, detached in gender, play across the lake. Her eyes widen as she looks about in wonder. Yet, still no stirrings came from Child. She blinks, getting the sense that one of the Royal line must be involved as she looks back to Alicia.

That is when one of the militiamen at the shore call out, “Look there!” in awe as he points to the lake. From the shore, those paying attention could see a growing shimmer of light upon the waters nearby Rayvon and the drifting deceased. Rayvon turns back suddenly and sees, there beneath the surface of the water an ethereal character, akin to the childlike one she carried in beating at the lake surface, as if barred by a wall. Rayvon jumps with a start, splashing back as she cries out to Alicia, “We have to get the Queens!”

“...” Alicia was admittedly dumbfounded by the display in the lake. She had been skeptical at first, when she had heard of a life giving lake, but there was something going on here: a powerful something. “I sure know how to pick them…”

Heeding Rayvon’s call, Alicia rises from her position, parasol in hand. She wished the sun was set, so that she might actually run at a fuller pace, but even without it she set off in a sprint towards the town. She had already made an ass of herself in front of the Queens of Renalta once, why not do it a second time?

Transition-An Alicia Le'roux, Queen Kouri, Queen Alex and Rayvon Krayvitch Collab

---

Under the dismal shade of the parasol, Alicia cursed her decision to talk with the paladin. Oh sure, she’d been civil company, and interesting enough: but now the noble was running errands to bring back the foolhardy masked...thing. All while forcing her to confront the Queens: the very same queens who likely thought her a fool, after the incident with the ridiculous archer.

She had to stop a few times, asking various militiamen where the queens were, and after a number of questions, she was at last told their location. The door seemed that the pair hid behind held a certain weight to it: it left the vampire uneasy, but none-the-less, she rapped her knuckles against the door. “This is going to go oh-so wrong.”

After a few moments of uncertainty, the door slowly opened, and revealed Queen Kouri’s soft and relaxed posture. The crisis had been averted, and the tense, commanding nature had left her momentarily to let her simply be herself. Inside, Alex stood close by, though seemed preoccupied with something. “Ah, Alicia, is there something you require?” She asks, looking Alicia eye to eye.

Alex looks on briefly to Alicia before turning her head away once more. They probably wished to speak to Kouri anyways. She stares at the windows of her old hometown, instead, a careful ear out for whatever was to be discussed.

Alicia looked first at Kouri, then at Alex, and then back at Kouri again. Her mouth felt dry under the weight of the pair’s natural presence. Every clever word or turn of phrase she would normally use to talk to an equals was gone, leaving her afraid to speaking: for fear of sounding like a child, and yet the fear of saying nothing and appearing the fool. After a brief moment to recover, she found her voice again. “Um...It...One of the Queen’s blades is trying to bring back the dead using some magical means with the lake and she apparently needs the magic of the queens.” Even after just having finished speaking, she felt stupid for having to say it. The two women probably thought her an ass now, more than ever: gods damn that Rayvon.

Kouri raises an eyebrow inquisitively, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the door frame. It seemed more amusing to her than surprising. “You can relax now, Alicia.” Kouri says softly, attempting to soothe what appeared to be frayed nerves. “If we thought you were unfit for what is to come, we would not have recruited you in the first place. Now… I’m the only one here who uses magic, how does Rayvon know this? Why?”

Alicia openly exhales, as if trying to expunge the tension from her mind. Feeling somewhat successful, she straightens up her back and looks at the queen, meeting her gaze. “I honestly have no clue. She told me tales about the lake and asked me to take her to the dead from the East tower. I was trying to make conversation because I’ve thus far alienated more than a handful of allies, and the woman shares a homeland with me.” She pauses, unsure of how best to word the next part. “We gathered the dead, that being the scarab-thing Dreadfang and a masked-humanoid who died before I heard its name. We took them to the lake and...magic I don’t understand happened.”

Kouri’s relaxed posture fades a little as a small frown crosses her lips. Glancing back to Alex, her tone reflected concern and confusion. “I did not feel anything…” She returns her gaze to Alicia. “You are sure it was magic?”

Alex pauses for a moment, looking between the two and shrugging, “I would call myself a fool before denying there are things you and I have not encountered in this world yet, Kouri. Maybe they have stumbled upon something. They always say there is a grain of truth in legends, afterall.”

Alicia took note of the shift in posture, and worried what that could mean. Trying to remain calm, she kept a mostly normal tone, although a hint of her worry slipped through. “I wouldn’t know enough about magic to say what it was, but something appeared under the lake. Something that looked almost-human.”

Motioning for Alex to accompany her, she steps out from the doorway and motions for Alicia to lead the way. Strangely she didn’t say anything, no attempt to motivate, and no plans. Despite what it could mean, Kouri didn’t understand enough about it. Still, the fiery, curious look in her eyes said enough.

Alicia nods at the queens as she acts the guide for royalty. It takes her far less time to return to the lake than it did to find the queens, and within a minute, she was back at the lake, with queens not far behind her. She glanced briefly at the dead scarab, mangled and crushed. “Rayvon is with the other one in the lake.”

Rayvon, still up to her waist in water and gently holding the dead Child nearby looks back over her shoulders, apparently more than distracted by the angelic voice she was hearing. She shudders, getting an eerie feeling before she waves back at the approaching royalty, “Alicia, thank you. Queens of Renalta, I’m sorry to bother you, but…” She looks about, looking if there was still a shimmer to the water where she had seen the ethereal form beating against the lakewater. “I do not think I can do this myself, and I thought… with the legends of your connection to the lake, there might be something to that after there being something to the other lore.”

Kouri looks at the lake, a troubled look was on her face. Alex, too, would sense the presence of something they both knew all too well. “Angel.” Kouri whispers to Alex, caution in her tone as the tension in the area immediately builds. What an angel was doing in this lake, Kouri did not know. As she edges closer to the lake, a small breeze starts to blow gently from across the lake towards them. Testing this, as she grew closer, the wind picked up in speed slightly. Backing off a bit, the wind then died back down to a breeze. “Strange.” Kouri says, curiosity starting to overcome her cautiousness.

Rayvon looks up at the changing winds before furrowing her brow, “Can you hear it?”

“Whispers… Nothing specific.” Kouri replied, though Alex’s superior sense of hearing picked up on the words. The angelic voice, gender still indeterminable, was asking for help, asking for the royalty to step into the lake so it could continue.

Alex crosses her arms, unimpressed for the time being. “It could be genuine… After all, we encountered angels willing to help in the past… But do you suppose it could be of the same sort as Typhon?... All this time, and the lake still…” She furrows her brow, head beginning to hurt at all this thinking. “Never simple with you, hmm, love?” she chuckles softly, on edge for any threat in the strange situation.

Alicia looked back at the queens, having listened in to the conversation and, frankly, having understood none of it: she spoke up. “So can someone explain to me what is going on? This is...beyond my experience.”

Rayvon shuffles her feet, beginning to feel mud sucking into her boots from the lakebed, uncertain what was going on herself. Alex, though happily bows to Kouri, giving her the floor being the mage and the royal from over 1000 years ago.

Kouri chuckles and looks at Alex lovingly, though the tension didn’t leave her, despite the warmth that came to her eyes. “It never is…” She then turns to face Alicia, and takes a deep breath, exhaling to calm herself a little. “During our travels to banish the gods, we encountered a very select few angels who were not loyal to the King of Gods, or who were, but after being informed of the atrocities the Gods committed, were swayed to our cause. There were, however, others, like Typhon, who were completely obsessed with my demise, or worse.” She grimaces at the thought of fates worse than death, but after a momentary hesitation, continues. “Regardless, I’ve yet to meet a weak angel. If the angel in that lake is in fact an enemy, they will be a very deadly enemy.”

As Kouri finishes explaining things to Alicia, a small bundle of fur bounces through the grass towards them. Thane, with grey whiskers, sleuthfully moves past Kouri and towards the lake. Diving in, he paddles about, and the lake seems to shimmer with his presence. Kouri giggles, realizing why after a moment.

Rayvon tenses at that bit of exposition on the past, “You cannot judge someone simply by their race, Queen Kouri. If there is someone trapped in this lake, you have to help free them. Please.”

Alex looks at Kouri, uncertain. There was some merit to those words, but the angels were not a sort she was so easily to forgive. Even if Archangel Myria had been the reason Kouri was alive today, it could simply have been a familial bond for such a miracle’s warrant. Yet, this was Kouri’s call, it would be her facing potential risk by going into the waters, afterall.

“And if that race was a demon, would you be so eager to free it, I wonder.” Kouri states, looking at Rayvon. “You don’t understand the complexity of this world just yet… But you will. Soon enough.” She looks back to Alex and nods, lighting her hands aflame as she approaches the lake’s edge. The wind picks up until it bellows strong enough force her to brace against it as she steps into the water. As her foot touches the surface, the wind suddenly dies, and she stumbles head first into the water. Now thoroughly soaked head to toe as her dress clung to her skin, she stood up, water rolling down from her hair. The blue hair dye had been drained from it, much to Kouri’s surprise, as hair dye was normally not susceptible to mere water.

Looking between Alicia and Rayvon with her long, black hair, she sighs softly. ”Beware what magic can do.” Is all the explanation she has for it as the hair dye visible moves deeper beneath the surface. Kouri then looks at the centre of the lake. Nothing was happening. ”There. Happy?” She asks, obviously somewhat annoyed.

Rayvon hesitates, uncertain, “Did you break it?”

A light starts to glow at the centre of the lake just as Kouri was about to respond. It slowly rises, the glow only growing stronger as it gets closer and closer to the surface until, finally, the glow stops, and in its place, a humanoid figure, male, with wings and plate mail floated alongside Child. Well, ‘floated’ was a bit of a misnomer, as they were still trapped just underneath the surface. Rayvon and Alicia would both hear the angelic voice in their minds, it felt warm and grateful towards them. “The Gods banished me here, but your queens can set me free, if Kouri would touch my hand, and pull me out… I can bring your friend with me, return him to his body.” Kouri stares at the angel under the water in disbelief as he reaches out towards her. “...Heh…” Without having to be informed, she reaches out and grasps the angel’s hand, and pulls him out.

As the angel emerges, life returns to his form. No longer ghostly, he regains his physical form as he emerges, along with Child, though Child was notable unconscious. He nods at Kouri and bows his head. “You have my thanks.” He then looks to Alicia and Rayvon. “You two, as well. Your friend will need rest.” He states, as he holds Child gently.

Alicia had been the silent observer of most of the events, watching with a mix of curiosity and a healthy dose of caution. Vampires were notoriously unhealthy in the presence of holy magic, and nothing was more holy than an angel. The very thought of being the agent of one’s resurrection probably should have held some ironic humour, but instead the vampire cautiously edged back a step at a time, trying to be respectful, as well as cautious.

Yet the angel decided to speak to her, directly into her mind at that. She was starting to feel her mind was a very fragile place indeed, what with Dirge speaking to her thoughts and now the angel as well. Still, she had no real choice but to respond to the angel, and she politely bowed to it. “What is your name, angel? I would know what being I have helped release today.” In truth, she hadn’t really done much ‘helping.’ She had fetched the body of one person and got the queens: any idiot with a note scribbled on their palm could have done that.

Rayvon stares upon the angel in wonder and his magnificent form. Her eyes dart to his back and the enormous wings sprouting out. A chill runs down her spine as her shoulders begin to itch profusely at the memory of months of healing. She closes her eyes and bows her head respectfully, none the less. “No need to thank me, it was not even the intention I set out with initially. Though, I am… happy, to see another of my ancestors walking this land, and proud that my actions could see to your freedom.”

The angel looks at Alicia. ”Gabriel. A simple, antiquated name, but it is my name.” He then moves towards the shoreline, placing the unconscious form of Child on the ground. Kouri looks at him, still wary of his presence. “We need to talk. Alone.” She motions to Alex and Gabriel. He nods in compliance, though looks at Rayvon. “Afterwards you and I should speak, it is a rare thing to see a living aasimar.”

Rayvon nods simply, “Indeed we should. I would greatly appreciate it…” Alex meanwhile sizes up Gabriel and shrugs, “Well, you haven’t started shouting and swinging weapons at us. That’s always a good sign.”

Alicia had managed to retreat backwards until she was standing beside the werewolf. She had not expected the side of a werewolf to be her safehaven, of all places. “I’ll be honest, I’m just glad not to be on the receiving end of any ‘righteous fury.’” It was said under her breath, more than anything: as if she were afraid of giving the angel any ideas. She turned to the Lycan queen to speak next. “Any idea what the angel Gabriel does? Is he archangel of truth, or fury, or sexual innuendo?”

Alex smirks, turning to Alicia to mutter back, “Please. Angels don’t have a sense of humor… And as far as sexual innuendo… I don’t think they understand how that works either… In fact, I’m pretty sure they just come in two types: Furious and really furious.”

Alicia pouts at Alex’s remarks, she was glad to at least be striking up better conversation. “I’ll settle for Archangel of not-setting-me-on-fire.”

“No, no. They’re far more in favor of squishing you to a pulp or slicing you in half. Kouri is the one that sets things on fire,” she kids with a faint chuckle. “Thought you at least knew the Queens you served, little miss vampette.”

“I can deal with normal fire, it is the ‘holy’ stuff that really ruins my good looks. I could go without squishing or slicing, if that option is there.” She lets her shoulders relax a little as she watches Rayvon and Kouri: both so carefree in their conversation with what used to be a symbol for tyranny. For now, she was just glad to have her parasol.

“Oh my, and you’re part of the Blades? Poor dear, don’t worry, I’m sure whatever you face will have other options to offer. Just watch out for giant sand worms… And exploding spiders,” Alex shakes her head with a small smile.

“Don’t forget demons: those are probably high on the list of options.” Alicia offers, with a her smirk growing into an at-ease smile.

Alex barks out a laugh, “Oh, of course. That too.” She places her hands at her waist, looking out over the lake, “You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the Crescent Moon Sisters, though, I’m sure. Ah, this Grand Ball is going to be fun for your lot. Still wet behind the ears and everything.” She was grinning ear to ear just imagining much of the infamous Heroes of Renalta back under one roof.

Intermission
Naraem & Esyllt

---

Naream woke up slowly, eyes opening and looked around with blurred vision before it cleared, he had woken up on the main labaoratory table in the pocket plane he had inherited from his uncle. But why had he slept here? Then it came to him, his latest experiment, his hand traced over the item and he felt the faint pulse, checking to be sure and then laughed softly. "It worked... the start of it at least." He muttered to himself and then reached for the necklace, activating it the portal came to be in front of him and he walked through, back into the chambers he had been assigned by the queens. "A new day, a new goal to accomplish." He muttered to himself still as he smoothed his robes out and went out. He had a certain golemancer to seek out.

The mission against the terrorists had haunted her thoughts and dreams. Never before had she fought a battle greater than a skirmish with common bandits; yet there she had enrolled into a war between planes. Of course, she had learned of the banishment of the gods, the conquest of the queens, and dabbled the mystic art of magic, but this felt unreal... And it was not just the battle either. Esyllt, tired from the previous day, laid in a chamber of luxury rivaling that of her lord. The touch of fine linen was pleasant as it was somewhat ghastly; as it's soft touch felt like an expensive bribe that yielded her life. Esyllt still held onto the soulstone Naraem had lend her as well... She was up against demons by order of the queens whom authorised resources such as human souls so easily and openly... A practice her home had always desperately to cover up... She thought, as she studied the stone she held in her hand.

Esyllt's thoughts were disrupted by a sudden knocking at her door. “Excuse me, a moment!” She called to whoever was on the other side, as Esyllt quickly put the stone in a drawer. She wouldn't want to scare anyone into thinking toying with souls was a trivial thing for her to do. Next, Esyllt pulled a green dress from her pocket dimension. She was in the presence of the royal family, so Esyllt knew she had better come prepared and dress the part. Even if it did mean her visitor had to wait a while longer.

“Naraem.” Esyllt said, somewhat surprised as she opened the door, “Thank you for your patience. I take it you've come back for your stone?”

He smiled and bowed lightly, "Indeed, it belonged to a fine warrior and I have a new skeletal body for it to inhabit." He paused, "Though I have to admit I had a second purpose, may I come in?"

“Of course.” Esyllt replied, stepping aside and making a small bow. When Naraem entered her room, she closed the door behind him and walked towards the drawer to take the stone from it. Although the use of it had made her feel nervous and it's presence made her uncomfortable, Naraem seemed to be proud of his possession.

“I apologise for not being able to return it sooner.” Esyllt spoke sincerely, doing her best to maintain eye-contact with Naraem as she remembered her inability to keep her promise to him earlier. Esyllt had never been arrogant, but she had considered herself a capable fighter... Yet she'd been unable to do anything of note in her last battle. Both her golems had been easily destroyed, and her telepathy hadn't reached any of her allies as she had fainted. Esyllt was therefore nervous of learning a second purpose of Naraem's visit. A split second she looked away, before ironing herself to not bow her head. She was one of the Queen's Blades now, she could not show a comrade her self-doubts.

“May I inquire what that purpose is, Naraem?”

He took the soul stone, tracing over it with his fingers, feeling the eb and flow of the soul within, smiling as he murmured something and felt the soul react. Putting the stone in a pocket of his robes he looked up, frowning, "Ah yes, I admit my memory is somewhat blurry of what happened but before I passed out and had to recover I recall a glimpse of the golem you managed to create, quite a impressive feat, especially since you had almost no time to prepare." He smiled.

"A question or two first. Your type of magic, the ability to create golems out almost nothing, quite similar to necromancy in some aspects. We both need the right materials to create a walking construct. But I am correct to assume, a golem you would create, it is reacting on instincts alone, yes? Not capable of complex orders or tasks?"

“Thank you, and indeed.” Esyllt admitted, relieved Naraem had praised her ability rather than to taunt it. “A golem uses the soul as a glue and a fuel, but it cannot employ the finer qualities of the human mind. It's understanding may rudimentary, but there are advantages to this. They are easily controlled and lack the sensitivity to be affected by spells that lower morale or induce fear.”

He nods, "Much like undead, although they are completely immune to matters that affect fear or morale, being dead and all." He chuckled as if it was a private joke and then stopped, clasping his hands together behind his back, he had made sure he had his gloves on and his arms were hidden by the sleeves of his robes, revealing one of his arms was entirely skeletal was perhaps best a secret still.

"The souls I use to power my more advanced undead constructs, like my wights, they are in essence, the warriors whose souls are stored in the stones and crystals I have. Only undead, they have their instincts, their training and experience they had when they were still alive. And that got me thinking, you see your golems are quite remarkable lady Esyllt. But imagine... how they would be if you say, were to combine them with a soul stone, crafted and focused by a necromancer? A golem, who had more than just instincts, the soul, the memories, the training of a sentient being as they had in life. It will be able to do more complex tasks and it fighting capabilities might be... Quite a sight to behold."

"So I had a idea, a proposal actually, I would like to ask of you to teach me golemancy, such a type of magic would strengthen my capabilities as a necromancer. In return, I was thinking I could teach you necromancy, if what I said interests you, because to me, it seems my magic combined with your golemancy could create... Something quite useful." He paused to let it sink in, "What are your thoughts on the matter?"

Esyllt was not of the same brand of humour as Naraem, but smiled politely at his joke. “An ambitious goal indeed.” The golemancer agreed, although she knew she was still far off from being a master of her own magic. There were yet so many scrolls left to study, and she had still not managed to grasp the delicacies of her father's recipes. Esyllt knew she lacked the finesse... Especially compared to Naraem's summons, whom had fought like true soldiers. Still; what was more frightening than a marriage of golemancy and necromancy? To play god to reshape and control life to the furthest extent imaginable... Naraem's enthusiasm was unnerving. Who was this man? He had fought beside her, but to give or obtain the potential for such power... Esyllt did not know if it was truly wise. Still, the war against the circles of hell was upon them and Esyllt could not take half measures if she was determined to play a part in it...

“If it is for queens and country,” Esyllt gave in, although not without hesitation. The stories of her father, who sacrificed his humanity for the power to protect his home, raced through her head as she made her decision. She had trained to become a knight for the same purpose, but yesterday she had come to face that her training up till now had not been enough. The gravity of her decision was already starting to weigh on her shoulders...

“I am no master, but I would be glad to teach you what I know.”

Naream smiled but his mind worked, she seemed hesitant at times even though it seems she was willing to teach him her art, then her little sentence of 'for queens and country' made him wonder and he grinned. "I will be happy to have you teach me what you know and I am certain you will be able to use aspects of necromancy for your golems. If you'd like I can also share a few tales of how I helped the queens banish the gods, if you are interested?"

Esyllt was struck with embarrassment and bowed before Naraem. “Then you must be Naream Baenre. I did not realise. Forgive my insolence towards a hero of Renalta.” She said, recalling his name from the stories she must had heard countless times as a child.

He chuckled, "Oh please, you did not insult me or anything, I was merely a apprentice at the time but I did my best to... help. But I will be looking forward to you teaching me and vice versa."

Intermission,
Featuring: Andrea & Alicia

---

The last rays of the that hated orb of blinding light in the ceiling, the sky, vanished as Andrea traced over her abdomen, the wound had fully healed now and she snorted, "Damnable aasimar vampire bitch." She recalled how that bitch appeared out of nowhere and threw those knives at her, wounding her. She looked around and frowned, so these were surface 'gardens' the royal gardens at that. She had studied the plants, the flowers and just did not understand it. Why did these surfacers keep these plants here, none of them had any or little nutritional value... and from what she could tell, none were useful for poisons. Not even a tiny paralyzing agent she could make, so why in the name of Lollth would these surfacers keep these gardens?

After the long day of forced sunlight, Alicia could almost feel the joy return at the sight of the moon in the sky. She collapsed her parasol in on itself and decided to take a walk around the castle grounds, perhaps she would be impressed by the Renaltan beauty, or perhaps she would meet another interesting individual. At least the daytime excursion had fed her desire to meet interesting people: The Queens, Dirge, Rayvon, all of them had left an impression of the vampire noble, and she was eager to see more of what the Queen's blades would offer her.

After a brief walk, she ended up in the castle's gardens, and she had to admit, she felt a certain mystique inside the carefully crafted agriculture. Liveria had less space for such showy displays dedicated only to that strange pursuit called art. Eventually though, she found herself stumbling on a different kind of rarity: a dark skinned woman with pointed ears. Was this the drow that Rayvon had mention? The one who had disarmed the paladin with a kiss?

She cleared her throat slightly, not wanting to appear as an assailant or an assassin. "A beautiful night for a stroll in the gardens, no?"

Her hand reached for a hidden blade at the sound of a throat clearing but she relaxed, glancing at the intruder, raising a eyebrow. "Perhaps for you... for me, beauty is seeing the luminescent crystals in cavern walls and ceiling. These..." She gestures to the sky were the first lights of stars began to peek through. "Stars as I am told they are called, pale in comparison." She blinked, "Ah, you are another of the Blades, aren't you, I thought I saw you before."She almost stumbled over the next surface word, Ceann had taught it to her and she still struggled with the concept the word implied. "Forgive... me, but all surfacers seem to look alike to me, most of them at least."

Alicia listens to the Drow with a genuine interest, noting the various little notes of melancholy in her tone, as well as the mild disdain. Hearing the passion in her voice was unique, so little was left unsaid. "I wouldn't be able to judge, so I can only take your word. To me, the stars are an indication of freedom: I'm sure the crystals mean something equally important to you." Alicia takes a few steps closer, slowly even, so as to make sure she remained nonthreatening. "There is nothing for you to forgive though: Most people are hardly worth remembering. My name is Alicia Le'roux, can I ask yours?"

She studied the woman, was she... trying to make conversation with her? She seemed soft, part of her thought that all surfacers were soft, but this one... she was tilting her head, the night allowed her to see better and notice certain things, this one had a hidden depth to her she sensed, that or she was simply paranoid. "Andrea Llolth'Allin, priestess of Lollth." She said after a moment of contemplation.

Alicia offers the woman a bow, bright eyes shining in the starlight as she did. "Andrea, a lovely name. I must ask you a question, Andrea, priestess of Lollth. On the mission today, were you working alongside a woman in armour and a man who looted..." she paused to click her fingers a few times, trying to recall the details. "...A spider, I think: A spider and another of the Queen's blades, I believe?" Alicia didn't imagine there would be many other Drow mage women in the Queen's blades, but she hardly wanted to strike up conversation with the wrong Drow.

Her eyes narrowed as she heard the words and remembered, she just smiled, while her eyes remained narrowed and filled with anger. "Yes... that would be me. Apparently, so my bodyguard tells me, surfacers have no qualms about... desecrating and killing spiders, aspects and treasured servants of my goddess." She had been on the edge of burning Ceann for withholding that information, she still fumed about being stopped to kill that heretic who defiled her precious spider, it had accepted her, became hers... and then it died... and she was unable to prevent it from being desecrated by a filthy surfacer. "What of it."

Alicia smiles, glad to have found the woman so quickly. "I spent most of the afternoon with the Paladin woman. She told me about your mission and about you, I was curious. It brought a smile to my face to learn you managed to disarm that one with a kiss, no less. Merely talking about it had her shaded crimson." She openly chuckled at the memory, even if she had held back when talking to Rayvon herself, it had been an amusing thing indeed. "I must admit, I know nothing about your goddess. Although desecrating a spider is not considered 'normal' by any stretch."

She rose her eyebrows, what would this surfacer know about her mission... she shrugged lazily. "She had me pinned to the ground, wearing heavy armour and clearly stronger than me, kissing her was my only viable method to surprise her and get the upper hand, it was apparently her first kiss however, how strange, since she is apparently older than twenty cycles and never...." She just shrugged again. "As for my goddess, she is Lollth, the spiderqueen, that title alone might indicate already how spiders are held in high regard in my society... and if it is not normal then pray tell why nobody, but me and the paladin were trying to stop that.... person... from doing whatever he was doing." She snorted again. "Though the aasimar seemed only intent to want him to stop taking from the dead and did not seem concerned with the greater crime he was doing."

"Apathy, mostly. I'm sure it will seem strange to you, but spiders are considered pests by most. Getting worked up about a spider would be seen by most as strange as getting worked over for picking a flower: yet some hold nature that highly, just as you hold the spider on an accolade." She reached down and plucked a particularly colourful flower, bringing it to her nose so as to take in the scent. "Me? I'm not much for religion: most would spurn me as an abomination, anyway." She offers the flower to the drow, uncaring if she took it to smell or not. "If you have any questions about the surface world, feel free to ask me. I'm trying to make the most of this little downtime we have. Allow me to ask the first question though, will the priestess be attending the ball, at week's end? I imagine you'd make quite the splash." She smiled at the priestess again, trying to play the socialite.

She rose a brow again, not taking the flower. "I will attend, yes." She said simply, if this ball was like any noble gathering back home it would prove to be prudent to be present and learn of the intrigues that transpire on the world under the sun. Something this woman had said stuck with her however, "Why would they call you a abomination?" She asked, studying her, had she been correct before that there was something unnatural about this human, if that is what she was.

"What is a woman without secrets?" She smirked at the Priestess, aware that the woman would likely think less of her if she suddenly dropped her little secret on the woman. She had mentioned she was an abomination so as to hook Andrea in, to make her inclined to seek Alicia out again, and perhaps learn that which she hid. Of course, there were enough signs that she'd figure it out eventually: she would just have to wait until the day time to see them. "I will tell you my secret when you can offer me something of equal worth, how about that for a deal?"

She tilted her head, "A secret for a secret, this kind of deal is not that uncommon to me." She nods slowly, "Yet how do I know how much 'worth' your secret is, apparently you are a abomination to some, here on the surface. I am from a whole other world where a different culture resides which might make your secret somewhat worthless to me." She smirked, wondering what the human had to say about that.

"I'm sure my secret would be worthless to you, when you return underground. Yet as of the here and now, that secret would allow you to manipulate me. You can imagine my desire to at least make the telling worth while." She eventually dropped the flower on the floor, looking up instead at the stars and the moon in the sky. The sight of it brought a smile to her face, and she looked at the priestess. "We can make a new deal then, if you wish. I tell you my secret, and you owe me one favour. Nothing too extreme, I assure you."

She curled her lip in distaste, "I'd rather not owe anyone any favours." She smiled, "Unless you are willing to negotiate for a favour in return if the one you ask for when the time comes, is too high a price. Hmm?"

"A very fair proposition. I am happy to agree to this: despite the disadvantage it places upon me. What is tonight if not a night for taking risks?" She offers the Drow a hand to shake, unaware if this was or was not the accepted way to seal a deal in her culture. "A deal, then?"

She stared at the hand for a moment, before recalling what Ceann told her and took it, shaking it oddly. "As you say... a deal."

Alicia smirks, before shaking the woman's hand a bit firmer and more sturdy than the strange priestess' own grip. "The thing that makes me an abomination is my Vampirism, and I am a member of Diana's brood." As if to show off the fact, she decided that a display was in order. She was tempted for something overt, like picking the priestess up or some such display of heightened strength. Instead she lifted the woman's still clenched hand and placed it on one of her white incisors, perilously close to the razor fanged tips, before releasing the capture appendage.

Something unwrapped itself from Andrea's side, uncoiling and leaping out, baring fangs, Andrea said a quick word in drow and the animated snakehead of her whip froze, about to sink it's fangs into Alicia's throat, her voice was cold. "Never. Do that. Again." She let out a cooing, soothing sound and the animated snake head turned back to her waist, the eyes of it glaring at Alicia. "She's very protective." Andrea said slowly, petting the head of her new blessing. "So, a vampire. Still don't see the damage I can do with that information, it seemed the townsfolk of that settlement seemed to find it normal two of their own were vampires after all."

Alicia's hand reached for a dagger on instinct and raised it to the Drow priestess' guy: although the snake, if it followed through, would sunk its fangs in first. "True, although that is not all of the secret. I keep the pretense of humanity up, because my home nation is less accepting than Renalta. It is revealing a weakness: not something I do lightly." She withdrew the dagger, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. "But still, I shall remember the slight debt we owe each other. I'm sure it'll be fun, after all."

Andrea traced a finger over the head of her snake whip and smiled, "Danger is always fun where I am from, because without danger... what is the point of living?" She grinned, "I must admit I enjoyed this talk, perhaps we will talk again." She snapped her fingers and from the shadows Ceann stepped out, watching over Andrea like she always did. "Until our next talk."

"I would be...glad to talk again. I will admit, I was not sure what to expect from Rayvon's less than satisfactory review. It is good to see that you are as interesting as I hoped." She had to admit, she was surprised by the appearance of the bodyguard. Not even a hint of suspicion had risen from the vampire, although she was surprised that the guard had let her get a dagger so close to Andrea. "Don't live too dangerously, priestess: You owe me a favour." She blew the Drow a kiss before turning her back to the woman and her guard, walking out of the garden with a satisfied grin on her face.

Intermission: Rayvon and Gabriel

---

Rayvon paces, donned in naught but simple commoner clothes and a thick layer of dirt. Her hands ached and were raw with blasters. She had spent much of the time since the departure of Gabriel and the Queens from the lake tending to the burials of her fallen allies in marked graves. Much to the protest of some others, she did not let a mass grave be created for their fallen enemies. That was where her new soreness and much of the filth came from. While others were refusing to dig the other graves or mark their final resting place, she had set about digging their separate holes and setting things to right. Fashioning markings for their graves was hard and she found herself having to settle for driftwood she had found at the lake, tied together with strips of cloth into a cross and jammed into the earth.

Now, though, her duties for the time-being over, after checking in once more with the stonemason to ensure he had the best representation she could muster for the fallen demon-kin ally at the Town Square, she was outside the inn, uncertain whether to bother the angel Gabriel or not. He had said he had wanted to talk to her, but would it be rude to arrive, sweat-soaked, caked in dirt and overall unclean and grubby. She wipes sweat from her brow, only serving to further streak her face of the dirt already present. She grimaces and wipes her clammy hand upon her trousers, bouncing from foot to foot. This was ridiculous, she should not be so nervous. Yet, how in heaven or hell could she not be. This was a true representation of all she hoped to embody. An angel of such presence it had been like a scorching sensation broiling upon her unorthodox sense of both the unholy and divine! She shudders, feeling his precise location still. With a huff, she hefts her bag and armour, clutching the sword at her waist before walking in and climbing the stairs. Her leaden legs groaning and biceps burning at the exercise after her day of activity.

She followed her extra sense straight to Gabriel's door before taking a deep breath to steele herself. With a quivering hand, squaring her shoulders and setting her feet in a respectful stance, she beats upon the door thrice.

As Rayvon is about to knock on the door, Kouri opens it and steps outside. It was the door to an Inn, and she had managed to, temporarily, get the entire place for herself to speak with Gabriel. The place felt warm to her, and welcoming, though Gabriel sat with his head in his hands, wings close to his body. There was a great sense of loss and remorse from him. "I brought him up to date on the last ten years." Kouri says softly, looking back at him with pity. "I would be careful. He is stricken with grief."

Rayvon hesitates, looking at Gabriel, “Should we not all be, given the course of events. Some good has come of it all, true, but at what costs.” She offers Kouri a slight smile, “No offense to yourself or the actions of those in your entourage meant, of course. It was a heavy choice with harm to come from either course, I am sure.” She bows her head respectfully to the queen she was sworn to serve before stepping past her and into the room. She hesitates before setting down her gear and advancing to Gabriel's side. Stopping there, she places a hand reassuringly upon his shoulder and inquires, “Is there anything I might do to ease your pain?”

He shakes his head, and takes a deep breath, then exhales, slowly. "It is a bitter irony. Your Queen banishes my home to save her life and regain her own." His hands lower from his face to reveal the small wet trails down his cheeks from his eyes. "I stood against Typhon in the hope that he would listen to reason... He did not. He banished me into that lake hoping I would go mad. Sadly for him, I did not." Turning to look Rayvon in the eyes, he looks her over, evaluating how much of her heritage came from angels before stopping at her shoulders. After a moment's hesitation, his eyes narrow. "You... Had wings."

Rayvon stiffens, taking a step back and almost stumbling. “I...” A frown settles upon her face before she nods slightly, “Had, yes... But however could you know that? I... I have not revealed that to a soul...”

"The way you stand, the shape of your shoulders..." He looks in her eyes again, his own hard and yet understanding. "...The look in your eyes when you look at mine." He slowly stands and flourishes his wings out, stretching them after holding them so close to himself. He was tall, and was both imposing and inspiring. "What did you wish to see me for?"

Her eyes trail along his form, spanning across the outspread wings with awe and an old sadness, weariness beginning to cross over her features as she slumps her shoulders. “Admittedly, curiosity... Aside from my father, I knew none of angelic blood in all my time. Now, an angel appears before me.” She lowers her gaze as she draws her arms about herself, “Perhaps, it is a desire for kinship I scarcely know... Or perhaps the fact I can learn more from you about my heritage than has ever been offered. Even my father's teachings were... lacking.”

He slowly wrapped his arms and wings around her, holding her gently. Especially now his towering height was obvious: Her head only reached his chest. "I can teach you, if that is what you wish... Kouri also informed me of an enclave of my kind. They may be able to help you as well."

Rayvon tenses at his sudden proximity before slowly easing into his embrace, pressing close and enjoying the strangeness of his radiance upon her senses. “For that, you would have my utmost gratitude, Gabriel.” Tears threatened at her eyes, joy filling her at the concept. Not just Gabriel, there were more angels. Excitement at the notion of meeting each and every one of them prickles under her skin, and draws a warm smile to her lips.

Quietly and calmly he sighs, allowing Rayvon all the time she needed. "You have been through much... Though you may be surprised, by us angels. We are fairly..." He seems to search for the appropriate word. "...Stoic, usually."

She hesitates for a moment before nodding, drawing back from the embrace and raising her head to stare up at Gabriel's face. “I think, after the characters I have met today, fairly stoic might be a refreshing break.”

"It is not easy." Gabriel says as he motions for her to sit down across from him at the table he was sitting at. He returns to his own seat, furling his wings to his back once more. "Especially since you are an aasimar, not an angel. Your human side is much stronger than your angelic one."

Rayvon moves to sit across from Gabriel, nodding her head, “Yes, this is true... But I hold myself far more rigidly to my moral creed than most would even consider.” She folds her hands in her lap, holding her head up proud, even though feeling dwarfed by the impressive Gabriel. “I err, as any mortal... but I strive to exemplify the best in all my forefathers. Which... is hard to do when all that meets your ears seems to be the tragedies some committed.” She winces, looking at Gabriel, “Not all the angels were like that... right? They couldn't all be like Typhon?”

Gabriel looks at the table between them, and makes a single motion with his hand. As he does, the dust in the room gathers to the table. The dust then forms into whatever he willed it to be, people, or otherwise. "There is one critical flaw in the ideology of angels, in who and what we are. To be incorruptible, we must stand by a strict set of moral principles and guidelines." The dust formed into an angel and a human on his knees. "An angel cannot be afforded the luxury of falling to darkness like a mortal can. To do so would be to create an aberrition." The dust angel turns to a dark red in colouration and strikes the mortal down. With a motion of his hand, it resets back to the angel and the mortal on his knees. "At the same time, we never question our code. To do so would be to invite corruption into places we cannot afford it, and thus, our loyalty, that we have towards our Gods, our Heaven, our code, can also lead us into committing heinous acts." Once again the dust angel changes colour, this time to a lighter, brighter tone as it cuts the mortal down in the exact same way as it had before.

"We are, in essence, victims of pure order." Gabriel states. The dust figures settle back down onto the table as he lets go of his will over them. "Regardless of how an angel feels, he or she obeys the code their respective god or goddess gives them. Many to the point of disposing of their own, independent set of morals. Your father, I suspect, however, was moral, and reasoned on his own, like me. It takes that kind of independent moral thought to fall in love with a mortal."

She looks at the dust on the table curiously as she raises her head to Gabriel, “With the heavens banished, must all angels follow their own morals, then?” She furrows her brow, “Yet, you were about during the time of the gods, why were you not bound to the will of one of them?” She shuffles awkwardly, “And if angels must now choose, how do they know the right path to order?”

"I would imagine they must, to some extent, though the Archangel is likely a natural leader for them." He states, referencing Myria. "I was." The tone of his voice shifts to regret as he looks back at the table. "And I was bound to the will of a God... I did not question it at first... Then I thought about it, after hunting a renegade angel, and realizing that angel was no more different than I, no less moral than I as he protected the mortals in the town he had hid in by revealing himself and taking the battle outside of town." The dust trembles a little, almost as if he was trying to think of more imagery he could create with it. "Order is not necessarily moral. That is the first thing you must learn. Achieving order is simple: Put down anyone who refuses to subscribe to your order, and yet, we both know that the Papacy in Rheinfeld is far from moral, despite attempting to enforce this.."

Rayvon furrows her brow, “Then why follow order so rigidly?... Why not strive to be creatures to exemplify the best of morals and protect people? Did the angels not have a choice before?” She looks at the dust swirling, confusion evident. “Shouldn't they have a choice now? In the wake of the demons and their heinousness, shouldn't the angels be there as a beacon to purity and what is right and just in such a dark time?”

"We follow order so rigidly because morality is subjective, Rayvon." He motions to the table once again, two figures appear, a mortal fleeing a second mortal with a purse. "A very simple example. A destitute, teenaged boy steals from a working class man to feed his younger sister. What is the moral decision? The teenage boy needs the money to feed his sister. The adult needs the money to feed his wife and children." He then looks up at Rayvon, eye to eye. "Even if you give them both money, this merely stirs the thief on to steal more. If you try to steer him on a better path, this doesn't stop other thieves from repeating what he did. In fact, more thieves might sprout up in the hopes of being caught by you, given hand outs by you. And yet, to strike the boy down, or imprison him, would cause the inevitable death of his sister. There are many millions of them, but not very many of us, and we must spend our time dealing with greater threats, like demons. Speaking of..." He motions, and it is now an angel and a succubi, the succubi is on her knees, hands placed in front of her chest. "These creatures require preying on others in order to survive. They are naturally prone to behaviours that inspire cruelty and evil, and yet, there are a select few who do manage to successfully adjust and save themselves from their own nature. Yet, if you spare this succubi under that pretense, and it predictable more often than not chooses to break its word and prey, say, on the teenage boy's younger sister, draining her, enslaving her, and then eventually killing her, who is ultimately to blame?"

He leans back in his chair, a contemplative look in his eyes. "Order is easy, simple. There are a set of rules, and you obey them stictly. In doing so you avoid corruption and chaos. To be moral you must first accept that there is no singular moral code that can cover all situations, and there are some decisions where no matter how hard you try, to make a moral decision favourable to one party is to spite another. To follow a moral code, to question authority and order, you also open yourself up to demonic influences, to dark, disturbing thoughts slowly being seeded into your mind by infiltrators, by agents, by creatures like the succubi who thrive off of moral indecisions." His contemplative look ends, and he looks her eye to eye once more, attempting to gauge her response. "As for why my fellow angels choose to hide in these times, that is a question only the Archangel can answer." He furrows his eyebrows. "I am confused about it, myself. Now more than ever is a time for angels and inquisitions."

Rayvon rests her head on her hands, brow knit in thought. “You bring up a very valid point, but I do not think there is no room for morality. Error happens, as sure with trying to be orderly as trying to be moral. What is orderly to one can just as certainly be unordered to another.” She raises her head, “Surely, if it means to allow such wrongs as the Rheinfeld Papacy or the destruction of Renalta, then there must be a time for morals to enter into the equation. Otherwise, allowing such travesties to continue, how are angels better than demons? They surely must wrong the mortal world as often.” She furrows her brow, “Rules also should not be so rigid, they should be able to change with a situation.”

She pauses, realization dawning from her own experiences. “Would you kill a man for defiling the dead? Or imprison a woman for murdering a rapist? Each situation should have its own thought placed into it.” She sets her eyes resolutely upon Gabriel, “Surely, there is room for order and consideration. No two situations are the same and should deserve their own sentence based upon the situation.” She shakes her head, “But maybe I am not cut out to be like the angels, then, Gabriel. You are right, perhaps I am far more mortal than angel. But... that is not so wrong, is it?” She purses her lips before continuing, “Were I an angel, though, I do not think I could sit idly by. I would craft my own sense of order.”

"I am aware of that. That is why I was banished in the lake for a thousand years." He grimances and points towards the ceiling. "They were not precisely... Ah. Immortality is... A highly overrated quality." He smiles, his terrible attempt at humour easily seen through for what it was. "And... I never said there was anything wrong with being a mortal, Rayvon." He frowns. "I tried to save Renalta, not burn it."

Rayvon smiles a tad, leaning back, looking up at the ceiling. “Gabriel, I am sorry if I... have been harsh with my words. My confusion, and trying to understand.” She sighs softly, “There has been... much for me to take in today.” She ruffles her hair, grit falling from her hair. “I cannot help but think, though, that there is room for a new breed of angels since the banishment of the gods... If that makes any sense. And maybe I am not the only to think so, given the lack of presence of the angel enclave?” Rayvon rubs over her face, “Or maybe I am just too passionate and steadfast in my own beliefs when there is still much to learn and consider in this world. I am... sorry should I have upset you, especially considering all you must have taken in today yourself.”

Gabriel shakes his head and smiles, there was a genuine warmth to him that almost seemed to emanate outward as he looked at her. "No, it is fine. The inquisitive and yet judicial nature of yours is likely the angel part of you, trying to seek out right where there is perceived wrong." He then looks at the door, narrowing his eyes. "As for the angel enclave... Something must be wrong. I cannot imagine my own kind going into hiding against a threat like this." His eyes then wander back to Rayvon. "You are the only other one I have met thus far. No sign of angels, or even other aasimar."

Rayvon tilts her head humming softly before speaking up, perhaps more than a little proud at his observation, “Then why tarry? Perhaps we ought seek them out and understand what is their reasoning? It does little good to idle about wondering, after all.”

"We?" He says as he looks around. "The mortals need you, Rayvon... Hm..." He suddenly goes back to his contemplative state, leaning onto the table with his elbows

Rayvon pauses before moving from her chair, going to kneel by Gabriel as she places a hand upon his cheek. “Perhaps they do, Gabriel. But I think they need you now more than ever. There is good for you to do in this world, yet.” She smiles, tipping his chin up like she would a child's. “As much as you must have lost, just do not think you are alone. So, do not succumb to pain while there is still a sliver of hope.” She withdraws her hand gently, a soft look upon her face as she moves to stand once more, grunting softly in discomfort as her leg threatens to buckle after the rough day.

Gabriel notices her exhaustion and immediately stands, gently holding her once more and guiding her carefully back to her chair. "Rest, it has been a long day..." The contemplative look fades as his eyes fill with determination. "You are right, I am not alone... Maybe I could convince some of your Queen's Blades to accompany me... Find the enclave, get answers, convince them to join your cause. Surely Myria will feel for Renalta's plight... She came from this place." He smiles warmly as he returns to his own seat. "Thank you."

Rayvon snorts in amusement at Gabriel's coddling of her as she sits back. She nods simply at his words those and speaks up, “When you do go, I would like to go, though. I...” She flushes and shuffles her feet, “I admire Archangel Myria, and it would be a pleasure to meet her, I feel.” She considers it, “On the condition I suppose the Queens do not require my talents elsewhere. I do have that duty still.” She raises her hand, waving away Gabriel, “And I already told you at the lake, there is no need to thank me. What need is there for thanks when all I have done is stumbled along being myself?”

"Because being yourself has freed me, and saved the lives of innocents. You deserve far more than thanks, but it is all I have to offer." He then stands up, looking restless and eager. "... I believe I will need to talk to your Queen. In the meantime... Stay safe, Rayvon. Unless... You would like to accompany me to speak with the Queen?" He offers his hand to her, so they could walk together. "I think I would enjoy your company, and I could answer more of your questions."

She perks up that, eagerly taking his hand and standing up. “I would happily accompany you, Gabriel.” She chuckles and shakes her head, “To think this day was meant initially to consist of droll induction ceremonies.”

Holding her hand gently, he moves for the exit to the Inn. As he does, his stoicism shows, between the proud posture, the raised shoulders, and his intense if somewhat soft look in his eyes. "Then with your help, perhaps I can convince your Queen to look for the enclave... Now, more about stoicism..." He starts to say as he leaves the Inn with her, not looking back or hesitating in his movements.

---

Intermission: Rayvon and Andrea

---

Rayvon sighs, looking out through the window at the night sky. She sighs and raises her leg, stretching lazily after all her walking about the castle. Most of the day, she had been following odds and ends leads after the last whereabouts of the Drow priestess. She sighs and lets her leg fall, only thankful she had abandoned her armour for some of the finery. As much as she enjoyed the extra activity of late, it grew tiresome enough with time. She looks at the library door, uncertain if she was quite ready to encounter the drow again after their last meeting. Regardless, she had made a promise she intended to keep. Quietly, so as not to disturb any scholars who might be within, she opens the door and walks through to search the stacks for Andrea.

She liked this place, it vaguely reminded her of home, the temple halls with various tomes. It seemed that being a Queens Blade had it's advantages when she asked if she could be here at night the old codger, who referred to himself as librarian, said she was more than welcome to come here and read. Ceann was somewhere no doubt, either watching her or resting. She had told her bodyguard to leave her alone when she visited this place.

She had a table with various tomes on them, at least she had made effort to understand the written language of the surface as she was bend over a tome, detailing some of the more recent history of the kingdom of Renalta.

Rayvon nears the table, peering at the title heads of the books before raising her brow inquisitively, “Shocking. I would never have thought you one to be reading up on such. Have you not heard of the reformation of Renalta where you are from? I could have sworn everyone knew of the events that transpired.”

She raises a finger, indicating for the aasimar to wait, marking the page and passage she was at before closing the tome slowly and looks up. "I come from the Underdark and news from the surface is not all that common there." Or to be more precise most of the news of the surface the Drow did not care about.

She looked the aasimar over, not wearing armour this time she noted, she would remember that if she would be body-blocked by her again. "I assume you have come for that conversation." She smiled, "Let me start things off, by introducing myself. Andrea Llolth'Allin, priestess among the Drow." She said, not hiding the pride in her voice while she inclined her head.

Rayvon arches a brow, leaning her hip against the table as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Huh, so I have a name to go with the fire-throwing dark elf, now.” She snorts and resumes standing upright, bowing at the waist. “I am Rayvon Krayvitch, aasimar hailing from the Kingdom Liveria.” She pauses, before giving an awkward smile, “I figured I ought give you the conversation, as promised. I am not sure we will be seeing each other for some time, given this impending ball and my intentions to accompany the angel in his upcoming mission to meet a particular enclave.”

She raised her eyebrows, "So the tales of a angel from that lake are true, fascinating.... Also it is not just fire throwing." She raised her hand and let the golden white light emanate from her hand, "As I said, a priestess." She shrugged. "But fire is always useful. Queen Kouri seems to like it too from what I hear."

"I am grateful that we can have this talk then, before the ball and your departure, what upcoming mission would it be actually, if you don't mind my curiousity?"

Rayvon squirms uncomfortably before answering, “We would try to sway the angel enclave we have heard of to our cause, if possible.” She looks at Andrea, furrowing her brow, “I wonder, though, whatever could you have wished to talk to me about, given you had such an apparent desire for more conversation from me. I cannot be terribly interesting to one such as yourself. Nothing more than plenty of other 'surfacers' could provide, I'm sure.”

"Perhaps, perhaps not. But there are several reasons, for instance, the way we came to be to have... words... only you and I reacted to what that... man... was doing, while everyone else just watched or simply did not care. That and I admit a somewhat, what do the surfacers call it, 'professional' interest because of your angelic bloodline, associated with the gods, well the surface ones at least. No angels below the surface, at least not the kind with wings."

Rayvon makes a show of looking over her shoulders, “I suppose, but it does not look like I have wings, either.” She shrugs and pulls out a chair, taking a seat. “And not all, but I do believe our vampire companions were quite addled by the situation. Perhaps we were just of the more observant at the time. Or maybe we were just lucky to be in a group that could not have cared less. There are others, I'm sure, who would have been so bothered to see an ally's body picked over by a vulture.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly, there were other vampires... and Rayvon here spoke so openly about them... that deal... that secret she had been given seemed rather worthless now, she would most certainly keep that in mind. She relaxed quickly however, proceeding to frown, "And yet the vulture received no other punishment as I understand it.

Rayvon tenses before nodding slowly, “Yes, but he will be a man to bring his own punishment down on his head.” She pauses, “I would not kill a man over a dead spider or man's worldly possessions. I pity you if you are, though.”

She intertwined her hands together and looked over them at Rayvon. "Different culture, different crimes, different punishments." She said simply with a shrug. "In my culture doing that to a spider is simply not done. And I read in the goblin holds, when someone says something that might for some inexplicably reason invite disaster, like 'this couldn't get any worse' the punishment is sand shoved in one's pants or leggings near the groin area and then the sand will either be heated or swirled around to cut and tear by a mage. Now that seems barbaric to me, but it is apparently part of their culture... or now it is with their current king."

She looked at Rayvon over her hands still, "Do you pity them too? If so consider this, your pity, might be seen as a insult to those people. Now I admit, I was in the wrong, I am no longer in my homeland so the laws of my kind no longer apply... and yet I thought I read something about 'graverobbing' being a crime in these parts and as I said, no punishment has come to this man, curious no?"

Rayvon raises her brow at that tidbit of knowledge before shrugging and tipping back her chair, stretching. “If we want to get into specifics, one could argue they were not in a grave yet... but while I think it is wrong, my actions against that man would have been equally wrong. If he were to do more harm than simply to dead men, then I will step in. He had a point... The dead do not need silver or gold, that... is just a comfort to the living.” She eyes Andrea, “But laws or not, there are some that make no sense in any culture. I for one, would rather forge my own way, regardless of if it breaks the laws. If there is a punishment to befall me for doing what I feel is right, then I will bear it without shame... Besides, mercy today may mean reform tomorrow. We cannot tell the future, no?”

"Well I cannot for sure." She smiles. "Now then... another thing that has been burning on my mind for a while... you seemed rather... distraught... after what I did to, ah, gain the upper hand. Enough so that apparently you tell others about it?"

Rayvon near falls back in her chair as that subject is brought up. She barely manages to thud all four legs back down to the floor as she looks at Andrea, cheeks flushing and uncertain how to answer. “It... was... a shameless thing you did. And without my permission. Of course I am upset by it,” she finally manages to say after a silence far too long and awkward for her liking.

She grinned, "Well you have to admit, I had no other way to get a heavily armoured aasimar off me... I was just shocked that it was your first, it did snap me out of my rage however." She nodded, "how did it feel?"

Rayvon frowns, glaring at Andrea. “Intrusive, unwanted and nothing more than a deceptive ploy.”

"Ah those were the thoughts that came after, I am talking, how it felt at the moment of the kiss." Andrea said, still smiling.

Rayvon frowns, “I don't see the difference. You still did it without my consent.”

"Hmm... you are interesting indeed, and you never did even..." She shook her head, not finishing the sentence. "Might I ask, why you never experienced a kiss or more before? You seemed to have quite a strong reaction when I asked if everything was, ahem, in working order?"

Rayvon furrows her brow, looking away. “It has just never been in my interests to pursuit it,” she puts it simply, leaving out the more complicated details of her aversion to such acts.

"Funny thing about being a priestess... you learn to see the signs when someone is not saying the full truth." She said slowly after a moment, looking at Rayvon, willing her to look back at her. "Even among my own people, who value their secrets and are loathe to share their pains in fear someone will take advantage of them, it is still considered a greater risk to keep it, as the surfacers say, bottled up inside you. May I share a saying among my people? 'No demons but you'. It means that the greatest adversary you ever face in your life, is yourself."

Rayvon levels her gaze at Andrea, “I have no qualms with myself or the way I live my life, priestess.” She begins to raise from her seat, “And I would rather not relive such times if I can help it. It is why my father lies dead, my mother is in shackles and I am without wings or innocence. Is that what you wished hear, Andrea?... I hope so, because I feel done with this discussion.” She begins to take steps away before she even finishes her words.

"I did not wish anything, merely trying to help for a error I did the first time we met, but if you like to walk away from your problems and fears then why bother?" She casually remarked to the retreating back, watching her leave.

Rayvon turns back, hurt in her eyes. “If you wanted to right the wrong, you could have just apologized, not kept poking at a subject I am obviously uncomfortable with.”

Sighing she pinched the bridge of her nose and gestured to the chair. "Sit... please?" She asked.

Rayvon pauses, no longer retreating as she eyes Andrea, uncertain what to make of the polite request. “And why should I?... So you can embarrass me and continue to pry into more personal matters?”

It was her turn to look hurt, "This is already going to be painful for me as it stands but apparently I have to, so please, sit."

Rayvon hesitates, still. Until she sees the expression upon Andrea's face. Guilt floods through her as she nods and takes her seat once more, sitting upon the edge and curiously wondering what Andrea had to say now. The shift in her behavior was... pleasantly surprising.

She sighed and took a deep breath. "I... understand there is now word for it in my language so I have difficulties saying it... but I... apologize... for my apparent rude behavior towards you." There she was able to say it after all. She had not been on the surface long, and Ceann has surprisingly amounts of patience teaching her thankfully.

Rayvon furrows her brow, “That... will do for now, thank you.” She leans back and crosses her legs, “Perhaps, you can fully right the wrong in the future.” She levels her gaze upon Andrea, “Admittedly, I don't know much of your culture, but I suppose it is different enough that... that really could have been hard for you. Even if you cannot reverse the act, that is... something, I suppose.”

"Believe me when I was first taught that word I thought Ceann, my bodyguard, was joking, it was... difficult to grasp. But apparently it is needed on the surface." She stalled, seemingly lost in thought. "To right the wrong... you... said what I did was wrong, because it was without permission." She blinked, "Are you saying it could be corrected then, if I had permission?"

Rayvon wrinkles her nose, considering it, “Perhaps, if I were to see fit to grant it. I do hardly know you, though. Or you I.” She shrugs, placing her hands on her knees.

Andrea furrows her brow, strange people these surfacers were, next thing they tell her she can't have sex without getting to know them? "Well from what I learned of you, you are a warrior woman, not afraid to stay true to what you believe in from the brief conversation we just had before, even if it is among different cultures and laws."

Rayvon raises her brow before nodding, “Yes. I also trained with the witch hunters of Liveria for a time, that I might have some skill to defend myself and others in my travels.” She pauses, “Perhaps you could tell me what it was like in the Underdark, Andrea... While knowledge of the surface is scant in your world, it can equally be said information is scarce of the Underdark here, and I have had little chance to read up on such topics. Perhaps you could share some of your personal experiences as a priestess with me?”

"I suppose I could share some, we are part of the ruling elite where I come from, at least the city I am from. We drow are not a unified race we are more lie... I suppose they share similiarities with the city-states on the surface. There's one ruled by a council of wizards, another by a queen of magical and divine power and my city where the heads of various noble houses rule, with priestesses to help maintain the laws and connection to our goddess, Lollth. But there are many dangers, I remember vividly, I was just a acolyte then still when the Ilithids... I believe you might have heard of them as 'mind flayers'? Raided along the borders of our domain, imagine a drow host... fighting against mind enslaved thralls of a most hated foe... and then that some of those thralls are drow they have enslaved and the only thing you can do to release them, is by killing them before they kill you." She frowned at the memory, it gave her some of the hardest lesson.

She smiled a moment later, "There were better things however, informing a matron mother she would be giving birth to a strong daughter who would make a fine priestess if she reached the age."

Rayvon furrows her brow, uncertain what to think of the mindflayers before she nods, “It sounds like you must have enjoyed your work. Did you always know you would be a priestess?”

She smiles, "I was told... one of the most poisionous spiders of the Underdark... crawled into my crib... and snuggled against me when I was but a baby. Understand, spiders are considered sacred, but they are still spiders so if they bite you, it is simply the will of Lollth.. I was not bitten, in fact it became my companion, my guardian. I was touched by Lollth herself and deemed worthy, so when I joined Arach Tilith to begin my training I was certain I would succeed and became a cleric, a priestess to my goddess."

She turned to Rayvon, "You mentioned training with witch hunters and I have heard others call you a... paladin... a religious warrior? If that is so, how did that came to be, unless I have been misinformed of course. In that case you can clarify it for me."

The paladin pauses before nodding, “I am. My father was once a preacher, spreading his faith to those who would hear him. He taught... many good things, trying his best to embody that which he preached and to be a good man. I suppose, I took his teachings to heart at a very young age, and given our ancestors, angels, how could I hold myself to anything less?” She furrows her brow, “Given what I have seen for myself of the darkness in the realms, I just never thought I could sit idly by... So I haven't. I took the teachings of my father, and that of the order my mother served and I have forged my own path to be of assistance as I may...” She looks down at the ground, “Perhaps a shame that I am best at bringing death than anything else, but if I could, I would see mercy where I could, in hopes that those I spare can do good with their lives too.”

"It would be a shame if you brought death if it was for your own pleasure, but you seem to do it to... do good, yes? To protect."

She shrugs, “Yes, I suppose. But I do not wish to be just some executioner. A warrior is not and shall not be all I am... I would hope, at least.”

She frowned and looked around, "I do not recall which book... but it was the tale of a warrior, he had been retired, swearing to never take up a sword again, but when his family became endangered he had to fight, but because of his oath, he could not pick up a sword. So he picked up a large smith's hammer, a tool. He would not bring destruction, he would cast down to build anew."

Chuckling and shaking her head, Rayvon rubs her eyes, “Exploiting loopholes in one's word, clever. Though, were such a day I cast aside the blade come, I would not envy his position and might do the same, then.” She rubs her eyes, blinking in the low light cast by the candles scattered about the library. “Do you intend to stay up all night, Andrea?”

She blinked, "Ah yes, I understand you prefer to sleep at this time, I'm used to darkness so I find this... oddly comforting." She smiled, "Call it homesickness but this place, at night, it feels like home."

She scans over the library, stifling a faint yawn. “I suppose I can understand that. Liveria is... different, but similar in enough ways to Renalta that I do not necessarily feel ill at ease. I will, say, though... I miss the gargoyles and looming cherubim that scattered across the city. It was as if they were always looking out for you, ready to spring to life.” She smiles and shakes her head, “At least, that was what I thought as a child.”

"Oh?" Andrea seems fascinated, "We have something similar, large spider statues and figures spread over the architecture, some claiming they are magical constructs that only awaken in times of need. That or they are just statues." She chuckles.

Rayvon nods, with a faint smile, “Perhaps one day you or I will see the other's homeland with our duty to the Blades.” She stands and looks to Andrea, “I should be off for the night, though. I spent much of the day looking for you and I... am quite weary, I'm afraid.”

She nods, "I suppose so, perhaps we will venture into the underdark some day or your homeland." She stood up aswell, inclining her head. "I wish you a good night." She then smiled at a sudden though, tilting her head to the side. "May I offer a goodnight kiss?" She winked.

Rayvon rolls her eyes, a smile playing over her lips. “There is no rule permitting you may not, but I think I would prefer we spend more time together before I were to accept.” She pauses as she readies to leave before moving closer and kissing Andrea upon the cheek clumsily. “Just... a token of my appreciation, for this conversation. It was... pleasant, after the initial cultural shock for us both.”

Feeling invited to do so she kissed Rayvon on her cheek as well, "It was indeed pleasant, perhaps we can talk again?"

Rayvon touches her cheek, surprised and cheeks picking up colour once more. “Ah, yes... I would like that.”

She smiled, the colour of Rayvon's cheeks was quite interesting, perhaps she could do things more that caused her to do that, but not now. "A good night and, sweet dreams, I believe the saying is?"

“You learn fast,” she smiles, giving a nod of confirmation. “Sweet slumbers when you make it that way yourself, Miss Andrea.”

She watched Rayvon go and then sat back down, opening the tome once more and resumed reading where she had left off. Her mind distracted by the conversation, it would... take time to get used to it all here on the surface, she decided eventually.

Intermission: Laenaia and Zin

---

Laenaia traced her finger against the spine of the books lined up on the shelf in the Library she picked for her talk with Zin whom she was sure belonged to the same vampiric brood as she was and unless she was mistaken, both of them learned magics that affects the mind. It would be nice if she can get along well with the other. Her finger stopped on one of the books, one with a green cover and yellowing pages. Taking the book out of its place, Laenaia brought it to one of the available seat provided for the Library's visitors. In any other time, she would have started reading, but at the moment, she was looking forward to being able to sit down in a quiet place and just talk. The vampiress flipped through several pages before pausing and looked up from her book to look for any sign of the other vampire.

Zin entered the library a couple minutes after the time Laenaia had asked to meet her there. She was normally quite punctual, but various minor events and barriers had conspired against her this day. As she walked into the blessedly shaded building she pulled back the hood of her cloak, letting free her short blonde hair for anyone who cared to look. Zin's eyes were unaltered today, the silver of vampires rather than the blue illusion she used as a disguise. Renalta was a very welcoming and friendly place for vampires, especially those of Diana's brood, so she often went about the city without bothering to hide her nature.

She spotted Laenaia fairly quickly after entering and headed straight for the other woman. There was no doubt in Zin's mind that the other Queen's Blade was a vampire as well, and one of her own brood for that matter. She walked over and sat in the chair beside Laenaia's chosen seat, letting her cloak spread open in the front to reveal a set of nicely made and fashionably cut linen clothing, brown trousers and a white blouse that were quite fitting for an affluent merchant, which Zin in fact happened to be. She greeted Laenaia with a slight but pleasant smile. "Sorry I'm late, it's been a long day. I almost wish I could be on another mission like Arian instead of doing paperwork." Zin lifted up her left hand to show a few spots of black ink marring her pale skin. "But only almost. How have you been?"

Laenaia returned Zin's smile with her own, "It's alright, I haven't been here long myself, though I would say that I wasn't burdened so much with the paperwork, it must be because of our differing . I admit a mission like Arian could've gone better and I wished I could've done more, it's embarassing to pass out like that. It's a vain hope, considering the reason the Blades was formed in the first place, but I do hope not all of our mission would be as...bloody as our first."

Pausing, Laenaia directed her blue eyes to gaze at Zin's silver before giggling and her eye color changed to match Zin's own, "I must say, it was a nice change that even when they noticed their first reaction was not to raise pitchforks and prepare a pyre. How fare thee, sister?"

A touch of worry and fear was evident in Zin's eyes when the other woman mentioned the possibility of more bloody missions in the future, but the change of subject put her mind at ease. "Yes, Renalta is a very accepting land. Far more so than my homeland. Liveria..." She trailed off with a faint smile and a shrug. Everyone knew how the Kingdom of Liveria felt about vampires and other such beings, so no more truly needed to be said.

"Yes, that's a place I'd rather not visit if I have the freedom where to go, much alike with the Templar Order's territory," replied Laenaia, shaking her head.

Zin nodded and continued on, answering the question she'd been asked. "I've been busy with the aforementioned paperwork." She indicated the ink splotches on her hand once more. "I discovered that when I'm not around the store very little of the tedious paperwork gets done, so that has been most my life since returning to Renalta. I found a bit of time to do some studying in the magical arts though, and I've been learning the rudiments of healing. After the messy business of Arian it seemed a rather necessary line of study."

"How admirable, then again, maybe you should consider getting a hand for it? It's highly possible that the mission we'd be send to would take quite awhile before we can return, though a trustworthy person might be hard to find...." Laenaia said, her face turn thoughtful. "Healing....ah, I admit that I also wanting to be of more use in the field and has been trying to learn another school of magic, but I didn't think to learn healing....maybe it's because I'm not as compassionate a person as you are. Or perhaps it's because I believe preventing it from happening is better than curing, after all, that's part of the reason we tried to veil our nature as a vampire with our gift, no? If only there's a way to hid it further in broad daylight."

Zin nodded once more. "I've been forcing others to learn the proper steps to the record keeping process, and levying some minor threats to motivate them to actually do it." For a moment she considered explaining the nature of the threats, but she figured that a threat to not take the blood her coworkers freely offered, a threat to her own wellbeing rather than theirs, would require more explanation than it was worth so she moved on without giving any details.

"I suppose you're right about the reason we hide our identities, but I can't really look at injuries the same way. I can't prevent them by harming others, it's just... not in my nature. The idea of killing someone, even if it's to save another, sickens me. Perhaps I'm overly compassionate." Zin sighed. "I'm somewhat regretting joining the Queen's Blades, truth be told. I feel I may have been naive to think I could truly help being as I am. I thought I could just help with diplomatic matters, talking to people, but it looks like killing people is the main part of the job description." She fell silent then, worry and fear plainly evident on her face.

"Violence is crude," Laenaia huffed. "No offense, but it's an important part of my life that I think it's a bit too naive to join an Organization that has blades on its name and not expect violence to be part of the job. But, haven't you heard? The sprite, Draza wasn't it?, Talked her opponent down, so it's probably just our bad luck to meet with the less talkable people."

"I'm not going to presume that I know what Queens are thinking," Laenaia said. "But, do you think it's possible that the missions we'd be send to after this would be more suited for our strength rather than general mobilization to all of the Blades to a location? The latter would point to a battle though."

Zin shrugged uncomfortably. "Blades can be used for things other than violence. Cutting food, opening letters and packages, making other useful tools, so on and so forth." She sighed. "I do hope that there will be jobs in which we can use our personal strengths, and perhaps avoid our weaknesses. Perhaps there will be need for ambassadors to other nations to recruit their help in this fight, or maybe..." Zin trailed off, deciding against bringing up her skills in breaking into places and picking locks. "Who knows? I would like to think that the incident at Arian was a very much out of the ordinary thing and that our missions from here on out will be less messy, but it's hard to say. The upcoming ball should be quite lacking in violence, at least. I look forward to experiencing such festivities again."

Laenaia shared Zin's enthusiasm, "There would be people to talk to, but otherwise, I do hope we can attend without worrying about the sun. I hope my dress hasn't gotten too small, it has been awhile since I last wore them. If needed, can I go to your shop to make one?" Laenaia said before realizing her mistake and covered her mouth with a hand. "Ah..."

"Well, I..." Zin paused, staring suspiciously at the other woman. "How did you know what my store deals in? Or you know something of it, at least. I never mentioned that we deal in textiles, and you seem to be under the mistaken impression that we make clothing as well. Have you been stalking me or something?"

"I..." Laenaia started, eyes cast downward. "I apologize...I might have...asked.. around about you and your store, although I might have heard wrong. It was childish of me, but that was the first thing that came to mind when I was..um, looking around."

"Looking around, hmm? Your hesitation makes it sound a less than reputable activity." Zin shook her head. "Anyway, the store just deals in cloth of all types. You could buy some there certainly, but you'd have to find a seamstress yourself."

"Again, I am sorry," Laenaia muttered. "I'll be sure to visit before the ball regardless, the seamstress shouldn't be too hard....I hope." Laenaia trailed and hesitantly looked at Zin.

Zin was feeling slightly creeped out by Laenaia apparently doing research on her, but they might be on missions together in the future so it would not be a great idea to express that and make things unpleasant between them. Instead she nodded and rose from her chair. "If you feel the need for a new dress, then I suppose it would be alright. There are a couple seamstress shops near ours that do good work, so it won't be hard at all. For now though, I need to get back to work." She hesitated for a moment before deciding on giving a parting courtesy rather than walking away then. "It was nice talking to you." With that Zin pulled up her hood and headed out of the library.

Laenaia gave Zin a nod and returned her farewell. Once the other vampire left her sight, Laenaia slumped on her chair and used a hand to cradle her head as her eyes shifted back to green. "That could've gone better," she muttered quietly. "I hope she's not going to be too defensive after this."

Her eyes moved to the unfinished book that she took earlier. Sighing, Laenaia decided to take her minds away from her current concern and returned to reading.

Intermission; Draza and Alicia

---

The ball was coming up, and while Draza certainly had an assortment of fine dresses for such an occasion, not all of them were exactly available to her. She knew that she was going to be going on some journeys, and helping out with these Queens’ Blades, but royal galas? That was… an unexpected addition to things. One that she didn’t really pack for. Specifically for a gala of such scope, one she hadn’t done since her days with the Papacy.

Now, she certainly could have sent a request for some more of her things from the Republic to be shipped, but that would be both expensive and perhaps untimely, the journey not necessarily safe from both humans and monsters. No, she had to get something here that was suitable for the event. Besides, maybe she could get something in a style or comfort unlike her other outfits.

She was not fully familiar with everyone in her newly acquired companionship, but she did recall something of one of them having relations with silk traders and the like. It would be a good first step to making more friendships internally, specifically after the whole event at the western tower that had made quite a few think of her less than she’d like. At worst, she’d be turned down, and have to go shopping on her own, and at best? Friendship! She liked those odds.

With a skip in her step, she went to the quarters she had inquired about, those of Alicia, and knocked upon her door, her knuckles rapping lightly against it as she spoke up, “Hello?”

The sound of rapping against wood was enough to stir Alicia from her reading. She had been examining a letter from one of her silk merchants. She wasn’t expecting any guests, nor was she expecting Jacque to return any time soon: he had brought her bottled dinner already, so that wasn’t it either.

With no understanding as to why she was being disturbed in this time, she was left with no more options than to go over to the door itself. She decided to retrieve a small dagger, just in case this was an assailant. Stalking over to the door in her casual dress, she decided to slowly open the door a crack, peeking out to see if there was an enemy at the doors. Instead, she only saw nothing-ness.

Confused, she decided to open the door fully and only then saw the tiny creature at her door. “Um...hello?”


Draza’s sharp eyes caught sight of the dagger, but she made no note of it otherwise, presuming it was just a precaution meant for intruders, not for her. “Yes, hello there, sorry to interrupt! Erm,” Draza timidly scuffed her foot against the ground, her hands clasped behind her and eyes averted, “So I heard that you have like, silk. So I was wondering if… you could help me get a dress of my size for the ball?” She turned her gaze back up, and flashed an innocent little smile, “Please?”

“You heard that I ‘like’ silk?” Alicia looked at the small fairy woman with a small grin forming on her face. She placed the dagger at her side, away from the tiny creature and move out of the way of the open door. “Come on in then, I suppose. What is your name?”

“No, that you erm,” Draza huffed impotently to herself. She righted her stance, and curtsied, “Thank you for your invitation into your chambers, I’m Draza Zorya.” Taking the invitation more fully, she stepped inside, “And you’re Lady Le’roux, am I correct? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship.”

“I’m not sure if I should be honoured or horrified that my name is spreading around the camp. Still, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, Draza Zorya. Please call me Alicia though; my family’s name is no way to address me in such a casual meeting.” She gently pushed the door shut behind the small lady, hoping to preserve at least some privacy for the conversation to come. “So you come to me, seeking a dress. I can’t fault you on your taste, although I am curious to know how you intend to pay me. I certainly don’t know you well enough to make a dress for free.” Alicia walked over to the desk, the Liverian noble folding up a number of letters, as well as gently pushing a red glass towards the back of the desk, away from focus.

Draza’s eyes went wide at the comment on the dress and price, “Oh no, Lady Alicia, I did not mean to imply that I sought one from you for free,” she bowed her head low, “I apologize for my failure in clarity, I will of course pay for the dress in full. I have money from my work as an aide and diplomat and I will get it changed to the currency that suits your fancy, if need be, in advanced.”

Alicia looked at the smaller woman, and then she smiled. “Not to be worried, Draza: I won’t fleece you of your funds. How about we agree on a small cash prize, based on how you like the dress?” She was smiling at the prospect, because she was going to gain a lot if this worked out well. For one, she would gain a small amount of income, and then there was the fact that her dress would be seen in the ball itself, and finally, she might make an ally out of nowhere. “No, to pay me for the work, how about we agree to you owing me…” She pauses, as if trying to figure out her terms. “...two small favours, to be called upon at my own time and pace...”

Favours, those were not exactly a safe nor sane manner of barter. Money, you always knew the value of. Bartered goods? Sometimes the value’s not clear. Favours? Those… were tricky. Sometimes worth far more than you would think. “It wouldn’t be fleecing to trade coin for silken fleece. Besides, favours make me uneasy.”

”A shame”, she thought, although her compatriots judicious nature was refreshing: if only because it showed some wisdom. “One favour then. I assured you, it will be nothing drastic: we can even include a ‘get out’ clause, if you so desire. Should I impose a favour too steep, you can opt out for a small monetary amount, to be sure. I will be honest with you, lady Draza, I simply don’t require the money at the moment, is all. It is only my time I seek to reimburse.” She offered the fairy another smile, before a thought came over her. “I forgot to ask, do you want a drink? By all the banished gods, I must appear to be a terrible host.”

“I appreciate the offer, you are being more than gracious a host for me, to have interrupted you. If you have sweetened milk or tea and honey I’d be more than glad to drink with you while we… work out the specifics?” she says, not necessarily asking, but her tone rising at the end with only a hint of uncertainty. “I’d prefer to get things in writing, so I don’t forget what the terms were,” a small lie, one that she normally pulls off well due to her demeanour. She wanted things in writing because oaths break a lot easier if not set in at least parchment. The few times she’s had them set in literal stone were also very binding dealings. “If it’s not a recipe or how to properly set a toy’s arm back in place, or birthdays, my memory is fleeting.”

“I can do milk or tea: I think milk shall be the choice though, at this time of night; one moment.” Alicia exited the main room and disappeared into a number of cupboards, accidentally knocking things onto the floor like boxed foods and a few bits of cutlery. Eventually she pulled out two glasses of milk: one normal sized one and another, much smaller glass, before pouring the milk. “I would have told you if you were an inconvenience, Draza: Your desire for a contract is understandable, I like to think of myself as shrewd, if nothing else: and you appear to be equally so.” bringing both glasses over, she plopped them onto the table and sauntered off in search of some parchment and some ink. “It is times like this that I miss my home, where do you call home, lady Draza?” she kept rummaging around in various corners of the room, trying to locate the paper that she’d either misplaced or simply buried under her other belongings.

“Shrewd, but not rude Lady Alicia,” Draza piped in with only a bit of a possible interruption, keeping her volume low. She took the glass and raised it respectfully before bowing and taking a seat at the table, “Thank you, Lady Alicia; I’m from Rheinfeld, the Republic one at this time, although I was originally from the union of all of it, a small village far from most of the bustle… and well, things change and I’m here now. For now, I think this castle is my home.”

She called back to the small fae-folk, still buried in a cupboard, looking for the blasted parchment. She should really ask Jacque to tidy this place. “Rheinfeld: I will admit, I have spent very little time there. It would be safe to say I am not welcome in those l-Ah-hah!” She triumphantly lifts up a piece of blank parchment, as well as an inkwell and a quill. The entire lot had been put together, as if once part of an organised bundle. “A contract then; do you wish to do the writing then? Perhaps it will ease you of any loopholes or trickery I might include.” she smiles at the woman, before sliding the inkwell to the fairy, with quill inside. Truth be told, the vampire loathed contract writing. She had written so many lengthy trade agreements in the decade since inheritance that her wrist wanted to cramp up at the mere thought of writing a document.

Draza smiled, wryly, “I would be glad to write it, if you can read my script,” she giggled. It was a fancy of her time in diplomacy, small hands could write fine print unlike most others, a skill that she sometimes had to use with very complicated contracts before, but here? It’d just save Alicia on some parchment. “So, will we be doing measurements before, or after? May I inspect the quality of the silk, and of prior tailorings of it? Work out a style, or at least see enough to trust you to wow me when I put it on and do a practice spin in front of a mirror?” she giggled, “Oh, and colours, and, oh do you do frills well? They’re difficult according to most for my frame to scale down, you need fingers so nimble… and fibre so pure.”

The excitable barrage of questions brought a wider grin to her lips, and she even let out a small giggle. “It has been a long time since I met someone so genuine and enthusiastic about a dress. I can show you a number of my own dresses, if that suits you: the quality of design and silk will be very similar. As for colour, I’m sure I can procure some dye here in Renalta. The frills will be a challenge, due to your size, but what is life without a few challenges, hmm?” she smirks at herself as she plucks the glass from the table and sips at it, happy with the way things were going. She didn’t know why she wanted to hoard favours so much, but it seemed wise at the time. She was sure that having a fae owe you a favour was worth more than a few coins, to say the least.

Draza was already writing out the initial details on the arrangement, namely very plain clauses to get out for both parties if things go awry. She could have tried to make it only for her, but that would have been mean of her. Besides, she’s wanting a friend out of this, and shouldn’t be too overtly distrusting. “I’d like to see both dresses and the material itself if that’s okay!” she added with a bit of chipper to her tone. More so than normal, even. She was having fun… writing a dress purchase and favour contract.

Basic agreements were written, namely her getting to investigate the silk with as many of her senses as she wished. In other dealings with tailors and weavers she had learned to ask for a sample of the silk or fibre, too small for even utility for her, as a token of competence. She’d later compare the the thread to those used in the dress, or other use (typically standards and flags, or tablecloths and napkins), to see if quality was up to standards. While she didn’t want to be too distrusting, that clause was included as well.

“Erm, I know the staple length of silk is rather long, and cutting it is… not ideal but if you happened to have a micron of excess for me to have as a token of our working together too, that’d be just lovely,” Draza said with a smile, “Less waste and a keepsake, good for all. Plus,” she sighed with a bit of a playful huff, “Quality assurance. Habit from buying napkins en masse for parties, you check the thread count, you check everything If you can’t rub it against your face and purr, it’s not the finest for a gala like this, no?”

Alicia felt a genuine surprise at the precise measure of the contract. The fact that Draza was being more competent than most merchants she had dealt with in the past was probably the first indicator as to why the fae had been chosen for the Queen’s blades. It was comforting to know that she was having an opportunity to make a deal with the fae while she held at least some of the upper hand: Draza was imposing on her, after all, which meant that Alicia had a bit of leeway. Were the situation reversed, Alicia dreaded to think what power the fae might have as a bargain-er or a politician. “I can produce the dress for you now. The silk is still being unpacked, I didn’t expect to require any so soon. It is a good thing that others have not been as swift as you, or I’d think the quantity of silk I’d brought with me insufficient.”

The vampire slowly rises from her seat, having drained most of the milk, and she moved towards the long, closed wardrobe. It was a person sized thing, and as she opened the door she revealed it housed a full-length mirror. Taking a moment, she plucked a particular dress from the rack, a long, flowing blue dress with a slit in the right side, for bearing the leg. “This is one of the dresses I’ve decided against for this ball.” She lays the dress flat against the bed, allowing the beautiful garment to take up half her sleeping space. “Take your time and examine the quality, perhaps while I read the contract, assuming it is done.”

Draza looked at the dress and audibly gasped, “Ooooh, that looks so, er,” she stopped at the mention of the contract’s state of completion, “Not done yet, I’m afraid, but enough is written to cover this particular instance.” Draza set aside her writing before moving over to more closely investigate the garment, carefully treating it with her fingers, “It’s beautiful, do you dye prior to spinning, how many ply, oh the craftsmanship is superb, do you make it in house yourself or, oooooooh look at the lacework here…” her comments bounced between asking questions about the work, and complementing the work rather quickly.

“I’m glad you appreciate the work. I must admit, I only have a hand in the dresses designs: Jacque is the man who does the actual work. He is a very useful manservant, to be sure. He could likely procure himself a job away from my side, yet he owes me a small debt which I always assure him he has repaid twice over.” She smirks at the memory of Jacque and her first meeting. It was a far simpler time, before she was a vampire and when she had only just become the last member of her line...strange times indeed.

She examined what was complete of the contract and nodded with an approving smile. So far, the contract had been as evenly weighted as she could hope: considering the judicious nature of her new found client. The only thing that truly concerned her was just how small the fae’s writing was. “Perhaps we should move on to the design of the dress itself? Have you any ideas, thus far?”

“Well,” Draza began, “I usually don’t like uni-taskers, clothes being no exceptions. Is your silk from worms, caterpillars, spiders, or something else? I’d like it to be more like two set pieces, each containing their own pieces of the dress if possible. Given how things have gone so far, anything that’s too… flowy and stuff, too loose?” she said, still tracing her fingers over the material of the example, “I’d like it if that would be attached with weaker seams. Not enough that a snag would take it apart, but if I’m running and someone stomps on my skirt that I won’t just poof over on the side.”

Draza gave a small cough, “But if you’re talking about design for the dress’ appearance, I usually look good in sunrise colours and warmer tones.”

Alicia is taken aback by the intensity of the fae. She spoke up about her desires so rapidly and so fluently that once again, the vampire was glad that she was not dealing with a regular merchant, and instead was talking with someone who wanted a favour. Alicia reached for a second piece of parchment and grabbed a pencil, before she started to sketch. “So a two-piece dress with light connecting seams. I must admit, I don’t understand: is flow-ee good or bad here?”

“Oh not just two pieces, but almost two garbs bound at the seams? The inner dress will be far more practical for movement, no good grab points, and I can run really really really really really,” she repeats that word, “Really fast away from the bad things. The Bad things that I really really don’t want to happen but after the whole… well, y’know, I figure better safe than sorry.”

“But!” she adds, suddenly chipper at fullness again, “The lighter, flowing, nicer dress that extends from it is just like a normal dress, or…” she ponders, “Pieces of one? Attached to the under ‘safety’ dress. So if all’s fine, I look great, if the manure hits the aqueduct, well, safety dress!”

Alicia nods as she listens in on Draza as her hands move to sketch long lines and smooth, gentle curves. She was working on drawing the fae herself, and had drawn the torso already before she started to detail the dress itself: a slightly lower neck; a slit on both sides that made movement easier, up to the knee; shorter sleeves, as well as a set of elbow length gloves to give the illusion of a full dress. “It has just occurred to me that Jacque is going to likely threaten resignation once I tell him your measurements.” Alicia chuckles at the thought, clearly finding it to have joke-like qualities, even if she seemed deadly serious about the situation. “Feel free to carry on with the contract while I work on the…” she clears her throat. “...Safety dress.”

Alicia spent a few minutes sketching more fine details onto the dress itself, as well as Draza. Once happy enough with the first draft, she stands up and places the sketch next to the example dress on the bed, for Draza to examine at her leisure. “Take a peek: the fact that you are having an under-dress means that this is the most important aspect. Not wanting to be a braggart, but a long, flowing dress in summer colours is not going to be difficult, for Jacque or myself.”

Draza took the sketch, and sat down with it aside the contract, quill in her hand as she investigated the finer details, “Hmmm,” she sighed ponderously, twirling the quill before it landed at the last line of the contract, “Your sketchwork is exquisite, and I can’t wait to see the dress in full, and proper mockups at that,” both details that she began to idly include in the contract. “What’s the Bradford count of your silk line? How much stress could it be put under? How much oooh it really is soft. You know, that’s actually a bit hard to do for someone of my size, Everything feels so much more rough than it does for others, I hear.” Draza’s rambling slows down into a nice pleasant hum as she rubs the garment against her cheek, “But this…” she sighs, “If you can make a garb in such detail with such fineness, I do not think I’d mind a favour; you’re truly doing me one for even entertaining the idea.”

“The Bradford count is used for wool, but not silk.” Alicia smiled at Draza, glad to see that the Fae was, for lack of a better word, human. It was gratifying to see the faults of an individual, because perfection was simply boring.

“Oh, I knew… that… yeah,” Draza said quietly to herself. What a little liar.

“I will make sure to pass on your appreciation of his work to Jacque: it might convince him to actually take up the dress, instead of resigning.” Alicia hums happily as she begins sketching the dress itself. For the second sketch, she avoids sketching the figure of the fae, not requiring it for looser garments. “I didn’t ask, but is there any style you particularly want to emulate? A high-necked Liverian dress perhaps or maybe something with a scarf, such as the Tulerian party goers prefers?”

“A scarf?” Draza echoed back, “Scarves are very pretty, but I… don’t know,” she twisted her face into a bit of a pout, “I don’t know how well that’d… oh!” her face brightens as normal, “There’s a scarf like neck fade you could do, it looks wrapped but it’s actually sewn into the back. I’m not much a fan of that style, though. I usually only do something like that when it’s a more direct meeting with Tulerians, and this ball…” her voice trailed, “I think it may be in my best interests to emulate most closely the courtly styles of Renalta.”

Draza paused, before speaking again, her eyes going up into nothingness and back to her work, “While it’d be more comfortable for me to do something like my dear home, I do want to show that I’m not just of that land.”

“The glory of Renaltan style is it is so very cosmopolitan: much like its people, it seems. I can incorporate a bit of your Rheinfeld roots and fuse it with a bit of Renaltan flair. It will be nice to introduce some colour to their boring, conservative attire.”

Draza giggled, excited about working on the dress in such detail. She’d have to recommend Alicia to those back in… er, wait, she’d not exactly be keenly welcomed there. She humphed and turned to the contract that she’d been idly writing on through the whole conversation. The parchment had started mostly empty, but by now, margins aside, it was practically full. Full in her own little tiny font. Various words, seemingly at random according to only a casual glance, were enlarged for some sort of emphasis, and there were places to sign, initial, date, and for even witnesses to sign. She didn’t actually recall including the bit about witnesses, it was likely just a habit for her while so distracted.

She hadn’t the time to read all she wrote through at this time, but she figured better safe than sorry, in more ways than just the dress, and quickly added a clause that would render the necessity of a witness unnecessary given specific circumstances. Circumstances that involved specific ink dating methods she knew of and a professional post-documentation witness to attest to their agreeing that a witness not being necessary. She’d have to get that settled in more official capacities than she could do here.

Otherwise, the document was rather fair, it’d just take a lot of reading over. At the very worst, it gave Draza a slight advantage, partially for the size of the font for clarity’s sake, and it being slightly easier for her to have an out from the favour and dress through a series of stipulations that would be a lot of effort to actually get to work in Renaltan court systems due to their basis upon older international laws that are not necessarily always followed de jure. Otherwise, fairly even. Or so she’d hope.

Draza looked from the dress sketches, to the contract, and back to Alicia… before shaking her hand, “Owwww, I wrote too much,” she whined, the soreness in her wrist apparent from the amount of script alone.

Alicia glanced at the lengthy contract with its only-just-legible font and she sighed. “If you ever find yourself out of work, I could do with someone this skilled at contract-work. Perhaps it is a knack, but I can tell when a contract is well constructed because I lose all motivation to read it.” She sighs, before looking over her sketch again, actually quite happy with the end result. It was form-fitting, without being form-hugging, and it allowed free movement, without sacrificing style.

Perhaps this ‘safety dress’ thing could catch on, after all.

“I think the next step is going to be measurements. I’ll need to factor in the under-dress when designing the more standard attire: It may require a bit of additional room, so as to avoid being uncomfortable. Do you know your measurements or do I need to find my tape measure?”

Draza looked down at herself, and gave a sheepish grin and shrug, “I knew my measurements before I joined these Blades, but I think I’ve lost some of myself in all the travels again. Soon I’ll be back to my Templar Measurements, whatever those were.” She shook her head, “We’ll need the measure, I hope it’s accurate.”

Alicia nodded, before walking over to the pile of Jacque’s belongings and procuring his tape measure. The fact that she was so intimately involved with the dress-making process was a rarity, to be sure: but she was admittedly enjoying it. It had felt like the entirety of the last decade had been dedicated to paperwork and balls. So rare was it that she got to practice the art of sketching and design that she worried she’d have forgotten how. Like riding a horse though, it remained ingrained in her.

She paused for a second, remembering the perilous state of her wealth back in Liveria. Would she be able to return to her farms and her fortune? If not, perhaps practicing this dress making talent would be more important.

She shook away the momentary worry, before leaning over to the fae. “Now then, I’d like to measure a few things: your height, waist size, leg length, arm length and bust.” Alicia motioned for the fae to stand up straight, so that she might go about getting the measurements. As she first tried to measure the fae, she realised the scope of her task, as the lines and measurements on the tape were obviously intended for someone that stood taller than her waist. She had to get down onto her knees in order to properly get the first measurement: Draza’s height. “Just under a foot and a half...45 centimetres; no, just below that.” She jotted something onto the incomplete sketch of the over-dress, despite how these measurements were relevant for the under-garment.

“This is not uncomfortable for you?” She looked over at Draza, trying to practice the more gentle approach that would have been shown by a craftsman to her, if it were Alicia getting measured.

Draza shrugged, “It’s erm,” she coughed to clear her throat, “It’s fine, yeah. I know I’m a handful, but fortunately on the account of my being so small, I’m only one handful.”

Alicia laughed lightly, a surprised little chortle at the sudden turn of humour. “Good, good. You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit heavy-handed, I am not so commonly the worker, more often the worked upon.” Alicia seemed to enter a state of concentration as she targeted the other required measurements: Arm length was first, 17.9 cm; then the leg length, for a slightly longer 20.1; followed by the relatively wide waist width of 10.1 and hip measurement of 12.3, followed at last by the slow approach of bust. “I’m going to measure your bust now, are you ready?” She was once again, drawing on her own experience with tailors, who would always announce the deed. It was a non-factor here, but still...emulating proper tailors, as opposed to her self-practiced art, seemed like a better bet here.

With a deep breath to steady any of her body’s sway, Draza nodded with an exhale, “I’m ready.”

Alicia takes the measurement of the bust sans breasts, which was 11.6cm. The full bust added another 2.3 cm, which she noted down on the parchment. “Last, but not least, the chest itself.” She announced, going ahead with the final measurement of 2.3 cm. “and there we have it, one set of measurements sure to have Jacque ripping his hair out: what fun this shall be!” She stood up, smiling at the fae as she picked up the incomplete dress sketch, now complete with jotted measurements. She started to consider how much extra to add, before deciding to leave that to the manservant. She had already thought of some ideas for the dress itself, which she started scribbling onto the parchment.

“Shall we then, sign the contract?” Draza said, moving over to the filled parchment of legalese and sliding it over to Alicia, “Or would you er… like a chance to read it first?”

“I think that, in light of this all: I’m going to elect to trust you with the contract. What I read seemed fair, and I hardly imagine you plan to cheat me here. Consider it an act of faith, if you will.” Alicia almost extended a hand to shake, but quickly thought otherwise of the manoeuvre when she recalled the petite fae’s proportions. “I hope this is the beginning of a healthy alliance...nay, a friendship even. For what is friendship without a hint of trust?” Alicia signed the contract with nary a worry in the world. Perhaps it was the demeanour of Draza that made her so likeable, or perhaps it was her it was simply the fact she had won herself a favour from an extremely competent person, but the vampire was in a fine mood. Also the fact that the fae was unlikely to betray a person who could probably eat her, if she tried hard enough and it was certainly improbable that the fairy would desire to betray her.

“Glad to hear that you’re willing to trust me! We’re going to be comrades in arms, trust is good there, and even better for potential friendships beyond…” Draza signed her pieces of the contract as well, rolling it up and keeping it close. “I would be off for reasons of the contract and… like making sure that it’s actually binding? It’s complex, contracts are hard work. And I would be off to leave you to your work or leisure, but before then, I’ll have to ask,” she stood up and straightened herself, “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime? Not as the contractual favour,” she assured, “But just as… possible friends? Oh and when’s your birthday? What type of cake do you like, what’s your favourite colour, do you like surprises, and do you like to dance?”

“You are an excitable one, aren’t you?” She giggled, hiding her mouth and, more importantly, her teeth. She wasn’t aware if her vampirism was widespread knowledge, so she wanted to keep it relatively under wraps. “How about this. On our next meeting, we can talk about birthdays and parties and such.”

Draza nodded up and down, “That will work, I suppose.” She gathered her things up, “So, until then, you have a wonderful time with your work and your friends and kin,” she said, punctuating it with a curtsy.

“I imagine the dress will be ready in two days. I will send Jacque along with it. I suppose you will be busy for the rest of the week, preparing for the ball?” She starts picking up various pieces of discarded parchment, inkwells, pencils and empty glasses, trying to clear a space so that she can continue with her work on the actual design. She had a much better chance of Jacque actually agreeing to this dress-work if he had a complete design to look at.

“Two days? I guess Jacque is both nimble and quick. I’ll look forward to its completion, but yes… I do have some things I need to attend to. Contractually speaking and otherwise,” she begins towards the door, “I’ll be in touch, and hopefully it’ll be a pleasure doing business with you.”

Alicia opened the door for a fae, before offering her a slight bow. “I do hope the dress will be to your liking, Draza: for the business has already proven pleasant.”

Intermission; Abida and Draza

---

Draza was up, right early as usual. The sun had not even begun to rise over the horizon when she was getting dressed and heading to the rather fanciful kitchens of the Renaltan Royal Castle. She had not seen such selection of ingredients and finery in appliances than even in her time in the papal castles of Rheinfeld. Perhaps their still conservative nature didn’t make them as open to these new experiences and flavours, or their less than friendly tolerant nature didn’t lend them to gaining such taste of spice.

But here, in Renalta, it was like being a fae in a candy store. Befriending the kitchen staff had been a top priority, and using her rank and kindness to do so seemed to be rather easy. It was almost like they never had someone cook for them for once, judging by their reactions. But that’d be silly, who wouldn’t cook these marvelous chefs and cooks and servants a meal in thanks once in a while? Draza scoffed at the notion of thanklessness in such a kind place, and went about her business, going through the assortments of flours and sugars for her baking this morning, smiles and greetings with waves to the others there, and a flower for each of them in thanks and payment for her use of the facility. She didn’t have to pay them anything, but a kindness was a great tip.

As the small sprite rounded a corner into another passageway on the route towards the kitchens, Abida stepped out from the wall. It seemed the servants she had asked had been correct about the sprite’s routine. Bowing her head, Abida addressed the woman. “Fair morning. I was told I might be able to find you here.” Giving a small smile, she continued, “It seems they were correct.”

Draza eeped, dropping her handful of ingredients back into their bags, turning around to the surprise guest. Abida, the not so very nice girl who did the thing to her arm that made it hurt and, “Oh, fair morning to you as well, who were correct?”

“Some servants,” she answered with a dismissive flick of her hand. “They find it easy to remember encounters with the highly generous sprite.” Looking at the sprite, she saw the wide eyes and hastily filled bags. Getting down onto one knee, she bowed her head once more. “I did not mean to frighten you, little one. I sought you out to apologize for my actions in Arian.”

“Oh,” Draza said, her voice small and face partially downcast, before her face lit up bright, “I’m so glad you came here to do that, I mean, not that I thought you had to, but I do really appreciate it.” She looked up at Abida, who even on one knee and bowing was taller than her, and with her lips pursed together in a quick musing, she quickly bounced forward and wrapped as much of the woman as she could in her little arms, giving her a hug before almost bouncing back in a quick rebound. “You’re forgiven, immediately and without any ill will from myself to you,” Draza said, matter-of-factly, and nodded with conviction before turning back with a grin to her work.

Abida stood quickly after the sprite had let go, surprised by the innocent earnesty. “Thank you,” she said, “I am Abida Qisaf of the Free Holds, and I believe the servants said your name was Durza?”

Draza set aside as much of the bag as she could carry into a measuring cup, pirouetting over from it to face Abida once more, doing a curtsy before offering her hand and wrist for a shake, the hand caked in flour, “Draza, actually. Draza Zorya of the Rheinfeld Republic, former Templar, former Papacy diplomat, now and forever a friend.”

The elf had to stoop to reach the sprite’s hand, deciding it was better to get flour on her hand than reject the offered shake. “Former? Do you no longer consider yourself a part of your life before the Blades?”

“Oh, heavens no, not that. I mean, I was once a Templar, years ago, and then I was a diplomat for the Papacy… years ago. They were phases of my life, maybe, but they were things I did, not who I was,” Draza tries to clarify, talking over her shoulder as she continued to try to do some of her baking even if interrupted. The cookies weren’t going to make themselves, were they? No. She’s not magic. Magic cookies would be nice, but she didn’t have that knack. “More recently I was a politician in the Republic, and well, my heart will always belong to my family and people, I’m now part of something bigger, and the whole world is my family and people now. So many people to help, so many smiles to raise and all!”

Abida’s face grew sad at the sprite’s enthusiasm. “I fear there shall not be many smiles on the path ahead of us, little one. And many who will be beyond our help.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Do not burden yourself with such mighty tasks. You seem like one to take failure close to heart.”

“Lady Qisaf? If you don’t mind me saying, but nerts to that attitude,” she said, stopping from her work, her tone oddly contrasting her face, “I’ve served in with the Templars, I’ve seen friends who were as family to me die protecting those they love from things dark and wicked. I’ve been so close to death myself already many times before. Smiling is a far better approach to fate than letting it crush you. If all I do is make the people around me able to smile, then I’ve done good. I can’t save people like you can, like others can. We were lucky, that you were skilled, that Meryl was as she was, that things happened as they did because none at our tower died. Because unlike others, I can’t save lives from danger like that. But if I can make surviving better…” she sighed, and continued back to her work after the interruption of passion, “Then I’ve done good. We all save lives in our own ways.”

”You may be right,” Abida allowed, “I hope you are. It is a grim world that relies on steel and blood.” She paused to rub at the tattoo’s by her eyes. “And I am no Lady, though I admit I am flattered by the mistake.” With one final bow she turned away. “At the ball then, Draza.”

“Have the most pleasant of times from now till then and forever more, Lady Qisaf,” Draza said, emphasising the title in hopes of imparting the importance of it upon Abida despite her insistence contrary.

---

Intermission; Draza and Townsfolk

---

It had been an interesting morning, to say the least. Draza was fortunate that one of those from her time in Arian had come to her personally to apologize about even their slightest of misgivings and behaviours, and that immediately set her day off to a rollicking good start. But now, she had a cart paid for, and cookies and pies and cakes and breads and sweltered meat that glistened in its own juice and honeyed exterior.

Just on her journey through the streets, a small selection of pickpockets had tried their hand at her wares without her permission, and one by one she called them out as they passed, and gave them a larger share of the goods as a gift from the Queens, not from herself. This food was on her coin and their luxury and if anyone could do with a brightening of a day it was the people in some of the poorer parts of town, and anyone with more loyalty right now it’d be the Queens. Love like this could not hurt.

Eventually her cart and carriage took her down along a block of houses, interwoven through porches and patios that linked them across streets. There was some bustle and the sound of hammers upon nails and saws through wood, and children playing underfoot. Streamers of colour hung above, and Draza had been behind enough parties to know what was going on.

Moving slowly still into the neighbourhood, Draza stood up upon her ride and took out her lute in preparation, “Hark, dear friends around, do I hear this sound? Children play and bound, mayhap party found?”

From above in the work upon the project, a dwarven man with a long beard even for his stature spoke down in a sweet bass, “What ho, fae on ground,” Draza blinked at the continued rhyme and consistent metre, as the dwarf turned to the others and gestured down to her, “Company inbound.”

Draza’s face was wide as her smile stretched her cheeks, her fingers strummed across the lute, “Company inquire, dwarven name and task!”

Another dwarf, younger looking than the first took a spot beside the first, “Foreigner admire, in Yrdrir clan bask.” The older one picks up the line there, “Workshop and choir, for the rest you ask.”

Oh. Oh this street and block were just the thing for Draza’s day. Oh yes oh yes this shall be fun. Her fingers strummed a quick dit across before she asked in singsong, “Have you fair reason, to work with good cheer?”

“Granmere’s pleasin, her sixty-eighth year,” answered a third dwarf from above. A clan of them indeed. “Oooooh, for a birthday?” Draza almost squealed with delight. “Verily,” “T’is,” “Yea,” each of the three present responded in metre.

Draza’s day had some plans originally, but they had changed. She’d still be giving all she’s got, but she’d make haste in doing so to learn the lay of the town, the wants of the people… and exchange coin for goods to make it a feast for the streets, and those neighboring, and all over. Granmere was an elderly human, beloved by the region, and her coffers on their company would do them well. With singing dwarves and a crew of children who called themselves the Jaloret boys, and many more from near and far… she’d make this birthday one to remember, and everyone a bit happier.

---

Intermission; Zin and Draza

---

Draza wiped sweat from her brow, the heat of the kitchen still enveloped her even after she had left it again for maybe the last time this night. The Aldenais family were grateful to have someone like her be here for Granmere’s 68th birthday, to help put together such a magical occasion for one who was so old for her kind. Everyone from earlier that could be there, was there. The Jaloret kids from down the street, with the dirt and chocolate smeared on their faces from their games and sweets; the Ydrir Clan, so stout as Dwarves, but so kind and voices that felt like they could lift Draza up off her feet when they sung.

The interlocked buildings and homes were lined with lights, and laced with sweet scents as the handiwork of a community made the night good for everyone, drinks flowed and food passed round tables and there was merriment in the evening air. There were few thank yous for her now, so many were engaged in friends, family, neighbour, strangers and new friends to pay her much mind. She’d already gotten all the thanks she needed, in the joy she had a hand in catering to.

Today was a good day.

Based on the light and sound emitting from the building, Zin was sure she’d found the right place. The sprite was well known around Renalta, she had found earlier in the evening, and it hadn’t taken long to find someone who knew about this night’s birthday party. Rather than trying to make her way through the main body of the festivities, Zin headed around the building and was pleased to see a back door that let out onto a porch. There was a fairly spacious patio, and a stage farther out, but she couldn’t see anything in particular going on there at the moment.

Zin made her way out into the light with her hood down, putting on a friendly smile like she used when dealing with customers at the textiles store she worked at. Tonight her eyes were disguised, blue rather than the silver of her vampiric heritage, thanks to illusion magic. Nobody seemed to pay Zin any great mind until she walked up onto the porch, where a grey-bearded fellow greeted her. She returned the greeting and asked where she could find Draza, and the dwarven man gestured toward the door with some mention of cooking. Zin thanked him and headed on inside, glad she’d been able to get through the party so easily.

It was readily apparent that cooking was indeed happening in the kitchen. The place wasn’t exactly a mess, but it had seen a lot of use this evening. The sprite was nowhere to be found in the room, however, so Zin walked through it to a doorway on the other side. She felt rather at ease walking through a stranger’s home, thanks to her night time hobby of breaking and entering for her own amusement. Through the door was a dining area, and there she found Draza sitting and apparently relaxing amongst many others in the area.

Zin made her way through the room with some minor difficulty, thanks to the people who seemed hard pressed to stay in one place for long, but eventually she ended up near Draza. She waved at the sprite and smiled. “Uh, hi. I’m one of the Queen’s Blades who was at Arian.”

Draza was presently engaged in a pleasant conversation with one of the townspeople, but at the wave, she held up a hand to the one she was listening to and apologized quickly, saying that it was probably something important and she hoped that they enjoyed the party while she dealt with it. Hopping up and over, Draza quietly tugged at Zin’s garments near her shins, “Let’s talk outside? Don’t want to interrupt the festivities with Blade business!” she spoke chipper as she started off to the back door and past the kindly dwarves.

The sprite was off and away before Zin could clarify that it wasn’t actually anything important or businesslike. There was nothing to do but follow, so she followed along and made the return trip through the mass of dwarves that seemed to be everywhere at once, Keeping up with Draza as best she could.

Draza led the way down to a secondary porch that connected to the stage and first one through a set of stairs, hanging over an alleyway where the sounds of children and their games could be heard. She took a seat on a chair, scrambling to climb up and into it fast and without much goofiness in her efforts to do so; a chair beside it available for Zin as well. Settling into her spot, and huffing a tired sigh out, she turned with a still vibrant smile to Zin, “So, Blade talk! What herald are you for me tonight? Good tidings, or ill?”

Zin took the open seat and sat silently for a few moments, trying to decide on an answer to that. “I don’t think I herald anything. I haven’t got any tidings. Um, I just heard that you managed to get through Arian without fighting and without anyone.. passing.” Her voice quavered as she said the word, and she was clearly uncomfortable with even the euphemism for death. “I was impressed and intrigued, so I decided to seek you and and maybe find out if you had any, er, wisdom to impart? It sounds silly, I know, but I desperately wish to avoid fighting in the future, and I think I might have made a mistake joining the Blades and now I’m sort of grasping at straws here.” Zin coughed and looked away. “Sorry for rambling.”

Draza nodded along politely, letting Zin say her piece before speaking up, smiling comfortingly, “Weeeeeeeell,” she let the word lull as it slipped through her lips, “I don’t know what to tell you. I would say I was far more lucky that no one died and that I didn’t have to… well, no, that’s not true. I did fight, just non-violently. I mean, hrm,” she sighed and pouted in thought, “Well, I threw a cookie at someone, but that was the extent of my violence. A cookie I could only have safely thrown because others were violent in my defense. Even if they didn’t necessarily want to do it for me.” Draza sighed at that, “There’s really only two scenarios where you can get by without violence; you’re either in control, or you’re lucky as all get out… and I wasn’t in control. I was lucky.”

“Oh.” Zin sighed and ran a hand through her short blonde hair. “I was afraid you’d just say something about luck. I thought that might be the only answer, but I suppose being in control of a situation would make avoiding violence easy too. I’ve just been so, I don’t know, worried about the future I guess. Worried about dying and losing friends and companions and seeing bad things happen to people. I haven’t been thinking very clearly lately.”

Zin sighed again, this time followed by an apologetic smile for Draza. “I’m sorry, I just met you and I’m pouring my heart out to you, haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Zin, and I’m a bloody mess at the moment.” She held out her hand and realized only after it was already out there that a sprite probably couldn’t manage much of a handshake.

Not that that bothered Draza much. She scooted over and took the hand in both of hers, and shook it, bowing her head as she did so, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lady Zin, I’m Draza,” she stopped and let go of the hand, “As you knew.” She paused with her lips pursed before breaking into a grin again despite herself, perhaps not the best time to be doing so, but maybe it’d be infectious? “Don’t pay any bother to pouring your heart out. Sometimes you need to clear out that old thing. Also, if you’re worried about luck, don’t be.” Draza slid back into the chair more, stretching her legs, before shifting back to the edge so they dangled, “People can make luck, it’s not like it’s just a thing that comes from on high. We’ve banished gods before. This Blade’s business may suck but we’ll get through it well enough in the end. The journey may suck, but the destination will be a better world for it.”

It wasn’t quite a grin, but Draza’s words managed to pull a pleasant smile from Zin. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’ve just been letting my fears pile up for too long without airing them out. When you look at it like that, that the gods were banished not that long ago, well, I guess dealing with some demons doesn’t seem quite so bad.”

Zin gave the sprite an appraising look. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extraordinarily easy to talk to? I feel like you must be using some kind of magic on me. A few moments ago I was a nervous wreck, and now I’m calm. Are you some kind of evil sorceress, toying with my emotions?” Her joking tone made it clear she was not actually accusing Draza of magically manipulating her, but there was still a bit of suspicion in her eyes.

“Evil? No, no gods no, not evil… but, otherwise…” she let the sentence trail on as she looked about as guilty as she could force herself to. “But seriously, I’ve got no aptitude with magical arts. Baking, fine print, toy making? Those I can do. Magic? I sure may be a fae, but no way not today.”

Zin laughed, partly at the sprite screwing her face up to look sinister and partly at the silly rhyming. “I see. Well, that puts my mind at ease on that count. Truth be told, I’m kind of the opposite; I’m an atrocious cook and I have no idea how to even begin making toys, but I know some magic.” She waved a hand in front of her face and her illusion was gone, revealing her silver eyes. “Illusions are my specialty.” Zin paused, realizing what she’d done. “And, uh, I’m also a vampire. That’s almost the opposite of a witch, right?”

Draza almost said something, but caught the words in her mouth as her cheeks inflated from the air escaping making it so she visibly caught the word before it left her lips, and swallowed it. She really didn’t want to mention her time in relation to witches and vampires, namely the accompanying of Templars who hunted down and killed them. And so she didn’t. Trying to smooth things over, she thought up a little lie for her face and response, “Don’t think I’d be the one to ask that, and I’ll be honest, it’ll be nice to have an illusionist on our side after… well, anyway.” Actually, that wasn’t that good a place to step into conversationally either. Awkward.

Though she was quite curious about the hedging answer, Zin had enough social grace to allow Draza to avoid whatever it was she was avoiding talking about. “I hope I can be of use, yes. Unfortunately I haven’t found a whole lot of practically useful illusion spells I can manage yet, other than the one I use to hide my eyes. I’ve been told I have a gift for casting illusion spells, but actually finding spells that would be useful for something other than a party trick seems to be a challenge.” She shrugged. “I’m also learning some healing, so at least I’ll have that even if I never figure out what to do with illusions.”

“Well, illusions are good for giving yourself control, actually,” Draza began, “You can make threats of violence with forces that aren’t… real, or even make them think they’re being attacked. Corner, defeat, no actual battle, no actual harm?” Or at least, that’s how Draza thought illusion magic would work in that scenario. She thought Meryl’s things were illusions, but they did real damage… or were they just mixed in with illusions? Illusions are confusing.

“I tried that with some fire before, but it didn’t seem to do much. Maybe I’m just not strong enough yet to take control with illusions, maybe it’s too easy to tell that my illusions aren’t real.” Zin shrugged. “More study and practice should help. Anyway, I’m surprised that you’re not a magic user. I thought all of the fae were supposed to, I don’t know, depend on magic to live? Or is that just the stuff of stories?”

“There’s probably magic pumping in me, my family insists that there is, but I’ve got no way to tap into it if I did. No talent, natural or otherwise, plus… well, I grew up in Rheinfeld,” she said, thinking and hoping that’d explain enough of her lack of magic for Zin.

It did indeed, and Zin nodded slowly. “I grew up in Liveria. They’re not as bad about magic, but about vampires and the like, well…” Zin laughed, though it didn’t contain much merriment or humor. “I was very lucky that my family just exiled me when they found out rather doing worse. Avoiding magic seems like a smart thing to do in Rheinfeld, for similar reasons as those in Liveria tend to avoid my kind.”

“Well,” Draza smirked just a wee bit, “And you know what else is a hopeful future? Save the world, and maybe they’ll stop hating on those bits of ourselves and people in general.”

Zin shrugged. “Perhaps. I have my doubts, but anything can happen.” A bemused smile crept onto her face. “I would love to see such a future. A world where the people of Rheinfeld and Liveria learn to accept mages and vampires and everything in between would be a marvelous place. I would be able to go home in such a world.” Zin sighed, shaking her head a bit. “But for now, perhaps a less bittersweet topic would be nice. Have you made any preparations for the upcoming ball? I fear I’ve no idea what to wear, and I’m running out of time to get something new made.”

“You should check out another within our company, who enjoys her solace as well. Lady, erm,” Draza catches herself, going to the preferred name of the woman, “Alicia has fine connections to silk and tailoring through her manservant’s craftsmanship. She’s gotten him through contract with me to make a dress for the ball that fits me daintiness. What more,” she tries to lean in as if giving a bit of a secret, but it makes little difference with her stature, “Jacque’s tailoring is haste without waste, he could have you something fine before the gala ball.”

“Ah, I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t doubt the man’s skill, and surely he’ll do fine work on your gown, but…” Zin trailed off, shrugging again. “I don’t think I could trust a new person to do an important task like this on short notice. I like to think I’m cautious, but others have called me a creature of habit. I would have to go to one of the women I’ve contracted with good results in the past, I think.”

She smiled at Draza though, a genuinely warm expression. “Thank you for the reference. I’ll certainly pursue it, but not for this particular job. Tell me though, what sort of dress are you having made? Perhaps yours will give me some inspiration on what to wear, as I currently lack even the faintest hint of a plan.”

“I’m not sure what the official nomenclature of my garb would be, but the lady and I have taken to calling it a ‘safety dress’,” Draza began, “See, there’s an under more form fitting and ease of movement dress, stylish in its own right but not befitting of such an event, and sewn in with frail seams is the over dress, flowing and regal and truly kissed with grace. If things go well, I represent the Blades proud, and if the manure hits the aqueduct, well, safety dress!” she echoed her sentiments from before.

Zin laughed, shaking her head a bit. “I’ve never heard of such a thing before, but it sounds like a fine idea. I think this idea could become very popular, if it were to spread. There have been quite a few times such a safety dress would have come in handy for me in the past.” She counted them off, lifting a finger for each one. “A torn seam at my sister’s birthday event, once I was splashed with mud by a passing carriage and had to suffer with a dirtied dress through the night, another time a fellow carrying the wine tripped and threw quite a bit of it at myself and a few other ladies, all the times I’ve clumsily dropped food or dribbled drink on myself, the time I fell and torn the front of my skirt all the way up to my knees…” Zin trailed off with another laugh. “And many more, I assure you. It feels like half the time I’ve put on a fancy dress something awful happens to it. I hope this ball will be one of the other half, else I may as well go dressed in trousers.”

Draza giggled sheepish at that, “Well, with the importance of things, and the variety there… maybe you could sneak trousers in and be fine. There’s definitely cultures that would respect it going to be present. Your comfortable best will likely be good enough.”

“Maybe so, but what would the queens-” Zin cut herself off, remembering what she knew and had seen of Queen Alex. “Rather, what would Queen Kouri think of that? I imagine she wants her Blades to look their best at this event, since it’s so important. I feel like a nice dress is almost mandatory.”

“Perhaps,” Draza said, wondering why Zin corrected from queens to just Kouri, “But if you’re going to be uncomfortable and risk such clumsiness, I don’t think you’d be looking your best and doing yourself, the dignitaries, or the group honour.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to be careful and hope for luck.” Zin thought for a moment. “And perhaps I’ll make some luck of my own, while I’m at it. I just thought of another practical use for illusions, if only I can find or create the proper spell for it. If I can change the color of my eyes, surely hiding a stain would be no trouble at all.”

“Now that’s a proper use of your noggin and magical knack, if I ever heard one. Not flashy, but great, practical,” Draza said, “I like it.”

“I feel like I’m well on my way to becoming a master illusionist.” Zin chuckled at her own nonsense. “Do you have any plans for the ball itself? I’ve heard there are going to be representatives from all over the world in attendance.”

“Make connections, check up on my homeland through dignitaries, and try to test the political waters between everyone. I’m so used to just worrying about, or rather,” she corrects herself, “Primarily worrying about my homeland, but now with the blades… I should make efforts to help everyone more overtly. It’s my job now, you know?”

“I agree, we’re out to help everyone, not just our homelands. I was thinking of doing much the same, trying to make contact with as many people as possible and building a good reputation for the Blades. I was initially thinking of avoiding those from Liveria and Rheinfeld, but perhaps I’ll just hide my eyes and see if they can tell what I am.” Zin grinned and got a mischievous look in her eyes. “It would be quite a lot of fun to have good rapport with them before they learn that I’m a vampire. That would make for a bit of a shock, I think.”

Draza was stuck between childish giggling and serious consideration, and so she did both, stopping her laugh only to comment “It may be best to either be candid or closeted, I feel something in the middle may only bring ire… but if they do see through the illusion, it may be best to have just been candid.” She shrugged, “There shouldn’t be any real troubles from either, I think, but I can’t be the most…. well, the best at this. I can hide any magic that may be in my veins more than your doubling up on the err in your blood.”

Zin nodded. “You’re probably right. Better to hide it completely or to not hide it at all. It would better for the Blades if I don’t play games with any of the important people at the ball.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have gone through with it anyway, though your advice is good regardless. It’s an amusing thought, but I’m far too cautious to risk nasty responses from such a trick. I think I’ll simply hide my eyes and my nature at the ball, to avoid causing any ill will for the Blades by my association.” Zin passed a hand over her eyes again, and this time they were green when she was done. “Though of course that means I’ll have to choose which shade of eyes will best fit whatever dress I wear for the night. I envy women who lack this particular choice of accessory.”

And they chatted and giggled about clothes and other nonsense long into the night, until they ended up joining the party for a bit. Zin was uncomfortable about it, and eventually made her leave while Draza stayed behind with new friends for a late night of fun.

Abida Qisaf + Kasim Ambilus Intermission

---

As the last patches of daylight left the training yard, Abida ceased her self-induced training to rest upon a nearby barrel. Normally she would have continued training into the night, but her head was spinning and stomach roiling after constant practice at her newfound abilities. The ability to magically dash through the air was proving useful, especially for reaching high places, but left her feeling sick.

She had left her sword resting a few feet away. She began to reach for it, but a wave of dizziness forced her to stop and be content with simply sitting for the time being.

Kasim walked through the training yard as the sun set, as he often did to see what others were up to and to point out their failures and one-up them if he was capable, and he spotted a rather unusual sight. People running around was normal, but zipping from one place to another without seeming to go through the intervening space? That was odd. He watched for a while, until the teleporting person sat on the ground and seemed ready to be sick all over herself.

“You look like you’re about to throw up.” Kasim strode over to the seated person with his hands in his pockets, a mocking smirk on his face. “The teleporting trick you’ve got is interesting, but it seems to have a major drawback.”

Seeing a pair of feet stop in front of her, Abida looked up towards the smirking human. “As such things should,” she responded. “Without limits is without order.” Looking the man over, she realized that she recognized him. “You are another Queen’s Blade, are you not? I believe I saw you at Arian.”

“Oh, you’re part of the group too, huh? I didn’t recognize you. Guess you went somewhere other than the eastern watch tower.” Kasim shrugged, dismissing his own minor failing. “I’ve always figured the best kind of power is the kind without any limits, the kind you hear about in some of the better stories. You know, the stuff that could destroy the world if it got into the wrong hands. Limits are annoying.”

“It was limitless power than slaughtered the Imperium and created the Blood Sea.” She looked intently at the human and his easy confidence. “Would you truly desire that sort of power? Knowing that a single rash act could end everything?”

Kasim waved a hand dismissively. “That was one of those times it got into the wrong hands, obviously. My hands are right, and righteous as well, which is a bonus for everyone else. I’d love to get a hold of that kind of power.” He grinned and held his hands out to the sides, palms up, posing in what he thought of as a heroic manner. “I’d deal with all the demonic stuff in one go, and I’d be the hero who saved the world. A better question is why wouldn’t I want that kind of power.”

As the man extended his arms, Abida noted the hands of an archer and fighter. “Because you are not familiar with power,” she said. “I can hear the accent of one born in the Free Holds in your voice, and your hands are too calloused for you to be master. You served there, and now you serve here. The right hands for such power are those that command instead of obey. Those are not your hands.”

Kasim’s expression soured at the talk of serving, and by the time the elven woman finished her spiel he was scowling at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not serving if I choose to do it. I chose to join the Blades, I’m no slave, not any more, not ever again. My hands are better than any fool who thinks he’s got a right to command. I’m exactly the right person to hold power because I know what weakness is, and what it means to be held under someone else’s power.” By the end of his own spiel, Kasim was nearly shouting. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, though he still glared at the woman. “Who are you, anyway? I can tell you were a slave too.”

“I am Abida, and you are right in recognizing me as slave. Though unlike yourself, I do not deny that I still am one.” Feeling steadier, she rose to her feet to talk to the man eye to eye. “You choose to serve, but I imagine disobedience would still be met with punishment. So what has changed, truly, between when you were called a slave and where you are now?”

“If punishment is all that determines servitude, even the people who seem to be in control are slaves. Slavers who make a contract and break it are punished for doing so, but they aren’t called a slave for it.” Kasim made a sound of disgust, something between a sigh and a snort. “You’ve got a messed up notion of servitude, and no wonder if you’ve been in chains long enough to be pleased by them. I knew plenty like you before Xixis and his army came and gave me a chance to free myself. There were many people who saw their slavery as their destiny or whatever. You’ve just given up and lost sight of what being free means, or maybe you were born into slavery and never knew the meaning, never figured it out for yourself like I did. You wouldn’t be asking these foolish questions if you weren’t too blinded by your own servitude to see past it.”

“I am not pleased by servitude,” she said sharply, “but for every person who makes their own way, for each person who obeys themselves above all else, there is conflict. There is how they want the world, and how another wants the world. If obedience is the cost for order… for simplicity, then I shall obey.” She looked the man over, brow furrowed. “I am not one to tear apart the world around me for my own desires.”

“Order.” Kasim said the word with a sneer. “Order is when the strong enslave the weak and think themselves heroes for it, because everyone is shoved into neat little boxes instead of doing as they like. Order is no better than chaos, no worse, it’s just one side of the coin. Putting a higher price on one side of the copper over the other is the height of foolishness.” He took another deep breath, and his voice came out closer to a neutral tone this time. “Good and evil are what matter, not whether the world is neat and tidy or a jumbled mess, and slavery is evil. Whether or not you’re happy about it, if you support it you’re no better than the demons we’re trying to fight off.”

Turning away, Abida went to pick up her sword and sling it over her shoulder. “Our enemy is chaos incarnate,” she said, looking back. “You would do well to think on what side you belong to.”

“You would do well to actually think, since you don’t seem to be doing much of it.” The heat was back in Kasim’s voice, though not so pronounced as when he’d been shouting. “They’re chaotic, but more importantly they’re evil. You recall those gods that Queen Kouri and her companions banished? They were orderly, but they were also evil. The evil is what matters, not the order or chaos, and you’re a damned fool if you think otherwise.”

“Countless gods, each with their own practices, each fighting over followers,” She was beginning to become aggravated by the aggressiveness of the mans words, though fought to keep her own voice calm. “To me, that does not speak of order.”

Kasim rolled his eyes. “They were each trying to enforce their own kind of order on the people of the world. Just because none of them succeeded doesn’t mean they weren’t fighting for order. That’s just more proof that there’s not a whole lot of difference between order and chaos, as far as I’m concerned.”

The archer sighed and shook his head dramatically. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to talk about important matters with someone like you. You’re obviously thick-headed and stuck in the world of whatever your masters told you to keep you compliant. I may as well talk to a wall for all the good this is doing.”

“There are several quality walls around us,” she said, gesturing. “I hope they provide you with scintillating conversation, for I myself shall be leaving.” With that she turned away once more and began to walk from the training yard.

“Good. I hope you throw up next time you do your little teleporting trick. It’ll serve you right for being such a sickening person.” Kasim wheeled round and walked the opposite direction, back the way he’d come from. He would normally throw some extra parting shot over his shoulder, but he was too angry to be witty at the moment.

Aëyr, selkie.

---

There is no sound Aëyr preferred over the sound of silence. Deep in the ocean, all sound is blunted and deep, reverbrations that one more feels than hears.

On land, however, sounds are sharp, loud, and altogether difficult to ignore.

And in the great cities of the landborne, there is almost no escaping from its constant barrage.

Cloak pulled tightly about her, hood hanging low, Aëyr wandered the streets near aimlessly as she tried to slither her way through the bustling crowds, doing her utmost not to be noticed. She had been made well aware of the Renaltan tendency towards acceptance, and yet, she preferred not to draw attention. She was a foreigner to these parts, and more importantly, so was her race. As far as she could tell, the only selkies of this world lived out at sea, distant from these kingdoms and far past even the docks of Tuleria, where she had first met the acquaintance of the continent. Freak or not, Aëyr preferred being the observer, not the observee.

As of yet, she had had some difficulty adapting to her new role as Queen's Blade. Though she had most certainly joined their rank willingly, she now found herself wondering if this was truly the sort of life she was built for. Ever since she had been « freed » of her servitude in the Free Holds, she had had no place in this world, nowhere to call home. Wandering across the continent, from the Imperium to Rheinfeld and finally down to Renalta, all she had ever known was movement. She fled from conflict when it arose, and she searched for peace wherever she could find it. In a sense, the road itself had become her home.

But here in the Capitol, she was lost. Free to do as she pleased, but shackled by the confines of the city. Until they were sent out again, until she could serve as she had been trained to do for the years of her life spent a slave, she was lost in stagnance.

And so she wandered the streets, be it day or night, waiting to be commanded, waiting to be led.

And while she was at it, she observed.

Sometimes she watched the common folk, attempting to meld herself amongst them and give herself a taste of routine and daily life, to escape her life through theirs. On rare occasion, she would find herself talked to, and forced to interact. In such cases, she would abort as quickly as possible. However, much of her time was instead spent watching her fellow Blades. Seeing them come and go, who they chose to interact with, what they chose to do.

Born in a shoal where all was shared, and then having every most intimate detail sold out of her for the right amount of coin for three years, Aëyr had never quite learned the value of "privacy".

Intermission; Maeven and Draza

---

The morning was not as early of one as yesterday, the party she had spent so much time at the night prior had definitely worn her out. However, she managed to get up as the sun still did, and Draza did her best to continue her morning routine. With a yawn, she crawled out of bed, and prepared herself for the day before heading to the kitchens again.

Maeven rubs her eyes, the wearisome bags having only grown in the night. She had been up much of it preparing Fafnir for the inevitable mission. Yet, even beyond that, sleep had eluded her once more. A night fraught with nightmares and terrors out the corners of her sleep addled mind were only spurred on by the faint murmurs and lullaby of the dragon who only condemned her for past actions. She shudders and rubs her arms, feeling unusually cold in the drafty castle in the wee hours of the morning. Compared to Tuleria, the kingdom was a land of cold. Her faint pitter-pattering footfalls lull her into a near comatose state as she paces towards the kitchen, stomach snarling viciously at her for sustenance as the midnight oil had only burned on.

The kitchen was a bustle, as it always was in the morning as the servants went about their duties to make meals for the morning’s breakfast, bake breads and prepare the ingredients and clean. The many hands went about their work on pots and pans over flame and water, with Draza half asleep in a corner, mostly undisturbed by her new friends in the staff. They would offer her a kindness or two, but in this morning she seemed like the only kindness she needed was something soft to lay upon despite the infrequent insistences that she would be fine.

Maeven’s arrival was something that would escape Draza’s notice, but not necessarily the notice of the servants. Having had a similar case of someone who normally didn’t go there arriving around the time Draza did the day prior, a maid came over to Maeven, “Excuse me, my lady, are you here to see Draza? She’s off in the corner right now,” she said, pointing in Draza’s direction, “I… think the fae is overworking herself… and,” she caught herself before commenting on the look of Maeven herself, blushing from her presumptuousness and stepping aside, “I’m sorry. Forgive me, your affairs are none of my own.”

Maeven looks at her stupidly for a moment, unsure what she meant before reaching out and clumsily fumbling a loaf of bread and some fruit into her hands. She shrugs and stuffs a mouthful of the bread into her face and mumbles around it, “Ish okay. Jus’ hungreh.” She does, however, let her gaze drift to Draza curiously after the servant spoke up. She raises her brow curiously at seeing the little sprite woman looking so… drained. It was nothing she had ever spied on the normally animated sprite.

She groans, rubbing her eyes tiredly with her sleeve, bread still clutched securely as she makes her way over, swallowing the chunk of bread. She grimaces at how dry it is, and awkwardly shuffling her bread into the crook of her arm snatches a retreating cup of juice as she settles down near the sprite. “Why so frumpy, lit’l lady?” she asks with a crook of her head, chancing a chomp into the Renaltan fruit.

There wasn’t much of a response, it appeared that between Maeven’s walking over and sitting down, Draza went from half asleep to just a bit more, and was actively dozing off in the powdered sugar, the airy sweet rocking back and forth with her breath beside her mouth.

Maeven raises her brows at the strange behaviour and instead, sets her food and drink down carefully before slapping the table jarringly. “Eh, Miss Fae. Wake up, it’s day time.”

Technically a lie, Maeven’s effort to stir Draza awake did work nonetheless. The sprite jolted up, sugar along her face where she was drooling a bit and it got sticky with the sweet, and powdered white in her hair as well, “Huh, what? Day? I’m awake. I’m making cookies.”

Maeven passes along her orange juice, “Drink up. The sweet ought to give you a little more gumption.” She snorts and then gestures on herself for where Draza was a mess, “And you might clean yourself up a little, lest someone think you forgot to tidy after leaving company.”

And that joke went right over Draza’s sleepy little head. She did pull out something to wipe her face off anyway, but could not begin to properly drink that orange juice without having to full body grapple it. Things can be made to scale down for little people, normal people cups of juice were still big things for her… and heavy. Regardless, her hair was pulled back and so she just dipped her face into it for a quick splash of cold and a drink. Or maybe she fell in, she was pretty darn tired.

Maeven grasps the cup to keep it from tipping over before maneuvering to edge Draza back a little, not wanting to see the little person drown in her morning pick-me-up. “Careful now, we wouldn’t me to have to explain to the Queens what happened to… Our mascot? That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

Unevenly blinking her eyes, Draza was a bit more awake now, just in time to be called the mascot. “Eh, mascot? I wish I was just that, would be safer…” she yawned, “No, that’s not true, I want to help. I’m just uhm…” her brain slowly moved into gear as she snapped her fingers, “Diplomatic… stuff. I’m good with the fine print, and working out like… diplomacy…” she yawned again, “Good at talking when I’m awake, I promise.”

“Thanks for the addendum. Cuz you weren’t fooling me otherwise,” she chuckles, taking another mouthful of bread and fruit. “I suppose its good someone is the wordsy type. I can spin a tale on the fly when need-be, but I don’t have the apt for getting really fancy and convoluted… Doubt most of the types I’ve seen are, either.” She sniffs and looks at the rest of her drink, deciding against it after seeing white sugar and a fae hair floating in it. “What’s got you up all night, eh?”

Draza mumbled something about ‘Lady Alicia’ in response to the ‘convoluted’ bit, before giving a full response to the question, “I was up later than I’m used to last night. There was a party, and it was originally small, and then I got involved… there was singing and dancing and boy could that man dance. Said he got practice from dancing with his daughter when she was about twice my size for dancing with lil people,” she rambled a bit, “But uh, birthday party. It was great.”

The Mechanist looks at Draza like she was some twisted creature from the Underdark itself. “Birthday parties. I thought only kids celebrated those things. Rich kids. Nobles, to be precise,” she furrows her brow, plucking at her bread before taking the last of it in a large bite. Mouth still fairly full, she keeps on talking, “Course, I guess you’re big enough to be considered a kid. And we are in a castle. So what the Hells. Let’s go with it.”

She blinked, “Wait, it wasn’t a party for me. There was this nice old lady, Granmere, it was her 68th birthday. Her family’s all dead, and people were pitching in to make the best of what would otherwise feel kinda down for her. She’s got a lot of good hearted people around her. And good cooks. People from all around the street came!”

Maeven simply blinks her eyes and shakes her head, “Should have bought the old crone a tombstone. She can’t have much longer in he-” She frowns, considering her words before shaking her head, “It sounds sweet and all, but a bit of a waste. Just my personal thoughts on it. Its sweet of them, I suppose. But isn’t there better things to be spending time and coin on? Like this impending demon war?”

“They already live in the frail shadow of a war with the gods, and every working hour ultimately goes to this new war coming up,” Draza said with uncharacteristic solemness, “If they don’t get some chance to enjoy life, they’ll stop feeling like it’s worth fighting for.” She takes a deep breath, her tone switching back to normal, “At least, that’s my personal thoughts on it.”

Maeven considers it before snorting, “Well, there’s less useless pleasures in life. A warm body in your bed, a gut-warming drink on your gullet, you know, things people actually do for fun. Not… Showering an elder woman with gifts and well-wishes when they’re only gonna keep her ticker ticking for so much longer,” she shrugs, standing up and stealing a new glass to drink from. She frowns and jostles it to the table at the heat coming through the wood. “Ach, hot. But it smells good…” Maeven shakes her head and gestures at the sprite, “So what’s happening with those cookies? Last one of yours I had was heaven.”

Draza would comment on the actual nature of the party versus what Maeven thought the party was, but decided against it when the woman changed subjects, “They’re heaven because good ingredients, and from lots, and lots of practice. I was a baker before I was really anything else, and that’s… a looooooooooooooooot of cookies. You get good after a while!”

She frowns, taking a sip of the morning brew. “Hmm. I imagine.” She swills the cup around. “This could use a cookie,” she all but pouts as she sets the cup down. “So what else did you do. Baker extraordinaire, diplomatic savant, and apparently team mascot now… Anything else?”

“I would hardly call myself extraordinaire or a savant… or mascot,” she adds before finally resuming her cookie making, nix napping within the ingredients, “But I also know some simple first aid from my time with the Templars. I could also if pressed maaaaaaaybe perform some of their rites, but not very well. It’s been a while.”

Maeven wrinkles her nose, “No need to do the rites of that order, fae lady. Not much of a fan of the sect.” She watches Draza mixing the ingredients with apparent intrigue. “I bet I could end up making that job a hundred times easier for you…” She muses what her old collection of soul gems could have done for this woman before shuddering at the thought. The cost for many of them had been too great.

Draza’s work was not necessarily a hard one, more a time consuming one. Small hands took more times across the board to get the same work done with smaller tools, let alone the normal sized ones, “I don’t feel the need for this to be easier. Some people garden to relax, others beat up straw men. Me?” she sets down the first batch of raw cookie dough she made that morning, “I make some mighty fine sweets.”

She furrows her brow before shrugging, “Guess that’s one way to put it…” She looks at the cookies with interest before smirking. “Anyways, mind making sure some of those delectable delights make it my way before they’re all gone? I figure I ought to make sure Faf is good for some test runs this afternoon. Make sure it’s all in line and on target.”

Draza smiled as she loaded them onto a little tray, “I can definitely make sure of that. You’ll get some reserved from this batch, and maybe a little extra from the ones I’m serving at the gala ball properly.”

“Fantastic. I’d share them with my friend, but he hasn’t the stomach for such,” she grins widely at her little joke. The poor dragon really didn’t, after all.

Draza didn’t quite know all about Faf’s workings, but she shrugged and smiled nonetheless and let Maeven be about her work, as she went about hers. Faf wasn’t going to calibrate himself, and these cookies weren’t going to cook themselves either.

Intermission; Naream and Draza

---

Draza rode upon her cart with assorted baked goods from that morning down through the wide walls and streets in and around the Renaltan castle proper. She had already been through the servants' quarters and deposited most of her goods into the hands of the staff an crew of the castle, but still had to reach the further homes of those who didn't live within the safe walls of the keep itself who still had a hand in her efforts the day prior. The cart was drawn by a mule, and she kept it at a steady pace so she wouldn't knock over any of the goods in her possession as she moved through crowds of busy bodies and politicians while she made her rounds.

Naream was reading and expanding his tome of magic, the new additions on the crafting of golems would enhance his powers greatly, smiling he traced over the new lines of text. Yes the prospect of golems made out of bones, flesh and even other materials was something to look forward to. He rounded a corner and immediately let out a grunt as a mule of all things stood in his way, stumbling backwards and falling on his arse. "By the buttocks of the spider bitch who lets an ass wander without supervision!"

The mule reared a bit and Draza had to hustle to make sure nothing fell or got messed up from it. After she was good she popped up out of the back of the cart, "It's supervised! Mostly, sorta, kinda. What ho, hark friend I'm sorry that my steed knocked you such. We're just moving along in an effort to distribute some cookies, cakes, snacks and sweets as thank you presents to... well, the servants and some staff." She popped back to the cart's inside and rummaged for a pouch and popped up with it, "I have excess and an empty pouch, would you like some as a token of my apology?"

He blinked and stared, narrowing his eyes, "Since when did human children become so sma...." He trailed off, blinking again. "Hang on, you are the one who tempted that child with sweets are you not." He grumbled, "Apparently you are the reason we all survived that strange chess game. I suppose I can oversee this rude behaviour of your... steed." He looked at the ass... who was staring back and chewing on something.

Draza curtsied, "Draza Zorya, sprite, not human child. And yes, these are sweets of the same calibre that saved our collective breath... although it was not all me by any extent. Maeven did disarm the bomb afterwards. You did handle the monstrous illusions so I even could tempt Meryl, and more. It was a team effort, even if we were a bit scatterbrained," she leaned forward to pat the mule, "So I owe you my thanks more than you owe me anything. If the sweets are not enough of an apology, I can also make toys but I don't think those would be to your liking."

When she mentioned toys he for some reason got a image of a gigantic monkey golem with a pair of cymbals also of gigantic size squashing his enemies between them. He shook his head to clear it of that rather disturbing image and wondered if he had gotten enough sleep lately. "I am not much of a sweet tooth, or fond of playing toys, or at least not the kind of toys you would be able to provide." He smiles but there was nothing amusing about it. "So a sprite... your kind seem to be rare, down below the surface but also above, I almost thought you and your kind are the stuff of myths and folktales."

"Not a whole lot of us, no. We tend to congregate in smaller communities where we don't draw much attention," Draza said, "We're a bit like really really really tiny elves, but without the pomp."

And useless to most, he was looking her over, she would not even make a good undead... then again... such a small creature, perhaps perfect for a type of undead that would serve as a spy. He did not say this out loud however and merely nodded slowly, "I understand, what made you come out then however to become a queens blade?"

"Well, I was always more... out and about than my people normally are. I joined the Templar and helped with their uh... business," she said, not using more apt terms, "For a while... then I worked as a diplomatic sort with the Papacy, but then they went pure bad... then I worked with the Rheinfeld Republic and some guys up there in the war, and my legalese and diplomancy are why I've got a spot here. I'm usually good at making friends, if not at least allies." She leaned back and relaxed, "I'm not going to be the same type of blade as most, I can't beat someone up, but I can convince others to do it if need be.

He raised a brow, "I admit... I find it, difficult to believe one such as yourself is a accomplished diplomat... do some, if not most people, not take you serious because of what you are?"

Draza simply grins mischievously, "They may not, but they quickly learn that I write in a very different tone than I talk. Plus, I'm so tiny, fine print and clever wording is my forte when it comes to such agreements. If I was a meanie, I could have been quite the merchant advocate. But as is, I use my legalese for good, and help mediate others who are more hot tempered than I."

"I see." He smirks, "With that kind of thinking you might actually survive if you ever reach a enclave of the Drow." Assuming she would survive the trek through the Underdark.

"All I'd actually need is some sort of body guard to protect me from mindless threats, and I should be safe. Not sure if any of the Blades would be exactly interested in that," she muses, "But alas, I don't know if I could ask someone to risk themselves for me unless I can properly pay them back for their efforts."

Naream blinked and mused, "Hmm... how grateful would you be... if I were to... construct... a bodyguard for you, my expertise of magic... allows me to build loyal servants, guardians."

Draza echoed the blinking, "Erm," she didn't exactly know... or trust this person before her all that well. Likely, they'd want a favour, something at a high price, and their knowing her slightly cheating ways with parchment would make it hard for her to get an even deal if he say, refused that. Maybe, later... if they were to become actual friends instead of travelling companions. But now... "No thank you, I appreciate the offer though!"

Naream nods, "Understandable but I have some... ideas now thanks to this conversation, if you are interested, by all means seek me out and we can discuss it further, if you'd like of course."

"Maybe in the future, but for now I have to get going before these get too cold! It was a pleasure, er, running into to you," Draza giggled before the two went on their own ways again.