Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Xandar stiffened up at the touch, but exhaled slowly. He knew the Landens were a gigantic pain in the ass, and their rebellion would only cause more of a headache than they were worth. Still, just disposing of this small lot wouldn't hurt, nobody would miss them or even know they were dead. He was just used to his days of being a rogue, hiding in abandoned buildings like this. He got real tired of trying to talk, persuade, and convince others. It was much easier to either stay hidden or kill anybody who could pass on word of his presence. If it was women and children he would think twice about such violence, but these seemed like a bunch of blundering idiots. Or, even worse, they could be spies for that Queen.

It was out of his hands though, as he nodded and let the witch slip past him, as the Warlord Prince simply stood in the doorway and listened in on the conversation. They were a bunch of poor and ragged men who were blabbering on about rebellion, and when they spotted the Widow, they didn't seem too pleased. It didn't take too long for them to think about selling her out, even at the risk of their own lives. If there was even a hint of some reward that they could get, they would pounce on it, anything to give them a glimmer of hope out of their mediocre lives. It seemed like it was a stalemate, and he wasn't going to let them simply wander off know that they knew one of them was here.

The Reaper walked into the open, firmly closing the door behind him and leaning against it. The group of five men went wide eyed, watching at the Warlord Prince played with his ring that held the Sapphire Jewel. He looked very disinterested in the conversation, but there was just a... terrifying aura about him. It was clear that he was with Faeril, and that he could easily make their lives a living hell in an instant. The moment he looked over at the group they shuttered, the cracked out individual covering his head and diving to the floor. Just a look, a glance, it seemed like those bright gold eyes were staring into their souls.

He didn't say a word though, as he looked back down at his ring again and mused over it, rubbing his thumb along the fine edges of it. It was only for a moment, but that glance tensed up the group, and the bearded one took a few seconds to compose himself before finally mustering up the courage to speak. "W-well, um. W-we d... don't have to tell the queen about nothin'! Nope, like we never even seen ya. J-just be on our way."

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Gennar paced back and forth next to the coach, his wings rustling restlessly as he kept giving the town off in the distance furtive looks. It wouldn't have been too horrid if Faeril had not insisted on doing nothing. Then perhaps at least one of them could have tried to slip into the town proper and make sure nothing was amiss. The Black Widow was insistent, however, they could not interfere with what may or may not happen within the town. It was for Fatima, their Queen, to deal with. "Ashke, this is foolishness. Dusk is going and gone with the Queen not back yet. We cannot remain here waiting and risking our own necks let alone hers. What if something happened?" While it was true that Fatima was not his Queen in the sense that his heart belonged to her, Gen was invested due to the hope that Fatima brought.

Enduring her dear friend's glower, Faeril sighed her brow furrowed with her own worry. "If she is foolish enough to get trapped in Eldra, then there was no hope form the start." Not to mentioned they needed what she had felt in the town before her spell-web had been torn apart by the dark black power. It had been a small blessing that the landens had left by that point. When the feedback from a spell woven over the course of months fed back on her, Faeril had lost her legs. Normally a break like that didn't put her on her ass but her spells had never been so brutalized before. Cranky already from taking Xandar's comments before as an insult, she now had been even more bitchy. Wrapped up in two thick blankets courtesy of Bellinar, the Widow bristled as Gen snarled.

"That is cold, Ashke."

"I am a cold person, Gen." Snipped the Eyrien woman, sipping water from a mug. The few herbs in it floating and bobbing as her hand shook slightly.

"You know who they ran into. Fuck's sake, the Black put you on your ass." Gen turned about, his wings flaring in agitation. Startling the witch slightly as it took something big to startle Gennar. Of the four of them he was the most unflappable, so to speak. "We need to go into the town ourselves and deal with it. Now. It's night and our best chance to not be obtuse about it. I don't give a damn what you say right now, Fae." The icy blue eyes narrowed as Gen used his childhood nickname for her. One only used by the brothers three and those deeply familiar with the Healer-Black Widow. "You said yourself we need the Queen. Can we really risk losing her over some bastard who serves the Hyallian Courts? I never heard a bad thing about the Sadist from those who weren't Aristo but even those who were Aristo and stayed out of his way crossed him by merely existing at one time or another."

Faeril shifted from her seat nervously. "You surprise me by considering the words of an Aristo."

"You are one." Snapped the Warlord as he shifted back to watching the town. "I'm just telling you what I hear."

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"Really, you just couldn't help yourself?" The sweet, overly honeyed voice purred into his ear. "A fool insulted you, so you tore him apart?" Laska, Queen of Eldra and the landen village of what had been Sheepsfold, circled about the tall and intimidating figure of Saetan SaDiablo. The Warlord Prince for his credit looked bored with the theatrical movement as Laska pranced about to show off a dress that was more gossamer than material and did little to hide a body that was just a bit too tall to be attractive. It was a common joke well out of the Queen's hearing that her mother must have been a horse herself. A truth, though they would not know it. Their last Queen, Lady Marthea, had been quite horrified by her daughter's appearance. So she had hidden the girl away and would have disposed of her altogether if she had gotten with another child. Alas that hadn't happened. So Marthea had wedded her daughter to a desperate man who needed her favor and Laska had been born. While it was true the Queen of Eldra had a face that resembled a horse, there was a lightness to the bone structure that could be forgiving. If Saetan had a guess he would assume that the child's grandfather had been a landen. The father must have been a desperate dark jeweled merchant who had been running from someone else. The daughter, a lighter jeweled witch, wedded to a man far darker to produce a daughter with enough power to hold her own and thus the entire scandal would be covered up for good if only he would bless Laska with the ability to continue her line, and lie. Which he had no intention on doing.

"Yes, I believe that is what I stated." He hissed in a soft voice full of venom. He needed Laska to keep the show going tonight. But why? it was a stupid idea that the little Queen he met in the bookshop could turn the Blood's corruption back on itself. Yet, he couldn't help himself. Saetan wanted to help her. To make sure at least one pure Queen could go on for a little longer. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? Assuming you can spell, can you not?"

That comment had been met with a slap across the face, much to the amusement of the guards. "I do not need your excuses. You know what happens when you use the jewels. Dorothea said you were never to use them, and if you did. Well, she never went into detail. So I suppose I can be... Inventive. Now, if you made such a mess? Where are the bodies?" Saetan smirked as well, which only proved to infuriate Laska all the more. Let her put on this show and strive against him while the guards watched on and enjoyed the entertainment. Though it was unknown to Saetan the guards through the town were on edge from the temper of the Queen and what the Warlord Prince had done. No one was quite sure and that only put those who might be on the wrong side of Saetan on edge. Could it be a trap, or had were they going to stumble upon a body? If it was the latter, it was most likely a favorite of Laska and if that was the case then who would take the news back to the Queen? Thus most of the guards were in pairs, keeping close to the town proper. Unease running through the streets from an evening spent basking the town in the temper of it's Queen. Laska had torn through several shops. Particularly gutting the places before finding Saetan wandering up the road whistling a merry tune. True it had been far from the little bookshop, but even that had seemed too close to Saetan's taste. So he had egged the Queen on in the open street.

Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest course of action when he thought about it. Laska had promised that this night was going to be for her amusement, but the next dawn would bring the torment to teach those that thought she might be slipping. Well, wasn't he a fool? What had crossing that little witch done to him? Saetan grinned, even as the Queen shrieked. At least it would let the little, pure Queen get away. If the little Queen was smart enough.

Jandar blinked at the sudden appearance of Mikhail. He had no idea when and how the Prince had made his way into the bookshop. The Warlord shook off his confusion, non-verbally refuting Mikhail’s words with a shake of his head. “There is already evidence that he is not an enemy. Not conclusive, I’ll give you that, but as you said, he could have killed both of us very easily. Moreover, he believed to have a very good reason for doing so,” the Warlord explained.

“He thought we may be a danger to the townspeople – and that he was concerned for them is already a good sign. He definitely has a lethal grudge against Queens in general, and with how it was most likely one of them who put that Band of Compliance on him, that’s understandable. I also baited him,” at this last admission, Jandar smiled wryly. “Yet, he did not kill us, simply let us go.” The Warlord shrugged, feeling a bit helpless. He’d wanted to remove that collar from SaDiablo, but it wasn’t like they were the Warlord Prince’s allies yet.

“Take that how you will,” Jandar sighed, rolling his shoulders carefully. “We need to get out of here now, fast. The main problem is how – shall we casually stroll out the way we came in?” he questioned, letting the others time to consider the possibility. “If not, the Prince and I can cast sight shields over all of us and we attempt to sneak out…However, if the ladies are unused to walking quietly and such, that would be moot,” he said, looking at Fatima with a raised brow. He didn’t know about the Pruulish witch, but he was somewhat doubtful the Queen had such a skill in her possession. And, speaking of the other witch… “I hope Ranina is alright,” he murmured, still using Dareen’s fake name. “I’m going to check on her,” he announced, somewhat unnecessarily.

Jandar walked out, his gait stiff and slow, and immediately sighted Dareen, who was donning a fairly good showing of a noble in a royal huff. However, the Warlord thought the upset was real; the witch was tense, her face lined with perspiration, the bottom of her dressed ruined with mud. Jandar stepped to her, closing in, and laying soothing hands on her shoulders. Though he’d meant to only gently take a hold of her, his body sagged against this new support, and the Warlord growled softly under his breath, lips thinning at the damned injuries still weakening him. “Apologies, dear,” he huffed, taking care to look around and observe the surroundings.

A moment of two passed, as Jandar simply breathed through his pain, then he straightened, shifting his hands from Dareen’s shoulders to the palms of her hands. “What happened? Did the black jeweled man do something?” he asked her quietly. “We’ll need to leave…my cousin’s appearance is compromised,” he added in a murmur after a moment, hoping the witch would understand his meaning.

Mikhail couldn't help but raising his eyebrow when he heard Jandar saying that the very man that had basically just attacked them wasn't an enemy. As Jandar continued talking though, Mikhail understood that he indeed had quite a few good points about the situation. He still thought that the man was incredibly dangerous, especially after knowing he had a band of compliance on him.

"He is an incredibly dangerous man. It would be wise to not take risks with him. No matter his circumstances, he is still working for another queen and thus, not our ally." Mikhail said.

As he mentioned getting out of the town though, Mikhail nodded. With their disguise ruined and their presence probably already known to the local queen, they had to disappear as soon as possible. If not... Things could probably get even more complicated.

"Is it possible for you to remake your disguises? If not, we might have to use our sight shields... Although it might not work perfectly well..." Mikhail said as Jandar was going to check on Dareen.

"Call my name if you need me. We still need to at least try to maintain whatever is left of our disguises." Mikhail announced as he got out of the bookstore, pulling up the hood over his head as he began walking in a slow pace around the alleyways like a beggar, always close to Jandar, Dareen and Fatima.

If they needed, it would be possible for Mikhail to possibly keep his disguise and keep acting inconspicuously while still using his sight shield to protect the group.

Dareen startled a little bit at the sudden weight on her shoulders but was relieved to see it was only Jandar. Strange to think how while before she only treated him with a basic amount of friendly apathy he was now someone she was looking forward to seeing. With all this bullshit that's been happening. She turned to look at him and then squinted, giving his body a quick onceover.

Ranina, whoever she was, was totally gone. Jandar was talking to Dareen in a silly outfit, the ex-mercenary broke character.

"I'm fine." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "I just...there was this street kid I think might have noticed us. I gave a little chase but he slipped away. But enough about me, you look hurt Ja- ohan?" She cleared her throat, straightening her dress out and trying to go back to looking like Ranina. Almost saying Johan's real name was kind of a wake up call.

"What happened in there?" She said quietly, giving Jandar the side-eye. Then she saw Mikhail vanish out of the bookstore, and for a moment she was surprised before she realised he must have slipped in while she was distracted by the child. Dareen shook her head and held her wrist in her hand. "Sorry. You can tell me later. We'll focus on your cousin for now." She got the allegory quickly. Dareen tipped her head up and, like Mikhail suggested, tried to maintain what little remained of her disguise.

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She was dazed and damn mad at herself. How selfish and foolish could she be. She had put everyone in danger because she had wanted a taste of freedom. Because she had wanted to know what was at the end of that pull. It had turned out to be awful. And full of awe. She didn't want it, want him. She shuddered as she remembered the electric jolt that had run through her body when she touched him. It was... disgusting? She couldn't place it and she didn't want to.

Fatima slowly lowered her veil as Jandar exited the bookshop. She stood in silence a moment as Mikhail also left the store. "It would seem I ruin the day yet again." Her laugh was dry and cold. She approached the counter of the bookstore, searching for the man who ran the shop. Perhaps they could take haven if paid enough. She didn't have a lot. And once the night fell, as the black jeweled man had suggested, they would slip away.

How dare he take away her disguise. She had needed that. And now her face was what... Normal? She scrubbed her hands over her face, thinking hard for a minute before she finally thought to do it herself. She had never relied on the jewels before to give her what she needed. She had her own wit and ways. She had survived out here in the wilds by herself and by the gods she would do it again. She would get everyone out of here even if it killed her. Though that was not the desired outcome, of course. She summoned her box of tricks and produced a mirror in an attempt to work her hand at the fine magic of deception.

It took some work with the hand mirror but she eventually got the look right. Not nearly as perfect as the Black Widow woven disguise had been but she did look a thing of utter disgust. Blotchy skin, a lump on her cheek, moles with hair growing from them - it was all rather unsightly. Easily spotted beneath the truth of broad daylight but the veil would at least keep the illusion alive a while longer. She vanished the box and mirror once satisfied before exiting the bookstore to join the group. "We should at least wait until dusk, when the light will be kinder to my horrors. It would seem the harsh day has done a number on my humors and ailments." She said softly. "Perhaps the shop keep would be kind enough to let us stay a while."

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The guards were tense and in shorter numbers, as most took the tunnel vision of their Queen to lax their strict regime retiring to bars and taverns to drink and wench away. With Laska distracted by taking her outrage out on Saetan her men who were in the manor were either jeering the unfortunate male or trying in vain to be unaware of the sounds of Laska's outraged shrieks which echoed out into the town near her Queen's Residence. As two wandered the back allies to avoid being seen drinking on the job by any Aristo who might decide to take exception or try to blackmail them for their lapse. Passing 'Ambrose & Sons: Books and Basics' and it's peeling letters, the dim light from within not a strange thing. Often poorer stores would stay open later in hopes of gaining a few more clients. "I don't know why we have to patrol, even like this. Not like anyone is moving around." Came the gruff voice of the leaner of the two, his face hollow from the horrors he had witnessed.

"As much as they aren't movin' around, they are whisperin'. We might get lucky enough to come across someone we can have our own fun roughenin' up before we had over to the Master of the Guard." The shorter man who was nothing but a blur of darkness against the dusty glass. "Get ourselves a bonus." Stout sounded gleeful at the thought of those extra marks in his pocket.

The slimmer shadow paused and fumbled with a darker blob, fumbling before the faint sound of a cork coming free echoed from the tight alley. A string of swears coming from Stout as the cork rolled out of sight, the torch that bloomed brightly being swept about as the shorter man looked for it while Slim took a long drink. "Leave it, not like it'd be fit for the bottle again." The torch-bearer returned shortly kicking the door. The rattling would have scared the shop-keeper silly, but as it was he had made sure to lock up- for the most part. Retiring back to the apartment above to shelter with his family. The old man had been eager enough to agree that Fatima and the others could stay and pursue his collection, both legal and not, of books. His daughter had even brought down a pot thick with stew and bread. Course fare but edible.

"Doesn't matter." Grunted the stout man. "We'll finish it before we get back to the tavern. At least we aren't standing guard duty tonight." There was a weary chuckle as the two moved on. "Those poor bastards." One of the guards said in a mocking tone.

It was long minutes later when steps sounded on the stairs. Soft footfalls that caused the wood to creak in protest. "They passed onto the street." Came the voice of the bookkeeper, his voice thick with fright and terror with good reason. Looking down into the dark halls created by the shelves of dusty books. "Best I could tell, at least. If you leave now the guard will be the lightest with the Queen distracted with Saetan. I'd suggest you get out of the Territory all-together." While the warning was for Fatima, the man spoke to Jandar and Mikhail. Speaking to a Queen did little good for the people of Terreille. "If you have need of anything else...?"

It was decided they would stay in the bookshop till dusk, which was just as well, because Jandar needed rest and Fatima couldn’t work another illusion, though her makeup skills weren’t half-bad.

The Warlord escorted Dareen inside, subtly leaning on her as he did. He sat himself only after pulling out a chair for her. Jandar slumped on the table top, thinking. He was brought out of his reverie only when the shop-owner’s daughter brought them stew and bread. Jandar served himself a portion, tearing off a small piece of bread to go with it. He ate slowly, savoring the taste. It was plain, true, but he was tired, and the warm, thick, filling substance was heavenly after his ordeal. Besides, it would lend him strength for their escape.

The moment with the guards passing by later on was incredibly tense, but thankfully, they soon passed without incidence. Jandar relaxed minutely. The bookshop owner informed them that leaving now was optimal, and the Warlord inclined his head in thanks. “That will be all,” he confirmed, soothing the old man’s nerves.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” he said sincerely. “And…sorry for before,” he added with a faint grimace, referring both to how gruff he himself had been as well as for the whole incident that occurred in the man’s shop in general. “If it would help, I can offer you a small amount of marks,” Jandar continued, summoning a few of the coins directly from the vanished pouch her carried with him – not enough that he’d miss it, but enough that it’d make a difference for the old man and his family.

The Warlord stood up with care so as to not aggravate his injured back, and walked to the old man. He offered the few marks to him, holding them out on an open palm. “If you can make contact with SaDiablo somehow, relay to him that someone from Kaeleer will be in the ruined town south of here…but not for long,” he murmured, gazing at the shop owner shrewdly. It was a risk in more ways than one to relay such a message, true, but Jandar had a feeling that their link to SaDiablo shouldn’t be severed, despite Mikhail’s wariness. The Warlord agreed with the Prince’s warning that SaDiablo wasn’t an ally, but that could change, and if it did…Well. Jandar was rather certain that they had to make the man an ally, and that they could.

After his exchange with the old man, Jandar turned to the others. “Shall we?” he asked, heading to Dareen, and holding out an arm to her. When they were all ready, he’d escort her outside, just as he’d been doing previously, all the while keeping an eye on Fatima. He was now also sure that Mikhail was an excellent addition, not only as another set of eyes, but also because he was practically a ghost when he wanted to be; even his allies often lost sight of him.

They weren’t too far into the town, and Jandar had memorized the way they’d come in, so going out shouldn’t be too difficult. If the patrols were truly as partly as the old man had suggested, they could even kill them if it came down to it, though Jandar would rather avoid something that would alert the town’s Queen – Laska, as SaDiablo had named her. Plans and precautions in mind, the Warlord headed outside, alert of their surroundings.

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There was something about waiting that always made her stomach feel watery. Like she might throw up. Like she might be able to run a marathon without losing breath. Her hands shook as she held them clasped against her stomach. She watched the window as the day turn slowly darker to night. It was awful, waiting.

She couldn't eat. She had given the girl a kind smile and had even tried to take afew bites but the stew turned to grit and sand in her mouth. Fatima spent her time in silence, thinking, and watching the window. Her thoughts were on her mistakes. And on the man who caused a quiver of terror and excitement to wrack her spine. She would occasionally sigh and shake her head as if in an attempt to cut him loose from her mind. But he stuck. Like a tumor. Or like a missing piece of a puzzle. A dangerous piece of the puzzle. Covered in razor blades and arsenic.

When the two guardsmen made their racket and abused the door, Fatima stopped breathing. She waited in complete stillness and silence. She wanted to knock them upside the head for their idiocracy. How she could have given them a stern talking to. Their shadows danced across the walls and books. Their light moved hither and thither. It dragged on. Far too long. She bid them so many times to leave. She shouted it at them in her mind. Finally they moved on and she let out the breath she had been holding. After a while the shopkeep came to tell them it was the safest it was ever going to get. Jandar offered him money. This was something they would have little chance of restoring on their travels.

Fatima materialized an old book on herbalism and anatomy. It was a little hard worn for the amount of times she had read over it. It had been old too when it came into her possession. But it was valuable in what knowledge it could give and to the right person who needed it. The book was worth something. She pushed the book into the shopkeeper's hands with a whispered, "Thank you," before she made her way out of the door and into the heartless night.

Mikhail confirmed he was ready to keep following the group from the shadows on high alert. Their presence would soon be known by the queen, if it wasn't known yet. Any different sight sent towards the group, any suspicious movement or even a slight mention of someone being following them, Mikhail would notice. He would have absolutely no qualms about eliminating any possible threat or obstacle with a quick movement of his wrists and his wires. Despite the fact that the group had waited until the evening to get out, it became evident that news spread quite fast on the town as two guards entered the small shop to ask the guard about them. Thanks to the bookkeeper's silence and cooperation, they didn't need to fight them, even though Mikhail was ready to kill both of them. It became quite clear that the guards would only get even more alert as the time passed and if they were to wait until night, it could be too late to try to escape unnoticed. Their presence was already known and the net was starting to close around them. Just as the bookkeeper said, their best bet to escape would be right now.

As the bookkeeper spoke to Jandar and himself, Mikhail simply nodded, leaving the speaking to Jandar. The man had already helped them enough and for some reason, he seemed to be friendly to them. The moment Jandar mentioned about telling the strange black jeweled man, whom apparently was called SaDiablo exactly where they were hiding, Mikhail couldn't help but look at Jandar with a piercing stare. He still didn't trusted SaDiablo. It was as likely he would go to talk to them as it was for him to tell his queen about it and prepare an ambush.

"You trust people too easily..." Mikhail said to Jandar after the bookkeeper walked away and the group prepared themselves to leave, himself doing the same after hearing Jandar.

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

It'd been hours waiting for the rest of the party to return, and night fell on the empty town. The Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince grew ever restless, not so patiently waiting and growing ever more disturbed that the Black was running around HIS Queen like that and he was forced to wait with his thumb up his ass. He knew the Black had contacted her, as Faeril showed when she looked like she got the wind knocked out of her and he had to catch her. He carried her back to the caravan and dumped her off in Gen and the lot of them, not saying much as he left her in their care. He knew if he opened his mouth it wasn't going to be anything kind, he was too frustrated, so he left himself to his own devices as the rest of them inevitably argued about the situation.

Xandar left himself to chop some firewood nearby, summoning an axe to his hand and stripping off his shirt as he hacked away on the poor trees that crossed his path. The man seemed like he was literally blowing off steam as his blood boiled, heat erupting from him in the cold air as smoke rolled off his body. The swing of the ax grew swifter, more forceful, becoming less precise as he was more or less just beating the shit out of the trees in pure frustration now. "I can't wait around like this. This is bullshit. Fuck fate and destiny, I control my fate in my own hands!" The Eyrien yelled in frustration, swinging his axe and cleaving a tree clean in half, felling it as he sighed heavily, his chest heaving as he breathed in and out.

"If they're aren't back by the time the sun comes up, I'm dragging them back myself... That god damn Widow better be right about all this."

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The town was quiet as the group of four slipped by, a blessing though not one without some ill. As the group skirted about the dim lights of a guardhouse they could hear the raucous laughter from within and the argumentative voice of a younger man demanding that he didn't have anything illegal and wished to continue home. Something the guards seemed disinclined to allow. Several others roamed the streets, stinking of ale and often hefting along with a purse or bag of someone unfortunate enough to be out past curfew. Yet, the group made it out with several close calls. The road itself deserted of travelers with good reason. It was over an hour before Fatima and her bodyguards drew close to the camp they would see the low fire that Gen had prepared. Deciding to risk the limited light in need to make sure Faeril was alright and to keep away what rats that Xandar hadn't killed or scared off. The Black Widow and her friend were nearby arguing while Xandar was off chopping wood. Each swing of the ax a crash through the night, perhaps not the wisest of moves. But wood was always needed and someone cutting wood would not be an odd noise, merely the place where the noise was coming from would be curious.

Bellinar was perched up in one of the ruined houses, watching the group come in. Satisfied that they were in, the Eyrien warrior swooped into the night on dark wings to make sure himself that they were not followed. Something that Mikhail would know was, in fact, the case. Someone had followed them from Eldra lagging far enough behind that they were just out of sight. The youngest of the three brothers, Denvar nodded slightly, as he perched in a window keeping watching while he brother flew off.

The Black Widow looked over her should at the shirtless form of Xandar, her lip curling in a sneer as she snipped at the Warlord Prince. "And they have returned, just as I told you." In truth, she was unnerved by the amount of strength and frustration that Xandar displayed.

"Do not act all sure, when you yourself were worried." Growled Gen to the icy Widow, who in turn pretended to ignore him. Giving a superior glare to Faeril, the Warlord looked back to the group as they came up the ruined street. "How did it go?" He could guess but Gen was feeling like a bit of a prick and wanted to rub Faeril's folly in a bit more. He loved the woman dearly, but Faeril was stubborn. Alway certain she knew the right way when now more than ever the right way was needed to be discussed over and not just her dictating how things would go.

Sipping the water, the Black Widow looked crossly at Fatima arching a brow as if asking how she had managed to ruin a perfectly good illusion so soon. "Must we ask, when we know?" The Widow shot back at her longtime friend.

"Despite what you'd like to believe you are not omnipotent." Was the iron retort.

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How they managed to get out of that town she would never know. The winds of fate blew luck beneath their feet, that was for sure. As Fatima approached the encampment she removed the veiled hat from her head and vanished it. She then materialized a handkerchief which she used to wipe the make-up from her face. Mostly it smeared the paint around giving her an odd, painted on canvas sort of appearance. She looked guiltily at the group. She had fucked up. And she was afraid. And now she had to tell them about it.

It seemed things were fairly normal. The only sense of ire she received was from the sound of chopping wood punctuating the silence of the waning light. She was afraid to look at Xandar's direction - whether she could see him or not. She was afraid of what he might say. She was afraid of what Faeril might say too. So, Fatima did the only thing she could think of. She sat down in front of the fire and looked appropriately solemn. She'd let someone else do the talking. She didn't trust her voice not to run off without her body.

They finally made it back to camp, and Jandar gingerly sat himself down besides the fire. He was relieved to have made it here safely, but he was also downright exhausted. The Warlord didn’t feel like explaining anything, but the Queen was oddly quiet. With a twist of his lips, Jandar spoke up. “We met SaDiablo,” he got right to the point of the issue. “I’d say my Lady was drawn to him,” he remarked, with a sideways glance at her. “Is he one of yours?” it wasn’t as much a question as it was seeking affirmation to a conclusion that would make the most sense.

“In any case,” he continued after a moment, “He’s bound with the Band of Compliance, and is currently tied to Laska, though I suspect Dorothea sent him for some reason or another,” Jandar explained, voice weary. “He hates the Queens, and was very concerned with Fatima. He knew immediately that she was disguised and was able to tear the illusion apart,” he relayed, tone eerily monotone, gaze set at a distance as he recalled the events. “In my attempts to protect her…” he trailed off, grimacing.

“I baited and insulted the Prince badly enough that it would have been no wonder if he had killed me,” he confessed, reluctantly. “However, he did not,” he emphasized. That the black jeweled Warlord Prince had restrained himself so well in the face of people he believed to be an enemy spoke well of him, or at least, showed that his experience lent him some wisdom. “Once he realized that there was some sort of a misunderstanding between us, he simply warned us not to worsen the citizens’ safety or well-being,” he concluded.

He reviewed what he’d told and what he’d left out. Jandar honestly didn’t feel like retelling every little detail of their exchange. It wasn’t necessary for those uninvolved to get the gist of it, after all. “Ah, he warned us to leave these parts,” he added. “The local Queen may or may not send out a search or otherwise indulge her cruelties, who knows,” he shrugged, not because he didn’t care, but because he was just too tired right now to give half a damn. His voice had grown horse by the time he finished, and Jandar now simply sat there, resting and warming himself by the fire.

Whether by sheer luck or due to the guards' incompetence, the group somehow was able to get out of the town without many issues. Once out of town, Mikhail stopped using his sight shield and walking as a shadow to be together with the group. Despite everything that had happened, other than a few bruises, everyone was perfectly fine. Unfortunately, the black jeweled and the queen probably knew of their presence... What they would do with that information though, was something they would only find out later...

"SaDiablo... Laska and Dorothea..." Mikhail muttered, repeating the name of the black jeweled man they met on the city and the queen he was apparently bound to and listened with a serious expression as Jandar said that Dorothea could have a hand on that. Even though Mikhail had his own areas of expertise, he wasn't well versed at all in politics, something Jandar and the others seemed to be.

"I may not know much about politics, but I know enough to say that SaDiablo isn't someone we can trust blindly... If Dorothea really has a hand in all this, then Laska and by extension, SaDiablo are as much of a threat to us as she is." Mikhail said with a serious tone.

"That said... I can see your point, Jandar... There are still a lot of uncertainties in all this. If SaDiablo was really being honest, then he can be a powerful ally... But he is still bound to Laska. We also aren't sure if Laska is different from Dorothea or not..." Mikhail finished, as he approached the fire, looking at it intensely almost as if he was searching for answers in the burning embers.

"..."

"You are far too good, innocent and sweet of a person, Fatima." Mikhail said in a low tone after a few minutes of silence, still standing near the fire and Fatima.

"This is, by no means a bad thing but... be careful. People can and will use this against you if you're not careful." Mikhail finished, as he resumed looking to the fire. He knew he had treated Fatima a bit harshly a few times before on tense situations and was feeling a bit guilty about it... Despite his awkward manner to try and show that to her.

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Xandar heard footsteps in the distance, and it didn’t take him very long to sense that it was Fatima and the others who had arrived back. A sigh left his lips, and his steaming body settled down a bit, the heat cooling off as a bit of his stress and concerned was relieved. It seemed like all of them returned, and relatively in one piece. As much as he would have rather been there to protect them, it was part of “fate” or some bullshit that kept him away, but it all ended up working out. At least, for now. ”Yes, as you said so hopefully. Things left to fate aren’t always so kind, Widow.”

The Warlord Prince vanished his ax and vanished the firewood as he overheard the conversations going on, slowly walking back to the group. The mood was tense, and the last time Xandar tried to be a comedic relief he almost got his throat slit for it. So he just listened, hearing what he already had known. They met the black. And although they say that he seems to be a candidate for a powerful ally, Xandar wasn’t too sure. He might be controlled, yes, but a man of that power could just as easily stop them in their tracks. Not even Xandar himself was confident about a fight with Saetan. People like that have a way of twisting words, wants, to lure and seduce to take advantage of them. Sometimes the person is more dangerous than the jewel. While Xandar wasn’t ready to trust him right away, he wasn’t completely against the idea if Saetan did prove himself an ally. Right now, in this war, he would much rather have him a friend than an enemy, or at least out of their way.

But is that the risk they’re willing to take for the safety of their Queen? Well, the decision wasn’t entirely his to make. But whatever decision was made, he would do whatever it took to protect those around him. His purpose, his drive, his new outlook on life. The proud Eyrien had a cause worth fighting for, which is just as dangerous as one with nothing to lose.

Xandar summoned some firewood into his hands and tended to the fire, feeding it more fuel and stacking it neatly to keep it contained. He had spent many a night making outdoor fireplaces just like this, keeping himself warm while trying to ward off creatures. Still, sometimes fires like this brought more attention than he wanted. He looked over at Fatima who looked solemn, speechless, visibly shaken from her encounter with Saetan. He didn’t want to approach her yet, but, when her eyes caught his, he offered a smile. A soft one, subtle, but enough to ensure he was there for her and everything was okay now.

”I might not have been there to greet the Black, but I would be careful about being quick to trust him. If he wants something from us, he’ll come to us and make that abundantly clear. But for now it’d be best to not give him a reason to change his mind. Leaving is fine with me, it’d be best if we continued before the locals get suspicious.”

Xandar shared his two cents, speaking in a low but firm tone as he fixed up the fire. Once he was done with that he stretched a bit, yawning, feeling the sweat glistening off his body evaporating from the heat in front of him. He sat down on a larger log around the campfire, content on sitting quietly by the fire. However, he was curious was Bellinar and Denvar were up to, noticing the absence of the one. But, you never knew what the brothers were ever up to, especially Gennar, who seemed a bit pissed off at the Widow. Maybe Xandar wouldn’t be so mean to her tonight, she looks like she’s had enough. As for the others, he was a bit impartial, simply glad they were safe and well.

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Faeril looked into the low dancing flames of the fire as Xandar fed it, her thoughts turning about the vision she had seen in her tangled webs. Those long nights she had spent weaving and casting her web out to draw a Court that could stem the flood of the corrupting influence by Hayll. A Court would form around and worthy Queen who could hold it, that had been given. Yet she had no way in telling what would happen when that Queen came across the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince. A figure there were as many rumors about that fathoming his reasoning would be akin to staring into the Twisted Kingdom of madness. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the Black Widow wanted to slam her fury into the Kaeleer Dhemlan native for antagonizing one of the most powerful men in all the Realms.

As much as she wanted to give the orders, to direct their path as would be best in line with her visions, Faeril could not. Those choices belonged to Fatima now, their Grey Jeweled Queen. One of the darkest to come out of Hayll intact in centuries. Sipping from the cup, she made a strict point of not looking towards Xandar and a form that witches would fawn over. Which she for certain wouldn't! Drawing her wings tightly against her back, the Black Widow sighed in annoyance of their situation. What had they come to? "My reserves of power are lower than I would like." Faeril began, looking extremely disgusted at the fact.

"Oh, really? We didn't notice when you fell on your ass. Again." Snapped Gennar out of character for the Warlord, but not unreasonable for someone whose guard was making sure the Healer didn't overdo it. Especially when that Healer was also a Black Widow and stubbornly set in her ways. Faeril falling after that feedback from her spell had hit her had scared the man shitless. He didn't like seeing his old friend so wounded, and even less when he could do little to help. The idiot woman kept pushing herself past what was reasonable. "Ashke, isn't doing shit. She's exhausted herself twice over within a week."

"I can make my own decisions, thank you Gennar." The Widow's voice was as cold as her eyes as she glowered at Gen."We may not have a choice but to rely on my powers. I do mean to rest for that time, and I do not squander my Craft as you so imply."

"Healing the mind over a series of treatments, one infected wound, nearly getting your wings and snake-tooth cut off... Want me to continue? Oh, and casting an illusion for this little outing which fed back and slapped you down by the one who broke it." Gen snarled in reply, thoroughly annoyed by Faeril's stunts as of late. "Can we get back to the matter at hand of what the Queen wishes to do, so Faeril can sleep." There was a noise of offended dignity as Faeril looked about ready to throw her cup at Gen's head.

Dareen had time to fume on her way over, though she was still annoyed at her outfit. But by the time she had arrived at the camp and the sun was setting, her unusually flared temper had settled. Putting some distance between herself and the Black jeweled interloper had helped. SaDiablo. Another one of the Queen's pawns? But he had let them go. Apparently things were always more complicated than they seemed and the others weren't sure what to make of it. But Dareen had been distracted the entire time, and while she thought she might be able to get used to this disguise, she honestly, really couldn't.

And everyone else just had a shitty time, too. Fatima looked totally out of it. Probably had something to do with the effects darker jewels had on her. Dareen wasn't so sure if her having a lighter jewel was a good thing or a bad thing.

But she couldn't spend a minute more in this dress. Dareen vanished inside the cabin and emerged a few minutes later back in her old dusty desert nomad outfit, complete with hood. She had rubbed some of the make up off but she didn't want to waste any water on washing it off. The Pruulish witch had been mostly silent whenever she and the others interacted. She still wasn't entirely sure on where she stood with Faeril or Xandar. But she was here to help. This was, as best as she could tell, her cause now. She was looking for a purpose and she had found it. This dysfuntional little group of misfits. Darkness help her, Dareen thought.

She would ruminate more deeply on her purpose in life later. Right now it was time to relax a little bit. Walking with her learned toughness, no longer having to conceal herself, Dareen was happy to be walking on the grave of Ranina. Still, she had vanished the dress just in case. After all, they spent so much time making it.

So the mercenary stood by the fire, her arms crossed, saber recently summoned and stored on the sheathe at her hip. Though her bow, quiver, shield, and knives were still vanished. After a moment she frowned and extended her palm for a canteen of ale to appear in. She unscrewed the tap and took a swig. It had been a while, and it tasted bad but it made her feel good. Relaxed. She looked to the people who happened to be closest to her- Mikhail and Fatima- and swished the flask around, offering it to them wordlessly.

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There was something comforting about the simple bickering between Gennar and Faeril. Xandar's low rumble soothed her nerves. Odd that his voice, the voice of another Queen Killer, could be something that made her feel safe from another Queen Killer. She smiled wanly at Mikhail. It was sweet of him to say as such. But she was a stupid fool for letting her heart lead her feet. Damn, damn and double damn - she should not have gone. She could have gone the entirety of her life without having met the black hole which was SaDiablo. She stared into the flames, watching as they danced against the encroaching darkness. There was the pop and sizzle as sap boiled in the heat. She was in a daze and it was only the sloshing of the drink that brought her from her reverie.

She stared at the flask in shock and then a broad, crooked smile made its way to her lips. "Thank you," she said as she accepted the container. She took a quick swig and found, to her disappointment, only ale. "Haven't got anything a bit stronger, have you?" she inquired jokingly as she handed the container back. She did not want to be greedy.

Fatima drew her legs to her chest and looked around at the others. They were waiting on her... weren't they. She sighed deeply as she rubbed her temples. Tough decisions. That was what it meant to be a Queen. She'd spent so long running from this kind of thing. Ah. Well. "Lets sleep this evening and we'll leave at the break of dawn. I don't wish to stay longer than necessary. We should also set up a watch system, except for Faeril. It is important she regain her strength. Let's be sure that we can leave at a moments notice, keep most things packed away." There, did she say that in a Queenly way? No questions in her voice? She hoped so.

Mikhail simply stood silently near the fire as the others talked. He was relieved to notice that at least one more person thought that trusting SaDiablo that quickly was a bad idea. He wore a black jewel and was indeed, extremely dangerous and as it was evident the scene inside the bookstore had quite the temper. They either had to find a reason to make him absolutely loyal to them or... put him on a leash.

Other than that, Mikhail could clearly hear Gennar's angry voice as he snapped at Faeril. The Black Widow was already exhausted but she simply refused to rest despite all the clear symptoms of said exhaustion. Sure, her craft was indeed needed for the situation they were in, but if she continued to overwork herself like that, they might not be able to count with her help when it's needed in the future. The moment Gennar and the group started discussing what Fatima wanted to do so they could all rest though, Mikhail silently turned his head towards the fire in front of him. Such matters weren't ones he wanted nor needed to discuss. His role there was clear. Interestingly enough, the moment he gave a glance around, he realized that there was another one that probably had the same thoughts he was having right now.

Mikhail simply smiled kindly and refused Dareen's offer, a small canteen with an alcohol inside. He was never good with alcoholic beverages and he hated how the substance made him feel afterwards. The loss of dexterity and everything else. Fatima, unlike him though, promptly accepted the flask giving a sip herself, which was probably something good for her, maybe to help to relax and ease her mind a little bit.

"I was never that good with alcohol, but thanks anyways." Mikhail said with a small nod to Dareen, thanking her before he discreetly leaned closer to her, speaking in a low tone.

"It might be a good idea to offer some more to Fatima though. It will probably help her to relax and ease her mind a little bit." he finished, before returning to his original position.

"I have an incredibly light sleep. Besides that, I am used in sleeping only a few hours per night. I can keep watch if you all agree with it." Mikhail said, looking up when Fatima mentioned setting up a watch system after saying that she didn't want to stay longer than it was necessary.