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She breathed a small sigh of relief when Jandar stood down. She backed up out of his space to find and settle down at a table in the corner where she could have a quiet discussion with her companions. She sat between them so that she could easily be heard by them and hopefully not by any eavesdroppers within the bar. Fatima accepted the wine with a smile and quiet thanks. She was a bit sad to not get a chance to try the ale, she did like a good drop but the wine would suffice. She sipped it and it burned all the way down her tongue, through her throat, and coated her stomach. She breathed out after the sip - not bad just a surprise that it was so strong. Certainly not a typical morning drink. Had she been on her own she would have made a joking tease to the bartender that he was trying to get her drunk. But as she had told Jandar earlier, neither the time nor the place.

The entrance of the female Eyrien was done with quite a bit of pomp and circumstance. Or, at least what she viewed as Eyrien fanfare. There were awe and reverence in the bar dwellers upon her appearance. She wondered who the woman was, she held some sort of sway though she was not the most powerful here in terms of rank and gem. She watched her for a bit, considering this before she was distracted by Jassen.

She made a sour expression at him as he seemed to think the barkeep might poison them. She was trying to build relationships here, not something she could do if her companions kept offering offenses. And ESPECIALLY if she was supposed to go off on her own. She sighed deeply and rubbed her hands over her face. She responded to Jandar, "Perhaps they may not be, but it is not they with which I must contend. If I go alone it is you who will stay here and if you are getting into fights... Well, my heart would be quite broken should either of you die." She spoke plainly and in a light whisper. "I want to ensure that you will be safe here or safe there. Though if you both keep up this posturing I think it would almost be safer for you to accompany me." Would it really though? She didn't like this decision she had to make at all. Being separated meant danger for all of them. Being together meant near certain death. She was so confused.

Yet another Eyrien entered the bar and with him she had an odd feeling. A connection perhaps, like a soft breeze it fluttered through her but she could not be sure. It might have just been his power which washed over her this way. She would need to look into his eyes, a straight to straight contact. She pursed her lips and considered what to do. A part of her screamed that they should leave the bar now. She did NOT need to be making any more of her Court. But then... just one more couldn't hurt, right? An easier decision. She tossed back the wine in her glass, draining it. It made her eyes water a bit as she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. Fatima stood and whispered to Jander and Jassen, "Stay here. Behave." Her tone was pointed.

Carrying the glass up to the bar, she took note of the Eyrien eyes upon her. She felt naked despite her boyish clothes and skull cap. Exposed. And hated. She stopped at the bar and found that she could just see above it, the edge of the bar coming to her collarbones. The tiny Queen set her cup upon the wooden counter, ready to ask for a refill. She turned her gaze upon the Eyrien male who had most recently entered and offered both he and his companion a smile. "Good morning," she said in a light, happy tone. Just once, when their eyes met, then she would know.

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Jassen looked cross as Fatima stood up in her disguise and moved towards the two newcomers at the bar. It was not without reason, Jandar would notice. The female Eyrien had shown she was respected, but when the newcomer who stood with the authority and moved with the grace of a trained fighter that screamed more than just battle the crowd had silenced as he had passed. Now a steady trickle was leaving the building, and more than a few glances were cast at the Eyrien Warlord Prince. If Jean were to pry, he would notice that this male was the strongest in the building wearing a jewel of rank that was at least the Grey if not darker.

Hearing the larger Eyrien sit down next to her, Faeril sighed as the rustling of people standing and exiting the tavern reached her ears. This was developing into problem after problem. Randalvar appeared to agree as he huffed an annoyed grumble. "I see you're both back together..." The grizzled old warrior eyed the pair, and Faeril met his look with a matching glare that bespoke that his ale would not be safe from her poison. Hastily backpedaling from his misstep, the barkeep shrugged as though it was nothing but a polite query. "And don't worry about that lot leaving. No one wants to get between the Reaper and a Queen." He voice was undertoned and cut off sharply as Fatima approached the bar. Allowing the said Queen to catch her caste and nothing more. Taking the wine glass, he wiped it out and poured another draught of the mixture into it, before sliding it back to the Hyallian Queen.

Faeril pinched the bridge of her nose and spoke in Eyrien. "Do nothing foolish. If this is as I think, I must test this lady and I will fight you if I must to keep my people safe." The Black Widow warned Xandar. Randalvar took his cue and slipped into the back with a quick mutter about Faeril's supplies. Turning her icy gaze, the Black Widow studied the small Queen and stood. Her leathery wings flaring slightly. "What is the Queen's pleasure?" Faeril stated with an underlying challenge in her voice as the last of the Eyriens left. A Blood Opal shield enclosing the exits and entrances of the main taproom of the tavern. A probing touch of Blood Opal power probing at Fatima's mind as Faeril looked for an opening.

Jassen standing suddenly with a snarl, "What are you doing to my Queen?" Jandar would also feel the Blood Opal power as Faeril sought against Fatima's shields, as would the Queen herself. The probing power weaker than her own but relentless in its search. Rushing the Eyrien woman, Jassen unsheathed a knife with the intent of using it to protect the Grey Jeweled Queen.

Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White
Both brothers attitude shifted as Mikhail revealed he was Dea Al Mon. "Your kind don't leave the forests of your territory often from what I've heard." Denvar noted with a wary tone of respect in his voice. It was one thing for the twin Warlord Princes to know that the man was a warrior of some sort, it was quite another to hear he was from the warrior race of Kaeleer. Though they had never met any of the Dea Al Mon, the Children of the Forest were secretive and didn't often stray form their homes, Denvar had heard enough to know they claimed to be the equals of Eyrien warriors.

"And never do you stray into Terreille." Bellinar noted with a touch of admiration to his voice, though his stance spoke of the same wariness. "Honestly, I haven't really heard mention of them since the Queens started becoming corrupt." The newcomer admitted as he moved to perch on the couch, a hand awkwardly patting Dareen's shoulder. "Don't worry lass, Faeril isn't unkind."

"She's not unkind, just..." Denvar agreed with some reservations. He was not given to hope without reason and if Dareen had angered Faeril enough, there was little enough of that. "Stubborn? Relentless? Sharp?" Shaking his head as he brother glared at him, the male turned back Mikhai. "Wonder how well you fight now. Rumor had it that your kind were warriors, of a sort."

Not even in his paranoia did Jandar contemplate that something like this would have happened. An Eyrien Warlord Prince entered, and he reeked of power, ranking Gray at the very least. The strongest male in the bar ignored them, sitting down next to the female Eyrien who’d arrived shortly beforehand. Though the Prince seemed completely at ease, the rest of the patrons were vacating the premises, and if that was not a foreboding of potential disastrous happenings, Jandar might as well proclaim himself mad. And then Fatima just went and strolled to the male! Instead of groaning out loud, the Kaeleeran Warlord chanted a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck in his mind, while observing the goings on, with what felt like pounds of dread accumulating in his gut. And Fatima had told them to behave! Why must she stroll in danger like so! Mother night, what has desperation done to us all?!

Jandar simply watched grimly as the female rather than the male Eyrien responded to Fatima, the lower-ranking woman challenging the Queen nonetheless. The female Eyrien, likely a leader of this place given her demeanor – or someone very close to such a position – had enclosed their remaining group within the inn with the power of her Jewel, and was probing Fatima with her power as well. Jandar recognized the probe as something only a Black Widow could do, and momentarily just stood there, slightly stunned. He quickly reclaimed his wits, knowing not to interfere, despite knowing the Black Widow could harm Fatima if whatever she discovered in her mind wasn't to her liking. However Fatima had told them to behave, and he trusted that the Queen's intentions were good, so she was likely to pass the Black Widow's inspection. He did wish the people here would be more forthcoming with their motives, not that he could truly blame them if they were rebels – a hypothesis that the recent events spoke strongly in favour of.

While he simply watched in tense silence, Jassen stood up with a snarl, and lunged himself at the Black Widow with a knife. Alarmed, Jandar followed, his chair knocked over carelessly, grabbing for Jassen’s wrist to intercept the foolishly reckless male’s attack. “Do not,” he growled, yanking Jassen’s arm backwards, squeezing the wrist so tightly the male would be tempted to let his knife drop. “Not yet. I know you want to protect her, but just take a moment to consider this situation,” he hissed, irritated. “If the Eyrien lady had wanted us dead, we would be dead already. Is that notion simple enough to penetrate your thick skull?” he mocked, sneering at the other male. If he were honest, he was somewhat worried as well, but for Hell’s sake, how could this drunk think resorting to violence while such a forceful approach would put them at an obvious disadvantage was smart? Oh, right, he’s drunk and not exactly bestowed with smarts, he thought sarcastically. Jandar shook his head; he could just bet this idiot didn't realize the Eyrien female was a Black Widow and interrupting one such as her would have dire consequences.

“Have you not seen her bodyguard? Have you not managed to notice that we are the intruders here? Fatima is willing to take the risk of trusting these people. Let the ladies settle whatever they have to on their own, because if the two of us get involved, so will he,” he gestured at the Eyrien Warlord Prince, the unknown warrior who'd acted only as an observer so far. “Not to mention that you interfering in a delicate matter such as this could not only kill Fatima, but ruin her beyond recognition. So do not do anything to tip the scales for us. For her,” Jandar berated Jassen in a menacing growl, his emphasis indicating that Fatima might come out for the worse because of his drunken assault. While he’d taken the time to lecture the man, he had also remained vigilant to the developments, because the situation was going downhill by the second, and Jassen’s idiocy – despite his own intervention – could very well cost them their lives. If Fatima hadn’t been endangered before, and Jandar wasn’t as confident in his conclusions as his reproach of Jassen might have indicated, she could be now, so he stood there, keeping a physical hold on Jassen while he blatantly watched the goings on.

Dareen raised her eyebrows and compressed her lips inward when Bellinar patted her shoulder. She still felt vulnerable without all her weapons. She hated that ability. One day she would learn that and use it to poof someone's eyeballs out of their skull. Ugh. What a gross thought. Why do you have to be so violent all the time? she asked herself. The eyriens in the room were going on and on about kinds. Your kind, your race, your people.

"I for one, Mikhail, judge you based on your actions, not the stereotypes of what people you happen to hail from." There was a near undetectable trace of irony in her voice. Dareen was saying this because people often go on and on about people's race. The Eyriens and the Dea Al Mon and the Pruulish people, they all had ways they were 'supposed' to act. People who acted outside of those boundaries are rare and exciting, or something. But the irony was there because truth be told, it didn't actually matter at all and Dareen was carrying on a conversation in her head. The mercenary could not relate to anyone in the room at all. In her old life she could talk for hours and hours with her friends. Her friends that everyone in this room would probably think was a monster. Well, Dareen protested silently, monsters make great company. Lots of interesting things to say. Moreover she travelled with them all so much, she had many stories to tell and many stories she wanted to hear. Here with her were two people with gross bat wings who would be disgusted by the stories she had to tell, and a pointy-eared tree hugger who had achieved enlightenment overnight.

Sighing, Dareen raised her palms apathetically. "Don't mind me." She smirked and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

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Their eyes met and her suspicions were confirmed. He belonged to her. Her smile grew slightly, showing more of her teeth. Had she known who this man was or his past she may have felt proper apprehension. She was calm and comfortable beside the huge man - despite the darkness of his jewels. She had no time to consider what to do about this connection though. Things began to move around her.

Her eyes slid from the Eyrien Warlord Prince as the woman spoke in a language she did not understand. Fatima assumed correctly that it was Eyrien. She said nothing as she grasped her cup and slipped a couple of paces away from the bar. The Black Widow. This was the one they had been searching for, surely! Her heart was racing a thousand miles a minute and a flush came to her face that had nothing to do with her drink. The shields went up around them and something began to touch at the edges of her mind.

Instinct reacted at first. Unbidden and rough due to the alcohol in her system her Grey bit back at the tendrils of Blood Opal that sought entrance. The grey sought to destroy that which it viewed as an attack on her person. Just a couple of beats and Fatima reigned that unintentional power back into check. Unfortunately, there came a distraction in the form of one of her own rushing the Eyrien woman. Fatima's white-gold eyes flashed, deep anger welling up inside of her gut.

She was glad that Jandar had gotten a hold on Jassen. She could not imagine what misfortune would become them should he have succeeded in hitting his target. She pulled the skullcap from her head and allowed her long, black waves to fall over her back. The cap and the cup were dropped to the floor with the wine splashing over her boots. Fatima brought her hands up and clasped them at her stomach, just below her breasts. She raised her chin slightly and looked toward Jassen with an eerie calm - as the sea before a torrential storm. "Jassen," her voice was a harsh breath as she hissed his name. "Attend." The tone was dark. "You will go and sit. Be-have." The word was spoken in two, distinct syllables. Her gaze then met Jandar and she hoped he could understand that reigning the drunk in beyond this might fall upon his shoulders. She gave him a slight nod of approval for his behavior thus far and a tight smile.

Her attention was turned back upon Faeril. "Life is my pleasure." With that, she opened the doors to her mind, let her shields of Grey fall and allow the Blood Opal to push in and investigate as it needed. She would see all that had happened in Fatima's life. The good. The bad. And the ugly of it all. Perhaps the hopes she held for her little village to survive and that she would not see a starving or hurt face amongst those in her care.

"Not very often, no." Mikhail replied to Denvar's statement. It wasn't a secret that the Dea Al Mon did have a tendency to... isolate themselves from the rest of the world. Seeing one of them outside their territory was already difficult, seeing one in Terreill was something unheard of, which explained the curiosity and bewilderment that both brothers had when Mikhail revealed his race. Still, Mikhail didn't exactly wanted to keep going on that matter as despite being a Dea Al Mon, his past was something he wanted to keep hidden and forgotten.

Luckily, Dareen interjected, saying that she preferred to judge others by their actions instead of their race or stereotypes, something Mikhail himself agreed upon, despite Dareen's sour mood and the unmistakable trace of irony in her voice.

"Agreed. It is never wise to impart one's preconceptions or stereotypes upon others solely based on their races, origins or social position." Mikhail replied with a small nod towards the woman.

"But I do understand your bewilderment upon seeing a Dea Al Mon in Terreille." Mikhail completed, indicating that he was aware of how uncommon it was for a Dea Al Mon to be seen in Terreille.

When Denvar asked Mikhail how well he fought right now, it made him confused regarding his motives though. Mikhail was uncertain if it was mere curiosity that drove him to ask said question or maybe suspicion regarding who Mikhail truly was.

"It is true that the Dea Al Mon are known for being excellent warriors and having excellent physical capabilities. That being said, what is considered to be merely 'self defense' for the Dea Al Mon is undeniably above the expectations other, non warrior races, have for just 'self defense'." He replied, raising an eyebrow to Denvar's question. Despite his detailed explanation, it was noticeable that he didn't actually answered his question though.

Winged Boar, Aren, Askavi

There was sudden chaos that enveloped the room as soon as he walked in, and it was a lot more action than he expected this morning. First he heard the conversation between the bartender and the Black Widow, hearing him mumble something about the Queen and the Reaper. He hadn't the slightest idea what he meant until he felt a strong presence right next to him, a dark jeweled Queen sitting right next to him on the bar stool. She looked calm and confident, and there was a swagger about her that oozed power. It was quite odd though, she was a tiny thing, pretty but wearing boyish clothes and a cap as if in disguise. He didn't know many Queens that would willing come out like this, in disguise, with no more that a full squadron to prance around with. Well, that might be because The Reaper preyed upon Queens and most in his area had high security, both most were too pompous to dress in anything less than a fancy dress.

What was this Queen doing here anyhow? In this bar? Instinctively he was going to draw a weapon but he stopped himself, as she seemed... different from all the other Queens he had met. There was a warm smile on her face, and he locked eyes with her and heard her voice as she greeted them. He felt a tug on his heart, like a pulse as he felt a connection draw him to look at her, to speak to her, to be around her. It was like a rope tugging him in as he felt relaxed, even though every time he had been anywhere near a Queen he'd be on edge. For some reason he felt as though she was no harm to him, that she came in peace and that she just wanted to talk with him.

This was interrupted by the sharp tone of the Widow, who threatened him per usual as she explained in Eyrien that she was going to probe her mind like she did his. It was none of his concern what they did, as long as nobody was getting stabbed he wouldn't have to get involved. A drink and a chat seemed nice right about now. As he was about to open his mouth to say something, he sensed the Blood Opal shields pour around the bar, and the probing of the Queen's mind start to begin. No sooner than this a man clearly intoxicated lunged forward at Faeril. Keeping his eyes locked with Fatima, he put up a sapphire shield in front of Faeril as the blade stopped mere inches from it. It seemed Jandar pulled the man back, and was chewing him out for acting so rashly.

Xandar chuckled, keeping his eyes locked on Fatima as she put up her Grey shields to ward off the Blood Opal. He vanished his Ebon Grey, the necklace slipping around his neck as he felt the power course inside of him. He used the power of his Jewel to enhance his strength, before turning to Jassen. He grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him up into the air and pinning him against the ceiling, and if Jandar would still be holding on he would get dragged as well. His bright gold eyes seemed deadly serious, looking straight into his eyes.

"Yes, that sounds like a great idea. Sit and behave you poor fool. Your friend over here was wise to stop you, or this could have gotten a lot worse. But I'm in a good mood this morning, and I don't want to trash the tavern, so I'll keep your limbs intact. You should listen to your friends, they are much wiser in their approach to not have me involved. But sadly I am now. Next time I will not be as kind." Xandar said, his head turning to Fatima, still keeping Jassen suspended. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'd like to have a chat with your Queen. I'm quite confident she can handle herself. And if either of you interfere again I'll have no seconds thoughts." he said before tossing Jassen into Jandar, letting him deal with the drunk as he sat back down and brushed off his tunic. He looked over at Fatina and smiled gently, vanishing his Ebon Grey.

"So do you dress up like that and bring drunks with you for sport, or do you have a reason for coming here your highness? I'd like to casually chat but I'm sure the Widow behind me is taking a more direct approach to your thoughts it seems. I wouldn't mind just chatting. You seem very different from many others I have met, and you have me curious. But where are my manners? Xandar Markov, and the pleasure is all mine."

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Faeril took a step back as the larger form of Jassen lunged at her, her eyes wide with shock. Cursing herself the fool as Grey power lanced her Blood Opal in defense, she shifted her attention to the knife that was hovering less than a foot from her face. Sapphire power glimmered in a shield, and the other man, a Dhemlan if she were to make a guess, stood holding the Hyallian man back from finishing the blow. As the Eyrien Warlord Prince walked by to grip the drunk and heft him in the air, a feat that was difficult with two people, leaving Jassen hanging from Xandar's grip with the tips of his, Jassen's, boots scrapping the floor for purchase. Letting out a slight sigh, Faeril looked slightly shocked by the actions of the Dhemlan and the Eyrien. "Perhaps I won't leave you limping." She commented to Xandar by way of a thank you. A gruff one, but a thank you all the way. She had be careless and doubtless her brothers would become mothering hens for a time. Irritating as it was.

As Fatima ordered the drunken fool to sit down and behave, Faeril studied the small woman. Unopposing, able to command, and a fool. She had revealed herself to death if she proved to be anything but true in her mind and word. The drunk grimaced and bowed to his Queen, stalking back to the table and sitting down. Though his eyes never left the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince and a sneering grimace graced his face. He didn't like how much his Queen was risking and the Black Widow could respect that. As Xandar moved to speak with the small woman, Faeril gripped his arm for a minute before dropping her hand. Giving a quick shake of her head, she spoke with a solemn if slightly shaky voice. "Wait your turn, puppy." It was common for Eyrien warrior to call younger ones or overzealous young men 'puppy'. An often apt term. "She must pass my test."

Though there was hope as to her answer. As Fatima lowered her shield and allowed the Black Widow within her mind, something few would do. The Black Widow did not hesitate as her power slipped and spread tendrils of a web through Fatima's mind. It was not the ruthless claws Faeril would use with her foes, but a gently pulling. Urging that if any ill thoughts were there they would come forth. Urging the reasons and truth to be revealed. The Widow knew her Craft and she wielded it well. Noting the death of the child, her heart ached in agreement. The unbidden memory of heart-rending loss tore through Faeril's mind and brushed against Fatima's, though the last of the Ashkevrons was able to keep the detail from being known. She did not trust this Queen fully and even if she had... That was not something she would speak easily about. Gently she stroked the young Hyallian's mind as her voice spoke with the wisdom that went beyond her age. "You speak true. You do not seek to destroy, but to embrace. But can you embrace the Darkness and all it is? Can you give up a great sacrifice for the greater cause? Can you hold the leash to the Triangle?" Three males appeared as shadowy figures in Fatima's mind. One held the sense of great power, a tidal wave held fast at bay and yet it seethed to be unleashed. Another was a warrior, there was no mistaking that. The third however was the hardest to see, a blurry image. First Escort, Master of the Guard and Steward respectively.

Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White

The twin brothers shrugged absently. They were curious and wanted to test out Mikhail's skills in a spar, but this was not the place nor the time. Gen hopefully would be up and Faeril returned. But their wishes and hopes would soon be put on hold as the door to the front of the eyrie shook as someone pounded on it hard enough the windows rattled. If anyone were to look out the window they would see a large group of Eyrien warriors. All armored and with Eyrien war blades in hand. The leader of the group was a member of the District Queen Melian's Court, and thus known to the three Saroth brothers though not their guests. "Open up, Ashkevron. We've got a message you are haboring a criminal. The Reaper." The man's grin was brazen and promised nothing good. "Word gets around fast when there's coin to be had. Our Lady's had enough of your arrogant and rude ways. She wants you to be her Healer or you can Heal the war camps." This was something that Dareen would know along with the Eyrien males though not Mikhail. War camps were the homes to the standing fighting force for an Eyrien court. A barrack where bastard children were common and filled with the young, restless, and cruel warriors that were some of the most dangerous in the Realm.

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Fatima flinched visibly when Jassen was lifted from the ground. She hoped he wouldn’t get hurt. She hoped she wouldn’t have to hate a member of her Court. Jassen was lowered and she released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She turned her attention to Xander, white-gold eyes taking him in and her heart hearing his words. She was about to respond, give him her name, but the Widow intervened. Her gaze met Faeril’s and she felt nothing but anxiety until the Blood Opal power slipped past her open barriers to enter the deep annals of her mind.

The scraping up of things in her past was inexorably uncomfortable. It turned her stomach to pure bile and her bronze skin paled. The hands she clasped beneath her breasts tightened their grip on each other as her knuckles turned white and blood seeped from puncture marks created by her nails. But she did not move. She did not rescind her decision to allow the Widow in. She breathed and remained as calm as she could.

Shadow figures came to the forefront of her mind’s eye. Her breath caught at their “images” - each one creating a strange slew of emotions. The first bathed her in a musky heat that danced along her spine. It cried danger and excitement. The second brought her a feeling of warmth and protection. A fire on a cold night in the wilds. The last was hard to grasp as if it were sand slipping between her fingers. At last, she replied with confusion, “Triangle?”

”Even the Twisted Queens ought to know of the Queen’s Triangle. How naive.” The Eyrien woman murmured with annoyance, her icy eyes studying the tiny Queen. ”The First Escort, sometimes the Consort, the Master of the Guard, and the Steward. The Queen’s Triangle.” Faeril furrowed her brow. What was she to do with such a naive Queen? Surely her spell, her webs, were mistaken? Surely this foolish girl was not the Queen who would be their salvation, for she would surely be their doom.

Fatima blanched at the statement. She went from pale to a burning red of embarrassment. She felt so stupid, there was so much she had not properly learned. She had the basics, yes, but even some of those appeared to be missing. She loosened her grip on her hands and brought them to her upper arms in a self-hug. “I see. Well, I am not the sort to back away from a challenge just because it could be difficult. That is to say, I will do what is needed and learn what I must - even if it is something I do not like - in order to save my village, the land, and its people.”

Faeril closed her eyes briefly in a grimace. ”Then you cannot make the sacrifices that would be required.” Perhaps it was her lack of sleep lately that was making her voice harsh and sharper than usual, but this girl was useless! ”Why would my spell bring a timid little girl, when we need a strong Queen?”

“I don’t know what you are on about, Widow,” she spat like a wild cat, her words a hiss of her dissatisfaction. Her eyes narrowed and her hands came down to her sides. Her anger swirled inside of her stomach, making the bile feeling turn to burning. “I am not here for your pleasure but mine. I am here to save lives, not be the puppet of some grand scheme. I ask for your help. Timid girl? Cannot make sacrifices? You saw inside of me. The whole of me. And yet you would weave such claims?” Unbidden, her Grey came swirling about her, a night tempest which rustled loose papers and picked at her clothes and hair. She walked toward the Black Widow, her face set in a determined scowl. “I am not here to fight you. I am here to do what is needed.”

”Then do what is needed and surrender your village for the time. Take up the Realm. I saw within you the strength, but stepping up to that line is another matter. You took the step once before. For the Jewel you do not wear.” The Black Widow’s ring finger tapping Fatima’s Sapphire Jewel. ”That is my price for my service. Pay it and I shall serve in your Court.” Words she never thought to utter and perhaps a fool’s promise, but for a chance of hope, she would break her own Jewel. Her face was a mask of rage while she snapped against the windblown dramatics of the Queen. ”Stop with the dramatics, child. They do not impress me.” Though she did like this bit of spine the child had.

The swirling, invisible wind of her Grey slowly settled as shock replaced her rage. She blinked and stared in confusion at Faeril who was now within arms reach. She glanced down as the Widow tapped the jewel and then she shook her head. “The Realm? You mean… All of Terrielle?” Her words were hollow as if she had never tasted them on her lips before. Fatima had not considered herself being a part of something so big. It was mind boggling. To save ALL of Terrielle. “My Court?” She was never supposed to have a Court. Of course, this woman would have seen that.

Fatima looked toward Jassen and Jandar and then at Xandar. She shook her head again as if trying to rattle things into its proper place. Give up her birthright - that which her mother had bequeathed her - to save everyone. Not just happy faces in the village but in all of Terrielle. Could she do that? Her attention came back to Faeril. “It will get bad before it gets better.” It was more a statement to herself. “What would you have me do, Widow?”

”That is an answer that lies with those males who would make up your First Circle. I would have you gain their loyalty, not to mention finding them.” Faeril gave a sideways look to Xandar with a raised brow. ”I can confirm that she is indeed free of the corruption that plagues this Realm, Prince. But the choice remains yours. Would you join her First Circle? She lacks the experience or skill, but her heart is pure if extremely naive and foolish. But we are lacking good and honest Queens. I could think of no one better to be the Master of her Guard than the Reaper.” Shifting slightly to regain her balance, Faeril withdrew her shields from the building and her power slipped fully from Fatima’s mind. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Faeril gritted her teeth in annoyance. She would need to rest when they reached her eyrie. Fool was she for pushing herself too hard of late, but time was running out.

Relief filled her as the Blood Opal power slipped from her mind. The Grey immediately threw its fortifications back into place. Her mind was ready to take on anyone who dared enter without express permission. One uncomfortable entrance into the secrets of her inner world was enough. Her whole body relaxed in response to the removal of power from the room.

Turning toward Xandar fully, her stance was open and welcoming. Her palms turned toward him and arms held slightly away from her body - almost a mimicking a stance to pull the man into a hug if he were to approach. Her face was one of stony determination. “Or would you kill me dead?” She slid her eyes briefly toward Jassen and Jandar, she made a slight motion of her hand to indicate that they should do nothing. Then her attention was on Xandar again. “There is much in this world that is wrong. Atrocities that have taken place by the hand or word of those like me. I would not blame you. I do ask that you give me a chance to prove my worth.”

Xandar heard a gruff “thank you” from Faeril, or what he assumed was a thank you, as he nearly saved her from a tragic stabbing incident. He guessed it was her way of being nice, which was better than what he had been getting from her yesterday. Quite honestly it gave Xandar an excuse to take out his aggression that was somewhat justified, even if the situation was somewhat under control as it was. There was no moment that he didn’t want to assert his dominance in the room, and he stared Jassen down and gave a small smirk as he bowed and took his place back at his seat. As he was about to continue his conversation, a handle gripped his shoulder for a moment, interrupting him.

”Puppy? I’m sorry Widow, but I’m used to having a conversation to get to know someone, rather than poking around their brain.” The Reaper said with a sigh, before turning himself in his chair and crossing his arms, watching over the two women as they talked and went about their business. They were muttering and arguing up a storm it seemed, and he gathered bits and pieces, but the whole situation was throwing Xandar for a loop. This feeling he had was stopping him from instinctually drawing his sword and cleaving heads off after hearing a queen was within spitting distance of him. But the voice in the back of his mind was telling him no, that this one was different. He didn’t understand why, but he held himself in check. Nothing was happening so far, so he would hold himself for now.

Turning back to the conversation as he was addressed, the curve ball came like a shock to him as he was told that she was free of the corruption and filth of the other Queens, something he took with a grain of salt. She did seem different, but he has had his trust abused before, and it almost cost him his life, and he would have his injury on his side to remember that. But the even wilder bit was the offer to be her Master of the Guard. The one thing he was avoiding, being controlled by a Queen… and this is what they wanted from him? He spent a good portion of his life fighting against this, and they wanted him to go willingly? Yes she may not be corrupt, but he would have to see this for himself. After the events of the past, his trust would not be bought so easily. But… if this is all true, then this would exactly what he wanted. To be a part of true order and leadership, a force to stop the twisted queens and bring peace and prosperity back to his people. At first he had this weight on his shoulders, but would some others now share this load?

He turned his attention to Fatima, his shoulders set back as his face was not so bright and casual as he was a few moments ago. His face was serious, confident, and his bright gold eyes seemed like they were smoldering with intensity. A warm, glowing fire, but also powerful and destructive. Fire was not easy to contain, but when controlled would be a powerful ally.

”So far you have given me no reason to kill you, but if not for this feeling I have I might have thought about it when I walked in here. While this all sounds good, I am not bought over so easily. The Widow may be able to read your mind, but how I determine a person’s worth is through their heart. I judge their pride, their compassion, their will and their determination. I have spent many years avoiding your kind, afraid of being just another pawn in their game. I am an Eyrien man, the last of my blood line, and I have taken countless lives in the pursuit of freedom and a better life for my people. If you prove to me that deep in your heart that you can and will change this world for the better, then I will commit to you as I have committed to my cause. Show me your heart, Queen. Show me… Hope.”

She was feeling quite confused. The giant of a man was saying quite a lot. She brought her hands together below her breasts again, standing much like an opera singer. Fatima walked toward him, feeling that he would not strike her down just yet, and tilted her face up. “Then, what would you have me do?” Her question was quiet and cool, attempting not to betray the nerves she felt.

The Prince sighed as he looked down at the Queen, a million things running around in his head as he looked at his hand resting on the counter, his sapphire glowing dimly on the ring on his finger. It was a strange thing, the Queen asking what to do rather than others asking her. She did seem new to all this for sure, but, that might be a good thing. This gave her room to grow and learn the proper, kinder, right way to go about things. ”It’s not some action or task you can do simply. Just be… you. And I will judge your character. The same goes for you, if you’ll have me. I trust Faeril and her observations, but I’m hesitant to sign myself to such a role so quickly. I want to be able to trust you.”

She relaxed slightly, her shoulders coming down and her back less stiff. A broad smile appeared on her face. "I couldn't be anyone else if I tried," she laughed and let her hands fall to her side. "And I hope to trust you with all of my heart." Fatima moved and picked up her spilled cup from the floor. She set it upon the bar before hoisting herself up onto it on her stomach. Her feet were well off the floor and waved as she steadied herself on the bar. She reached over and pulled a towel from the other side. Hopping off the counter she set about cleaning up her mess. On her hands and knees she scrubbed at the wine on the floor, hoping it wouldn't stain.

"Well, if we've got everything sorted out well enough," she said from her position on the floor, "then I think it would be best to get to know one another, hmm?" She finished cleaning up and stood, placing a hand on her hip while the other held the dirty rag away from her person and to the side.

It was quite odd seeing the Queen herself pick up a spilled drink, cleaning it off with a rag. Many Queens felt those kind of jobs were beneath them, most basic tasks being accomplished by those under them. Hell, even Xandar was guilty of putting tasks like that onto those beneath him. It was sort of… humbling, watching her clean up the mess and hop on the counter to do so. Even something so simple she seemed to do with a certain Grace, Xandar watching her as she lay on her stomach, her feet well off the ground. On her hands and knees, she seemed generally concerned if it would stain.

”Why wouldn’t you just have one of your servants clean that up? he asked genuinely, before leaning back in his seat and resting his arm on the counter. ”I’d certainly be happy to get to know one another. We can talk here or go somewhere with a bit less… tension. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have much planned the rest of my day. Maybe a conversation over breakfast?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Servants?" She looked around the little bar which was quite deserted now. There was no one else here. Besides, she had made the mess. She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. "Great! We have a -hmmph - table just there!" She quickly placed the rag behind the bar (with as much trouble as she had getting it) before she moved over to where her companions waited. "The grumpy one is Jassen and the other grumpy one is… Jean," she said with a giggle. She didn't know how much Jandar would like revealed considering their first meeting and so hoped she gave him the chance to properly sort that out himself. "And I'm Fatima. You were Xandar right? And what is your name Widow?"

@LadyRunic@13org

Dareen perked up while turning and looking over at the door. Standing to her feet she peeked out the window at the ground of winged men outside. The mercenary looked deep in thought, biting her lower lip. She glanced over at the brothers, and then over at Mikhail. Dareen was a terrible liar. The Pruulish witch believed that currently, were they to provoke the hired thugs outside, they would be outmatched. They needed to stall for time. Faeril and Xandar didn't even know there were people coming to "capture" them. In times of doubt, Commander taught Dareen that honesty was the best policy. So that's what she did. She shouted through the door.

"No one by the name of Faeril or the Reaper are in this house. Go away." She yelled through the window. Maybe that would buy them some time.

"What are you going to do?" Withdrawing from the windows, she quietly asked the others in the room. Hopefully they had a plan of some kind. Dareen was completely unarmed at the moment to make things worse.

"I could kill all of them with my bare hands, but I just got my nails done. Sword please? " Dareen joked urgently, flattening an open palm at Denvar who had vanished her weapons yesterday.

When the Eyrien Warlord Prince grabbed Jassen, Jandar released the drunk immediately, and simply watched on coolly as the drunk got what he deserved, smirking slightly at the man’s plight. Jandar did catch Jassen as the Eyrien threw him in the Warlord’s direction, but was not at all gentle in handling the fool. Jassen eventually stumbled to the table in response to Fatima’s command, and proceeded to sit there sulkily. Jandar leaned a hip to the edge of the table, not exactly relaxed but nor was he blatantly hostile. The Dhemlan Warlord was simply watching cautiously for the moment. The Black Widow probed Fatima’s mind, eventually re-emerging from her browsing of the Queen’s memory, and proclaimed Fatima’s intentions to be honest. Even Jandar was relieved, because that meant his intuition that his Queen was a good one had been correct. The Black Widow and Fatima continued with their conversation, the Eyrien female informing the Queen about the Queen’s Triangle, questioning Fatima’s readiness, then offering her service to the Queen’s court when her worries were allayed enough.

The Black Widow even asked the Eyrien Warlord Prince if he would be willing to be Fatima’s Master of Guard, remarking that the Queen was pure, but also naïve, foolish, and inexperienced. Based on the conversation between the women, that much was true, but if an experienced Queen was the only one willing to do something for Terreille and against all the spreading corruption, then by the Darkness, Jandar would support her – and not only because he felt the pull to do so. Jandar straightened immediately in response to Fatima offering her life so casually, a low growl escaping him. He didn’t care for her calming motion; if that Markov male decided to kill her, he would interfere, no matter the overwhelmingly higher rank and power of the Warlord Prince. He watched tensely as the Eyrien male responded, and relaxed slightly when he confirmed he had no intention of murdering the Queen – yet. Markov also confirmed that he’d indeed felt the pull as well, though apparently the Eyrien Warlord Prince was not familiar with the concept and meaning of that feeling.

What unfolded next was rather bizarre. Not the part where Markov explained he would need a trust to develop between Fatima and himself before he could consider serving her – Jandar could certainly understand that – but the part where Fatima cleaned the spilled drink by hand. Had she gotten a read on Markov that soon, and concluded such an act would help gain that trust the male had implied would be so elusive? Or did she genuinely believe that performing even the most mundane tasks was somehow worthwhile? Unlike Markov, Jandar didn’t wonder why Fatima hadn’t left it to the servant. Instead, he could not discern the reason why she hadn’t simply Vanished the spill. It would have been much more efficient, without putting her in such a…such a vulnerable, disgraceful position. Did she not know that there were people out there in the world who would hear or see such a thing and immediately use it against her? Then again, if our goal is to go against all the unfit rulers of Terreille, such a lowly conduct might not matter one way or the other.

Regardless of his opinion, Jandar didn’t question Fatima about this one odd decision. Instead, he introduced himself when prompted. “Jandar Varan, from Kaeleer. I suppose this is as good a time as any to say that I’ve come here to find irrefutable evidence that the ambassadors we’ve sent here so far had been unlawfully acted against. I also believe finding SaDiablo and returning him to Kaeleer would be immensely helpful,” he concluded, mainly gazing at the Black Widow as he did, wondering if she’d disclose any of her own insights or at least reveal if the information he’d shared meant anything to her.

Before Mikhail could get any reply other than the Eyrien brother's shrug before they heard a noise coming from outside the front door, followed by strange voices demanding them to open up the door, wanting to meet both Faeril and Xandar. Mikhail immediately frowned upon hearing Xandar's nickname. Just as he had previously thought, nothing of good would come in having such a person nearby them. Even though neither Faeril nor Xandar were currently there, they still had to deal with the unwanted guests.

It didn't take much other than a quick glance outside the window to realize that their 'guests' were nothing less than fully armed and armored warriors. It was clear that they weren't there just to talk.

Dareen was the first one to say something, yelling that there was no one by those names in said building. Even though it was a futile attempt to confuse the warriors, at least it was better than nothing. As Dareen turned towards him and the brothers, asking what they should do, Mikhail had already stood up from his seat and had a penetrating, almost predatory look on his face as he watched the front door.

"Nothing yet. Judging by their words, they have connections with the queen. Killing them might not be the best course of action for Faeril. Especially since it's her name that's on the line, not ours." Mikhail said as he considered their options.

With an almost imperceptible movement of his hands, Mikhail used his Gray jewel, which was hidden in an armguard under his sleeves until now and created dozens of long razor sharp wires with his craft. Extremely thin and almost invisible, he made them almost weightless and left them floating right in front of the door. To those who were paying attention to his movements, they would be able to take a glance at the armguard and the gray jewel he was hiding, although it was unlikely they would see the wires without paying close attention.

"Please, stay away from the front door." Mikhail whispered to the Eyrien brothers and Dareen, with a serious expression as he held his hand up making a claw gesture with his fingers, upon close inspection, they would see an extremely faint reflection of something that was wrapped around his fingers and his hand and the armguard, now clearly showing, including the gray jewel.

Since Mikhail wasn't really certain how exactly would be the best way to deal with that situation, he would take a passive aproach to the conflict. If the intruders forcefully entered, the wires would get entangled around them as they walked inside, Mikhail would need only to give a slight pull on them for the intruders to feel the pressure of the sharp wires around them. Hopefully they would understand their position and retreat, otherwise he would have to go on the offensive.

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Faeril's blue eyes weres filled with annoyance as she gazed at the child-Queen while the little girl tried to clean up the spilled wine. Though she most likely had seen her majority, the maturity of it seemed to not have caught up with her. While she was pleased, she had perhaps found a worthwhile Queen, if a bit foolish, Faeril was more so pleased by the fact Xandar was accepting her thus far and not ripping Fatima's head from her shoulders. The Warlord Prince had quite the reputation when it involved the ruling caste. Though it gave her no end of amusement to see his befuddlement at how this Queen was in her nature. He would learn in time, and the bit of iron in the young Fatima would keep the Court in check. Though Faeril figured if that didn't do it a bit of bullying from herself would.

"Faeril Ashkevron." She answered in a clipped voice as Randalvar entered through the back door with several large bags and a hefty crate. Normally she would not have blinked at Vanishing the items away into the sort of cupboard the Blood held within their power, but with the Blood Opal she was far more careful. It always amused her at how some Landens believed the Jewel was the power. It some case that was so, but the Jewel was a focus point and storage area for the excess power the Blood's body's created. A witch could have her Jewel broken, but she still would have access to her Craft. The cost, however, was a steep one. Sanity. Madness was a road the Blood called the Twisted Kingdom and she had walked many of it's paths.

Cursing herself for overstretching herself between weaving needless webs into the night to lure her hope to her, and the whole business with her many guests. Looking over at Jean and Jassen, Faeril spoke firmly and tried her best to keep bais out of it for the man attacking her. "And while I welcome Jean to join us," Like the man could refuse! "I cannot nor will I extend that invitation to Jassen. He is not a member of your Court." Not to mention he had to tried to kill her.

"A little harsh, eh?" Randalvar grunted as he set the crate and two sacks on the counter. Pouring a shot of whiskey, he slid it over to Xandar to cover up the slight jerk of his head at the other man that the supplies were his for the taking. He knew the Blood Opal when he saw it.

"Which means, Lady, he has a choice of death or having his mind wiped of these events." It was harsh, but Faeril had not lived this long without drawing that line for numerous others. There was quite the 'Like Hell!' from the old barkeep as the Healer-Black Widow shot him a warning look that it would be wise for him to keep his mouth shut. Which Randalvar didn't seem like taking.

"You are wearing the Blood Opal, Fae. Don't think I don't see it. Don't feel it. Why would you be wearing that and not the Red?"

Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White

"Hell's fire, Mother Night and May the Darkness be merciful." Swore Denvar as he called in his war blade. "Why tell them the Red Jeweled Healer that scares the pants off us is gone?" He complained as the sound of running reached them and Gen appeared in the archway gasping and panting for breath.

"Because that would make them break the door down faster?" Bellinor offered tentatively as there was laughter from the other side. Gripping a fire poker, he Vanished the books once more. "I don't see us holding them off." He warned in a growl to the Green Jeweled brother.

Gen nodded as Mikhail formed his wires, though the others didn't know that exactly. They did know the Dea Al Mon was doing something. Tapping Mikhail on the shoulder Gen jerked his head towards the front door. "Faeril isn't here even if you were looking for her." He hated giving up his friend, but there were Eyriens in the town who could and would fight for the Healer. If she went to the town, that is. If not, then sending these fools the town would buy them time. "Where did Faeril go?" He hissed to the group in an undertone, his golden eyes still bleary from sleep. "Who is with her? You didn't let her go alone!" There was a dangerous current in Gen's voice as he started to fret.

Location: Winged Boar in Aven, Askavi

It seemed as though things were starting to get a bit more lighthearted, as Xandar took a seat next to the Queen and joined the table with her other two "companions". The one introduced himself in a respectable manner, letting know his intentions in coming here, which was quite respectable. This "Jean" character seemed like one of the Queen's right hand men, and a bit more serious and proper in his approach. Much more mature than Jassen, the drunk sulking in the corner. Xandar nodded at Jandar, about to open his mouth before Faeril came over next to him, Randalvar right behind her. He gave a slight wave of his hand, the supplies vanished as he caught the whiskey all in the same motion, winking at Randalvar. He had a feeling he would need a drink, and possibly even more, to deal with this eventful morning.

He listened as Faeril talked about Jassen and the fact that Jean would join the court while the drunk had the option of dying or having his memory wiped. Quite the harsh sentence, but certainly necessary. Any slower reaction by him or Jean would have meant a near death experience for the local healer, which he still needed as much as she needed him. Hopefully another scuffle wouldn't erupt at the table, although Randalvar cautioned Faeril that she indeed had her Blood Opal and not the Red out. She seemed quite exhausted, and something was telling him she had her reasons for holding back, as did Xandar. For a moment he revealed his Ebon Grey, but now had his Sapphire, as using his Ebon Grey would attract the wrong kind of attention most days. Come to think of it...

Xandar downed the shot of whiskey, the slight burn of his throat comforting as he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with his thumb and taking a puff of it. "While the fate of this man is surely, important to some degree, I have a bad feeling about our current situation. My name is Xandar Markov, as a formality, but I am more often referred to by an Alias that has shown only the worst of me I'm afraid. That being said, with me being her, the Queen, ambassadors, Faeril, and all the attention and new faces running through here... I can't help but get the feeling that we would have some unexpected company rather soon. I never stayed in the same place long for this reason. It's not a matter of if, but when they come, what shall we do then? Once we figure that out I'm happy to discuss this new world order business."

The Black Widow didn’t share anything beyond her name, and an invitation to join, to which Jandar curtly nodded in acceptance. Of course, he was along for the ride, this was the best possible situation he could have come upon! Much better than trying to work alone, as that would more likely to lead to a mess – or rather, whenever a mess did occur, as messes tended to, at least having native allies would help clean them up. He was entirely indifferent to the fact Faeril ordered Jassen either be killed or had his memories erased; given how incompetent the drunk had been so far, the Warlord would honestly prefer him to leave…or be removed, if it came to that. Though hopefully Fatima was not too attached to the idiot or else the Black Widow’s suggestion might not be something the Queen would take to kindly or agree to. Jandar glanced at Fatima curiously, wondering how she’d take the condition that Jassen not be present, and either have his life or his memories of this matter taken away from him. He didn’t care for Jassen’s own reaction, though if the drunk attempted escaping, Jandar would certainly prevent him from doing so.

The Kaeleeran did look on curiously as the bartender said something to the Black Widow; apparently the older Eyrien was concerned by her being exhausted or some such? Then, the Markov Warlord Prince pointed out his own precarious situation. “The Reaper, wasn’t it,” Jandar remarked casually when the Eyrien warrior mentioned his title. Honestly, Jandar was only aware that the man was wanted and feared by the locals, but didn’t have as good a grasp on the why, despite the occasional rumour he did manage to catch since arriving in Terreille. If he had to guess based on the tid-bits he gleaned from wary head-hunters and based on their current situation, then Xandar was probably some kind of an open rebel against the current regime; he may have even attempted instigating some kind of a war in the past? In the end, it didn’t matter beyond the fact that he was now an ally, and that people who would be after the Warlord Prince would be against anyone with him. “Perhaps we reduce their numbers and Faeril could alter the memories of the remaining ones? Or we try to infiltrate their HQ in turn and destroy or convert them from the inside?” Jandar suggested thoughtfully. If the Black Widow could cover their tracks, that would be the best, but though they had to lay low for at least a while, that would not be a permanent solution.

The trap was set, now Mikhail had only to wait. Despite that, he still didn't want to show the full extent of his skills, it was never a good idea to do so unless one had complete trust on his 'companions'. It was a simple web, covering only a specific area in front of the front door, but it should suffice for that, showing more to the enmies might not be the best course of action.

Denvar already had his blade on hands while the others started getting ready to fight. Discreetly putting his free hand on one of his curved daggers, he waited in silence as Gennar answered to the ones who were outside the door. Despite him knowing Faeril wasn't home though, he didn't seem to know exactly where she went as he asked the rest of the group in a growl.

"She is with The Reaper." Mikhail said in a low voice, emphasizing Xandar's title, in a clear indication he didn't trust him.

"They went to the store of a man named Randalvar, near the Winged Boar." Mikhail completed, continuing in silence as he kept his eyes on the door, alert to anything that could happen.

It was obvious that he had nothing more to say to Gennar regarding that. For one, he was merely a guest, or better, a patient and had no right to tell Faeril what to do and even if he did, Faeril probably wouldn't hear him nor give his words any consideration knowing how she was according to what he saw and heard from the Eyrien brothers. It was clear on Mikhail's eyes and annoyed expression though that he believed it wasn't the time to be discussing things like that, given that there were armed men right outside the front door.

Dareen threw her hands in the air exasperated. "Okay," she whispered harshly at the brothers. "'The fugitives are in here. Come get them.'" She kept her voice down, but waved her hands in the air like she was yelling. "Is that what you wanted? It sounds like they are coming in anyway."

She raised her eyebrows and let her mouth fall open when Mikhail spoke. "Faeril and Xandar aren't actually here? What? When did that happen?" Her bluff that Xandar and Faeril weren't here was supposed to just be a bluff. It seemed truth or bluff, the common consensus was that they were going to tell the brigands outside that there were no fugitives in the house. Denvar had ignored her plea for her weapons back, so if they didn't buy it Dareen didn't like her chances.

"Well, they're probably going to want to check the inside of this house." Dareen said, crossing her weaponless arms and shifting her weight onto one leg. Glancing concernedly over at Mikhail, Dareen said, "I don't know what kind of trap you've just set, but maybe you should disarm it? For now? Because if they come in and find they have some sort of... bamboozle, they're going to get pissed." She was clearly flustered at the whole situation. It really wasn't her place to give tactical advice, but it seemed like everyone else was just making it up as they went along.

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“Jandar Varan, from Kaeleer. I suppose this is as good a time as any to say that I’ve come here to find irrefutable evidence that the ambassadors we’ve sent here so far had been unlawfully acted against. I also believe finding SaDiablo and returning him to Kaeleer would be immensely helpful,”

Fatima stiffened at the mention of the black jeweled Warlord Prince. Her heart pumped hard and she gripped the back of the wooden chair. The Queen Killer. She hoped to never lay eyes upon him. He had a reputation. And it terrified her. Like the big bad boogeyman hiding beneath her bed. He would slit her throat and torture her just as he would any other Queen.

She lowered her gaze as she attempted to calm her nerves. Unfortunately, all sorts of new information was assaulting her. Faeril had been weakened. She could not bring Jassen despite all of the years of service to her just because he was not an official part of her Court. Fatima pulled her arms about herself as she chewed on her lower lip. She looked at Jassen. The man, as many of those who had served her mother's Court, had been good to her. He took care of her. And he tended to be much less stern with her than some of the others, perhaps contributing to her wild nature. She brushed her fingers through her hair and looked toward Faeril. She would have to make a decision and soon.

"While the fate of this man is surely, important to some degree, I have a bad feeling about our current situation. My name is Xandar Markov, as a formality, but I am more often referred to by an Alias that has shown only the worst of me I'm afraid. That being said, with me being here, the Queen, ambassadors, Faeril, and all the attention and new faces running through here... I can't help but get the feeling that we would have some unexpected company rather soon. I never stayed in the same place long for this reason. It's not a matter of if, but when they come, what shall we do then? Once we figure that out I'm happy to discuss this new world order business."

Brows furrowed in confusion. Why would anyone be looking for them? What was the alias? Was it because of the association with the Black Widow? And with her in such a weakened state this would not turn out well. Anxiety rippled through her guts. There was so much going on at once. But one thing Fatima was good at was running. She excelled at staying away from those who might hurt her. She chewed on a thumbnail as she continued to take in the information.

“The Reaper, wasn’t it,”

Her blood ran cold and she froze. The anxiety that had been sparking in her stomach finally burst into burning fear. She could have vomited right then and there. Her face paled as she turned her eyes upon Xandar. She had not realized that he was... She had certainly sensed his danger and that he could kill her in an instant should he wish it. But she hadn't thought... She had not anticipated he be the Reaper. Another Queen Killer. How foolish and brazen she had been earlier. Fatima fought to keep from taking a step back and away from the group. No. Xandar had said he would serve her. He wouldn't hurt her now. Not yet. It was fine. It was all fine. Fatima closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

“Perhaps we reduce their numbers and Faeril could alter the memories of the remaining ones? Or we try to infiltrate their HQ in turn and destroy or convert them from the inside?”

While Jandar's advice was sound, they had yet to face such an enemy. No numbers to count. No bodies to bloody the ground. And infiltration would be exceedingly dangerous with their small numbers. Fatima opened her eyes. She had been silent up to this point. Now seemed the correct time to give her thoughts. "Firstly," she walked over to stand next to the Widow. "It would be wise to move where the casualty of civilians would be at a minimum. That is to say, it would be a shame to see this bar ruined. And the Widow needs rest before she can do much more weaving - be it to kill one of mine or to erase his mind. We can get to that later." She gave Jassen a meaningful look. She would fight for him. As she would fight for anyone who was under her care. "For now, if there is a concern, it would be best to work on the move. While feet walk, mouths can talk." Her eyes alighted on each person in the room for a moment. Her words were soft and even and did not relay the intense fear that was fermenting her insides.

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"My rest, is of little concern." Faeril argued shortly with the general opinion as both Randalvar and Fatima voiced their views on the matter. As for Xandar, she gave the Warlord Prince a disgusted look of annoyance as if she didn't know what he had done with the supplies. Muttering under her breath she turned the icy gaze back to the little, naive Queen. To be fair, she supposed the young woman had a viable point. "Talking and walking would be of the best idea. We have plenty of both to do. That one," She nodded her head sharply towards Jassen who snarled and looked about ready to leap over the table at the Black Widow. "He will be coming with us until I can work my Craft upon him." It was not so much for the sake of the Queen who looked troubled over the entire thing, so much as the fact Faeril knew she lacked the strength to do it. That knowledge kept her from snipping at Xandar, as well as the fact the Eyrien had stepped in. Curling a finger at Jean, she frowned slightly. "A word, Lord Jandar." If Jean were to approach the Black Widow as she left the tavern, not waiting to see if the others would follow or not, the woman would continue speaking in an undertone. Specifically to keep Jassen from hearing her words. She didn't trust that one in the slightest. "You say you are looking for SaDiablo? The Sadist?" She wondered aloud. Though her mind was already wincing and cringing at the fact the Queens were snatching away the odd Kaeleer male. The taint of the twisted Queens was spreading far further than she had thought. Would it-? Could it slip into Kaeleer? Mother's mercy if it did.

Jassen looked furious as the Black Widow mocked him and threatened him. He had acted in the best interest of his Queen! That was his first and only priority after all. That Lady Fatima was returned to the Court safely. They could not afford to lose the Grey Jeweled Queen, but this Black Widow! This bitch was trying to spirit the young Queen away with lies about power and status Fatima would never attain! "Lady it is a trap." He warned his Queen desperately, glowering at the retreating Black Widow. "How can we trust this Widow? Let alone the Reaper." He spats, unable to keep the fear from his voice. Standing and moving to block Xandar's access to the Queen. Well aware of the toes he was socially stepping on belonged to one of the more dangerous men in the Realm. But he was not going to leave his Queen with these... people!

Ahkevron Residence, Aven, Askavi Terreille
@13org @Zoey White
The door shivered as something heavy hit it from the other side. Gen frowned and winced with a snarl. "Dammit it all, Denvar! Give the lass her weapons. Would you rather Faeril ream you for being dead or being reckless?" Running a hand through his hair the Eyrien sighed and growled to himself. "Randalvar. Well if they go down that way, that old man would butcher them and half the town would help him. Grinning with a wolfish smile, the Green Jeweled Warlord concede the point that Faeril 'had some admirers in town for her abilities' and the town was quite thankful for the aid of their finest Healer.

Denvar snarled but knew better than to risk a fight with Gen at this current time. Summoning the saber, shield, bow and arrows the Tiger-eyed Warlord Prince tossed the lot at Dareen. "If I'm dead I don't have to deal with Ashke!" Snapped the man, as the door rattled and shook. "Do I open the door, too?" The sarcasm thick on Denvar's voice.

"Why not? We got the home advantage." Jested Bellinar, gripping his own warblade. Gen muttered about both his brothers being idiots, which Bellinar ignored and grinned sideways at Dareen. "Darling witchling, we let them in and they would make up evidence. They've been aiming for Faeril for years. We're just a bonus to their paycheck."

Gen gestured the door snapping open and a rather tall Eyrie came charging in. Most likely it was he who had been ramming the door to the jeers and cheers of his little unit. With the door opened they seemed to number just about ten, the jewel of the charger a gleaming Purple Dusk. The Grey Jeweled wires of Mikhail wrapped about the man as he, the eyrien, called in a nicked and worn warblade. The rest of the group slipping two more into the room. as they huddled about the door. "Well, there we go!" Laughed the Green Jeweled Prince of Queen Melian's court. "Now why don't you all, just go outside while we see if that bitch and bastard are in or not? Or you going to actually use those little sticks." He sneered, seeming unaware of Mikhail's Grey Jewel as Gen stepped slightly in front of the Dea Al Mon.