Rohaan could almost hear Berlin's voice in his head, berating him for his lack of forethought.

You don't think things through, Rheoaan. It'll get you into trouble someday.

It didn't usually. Usually, he had enough skill or luck or some mix of the two that he could just kind of do things on a whim, and come up with a plan as he went. Maybe that made him cocky, or maybe the soldiers here were just especially well trained, because more and more of them were pouring into the hall. They kept their distance but made sure to keep him surrounded. As new ones filed into place, he could hear them passing a simple word down the ranks in a hushed whisper. "Shifter!" And each soldier who heard the news gripped his weapon of choice just a little harder. They were afraid of him. Good. Yet they stood resolute against him.

Rohaan did a quick survey of his surroundings. No easily available windows, a whole lot of soldier-clogged doors, and the ceiling was too low to comfortably be out of spear range. They all had weapons and he only had a small knife that was more of a tool than anything else. But he didn't need weapons.

"Do we really need to do this?" He gestured around the room. "C'mon now, I'm sure most of you have families to get back to." He frowned and pointed to a comparatively wispy young fellow. "Except you. You ought to get you one. But come now! Do you really want to fight me?" The soldiers each advanced cautiously, taking one step forward but nothing more. The blonde shifter shook his head and laughed. "Don't you know who I am?"
A man answered as he came through one of the doors, both sounding and looking a fair bit more confident than the rest. "I believe you're called Ja'aisen, aren't you?"
Rohaan bowed, fixing his attention on what appeared to be some kind of captain. "Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen. Heard of me, have you?" He secretly enjoyed the amount of uncomfortable shuffling from the rest of the men at hearing his name.
The captain smiled humorlessly. "I have. And a great many other things about you. None of them pleasant. What's your choice, silverblood? Are we going to have to do this the hard way, or are you going to come with me?"
Rohaan rolled his shoulders. He thought of some witty reply, and had just drawn in a breath to give it when something hard struck the back of his head. He dropped to his knees, wavering a little like a drunken man as he tried to regain his bearings. Damn, he'd been played, and he hadn't thought to look behind him. Stupid, really.

Before Rohaan could get back up, someone else had rushed in and put a shackle around one wrist. The icy metal touched his skin and suddenly it seemed that he was a large object being squeezed into an impossibly small space. An involuntary cry jumped from his lips and he bucked and thrashed like a feral animal, but it did him no good. There were to many of them, and now that the enchanted metal was firmly clasped around him, they were not so afraid of him. Before he knew it, Rohaan had been dragged away and shut in some dark place.

They bound him hand and foot and tethered him to the wall by a chain attached to the enchanted shackle, then left him. His whole body burned. For a while, as he sat crumpled against the wall, he tried to compose himself. He had to think, had to have a clear head to get himself out of this. After all, he'd endured the squeezing misery of shifter-steel before, he could do it again. And it worked a little, and his breathing would calm a bit, but then he'd snap suddenly and wrench at the accursed thing like it was on fire. Rohaan was drenched with sweat, and a little liquid silver bead had formed in the places where he'd scraped the skin of his hand pulling at the shackle. Just a little blood. If he couldn't think of a better way, he'd break his hand just to get out of here. Still, as he heard footsteps approaching the cramped cell they threw him in, he was determined to keep at least some composure for pride's sake. It was the captain again, and a team of handlers that came to haul him out. Out where? He forced his breathing to be slow and even and tried to concentrate. If they thought he was done fighting, they were sorely mistaken. But he'd wait for the right moment.

Rohaan likely didn't have the opportunity to appreciate the appearances of the soldiers for long as they got to work. For what it was worth, it was clear that these were professional soldiers, as opposed to the gaggle of city guards that had apprehended him earlier. The captain, along these new soldiers, wore completely different armor than before. Likely, there was no longer explicit need to hide his identity from prying eyes, and a keen eye would spot the personal insignia of the Emperor of the Unified Realms of Man engraved into their breastplates. By anyone's estimate, this wasn't a good thing for the non-human. With direction from the captain, the soldiers proceeded to unchain Rohaan from the dungeon's wall, only to chain his feet together so that it would be impossible to run, and did the same to his hands. A burlap sack was placed over his head to rob him of most of his awareness, and he was marched out of the cell by the captain, flanked on both sides by his soldiers.

When they finally reached the surface, nothing was as it was expected. The usual sounds of the city that they were once in was long gone. In fact, there were no sounds of other men, aside from the soldiers that now surrounded the Shifter. In fact, nothing could really be heard aside from the chittering of birds and the wind rustling itself through tree branches. They truly were in the middle of nowhere. Before the non-human could get ahold of any kind of bearings, the soldiers dragged him to an enclosed carriage and tossed him into it. It was rather clear what it was, given that the horses at the front could easily be heard. Given the present situation, it seemed unlikely that this transport was taking Rohaan to his execution, but there was no reasonable way to be certain of that. One of the soldiers was seated next to him, possibly as a precaution against the non-human, though it seemed unlikely that the Shifter would be trying to escape, given that the enchanted shackle was keeping him largely immobilized and submissive. Before long, the carriage began to move.

With the burlap sack, it was mostly impossible to gauge the passage of time or ascertain where exactly the carriage was headed to. In every regard, it felt as if they had been travelling for ages, and the enchanted shackle gave no opportunity for Rohaan to relax at all. Besides, the soldier seated next to the Shifter had a dagger close to his throat anyway. Perhaps these soldiers fear the non-human, or they were waiting for the first opportunity to kill him. Yet, at the same time, something was clearly staying their hand, else Rohaan would have been dead long ago. The carriage ride itself was rough and bumpy. It was rather clear that they had diverted from the old imperial roads and taken to the poorly kept dirt roads that were rather common in the rural parts of the Pale Reaches. Eventually, the carriage came to an abrupt stop and Rohaan was forcefully dragged out. He was essentially dragged through what seemed to a forested area. This didn't reveal much of anything since forests covered much of this area anyway. Still, the weather was brisk and the summer snows could be felt falling from the sky above. Though it felt like ages, eventually they reached what seemed to be a clearing within the woods, though Rohaan was still unlikely to be able to make out much of anything. After a bit more of walking, the Shifter was forced onto his knees and the sack over his head was ripped off, very likely stunning Rohaan from the brightness of the midday sun.

"The silverblood that you wanted, your grace." The captain motioned over to Rohaan, clearly as humorless as ever. The other soldiers had taken their posts not far away from the rest of them. Where exactly they were, was still as much of a mystery as ever. They were significantly far from any civilization, and before them was a great lake with the clearest water that could possibly be seen anywhere, except for maybe the ocean itself. In fact, it was easy to see the fish swimming in the water below. Fishing rods were organized neatly along the shore, though none were currently cast. A portable workstation was not too far from the rods, with multiple different kinds of knives sitting atop of it, probably with the purpose of cleaning and skinning fish. A bucket was filled with fish heads and other inedible parts of the fish. Finally, a great pavilion was set up at the fair end of the lake, filled with supplies and other necessary furnishings for the still absent fisherman. Being battered in the wind was a banner that had the same insignia as the ones engraved on the soldiers' armor- a frost and fire drake opposing each other.

The man whom the captain was speaking to finally came into view. This was a tall man, clearly possessing the blood of the Pale Men, along with his blonde hair which was cropped short and well-coiffed. At the most, this man was in his late thirties, although his cleanly shaved face could have made him look younger than he actually was. His clothing wasn't particularly impressive, consisting of a thin white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, along with durable trousers tucked into tough leather boots. Nothing strange for any fisherman to wearing. However, this man was clearly more than just that, emanating a commanding aura that few men in this world could ever aspire to. There was a leather glove only on his left hand, and it obviously wasn't a fashion statement. He was hiding something.

"Yes, those eyes are unmistakable." Even the man's voice was dominant and powerful. There wasn't ever any need for him to yell, but it was still the kind of voice that would easily carry over a battlefield.

"Remove the chains." The man simply said as he used a rag to clean the fish blood and guts from his hands. The captain hesitated for a second, but it quickly passed. This was no man to disobey. The chains were quickly removed and cast away, yet the man still frowned. He motioned to the enchanted shackle. "Including that."

"Your grace, I must recommend against allowing the silverblood-" The captain stopped midsentence after the man gave him a single piercing look with his golden eyes. The tension passed as soon as it had materialized.

"If the shiftling kills me, then you have my permission to return him the favor. That should be more than fair, no?" That made the captain grit his teeth as he removed the shackle.

"Oh little shiftling," the man continued as he walked closer to Rohaan, "I know who you are. Such notoriety grants one many enemies and very few friends. But you already knew that. Shiftlings are clever and resourceful creatures, if anything."

He only offered Rohaan a half-smile that flashed across his lips. "It does make me wonder. . . do you know who I am?"

Rohaan tried very hard to appear unbothered by his current situation. Appearances, as he knew quite well, meant everything in critical situations. And generally he kept his head about him, at least on a surface level. He'd been bound by the wicked ishun-tai, 'death steel' before. The first time he didn't how how he'd survived the ordeal, as it felt like the very fabric that knit his body together was being crushed and squeezed into nothingness. When Berlin, his former sea captain and his closest friend, tried to understand what had happened, Rohaan described the experience as being akin to jamming a whale into a breadbox. He was a creature of many shapes and his body was fluid, and the enchantments in that horrible material bound him stiffly to one. It was confinement like he'd never known before. But he was older now, and more experienced. He knew that mental focus and breathing could help negate some of the feeling. But not always. While he spent a good period of his very unexpected trip outside and into a carriage casting insults and jabs at his captors, every once and a while he'd turn from exhausted prisoner to something feral and inhumanoid as he wrenched and twisted at the shackle.

"Have I killed any of your friends?" he snarled at them. He did not fail to notice the insignia on their armor when they'd come to collect him. So, they'd called in the cavalry. Good, at least his presence still merited that level of caution. "I've got a long, sordid history with the empire. Who knows, maybe I've killed family members. Fathers, perhaps? A brother? When I get out of here--and I assure you I will--you all better sleep with one eye open. I have a very good memory..."

These soldiers were well trained though, and generally did not rise to his taunts. Once or twice he received a kick and a warning to keep quiet, but that was all.

By the time he was dragged out of the carriage and into a wooded area, he was well drenched in sweat and his body quivered slightly but persistently. The look in his eyes was manic and feral. When the sack was removed from his head, it revealed a man somewhere near the age of thirty, perhaps a little younger, with longer blonde hair tied in an untidy short ponytail of uneven and mismatched curls. A small section of it had been braided just in front of his right ear; a bone pendant adorned its end. His skin was just a little darker than one might expect for a man with straw colored hair, and though he'd obviously spent much of his life outdoors and under the sun, it had a hue that suggested he would never have exactly been pale, even in the winter. He had the lithe, taut frame of a man who lived on the road, and dutifully served his master, toil, his whole life. For a vagabond though, his clothing was not poor. Not rich either, exactly, it was too practical for that. But aside from the dirt and stains of much use, it wasn't terribly tattered. This was a man who saw after his own needs, but needed little. He wore a loose ashen-gray shirt, a light leather vest, black trousers and a pair of decently made but light boots. He wore a leather bandolier of pouches and pockets across his chest, and buckled to the empty space near his hip was a small knife with a bone handle. He carried no other weapons. Rohaan squinted in the harsh sunlight, blinking his eerily blue eyes that were reminiscent of polished lapis lazuli, and had a vibrancy and brightness that nature only gave to toxic, poisonous things. He fixed these on the man clearly in charge, and though his gaze was a little wild, it was sharp, analytical, and keen.

With much hesitance, the soldiers removed his bonds, including the ishun-tai. They wisely stepped back as they did, though they were not so skittish as the other soldiers he'd dealt with that day. The moment the horrible thing was removed from his skin, he gave a quick yell and reeled back as if the thing and the man holding it had burned him badly, then, like stretching a long disused muscle, he shifted three times in very quick succession. Bear. Tiger. Eagle. Back to himself. At this point, he could have changed into some winged shape and flown away, and even a skilled archer would have a real challenge trying to match both his speed and his movement. He could have also turned into a cyradan, a small breed of fire-breathing dragon and either burned or crushed them all to death. But Rohaan was a practical man, and he knew that if they wanted him dead, they had many easier opportunities. No, this man wanted something.

He spoke, rather condescendingly Rohaan thought, and asked if he knew who he was. Rohaan did not answer at first, he simply held up one finger, turned on one heel, and walked toward the lake, giving a warning glance to the nearest soldier, just daring him to try and stop him. He knelt at the water's edge and scooped up many handfuls of the cool, clear water and drank like a man out of a desert. He was very aware that he'd just ignored the direct questioning and therefore snubbed the Emperor of mankind, but he was unbothered by that. Let the wretch wait, he thought. If they wanted something form him, and they most certainly did, or they'd have done away with him already, they'd do it on his terms. After all, he was not a placid farm animal to be penned in and told to work.

When Rohaan had his fill of water, he unceremoniously wiped his hands on his pants and proudly stalked back to the Emperor like he owned the place. Despite looking a little roughed up and exhausted, one would never guess from his demeanor that he'd just been a captive. He looked the man up and down. "I had a good guess as to who you were, but your soldiers gave it away a minute ago, your grace." He sneered a little as he said that. "Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen, at your," he spat at his feet, "service." The only genuine part of that was the spitting. "You may call me Rio, or simply Ja'aisen. The other two names are not for you." Where he came from, children were given three names in addition to their family name. Which one was used depended on who was using it and the relationship to that person. Rio, his third name, was the most informal and did not have to be earned.

"You know, I'd come to your humble abode because I wanted to see if I could steal your crown. Not sure what I'd do with it once I got it, probably toss it in the river, I don't know. But I wanted to see if I could. Got a bit sidetracked by your personal liquor cabinet though. I particularly enjoyed the whiskey, by the way." He didn't mention that he'd filled his own flask with the stuff after he'd finished sampling. "The curtains in your chambers? Ghastly. But you've got some sharp staff. There's a serving girl with red hair that deserves a raise. Not only did she know you were away, but she had the presence of mind to pay attention to my eyes and knew I wasn't you. Either that or the portrait of you I used for my disguise doesn't really do you much justice. You're a bit uglier in person, actually. Perhaps you should get a new artist."

Rohaan had a slight accent, and though the Emperor was likely very familiar with his people and any shifts in dialect that manifested across his empire, where Rohaan had gotten his was unclear. It had been long since diluted, but not erased. "I'm going to assume you didn't bring me all this way for afternoon tea. Though if you happen to have mint tea I wouldn't be opposed. And if you'd wanted to kill me you'd have done it a long time ago, so that begs the question, what do you want, "Dragon" of the North?" He couldn't help but laugh a little at that. This man could call himself whatever he liked, but he was no dragon. Rohaan knew dragons, and he wasn't one. "And more importantly, why in Tevira's name should I do anything you ask?" Tevira was the name of a much-storied siren who was said among mariners to be the spirit of the ocean herself. The use of the name marked him as a former sailor. He waved a dismissive hand. "And don't threaten me with death if I don't comply. That's harder to do than I think you realize and it would cost you dearly, even if you succeeded. Besides, it's terribly uninteresting."

"Demon!" One of the soldiers shouted involuntarily as the Rohaan began shift through many forms following the removal of the ishun-tai. The Emperor only looked upon Rohaan with pure fascination. It was rare enough to come into contact with a Shifter in the Age of Man, and rarer still to witness them transform into anything. Still, Karl Valdemar wasn't completely composed. His gloved left hand and arm began to inhumanly convulse and twist in an entirely unnatural way, clearly in reaction to the old shapeshifting magic of the Shifter before him. Gripping his left arm with his right hand made it far less noticeable, yet the pain was indescribable. If anything, he was a stoic man, and suffered in silence. At the same time, the Emperor was genuinely curious whether or not the Shifter would make an attempt on his life, but he wagered the silverblood was still far to weak and drained to maintain a significant form for long. Besides, he had other assurances for that. He was many things, but a fool was not one of them.

The constant disregard to the Emperor from Rohaan clearly ground on the nerves of the captain until he had his own outburst. "You worm, you should be prostrating yourself. This is Karl Valdemar Sigurdsson, Imperial Sovereign of All Mankind, Avatar of Sigus, Son of the Great Restorer, Dragon of the North, Hammer of the Centauri Hordes, Grand Prince of Last Vigil-"

With his left arm once again calm, the Emperor raised a hand to once again silence his overzealous captain. "Titles are of no importance at his present moment. Besides, if they were to all be rattled off, we'd be standing here until the sundown. I am in need of your services, which forces us to be equals for the time being." Many thought he had gone mad to even consort with a Shifter, but it had become both necessary and unavoidable. It did contain a sense of irony, considering that his father had purged most of the non-humans that had once resided in these lands during his many campaigns to restore the empire. Perhaps there was an additional level of animosity between the two of them due to that, though that was likely beyond the interest of the glorified thief that now stood before him.

"You know," the Emperor began as he glanced towards the fishing poles arranged on the shore, "there's a degree of honesty associated with fishing. A man can feed himself and his family with enough effort. Something that you should really consider, though I suppose you're no man."

"It even surprised me that your fellow cutthroats were so eager to cut your throat. The Imperial Crown still resides at the Old Imperial Capital. It was never actually moved to Last Vigil, despite the rumors. And yes, those rumors spread like wildfire with enough bribes." The Imperial Crown was older than the Old Empire itself, and was never meant to be worn. It was the temporal power of the God of Mankind bestowing his favor to the emperors that ruled in his place. Karl Valdemar doubted any of this was all that interesting to the Shifter at all. It was largely doubtful that they even followed the same gods, though the theologians would claim that they were merely variants of the same gods. Still, he knew that this particular Shifter was extremely clever. By this point he had probably pieced together that he had been set up and thrown into a trap. His confidence would remain, Karl had to guess, given it was clear to this point that he had a vested interest in keeping the Shifter alive.

"I even went out of my way to arrange for your death to be faked. Another prisoner of similar appearance. Turns out both men and Shiftlings burn much the same at the stake." There was always a level of discretion that he was forced to maintain, though much of this had been arranged by the Imperial Spymaster than the Emperor himself. He had far more enemies than friends, which made the Emperor and the Shifter not all that different, in an odd sort of way. That had precluded the option of directly contacting the Shifter. Too direct and obvious. And the channels to do so weren't secure at all.

He clapped his hands. Seemingly out of nowhere, appeared several servants. They laid out a large table not far from the lake itself, consisting of various food and drink. The Emperor took his own seat and offered another chair for the weakened Shifter. Truly the setting for this meeting wasn't due to the remoteness of this location, though that just happened to be an additional benefit. Summers were short in the Pale Reaches, and Karl Valdemar always took advantage of this by taking extended trips fishing, hunting, and engaging in a plethora of other recreational activities. This location wasn't specifically chosen for this particular meeting. Rather, this just so happened to be where the Emperor was at this time.

The Emperor allowed Rohaan to enjoy the food and drink for a moment before continuing. "It is well known that I can grant you almost anything that you could possibly desire. Thus, the motivation and compensation should be no issue. There exists a certain person I need retrieved. Yet I must wonder... is this something that you are capable of?" These final words rang with a tinge of mockery and genuine curiosity. This curiosity wasn't concerning the skills of the shiftling, no. He was already well aware of that. He was most interested how the Shifter would answer. After spending so many resources in arranging this meeting, he had to wonder what kind of person he was truly dealing with.

Whatever Rohaan had in mind for his day, this was not ever in his wildest dreams. The whole thing was truly bizarre, and he was still trying to piece together how this had all come to be, and why. He waved a dismissive hand at the captain. "Save it for someone who cares. I serve no banner, no man, no law. Also, this language isn't my first one. Can't say I'm familiar with er...prostrate or whatever it is you said I ought to be. Not to mention Son of the Great Restorer," Rohaan spat viciously beside him, "Is in no way a convincing argument for the likes of me. Remember who you speak to, Ca-mm." The way he abbreviated 'captain' was odd. It was close to the more common 'cap'n', except the p was lost and the rest was overly pronounced. It was a habit from childhood that still stuck with him; back then, he struggled with the 'p' sound, as his language didn't have it.

Rohaan turned his attention back to the Emperor. "Your father, not to mention some of you and yours, slaughtered my people. Women. Children. Good people who wanted nothing more than to care for their livestock and see their children grow. How is it, do you think, that I came to be so good at what I do? I'll admit, it's good fun, but it's not like there were other options left to me. I'm a capable hunter and a better fisherman than you'd ever hope to be--it's a lot easier when you're actually in the water. But you of all people know I can't take my catch to market. At best, I'd be chased out. At worst, I'd be attacked. An honest living was never an option, Valdemar. Save your preaching about morality to someone who has the time for it. I don't. Though I will remember the deliciousness of the irony of you admitting to being equals, here in this moment. I'm going to savor that for a long time."

Rohaan listened to Karl's explanation of the crown, and the careful trap laid just for him. Interesting. So this hadn't been a chance opportunity, but something this man had been planning and scheming for a while now. Rohaan had an idea of who might have given him away, which particular cutthroat (or rather a handful of them) he was referring to. Rohaan noted that he'd pay them a visit soon, and show them how dangerous it was to cross Rohaan Ja'aisen. But the blonde barked a laugh. "You faked my death! Ha! That's a good one. That's new. I hope he was a rapist, or something equally sinister. It wouldn't do to kill an innocent man on behalf of such a wicked one as myself. But I've got to say, that will do wonders for my reputation. Rohaan Ja'aisen, the silver blood who can't die! That ruse won't last you long, and at some point the truth will come out that I'm still alive. But if you're going to spin a story at that point, at least make it good. Tell them I did whatever unnatural thing you like. A wise man once told me words were powerful weapons."

A table was brought out, laden with all kinds of goods, and Rohaan laughed. "I was about to say that it's bad form to torture a man and drag him out to the woods and then try to negotiate with him--I assume that's what you want--but you're doing much better now." He swept the loose, stray curls that had been matted to his face with sweat back with one hand, then took a seat and helped himself like the table had been set specifically for him. Unlike most street rats and vagabonds, he neither ate with the fervency of a man starved, nor did he chew with his mouth open like some kind of drunken slob. Someone somewhere had taught him manners, to a degree. He helped himself to a healthy portion of ale, some chicken, a chunk of cheese, and plucked at a few fruits. Meats, he could get easily and often. Fruits and cheeses, however, were slightly harder to obtain.

Rohaan didn't answer right away, he just studied the man sitting across from him. There were a lot of assumptions being made, though he supposed he couldn't expect anything else from a man like this. Someone who was used to getting what he wanted just by asking for it. Rohaan had never known that life. "My services? What makes you think they're for hire? Bold for you to assume anything I do is a service to anyone. I'm a thief, a murderer, a traitor to the empire, formerly a pirate, and if you listen to any of the stories about me, there's a whole list of unsavory things people like to call me. Only some of those are true. But nowhere in that list is 'mercenary'."

He took a long draw from his cup, though not without appreciating its quality. "Don't be coy, Valdemar. There are a thousand men who could do the job you want, and all of them with a lot less risk and without so much effort to get them. You wanted me specifically. You set the bait, you set the trap, and you made sure your men were trained to deal with me. You know I can do the job, I don't have to sell you on that. The real question is, what is it that you have that you think I'd actually want? I've got no use for money, seeing as I can't spend it, not reliably. Your father made sure of that. I haven't been starving since I was a child, and I have no use for fancy clothes, clumsy steel weapons, or even horses. Animals hate me--they can sense the predator within. Even if I wanted it, you couldn't give me power, either. Sure, you could grant me land and a fancy title. But no one in the world would respect that, if you didn't have an outright riot on your hands for the heresy of it."

Rohaan leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "But there is one thing...Granted, I'll need to know much more about this situation and your motives and what I'm in for. But even I can be bought, though you'll have to ask yourself if it's a price you're willing to pay. I'm no common thief." His expression turned hard. "Ban the slave trade. All of it. Shifters, humans, elves--any and all of them. Current slaves must be set free and compensated. Put to death anyone who does not honor the ban." There was a fire, a fierceness in his gaze that suggested he wasn't being wholly altruistic, that at some point or another this matter had once been personal. It was ambitious, Rohaan knew, but given his situation he had to at least try for it. It wasn't every day the emperor of Man wanted to buy a favor, much less from a man like him.

If anything had been gained so far from this conversation, it was that Karl Valdemar had finally decided that Rohaan was far more interesting than he would have ever given a non-human credit for. Observing his subordinates from out of the corner of his eye, it was clear that they were far less impressed with the Shifter, but they were soldiers, possessing a much more singular outlook on life. It wouldn't be all that appropriate to fault them for that either, considering they had spent much of their lives in direct opposition to non-humans, at least the ones who weren't enslaved within the Empire. In any case, their open hostility wasn't exactly conducive for the conversation that he wished to have, so with a wave of his hand, he ushered them into different positions, well outside of earshot. The captain showed the usual signs of hesitation, but he complied as usual. No sensible man would ever directly disobey his emperor. Of course, as the conversation continued, it travelled to areas that Karl Valdemar could have predicted that it would have. His father had been a brutal and efficient man, having been the first to earn the title of 'Dragon of the North'. The purges had ended only shortly after the conclusion of the Great Restoration, largely due the wasted resources that it would take to continue the systematic slaughter of non-humans in the new empire. Slavery was the more viable option, though it had already been practiced in most of the northern provinces since the fall of the Old Empire. The south was a different story, and they chafed at the return to something that had been abolished centuries ago, even when applied to non-humans. He had no intention to apologize for the sins of his father. He doubted Rohaan had any interest in seeing any humility come from the Emperor, nor would he appreciate the pointless gesture. Besides, in many aspects he was as guilty as his father, though that didn't really bother him any. His left hand twitched.

"Perhaps your life would have been easier as a slave. Fortunately for the both of us, a common slave would be of no use to me. Your harsh life is the very reason why you're sitting here, though I don't expect you to appreciate that at all, given the present circumstances. Still, I will openly appreciate the dual irony of destiny and fate that has transpired all these events to lead to this very moment."

On the subject of slavery, the lot of different slaves varied vastly within the empire. Those who were forced to work within the various mines had a short, hard, and brutal life. The opposite could be said of those who found themselves in servitude amongst the Imperial nobility. Of course, it was dependent on how exactly the masters chose to treat their assorted slaves, though their opportunities were severely limited even when compared to the poorest of free men. Commoners held open discrimination to their non-human counterparts, and violence breaking out wasn't all that uncommon. Compounded by the fact that tangible action was rarely taken against the human perpetrators.

It was a present shame that Rohaan didn't appreciate the musings of the Emperor, though the boorish reaction wasn't entirely unexpected. He wasn't here to humor the Shifter at any rate. His hunting and fishing acumen was limited to a matter of recreation more than anything, though he did briefly eye the small boat that he had taken out on the lack only a few hours before. His left hand twitched again. It was a pity that delays and circumstance had caused this meeting to happen at this particular day. However, the Shifter chose to strike when he did, and the Emperor had to react. He only needed to conclude negotiations before the day ended. His reason for being in the wilderness was actually for one other reason than to appreciate the final days of summer. There remained no reason to reveal that to the Shifter, however. It would only serve to weaken his own position.

"The fabrication of your death wasn't done for your benefit, though I suspect that it may aid you in certain aspects. I committed significant resources to your capture, and your presence in regards to the theft of the Imperial Crown Jewels didn't go unnoticed as you so succinctly explained not long before. Your disappearance would lead to questions among those whom I'd rather leave in the dark, and so I was forced to act to dispel any unwelcome rumors. More elaborate than I would like, but it should show the lengths I was willing to take so that I could have the opportunity to render your services."

"Besides, your former associates wanted certain assurances that you wouldn't survive the encounter. Such an interesting reputation that you have, little Shiftling." Karl Valdemar was being condescending, though that was entirely on purpose. There wasn't any express reason as to why he needed to explain himself to the non-human, but perhaps he'd appreciate this gesture, if he was already poised to disregard everything else.

After everything that had happened so far, it was the hearing of Rohaan's request that finally caused the Emperor to finally lose his composure. He doubled over from laugher, with tears streaming down his cheeks. The laugher was all encompassing, entirely consuming the man for an entire minute before finally subsiding. He wiped the tears away as he finally composed himself again, and before long, it was as if the outburst had never happened at all.

"Do forgive me," the Emperor began as he reasserted eye contact with his piercing gaze, "I was not laughing at the request itself. Only the boldness and audacity of it. It is not everyday in which I encounter an individual who has absolutely no filter like yourself. I must counter your request, at least before I get into the exact details of why I need your services."

It was no exaggeration to state that slavery was the lifeblood of the Empire, at least in its current state. Its abolition would send a significant shockwave through the entire nation, both economically and culturally. The Emperor wasn't even sure if it was possible to take such progressive action in one fell swoop; monarchy was the embodiment of conservativism after all.

"I'm willing to liberate all Vokurians within the Empire. I will set aside an autonomous region for them to settle, allowing them to form communities and regain a semblance of what they once had in the past. Discrimination would remain, and they would lack the same opportunities as Men. However, under the law they would have practical equal status as any other free race. Would that be satisfactory?" This wouldn't be easy to achieve either and slavery would persist for other races, but the populations of the Vokurians had been considerably reduced since the restoration of the empire, though a decent portion of them remained enslaved due to their unique abilities. The total size of the Shifter populations would potentially have less effect overall than the liberation of one of the larger minority races. It did remain to be seen how much of a idealist that Rohaan was, but the Emperor couldn't discount it entirely. He had only just met the Shifter after all.

Rohaan's face turned sour, but only for a moment. His expression turned to thoughtful as he studied Karl again. He spoke, and it was the first time his tone had been quieter and slow, like for once he was picking his words carefully. "Better off in slavery...? Either you know nothing of slavery, or you know nothing of me. I was raised by pirates. My needs were plenty well met, and I was and still am more free than you will ever be." He refilled his cup and in between sips, he tore at a heel of bread. Rohaan never went without food for any great length of time, but even he wasn't about to turn down a free meal.

Rohaan listened to the Emperor go on, but not without noticing the twitch of his gloved hand. Interesting. He kept his face even, though his interest had peaked. Whatever it was the Emperor wanted, it wasn't for Rohaan to do his dirty laundry. No...there was something else at work here. He suspected that the little twitches in his hand were part of the reason he was here. It had to be. Though how it was connected, he wasn't yet sure.

The blonde laughed. "Associates is maybe a strong word. But yes, I'd imagine they would want some assurances of safety. A pity for them, they won't be so safe in the end. I'm not going to kill them, no, no. Nothing like that. But let's say they won't be able to give you much information again after I'm through with them." A thought occurred to him, and Rohaan chuckled a bit. "I've got to say though, I'm flattered. Just how many people's lives were you willing to destroy to get me? How many died for the cause? How many lives am I worth, Valdemar?" The answer didn't matter to him, Rohaan was merely taunting him. It was a subtle recognition of just how much leverage Rohaan had in this exchange, even though it might appear that he had little in comparison to the Emperor of Man. But it was also a rebuke. That kind of selfishness was deep rooted and rotten to the core.

The Emperor actually laughed at him, and for a moment he contemplated leaving the table. He didn't have time to be mocked. He'd be treated with respect or not treated with at all. But Karl explained it was more the nature of his request than the request itself. No wonder, the man likely didn't have anyone in his whole court who would speak to him so honestly. Rohaan figured that abolishing the slave trade entirely was too much to ask. It ran deep into the veins of the Empire and could not easily be excised. But Berlin taught him to negotiate, how to ask for something out of the question so the thing you really want seems more reasonable. Not that he didn't want to see the other races freed also; he truly did want an end to slavery as a practice. But he had little love for humans. The elves at least held the belief that all of nature had its place, even the things they found repugnant. Like himself. But his heart lay truly with his own people.

"Aha! So you actually know what we call ourselves! That's more than most. Most just call us silverbloods, and the other part, like your Ca-mm, just call us demons. So you're a learned murderer, at least. Can't decide if that's better or worse..." Rohaan leaned back in his chair, resisting the urge to put his feet on the table. If he did, he'd put his filthy boots right into a wheel of soft cheese. That would be a real crime. "Liberate the Vokurians. Compensate each of them in addition to land, which we will make into our own nation. We will pay no tribute to the Empire, and will not be part of it. Give us legal right of trade. All this goes into effect on my departure, not my return. Now, I'm a practical man and I of all people know just how flimsy laws can be. Especially unpopular ones." His lapis eyes narrowed and his tone held a sinister edge as he continued. "But you might want to inform your people that if I ever catch someone even attempting to enslave a Vokurian ever again, I, Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen, will personally eat them and have what's left of their head sent directly to your bedchambers."

Rohaan probably wouldn't eat them. He'd done that only twice in the heat of battle and in the form of a cyradan--a small nocturnal breed of dragon that was often seen in mountainous areas or remote coastal cliffsides--and it was something of a logistical nightmare. A dragon's stomach could hold the remains of a man, but his natural stomach was obviously far too small for such a thing. The first time, he had to stay in that form until it digested, and the second time he'd managed to actually vomit it back up. He never bothered after that. But he would remove the violator's head, he would send it to the Emperor, and he would make sure that the unfortunate soul was torn to shreds while very much alive.

"Do that, and barring any completely ridiculous request, you'll have me. Of course, I want all this in writing. Written in your hand, with your signature, and with your seal. I can't read, not well, but I'll pick one of your men at random to read it to me, so don't try and pull anything." Rohaan glanced back down to Karl's gloved hand, then back up to his face. "But I think it's about time you told me the details of this little job. Who am I retrieving, why, and what kinds of expected obstacles am I in for?"

Karl Valdemar simply shrugged at Rohaan's outrage. It was likely both warranted and genuine, but it still wasn't something that the Emperor particularly found to be interesting. "You misunderstood me. I said you life may have been easier as a slave. I would be right, from a certain point of view. A slave would be of no value to me, and you would have made for poor one besides. I don't mind the passion, though."

The Emperor was leaned back in his chair with is legs crossed. He was entirely comfortable in this setting, and it could even be said that he was enjoying himself. The one peculiar thing of note, however, was that he hadn't even so much as touched the food before him. The same was true of the wine, which by even a laymen's perspective, was extremely expensive. Every time that Rohaan took a drink of his ale, a smile flashed across the Emperor's lips. It was so fast that it would have taken a well-trained eye to catch, yet it appeared with such frequency that eventually even a fool would notice the pattern.

"Little shiftling, you must remember the man that you're speaking to. You cannot even fathom the amount of deaths that I'm directly responsible for, and that's only scratching the service of the trail of bodies that continue to follow me even to this day. For as long as you hold inherent value to me, the number is utterly insignificant." Karl Valdemar did not mind the leverage the Shifter was holding over him at the present moment. In fact, it made things so much more interesting. The opposite was true so often that he generally found negotiations to be utterly dull in most respects, though he did have to acknowledge that they often ended with a dead body of some sort.

Karl Valdemar allowed the Vokurian to present his own terms, threats buried within and all. The Emperor found it to be amusing more than anything else, but he kept his silence. Even if he agreed to it, an independent nation of Vokurians would never last. They had never had their own country, to the best of his knowledge. In antiquity, they had coexisted in disparate tribes, before they had been subjugated by the Old Empire. From that point onwards, Vokurians had existed as a minority race, though their rights and privileges had come and gone in the multitude of successor states in the years after. This was only compounded by the reality that the majority of the Vokurian population was enslaved. That hardly left room much for skills that could successfully organize or administer an entire nation. Many were quite content with being enslaved by the upper nobility - which most Vokurians were. They are quite the novelty after all. Being a slave to the aristocracy still meant a better life than living in abject poverty, unless you counted the freedom to starve in a ditch as something worth having. Of course, there were many other issues that could be rattled off, but it was rather refreshing to see that Rohaan was a true idealist, though it was also amusing that he was so quick the abandon the other enslaved races.

"Despite your illiteracy, you still want this all in writing? This makes me feel as if you don't trust me at my word." He scratched his cheek with his gloved hand as he spoke, more than aware that it had finally gained the attention of the Shifter. There still lacked good reason for the Emperor to divulge this particular secret to the Shifter at the present time, yet he was very much aware how dangerous Vokurian curiosity could be when left unchecked.

"I am not quite against agreeing with your demands as they currently stand, but wouldn't it be dull to give you everything that you want before we even begin? That seems to me that you would lack every incentive to act satisfactorily as my agent. No, I'm afraid I must present my final offer."

"If you prove to be successful, I will grant you everything that you have asked for and more, assuming anything else pops into your head from now until then. If you happen to fail, however, I suppose I'll still liberate the Vokurians from slavery by having my soldiers round up as many as they can find and exterminate them. High risk and high reward; that certainly would give you enough incentive to competently act upon my behalf." The Emperor's tone and look didn't change at all while he spoke. He could have been discussing the addition of a new aqueduct to the capital and his demeanor wouldn't have been any different.

"My previous offer still stands, if you are not as confident in your abilities as I previously thought. Your choice. Before you decide on anything, I suppose it's high time that I provide actual context over what exactly I need from you." The Emperor got out of his seat, turning his back to Rohaan as he began to gaze towards the setting sun. It was blood red.

"Some years ago, before I was emperor, my father tasked me with breaking the siege of Durgan." For a thousand generations, Durgan had served as a fortress that prevented passage into the Imperial lands from the lands beyond the mountains. Those lands consisted of open plains and steppes that were currently inhabited by the Centauri nomadic clans - half-horse, half-man abominations that were a persisting scourge to all neighboring civilizations. It was over 15 years ago in which a charismatic chieftain had united most of these clans and assembled a horde that had never been seen in recorded history. For whatever reason, they had committed themselves in attempting to take Durgan so they could overrun the Eastern Marches.

"As a result of that war, I had grown close to the daughter of the Lord of Durgan. She died in childbirth as a result of giving me a bastard daughter." Karl Valdemar had no legitimate children to speak of, and a common enough rumor was that he was sterile or worse. Those that spread such rumors often found their tongues cut out. "My father didn't allow me to acknowledge her and I had already burnt a bridge with the Lord Of Durgan. So she was left at Durgan, though I had spies in place so that I could continue to keep tabs on her development." Karl Valdemar paused for a second, as if he was reminiscing about his lost love and child. It was possibly the only moment so far in which the Emperor of Mankind had shown any humanity.

"Roughly a month ago, I stopped receiving correspondence with my agent at Durgan. Not long after that, Durgan's gates close, and nobody has entered or left the fortress since. It would look odd if I interfered directly, and I do not want the fact that I have a bastard daughter to become public knowledge. Especially considering that there are certain other developments that I have only become aware of recently. I need you to investigate Durgan and retrieve my daughter if she's alive, or her body if she's dead. I have no interest in the rest."

"In any case, I do hope that you'll act as my agent on this matter. After all, there's little that I can do for you if you decline." With that, he pulled out a small flask and set it on the table, not so far from Rohaan himself. The Emperor only cast a look at the cup that Rohaan had been drinking from and gave him another smile.

"From one professional to another, are you proud of that number? The individuals meant little to you, obviously. I'm no saint, I understand that much. But you sound quite pleased with the amount of blood on your hands. Can't say I expect much better of your sort though." He held absolutely no respect for nobility of any variety whether they held much power or not. They were antithetical to everything he knew, everything he understood about the world. Not to mention they always caused him a lot of irritating trouble. Perhaps that was among the reasons why he targeted high profile people when he wanted to do a job, or to outright humiliate someone.

Rohaan had become increasingly aware of a shift in Valdemar's expression, a growing smugness. Interesting. He had a few guesses as to what he could be so pleased about, but one theory needed a little more testing. With an even, unrevealing face, Rohaan looked into Valdemar's eyes as he picked up his cup again and drank from it. "I do want it in writing. I didn't make it this far in life by trusting murderers and scoundrels at their words. The trap you set doesn't help your case, either. We're not friends, Valdemar. Verbal agreements are for deciding who pays the bar tab next, not the liberation of my people. And if some lucky bastard actually manages to assassinate you before I'm through, I want some vague proof we ever made this deal."

The deal itself he thought about for a while in silence, pondering the counter offer over the ale in his hands. So, the man had a bastard daughter. Evidently he wanted her back desperately, or Rohaan wouldn't be here right now. He debated whether or not Valdemar wanted her so he could exterminate her, sweep that embarrassment under the rug before it got to be a wild rumor. But...no. He actually got the sense Karl cared about her, for as much as Rohaan guessed he cared about anyone but himself. Sure, there was a fortress involved apparently, but no one could infiltrate like Rohaan Ja'aisen. That's likely why he'd been chosen, though whether Karl considered it or not, Rohaan also had a better ability than most to protect the girl on the road. And he would too, regardless of whether Valdemar wanted her dead or alive. There was an opportunity there he'd be unwise not to exploit.

A flask was set on the table, and Karl finally played his hand, looking pointedly at Rohaan's cup. As one might expect him to, he spit out the ale in a sudden burst. Except Rohaan absolutely had his wits about him, and he very intentionally and with great accuracy aimed for Valdemar's face, spraying the Emperor. He took the flask (though decidedly with less urgency than a man in his position ought to be expected to) grumbling, "Jakhai!" The language was unfamiliar but it was evidently some kind of curse. Rohaan opened it and...sniffed it first. He locked eyes with Valdemar as a slow smile spread across his lips. Rohaan suddenly broke, bursting into a wheezing, wild, manic laughter. It was the vokurian's turn to shed a few tears of laughter as he outright howled, slapping the table with an open palm. It took a long time for him to master himself again, and even then, he was barely suppressing a chuckle still. He took a big swig of the whiskey in the flask. "I just had the distinct pleasure of spitting ale in the face of the Emperor of Man. Moon and stars, that was an opportunity I'm glad I didn't pass up. Hoo!" He wiped his eyes, then spread his arms wide. "That's it! My career has peaked! I can retire in peace!" he joked. "Ah, Tevira's Tits, I hope some bard makes that a song somewhere, I really do."

He took another sip of the whiskey, nodding appreciatively at the quality. "I had a notion you'd got some scheme or other. But to be honest, I really doubted you'd go through with poisoning. I mean, what, you're gonna drag me out here, give me this elaborate proposal just to poison me? I don't think so. And maybe you would, for whatever reason. I thought you might actually do it, and that was a risk I was willing to take. But then you set down the 'antidote' right in front of me. C'mon now, where's the risk in that? It might also be good to note for the future that Vokurians don't poison as easily as you frail folk. I might look human, but I assure you, I'm not. It takes different stuff to do the job proper, and most unlearned attempts just make us sick. Miserably so, yes, but not dead. Didn't think that would benefit you either. You need an elite for this job, not a vomiting wretch. But good show, Valdemar, you had me going for a moment there."

Rohaan leaned back, still holding the flask of whiskey. "Anyway, I was about to call your terms unreasonable until you specified that she can be brought back dead. I can't guarantee what happens on the road, and if she gets sick and keels over that ain't my fault. Gored by a boar, struck by lightning...But I don't want to haul a dead body all that way, so I'll at least try to keep her alive..." He was grinning, but his stare had a dangerous glint. "But before we finalize all this..." The scruffy blonde sitting before Valdemar changed his appearance as smoothly and quickly as if he'd cast off a jacket. The man looking back at the Emperor was no longer Rohaan Ja'aisen. It was a perfect copy of himself, with the one exception being his eyes and the small spots of crusted silver where he'd pulled especially violently at the ishun-tai. "I've got to wonder..." It was his voice too. "You don't strike me as much of an archer...so why the one glove?" He pinched a fold of the supple leather at the fingertip, giving it the faintest of tugs without actually removing it, taunting him. "Should I find out...?"

"Pride? No, I'm merely offering you perspective. I deal death with purpose and intent, which makes me different from a murderer. However, the work is very similar." It wasn't a matter that he would ordinarily concede, but if Rohaan was so curious to ask, then he would receive an honest answer. Guilt wasn't an emotion he ordinarily experienced, therefore he lived out much of his life without regret. There was only one thing that he truly regretted and it had happened so long ago that there was barely any benefit in thinking about it at all. Very soon, it would be left in the dust of the past, where it truly belonged. Perhaps his lack of humanity was something to regret on its own. Does anyone miss something that they never had? It doesn't matter. No one holds onto power through the generosity of others.

"It may also be worthwhile for you to remember that there are no men like me." The Emperor didn't speak in a conceited manner. There was a hidden meaning within his words, of course, although that was assuming anyone was being particularly observant. Needless pondering would only amount to little more than weightless speculation. Karl Valdemar could hardly ever be described as being an "open book" in any sense of the word. Oddly enough, it could also be said that he was more than just a man, or at the same time, others may say that he was less than. Depends on the perspective. In Karl Valdemar's own view, the distinction wasn't all that significant.

Rohaan didn't trust Karl Valdemar. It would have been amusing if he did, though the Emperor hadn't made any effort to establish trust in the first place. Nor would he ever. The damage had been done generations ago and it was a waste of time to overcome that fact. Besides, trust was an illusion. The only tangible difference between loyalty and betrayal were the incentives. He knew that Rohaan would relish the chance to betray him. It would be much the same for nearly anyone else who had a similar shared experience as the Shifter. It was all about the incentive and opportunity to do so, and the Emperor had went well out of his way to stack the deck in his own favor. This would persist until his daughter was back in Last Vigil and then the question would become irrelevant.

For all intents and purposes, it had seems as if the deal had been struck. That was good. It would have been less than optimal if the negotiations had dragged on for any longer. He'd commit it all to paper soon in the pavilion. They were losing the light of the day much faster than he would have liked, and besides, it was a bit windy outside for the signing of official documents. Still a pointless gesture, ultimately. If he were to die suddenly, he truly doubted that even a signed document would make much of a difference. It would be far from the first time proper procedure was ignored at the disadvantage of a non-human. Rohaan needed the Emperor or his daughter, and that was exactly what Karl Valdemar was counting on.

Then the Shifter spit ale in the Emperor's face. That was... entirely different from the dozens of things that he had thought the Vokurian would do in response to a perceived poisoning. In a certain way, Rohaan still hadn't disappointed him. Any tension that may have existed had broken, and it was admittedly an entertaining outcome. Possibly the greatest shame was that the ale wasn't even that good. He wouldn't even be able to chastise Rohaan for wasting quality alcohol. This had gained the attention of the Imperial soldiers, and they were beginning to move in to assist their emperor. Most had nearly gotten to the banquet table before Karl Valdemar managed to react.

"At ease! The only harm that's been done to me is that I now smell like a drunkard." He had already taken a finely embroidered handkerchief to wipe his face down. His eyes were still stinging from the alcohol while Rohaan broke into a laughing fit. Yes, the tension had clearly been broken. Karl Valdemar spat on the ground to remove the ale that had found its way into his mouth.

"I've no idea what you're rambling about," Karl Valdemar managed, though he clearly wasn't trying to be all that convincing. "I wagered that you wouldn't mind a taste of whiskey from my person collection, especially after all that ale." He shrugged, putting the diversion to a definitive end.

"The rest of you may as well help yourselves. Negotiations are nearly concluded, and there's far too much food and drink left." He directed this to the soldiers and servants within range, and they did as he commanded. None were bold enough to ever disobey him. It truly was a shame. If he had subordinates like Rohaan, then being emperor would definitely be more interesting. Not to say that the constant assassination attempts weren't a different kind of entertaining.

There was only silence as Rohaan transformed himself into the Emperor. It was much more disturbing than watching the Shifter change into an animal like he had done. It was certainly a surreal experience to see a nearly perfect doppelgänger of yourself, but the eyes gave it away. It was always the eyes. His left arm was already reacting to the transformation, causing Karl Valdemar to turn his back to everyone so it was less noticeable. His arm twisted and convulsed, much more than it had before. There was an audible cracking noise, as if bones were breaking or joints were dislocating. However, just as quick as the transformation, his arm calmed. When Karl Valdemar turned back around, nothing was strange, he was simply rolling his shoulder as if he had slept on it wrong. His soldier were already on their feet, readying their weapons in opposition to the Shifter.

The Shifter was now openly taunting him by offering to remove the glove. Karl Valdemar's eyes narrowed. Rohaan's curiosity no longer seemed charming or interesting. "Captain, if the shiftling removes the glove, kill him." With that command, all weapons were fully unsheathed and at the ready, fully prepared for Rohaan to make the next move. Some secrets were better left unknown.

Rohaan snorted, though whether with derision or laughter wasn't entirely clear. "Ain't never met a man like me either, I'm sure. Then again, I'm not exactly a man, am I?" He waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not impressed by your titles or your status, Valdemar. Or intimidated by them. I can assume the same could be said of me. We might live in different worlds, but we're at least both practical men. Usually I'd say that reputation speaks louder than everything else, but not here, not between us. Actions do. And I can assure you, there are plenty of men like you out there. Maybe none so rich, but they're out there." People like Karl were all the same to Rohaan, no matter their specific status or titles. He knew the sort.

Rohaan, still chuckling, swished the liquid in the flask around a bit before taking another sip. Even if there was an actual attempt on his life, Rohaan was fairly casual about that sort of thing for a cutthroat and found it more laughable than offensive. For one, he sort of always expected it, but by that same token, if he got in a tizzy every time someone tried to see him dead, he'd be a very stressed out man. "I can assure you, Valdemar, I've sampled your personal stash quite extensively." He grinned. "But having a refresher for the memory might--maybe--ease the pain of my transport here. You might have just asked, you know..." That wasn't feasible, not with a man like this, Rohaan knew. "Maybe even sent a letter. Would have taken me a week just to figure out what it said, but I'd have gotten there eventually. Someone taught me to read once, but I was never good at it. Vokurians don't have a written language, so the concept is a little foreign." He shrugged nonchalantly.

As Rohaan shifted, Valdemar's hand started twitching and convulsing in an ugly way. He tried to hide it, and all his soldiers awkwardly tried to pretend they all hadn't just seen it for the dignity of their master. But Rohaan saw. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of reaction he'd get out of the man for his threat, but taking it quite seriously and threatening to kill him in return wasn't on the list of possibilities. He was not disappointed, though. The blonde laughed, practically cackling with glee as he whooped, "Woo hooohhoooh! Oh, now this is getting good! Struck a nerve, have I?" He was laughing, but his gaze was fierce, almost wicked. "Good to know, good to know!" It was unsettling for the soldiers to hear the voice of their Emperor speak so loudly and roughly, without any sense of decorum. He inspected the gloved hand with a cocked head. "Something magical, I'm guessing. Doesn't seem to like me shifting, does it? Best hope I don't decide to do that often."

Rohaan returned to his natural shape though. "Put your steel away, Ca-mm. I know you'd give your left hand to run me through, but not today. I just had a very sizable meal, and fighting you all would upset my stomach. Though if it came to that, I'd burn you first, Ca-mm. That polished steel armor you've got there is well made, and might even protect you from most of what I could throw at you. But all that steel can't save you from fire. Instead it's like your own little personal body-shaped oven..."

Rohaan turned back to Valdemar, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "But it seems fortune is shining on me today. Tell you what. Skip the contract, I've got my own leverage now. If you betray me in any way, go back on our deal, twist the terms, or otherwise get in my way, and I'll blow your secret wide open. From how you just reacted, I'd imagine it'd be pretty embarrassing and damaging to your career. And not just yours. Hers." Rohaan's task was to transport her, not to groom her political career. If he got burned in this deal, he'd set her future, and his, ablaze without a flash of guilt.

"Speaking of, who is she anyway? I need to know her name, anything you know about her and where she lives, and what she might look like. Tell me my mark, and I'll be on my way. I've got...business to do."

The imperial soldiers took a step back and stood down. Due to the de-escalation, most breathed a sigh of relief except for the captain, whom seemed to be a bit disappointed. The same was true of the Emperor, considering that he wouldn't have minded the extra excitement. The truth was that the lives of the soldiers would have been forfeit if that glove had been removed. None were anywhere as useful to him at the present as Rohaan was. It was probably more of shame that this would enable the Shifter more leverage to hold over him, though that wouldn't be all that significant in the long term. He was already entrusting him with the greatest prize within the entire empire - his only daughter. Besides, he wasn't maintaining the secret for his own vanity. The only concern was that he was giving the Shifter the means and opportunity to betray him later. It was inevitable, depending on whether he chose to continue to make use of the shapeshifters talents after this first mission.

"I could have raised my banners and marched an entire army to gates of Durgan Fortress. But then my lords would wonder why I was committing such significant resources on Durgan. What could possibly be there that the emperor would be so interested in? If I don't keep them squabbling amongst themselves, their focus changes to me. Some are loyal. Most aren't. All would give anything to gain any leverage over me." There was a sad truth in all of that, though he didn't actually fear any of them. They weren't the enemies that actually threatened the empire. They were merely flies, annoying and harmless in nearly every aspect, but they would love the chance to feed off of his decaying corpse as the empire burned around them.

"An assault would be too chaotic and uncertain. We are talking about one of the greatest fortresses ever built in this world. Assuming that it is properly manned, the loss of life would be staggering, assuming they aren't wise enough to figure out what I'm truly after and use my daughter as a bargaining chip. Besides, I need far more precision in this situation."

"The same goes with sending my own agents. I have absolutely no idea what's going on within that fortress. My agents may of been more than enough to challenge whatever may be happening within that fortress. Yet, there's still a risk that something unnatural is occurring; if so, no normal man can handle that. No matter what, I can't be flippant with my daughter's life. I need you." Karl Valdemar had no pleasure in stoking the ego of the Shifter, but none of his actions taken so far was based on a mere whim. There were multiple facets to what he needed done. First, he needed his daughter, preferably alive. Second, he needed to know what was actually going on in that fortress. He was essentially blind, and he hated to lack intelligence about anything within his empire.

"I needed secrecy to shroud my actions. That forced my hand to act swiftly. However, if you ever learn to properly read, then maybe I'll send you that letter that you so desperately crave." He probably wouldn't. He much preferred to inject the Shifter's life with excitement whenever he could. This very well may not be their only partnership. "I think I've covered this well enough, unless you're only broaching this subject over and over again just to annoy me."

Once again, when Rohaan finally shifted back to his base form, it wasn't a pleasant experience for Karl Valdemar. At least it finally ended the odd experience of talking with a nearly identical version of himself. The captain gritted his teeth at Rohaan's latest comment, but it didn't make much of a difference to Karl Valdemar. He hardly needed to two of them to be friends. The Emperor finally returned to his seat, crossing his legs as he did so.

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed by it in the slightest. I just need it to remain a secret for the foreseeable future. Keep your lips sealed and the terms won't change. I can promise you that." Obviously neither of them trusted one another, but so long as their interests intertwined, a deterrent would remain. "Oh, and please refrain from threatening my daughter. It will gain you nothing aside from me placing you in an unmarked grave." Based on the Emperor's expression, it was more than just a threat, and it wasn't a bluff like before. It was a promise.

He let a slight sigh leave his lips before he continued. "When she was born, I named her Astrid, but she does not know of that name. She was given a new name by her grandfather, the Lord of Durgan. I believe it's pronounced... Asharavasti." Though the old man bore him a grudge for many things, at least he was an honorable man. Karl Valdemar was able to entrust the care of his child to him, which was helpful since there was growing turmoil within the empire even after the victory against the Centauri.

"Whatever happened at Durgan… I know for a fact that my daughter wasn't there when it happened. She doesn't care for staying in castles. Mountain-climbing, hunting in the valleys, whatever. More or less, she can disappear for weeks at a time, but she must of returned to Durgan by now, and it wasn't through the gates. Retrace her steps and you should be able to find her." If the girl was smart, then she would have gone back to Durgan, but from everything that had been told to him by his agents, he knew that wasn't the case. Independent, tenacious, and hopelessly stubborn... who did that remind him of?

"As for what she looks like, she has my eyes. Nobody else at Durgan has these eyes." Karl Valdemar pointed his eyes, which were golden. They were warm and bold, almost the perfect set of eyes for an emperor to have. At the same time, however, these eyes seemed to be more appropriate for a beast or predator.

"Keep the flask." Karl Valdemar figured he'd offer the Shifter a memento of their first meeting. "And take this. You shouldn't need it, but it'll show any man that represent my authority." The Emperor pulled a ring off his right hand, which bore the Imperial seal. It was something that could only be given by an emperor, and couldn't be so simply stolen. "You've gotten so friendly with Captain Johann Basch that I think I'll make him your liaison. Go to him for anything that you may need. With your shapeshifting abilities, I doubt travel will be one of those." The captain only offered Rohaan a deathly glare.

Karl Valdemar walked over to one of the fishing poles that were laying on the shore, adjusting the line so it would properly operate. "Upon your return, meet me at Last Vigil where I had you taken from. Seems as good as a place as any." With a quick flick of the wrist, the fishing line was cast into the middle of the lake. He'd probably take the boat out tomorrow. "If that's everything, I'd like to do a bit more fishing while there's still light."

Valdemar described this place as the greatest fortress in the world, and while Rohaan's interest was peaked, he was also a little unimpressed. He was not an army, come to batter at its walls with engines and fire. Nor was he a wily but stupid common thief, who thought he could crawl in and not be noticed, or bribe someone to get inside. No, he was Rohaan Ja'aisen. He was the master of thieves, and the shapes of all beasts were his to wear. If there was a courtyard, no one would begrudge a sparrow for flitting among the grass. If there was a sewer, no one would think twice about a rat scurrying inside. Getting inside was not a problem. Getting out was the tricky part.

"Yes, yes, greatest fortress and all, right." He flicked a dismissive hand. "You need a man of infiltration, Valdemar, which is why you chose me. I get that. And you need someone that, when everything goes sideways, has...teeth." He let the double meaning of that turn-of-phrase sit for a moment. "I wonder if you find irony in so desperately needing the help of a silverblood. You know, the people you see as a nuisance and less than a person. I've always wondered if your humans' hatred of us came from jealousy, or even fear that we might actually be better than you, stronger. What a pity it must be to have to live your whole life in one single shape..." This was not taunting, this was an honest sentiment that he held. He couldn't imagine being stuck to one form for a lifetime. No wonder humans were bitter, they could not fly...

"You mentioned at some point you didn't care much for the details of this expedition. I really hope you meant that, or your choosing me is worthless. I can't guarantee my methods, and I can't guarantee that if enough things try to kill me, I won't burn Durgan to the ground. I used to sink ships as a boy, I'm sure a fortress wouldn't trouble me now. "Hope there's nothing else of interest there for you. As for our deal, don't burn me and I won't burn you. Literally or otherwise."

Rohaan pocketed the flask in one of the pouches across the leather bandolier he wore, though he'd been planning to do so anyway. He wouldn't have considered it a theft, either. Too easy, and it really was more of a gift anyway. Besides, it seemed like he'd be needing himself a stiff drink these days to get through this madness. The ring though...he wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, it might give him some leverage out there, knowing that he was associated with the Emperor. He almost retched at the thought. He'd much rather rid the world of an evil and torch them all to ash right now but...no. His time with Berlin had taught him enough to know when to pass up one opportunity for a better one. This was one of those times. Rohaan also wondered if anyone would really honor the significance of the ring. It might be noteworthy and not some common token, but he was not some common man. Rohaan took the band of silver from him and stashed it away, too. He did not wear it, and did not want it visible.

He stood, grinning devilishly at the captain. Rohaan sauntered over to him, leaning in close and patting him on the cheek like a man might pat a good plow horse. "Did you hear that, Ca-mm? We're going to be good friends. I'd ask you for a little pocket change to cover some necessary expenses but..." Rohaan shrugged, holding aloft a leather purse filled with heavy coins. It belonged to the captain...or it used to, and at some undetermined point, the shifter had swiped it.

"If I can, I might send a sign that I've made contact. Don't need to worry about it being intercepted--it won't be in letters. You'll know it when you see it." And then in the blink of an eye, his man shape became something larger and darker. A dragon now stood in the grass beside the banquet table. It was not the large, armored breed often found in high mountain peaks and rumored to have stashes of hoarded gold, but it was a cyradan. Significantly smaller, leaner, and though the scales were thick and tough, they were not as impervious as other varieties. They were smooth and close fitted like snake skin, though they were a matte black that seemed to drink in light and consume it rather than reflect it. The spine had only small, curved black spines, and the face was mostly angular and smooth with only small spikes framing the jawline. The wings were not entirely leathery and sinuous, but were almost velvety like a horse's nose. His teeth and talons were all a deep, dark grayish black reminiscent of less shiny hematite, and there were small lines running along his body and face that pulsed a bioluminescent red that in the light of the sun was easily missed or mistaken for a faint reflection. Yet, as always, his eyes were slit orbs of lapis lazuli. By its build, this particular variety of dragon was built for speed and agility, not to mention nighttime stealth.

Rohaan gave one last parting roar, a two-toned sound that seemed like two different voices speaking as one. One deep and resonating like the grumblings of an elephant. The other was as sharp as broken glass. And with a good launch and a few pumps of his powerful wings, the shifter was gone at last. For a long time, there was no other news of him, except that a group of five men, all conspirators in the Emperor's trap, were seen by doctors the next morning to treat their sudden and bloody lack of tongues, and also venomous snake bites.

Rohaan did not linger after that. He flew high and by night, trusting to stealth to keep him out of trouble with high success. The rate at which he reached Durgan would make any caravan balk in disbelief, but then he was not limited to the use of winding roads, and he was not burdened with carts. Rohaan allowed himself some much needed rest that he'd earned after many days of hard flight, and then with determination, he began his quest in earnest. First, he needed information.

Ash had been observing Durgan Fortress for nearly three days. It took every fiber of her being not to ignore her better sense and sneak her way back in - she knew most of the hidden tunnels that she could take. Upon her initial return, there was a sense of dread that filled her entire body. It was an unnatural feeling and had to be supernatural. Or that was her best guess, considering she had no direct experience with magic or anything else that could even be considered to be similar. It wasn't long before she felt herself being involuntarily pushed away until she found herself in Low Riding, a small village that found itself in the shadow of the mountains and the fortress. Truthfully, the sense of fear was only slightly alleviated within the village. The village had been reduced to a ghost town, with most of the villagers now being confined to their own homes. For Ash, however, she had a singular focus, and her stubbornness was forcing her to return to Durgan, despite whatever was driving her away.

From observing Durgan for the past few days, no discernible signs of life could be seen. The usual men-at-arms that routinely patrolled the walls of the fortress were all gone, and Ash knew the names of all of them. The gates were sealed and there were no smoke rising from the fortress itself. As far as anyone could tell from the outside, Durgan was completely abandoned. Regardless of this, Ash knew that couldn't be true. So many people that she had known for her entire life, it was impossible that they could be all gone. Thus, this gave Ash the resolve necessary to find out what had happened. She knew that this wouldn't be an easy task in the slightest. Something malevolent was happening at the fortress; it was impossible to know for sure what exactly it was, but the unmistakable feeling was deep in her gut. Worse still, it wasn't abating. This dark cloud that was floating over her would persist until she found out what was really going on.

It seemed like a sensible possibility that the people of Low Riding would have some idea of what could have happened, but finding anyone to ask was quickly proving to be a fruitless endeavor. Most had hidden within their homes, only venturing forth when absolutely necessary. None would speak to her even when she insisted, and it became fairly clear that none of them would be all that helpful to her anyway. The only conversation she managed to have with anyone was with a man who had possibly gone insane long ago, or he was drunk, or both. Of course, the incomprehensible information that she managed to receive wasn't all that useful. She was mostly hoping that someone from the fortress had escaped down to the village, but that didn't seem to be the case. The fact that no one had managed to be impossible, yet that feeling in her gut was still there. She could have searched the other outlying towns and villages, but that seemed to be nothing more than a wild goose chase that was likely to lead nowhere.

It would appear that Ash would be all alone in this new endeavor. It was slightly ironic that she had fought so desperately to have independence for her entire life. Now that was all she had. Each day, she attempted to approach Durgan, and each day she succumbed to the insurmountable force that was keeping her way. However, with each attempt that she made, the weight that seemed to be exhibited from whatever was within the fortress seemed to dissipate by a bit, allowing Ash to progressively get farther and farther. Perhaps she was slowly building an immunity to the force, or she was becoming better conditioned to it. It was hard to say either way, this was entirely outside of her understanding. At this point, she was still at a significant distance away from Durgan, but she was already where she needed to be. There were dozens of open escape tunnels that flowed out of Durgan. It might exist as one of the most impressive fortresses in the known world, but there had always been precautions put into place if it's impressive fortifications were ever to fall. She had know found herself at the exit of one of these tunnels.

These tunnels were easily collapsible from within the fortress, assuming an enemy ever found one of these tunnels, they wouldn't be able to exploit it. This particular tunnel seemed to be wholly intact, which was fortunate considering many had been collapsed over the years. This also showed that her father, Lord Cassander, was no longer in control of whatever was happening within. If the fortress had been compromised, he would have taken every precaution. This definitely wasn't helping her nerves any. As she entered the tunnel, she placed her hood over her head, masking her face. As she continued, the fear that had once gripped her was mostly gone, but the specter of it continued to linger, placing her on what seemed to be the edge of an abyss. She heard a distant voice and reached for her dagger out of instinct.

It was early evening by the time Rohaan really began his search in earnest, though he did sort of stand there for a while, scratching his head and wondering what he should really do. He'd tracked people before, but he'd always had either a specific location to find them, or a piece of clothing or something to track a scent. He had a vague description and eye color...and that was it. He wished he could have asked for something to scent-track with, but the Emperor likely wouldn't have anything recent enough. He supposed a quick flight over the fortress would have to do for a first-step.

Rohaan changed to an eagle and took to the air, gaining some altitude before he made for the fortress. The closer he got, the more he could sense something...odd. At first it was like a vague phantom-waft of a hot metal smell, and then he imagined he could almost taste metal. That was imagined, there was no metal in the air, but he recognized the sensation immediately as magic. Strong magic. Berlin was a magical man, and whenever the man used his ability on Rohaan, he always imagined a metallic tang in his mouth. It was faint, but there. Berlin and the other magic-using crew members never sensed it, but then again, they were human and not inherently a magical creature like he was. The air felt different to him, too, something like barometric pressure but...wrong. Whatever was causing that signature, it was strong, and Rohaan wasn't sure he liked it.

The city was mostly dead. That wasn't what he'd expected at all, and he thought to himself, most impenetrable fortress! Hmph! There were no guards out on patrol to mark him, even if a circling eagle was anything to note at all. For a moment he thought maybe they were hiding, but there'd be small fires for off duty soldiers, or any fires at all. The chimneys were all just as dead as the--

Movement caught his eye, and he swooped down, landing high on a watchtower to peer down at a cluster of people in the square below. They weren't milling about, some were standing huddled together, others were gathered loosely around something, but in a rather ordered fashion, he thought. The ground seemed darker than the gray cobblestones surrounding the group too...it seemed almost...red. A figure in odd clothing picked someone from the huddled mass and somewhat forcibly guided them to the focal point of what the people were gathered around. There was evidently some to-do or speech or something that went on, and then the oddly clothed man did something to the cowering person, and they dropped. Rohaan caught the glint of something wet catching the sun.

Moon and stars! he gasped inwardly as he realized to some degree what was happening. He was unfortunately somewhat experienced with mass executions, and there seemed to be a ritual going on here. No wonder there was a magical tang in the air. His mind raced. Was she down there? He had no way to really know without getting down there himself, and if he did that, he'd get involved. There'd be blood and fire, and he couldn't guarantee that any of the captives wouldn't get caught in the literal crossfire. Damn! Damn!

He thought back to the Emperor's description of the girl. He did mention that she often slipped out of the fortress to go adventuring. Maybe she got wise and skipped town. He had to try that first, had to see if anyone at all was wandering around outside of the walls. He flew overhead, circling a perimeter around the fortress and scanning for any movement. After what felt like an age, he saw...something. He couldn't be sure of what he saw, so he landed near where he'd thought he'd seen movement and shifted to a bloodhound. He might not be able to identify her scent in particular, but he could identify human versus animal easily enough, he was familiar with those. He paced, nose to the ground and occasionally up to the air, methodically scanning the landscape for a scent trail. He found one quickly enough, and it was human. Rohaan followed it as quickly as he could manage, hoping against hope that he'd found his mark.

The person he followed turned out to be a young woman, and she looked just a bit more rugged than your average lady, which made his heart leap in hope. She seemed like the sort. She was going into a tunnel, which he automatically noted and saved that information for later, just in case. Why, by the moon, would she want to go in there? Did she know what was happening?

Rohaan shifted to his natural shape, pulled up his hood to shade his eyes a bit and took a few steps forward. "Wait!" The sounds of underground shuffling stopped. He called again. "Wait, don't go in there! You don't know me, but you have to trust me. Do not go in there. If they find you..." Even if this wasn't her, he wasn't a cruel man and didn't want to see those people gain another victim. He'd at least make sure this girl got far away from here and continue his search. He kept a little distance from the tunnel entrance; if she came back and ran smack into some grubby, strange, rogue of a man, she'd probably turn and run the other way. Even worse if she saw his eyes. "Look, I'm trying to find someone. Make sure they're alright. Maybe you can help me. Just...don't go in there. There's all this magic in the air, and these people...it's gotta be some kind of cult, or something, but you want no part of it." He was speaking fast, obviously a bit rattled.

Ash's dagger was in a sheath that was strapped at the small of her back, placed in such a way that it would be out of the way of the rest of her gear. She gripped the hilt of the blade more as the stranger spoke, unsheathing it ever so slightly so that it would be ready in case she needed it. It wasn't meant for throwing, and she'd be more than foolish to throw away a weapon in such a circumstance. Besides, she wasn't confident in her ability to ready her bow and nock an arrow before the man could react. If things were to deteriorate to such a degree, then the fight would definitely have to be conducted in close-quarters, which wasn't exactly optimal for her. She knew nothing about the possible capabilities of the stranger, which inevitably meant that it would be far too risky to directly fight him. Of course, that was assuming that she was willing to fight fairly, which she was not, and she had more than a few tricks up her sleeve.

By any indication, the man had been following Ash for some time. It wasn't exactly common for others to be able to get the jump on her, as this man had, so it was painfully clear that he wasn't unskilled by any means. She was heavily distracted, though she had a feeling that there was much more to this man than she could possibly deduce at this time. In any case, she was already heavily distracted by the present circumstances, so it wasn't exactly useful for her to make any wild assumptions at this time. Besides, if he truly had malevolent intent, it wouldn't exactly make sense for him to speak to her beforehand. Still, she really had no idea about this man at all, so it would be prudent for her to stay wary for now.

Ash knew that she wasn't exactly prepared for whatever was waiting for her within the fortress. It was a total unknown to her, as was almost everything she had experienced within the last week. Was she fearful for what may come? Yes, undoubtedly. That still didn't mean that she could run away. She couldn't abandon her father, family, or friends. There were so many that she had grown up with, and she was certain that they'd do the same for her, if they could. For her, entering the fortress was non-negotiable, nor would it be possible for anyone to convince her otherwise. She was still uncertain why the man seemed so invested in her. Anyone else would have ignored her under normal circumstances. The only reasonable explanation was that he was confusing her for whomever he was looking for. Odder still was that he seemed to be mostly unaffected by the malevolent force that was emanating from Durgan. Or if he was affected, it wasn't in the same way as it had everyone she had seen so far. Truthfully, the invisible tendrils wanted to grasp and suffocate her at this very moment, but for whatever reason, they were being kept at bay.

The stranger talked about magic and cults, which would have sounded crazy to Ash if not for the last few days. Her only experience with magic consisted of being mesmerized as a small child by magicians that found themselves with travelling troupes. They entertained with tricks and minor illusions, most of which wasn't even real magic. The man before her seemed to speak with some kind of authority on the matter, though that was nothing more than an educated guess on her part. As for cults, Ash really had no idea what he was even talking about. There were no one but the usual villagers down in Low Riding, but she couldn't speak for any of the other settlements. It was obvious that he knew much more than her about this entire situation, and the only question was whether or not he was willing divulge this information with her.

"Can't help." Ash bluntly muttered. She wasn't heartless, at least she didn't think she was. Ash had her own issues that were consuming her every thought, and unless this person was in Durgan, there wasn't really any way that she could help the man. She obviously didn't recognize the man, and couldn't think of anyone within that fortress that he could be looking for. Probably much easier for the two of them to go their separate ways. She was more than willing to face whatever dangers were hiding in the fortress alone, even if that made her exceedingly foolish by any measurement. Despite it being early morning, she really didn't want to waste a lot of time in a conversation with someone who she did not know.

"Better if you never saw me. Goodbye." Ash said this with her eyes being clearly visible from beneath her hood. They were unmistakable, and it wouldn't take someone with supernatural perception to see them, even from an extended distance. She began to turn towards the tunnel once again, slightly sad that she couldn't help the man at this time.

Rohaan sighed exasperatedly. She wasn't listening to him and didn't seem inclined to stop her tunneling into the fortress, which, he knew, would lead to her death. Or worse. He didn't know and could hardly hope that this was who he was looking for, but he still didn't want to see someone just walk into their death. He was a practical man and would snuff out the life of a soldier or anyone else who threatened him in the blink of an eye, but that didn't mean he wished harm on everyone. He could feel a spike of anxiety flashing through his gut, for every minute he stood here was another minute his mark either disappeared further or was closer to death. He'd staked a lot on this whole stupid deal, which he was regretting now. He tried to remind himself that bringing her body still counted as a success according to the terms, so that eased some of his fears. Some.

She blew him off curtly, and he was about to shout in exasperation when she turned and faced him full on. Those eyes were just like Valdemar's, and he realized with a mixture of relief and a new, different panic that he actually had found his mark. The further in there she got, the deeper shit he'd get himself in just to try and extract her. He couldn't let her go. He though briefly about just tackling her, turning into a bear or a jaguar or something heavy and just pinning her down, but he definitely made note of the hand that stayed behind her back. Rohaan was an experienced man, and he knew that meant she was armed. Even if he could get her to listen to him, she'd easily get one good stab in before he'd managed it, and he really didn't want to get stabbed. No, force was a bad plan. He had to say something to catch her attention, and fast.

"Asharavasti!" He cried, a little more confidence seeping into his tone. He gave that a second to sink in. "Yes, I know who you are. And you are the person I'm looking for. You don't know me, but I've been sent to find you." He held up his hands. "Before you pull out that knife or whatever it is you've got on me, I'm not here to hurt you. Very much the opposite. I can't explain it all right now, but we have a lot to talk about, but if you go in there, I'll be forced to stop you. You have no idea how many lives hinge on my mission, on you."

Rohaan came a little closer, though he still kept his distance and his hood up. If she got a glimpse of his eyes, she'd probably refuse to do anything but run or stab him. So, feeling desperate and more than a little stupid, he sighed and offered, "Look, I get why you want to go in there. You want to help your people." He didn't really know, but it was a decent enough guess, and he was grasping at straws. "If anyone in the world gets that, it's me. And I..." Another deep sigh. What had he gotten himself into? "I can help you, I'm a man of many talents, but you have to promise me, to swear to me by the moon and the stars that when I tell you how I can help you, you won't run, and that after I help you, you'll talk to me and really hear me out. We need to talk, that's all I want. Deal?" He wasn't about to tell her that if she refused the deal, he'd drag her back to Last Vigil if it was the last thing he did. He needed her to not see him as a threat.

Upon hearing her own name, Ash immediately pulled out her dagger and took a defensive stance. It was mostly out of instinct and shock, entirely based on the fact that this man that she had never met before in her whole life somehow knew exactly who she was. He was free to go on all day about how he was here to help her, but she didn't recall sending for any help. Her father knew what she was up to despite her sneaking out of Durgan. Could she really be blamed for using the more expeditious way of leaving the fortress? Even if there was some reason in which he would send someone to find her, he would have used one of his own men, and Ash knew them all. Besides, based on everything she had witnessed so far, as well as the vibes that the man was presently putting off, what guarantee was there that anyone in the fortress was still alive? She expelled such thoughts as soon as they appeared in her head. If an air of negative thoughts were to consume her, then there was truly no way she would survive whatever was lurking within the fortress.

Ash hadn't relaxed her body quite yet. She obviously had a considerable amount of combative training for someone of her age. It had been one of the few things in her life that she had truly been serious about, much more than the usual things that were often relegated to ladies of her standing. A constant annoyance to her father to be sure, but it was just another facet of her character that he was forced to become accustomed to. That was partially why she was certain that she'd be able to get at least one strike in if the man attacked her, possibly fatal. Beyond that, she'd be a fool to speculate, especially given how chaotic combat could be. It was to be avoided at almost all costs, to be sure. If the deal was to come with the man willingly and ignore whatever was happening at Durgan, then it was fairly clear what Ash's answer to that question would be. She'd be more than willing to fight to avoid that outcome, and she wagered that was an outcome neither party necessarily wanted.

Her eyes narrowed. The only smart way for her to proceed was to hear the man out. That was akin to torture for her, considering that she was never really known for her patience. Hopefully that wouldn't require a silvertongue of her own either. She was blunt to a fault and more than likely to insult the man and his ancestors than rely on her charisma to convince him to do much of anything. If it was true that he had come all this way just for her, then it appeared that she had at least that in her favor to play against him. Moreover, it wouldn't surprise her at all if he was pitying her. Of course, that made her blood boil, but that could also be harnessed as an advantage. She'd have to let the man speak to place things in a clearer focus, and then she would have the liberty to take things in whatever direction seemed the most sensible. She let out a sigh and allowed her body to relax, placing her dagger back into its sheathe. Her eyes and gaze didn't change at all, still as dangerous and piercing as before. Ash would have to gamble and see how things would go.

"Speak and I will listen." Not like she had much of a choice. It had crossed her mind to just make a run for it and lose him in the tunnels. She probably could pull it off; there was almost no one else alive that knew the fortress as well as her. Still, she had come to the conclusion that she really didn't want him chasing after her when she had no idea of what to expect within the fortress itself. "Just try to give me the abridged version."

As soon as he called her name, she drew her knife and her whole posture changed into something much more aggressive. Rohaan knew it when he saw it, she knew what she was doing and wouldn't hesitate to kill him if she thought the situation warranted it. As someone who spent a considerable amount of time in the shape of an animal, he knew a lot about nonverbal cues. He didn't just know how to read them, he knew how to give them. Still, he always thought Berlin was better at this kind of thing. It'd worked on him, after all.

Rohaan kept his hands up and shifted his weight back, his stance somewhat relaxed and informal except for the edge of tension that lurked under everything else. He had a lot riding on this. He had to get her to Last Vigil. And he thought that he might just be able to drag her by force, but he really wanted to avoid that at all costs. He tried to think: what had Berlin done to him to win him over in their early days together? Rohaan had been a nearly feral child, starved and abused and did not speak the language of men, yet Berlin had not only tamed him, but he was something like a father to Rohaan. Honesty, he thought. Aside from his many other talents, Berlin had always been straight with him.

The shifter tossed back his hood, revealing his own eyes. But he kept his distance, kept his hands where she could see them. "My name is Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen--call me Rio--and I'm the most notorious thief and criminal this side of the sea. Maybe you've heard of me, maybe you haven't. I've done a lot of terrible and illegal things, very few of which I regret, but I've never kidnapped a person, and I've never just outright killed someone without reason. I don't intend to break that tradition today, so calm your waters and stop thinking about how best to stab me. Long story short, your father has no heirs besides you and I think he must be on the decline or something because he stuck a hefty deal to get me to come and find you for him and bring you to Last Vigil. I don't care, it's not my business why he's so bent on this all of a sudden, but if I fail, thousands of innocent people will be executed and I'm VERY motivated not to fail." Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but let an edge slip into his tone at that. "You don't believe me, do you? I know your mother died when you were very young. I know your father called you Astrid but Lord Durgan or whatever his name is, named you Asharavasti. And I happen to personally know that you have the same eyes as your father, too."

Rohaan spoke quickly, realizing that at any moment she might be done with him and try to run or attack him. He had to get the highlights, and in his haste he neglected to tell her that the Emperor conceived her during the war with the Centaurs, and that she was the bastard daughter of the Emperor. Frankly, that didn't seem like highly relevant information at the moment. It would be if she took anything he said seriously, but she had to first believe that he wasn't a highwayman with a little basic knowledge. Besides, if someone told him he was an Emperor's bastard, he'd laugh in their face.

The invisible tendrils that had once ensnared Ash in an effort to keep her away had mostly retracted themselves. Instead, she could feel them now trying to pull her towards the fortress, the darkness that had manifested itself within had probed her long enough to realize that it no longer wanted to keep Ash at bay. To Ash, it simply increased her desire to enter the fortress at all costs, which made her all the more anxious and impatient. This made her much more eager to get rid of Rohaan than she was before, and that was saying something. However, the only feeling that she was getting right now was that it was highly doubtful that she'd part ways with Rohaan anytime soon. That made her feel overly exhausted, and an exasperated sigh briefly escaped from her lips. From what she could tell so far, Rohaan was far more interested in this supposed job of his than any hired blade should have any right in being. Of course, that piqued her curiosity by a significant margin, and she imagined that she'd learn the finer details sooner than she'd like. At the moment, she'd let it come when the situation called for it - she wasn't exactly that interested in learning his life story before she could resolve whatever the fuck was happening.

Ash really should have been surprised once she saw Rohaan's eyes, and she was, to a certain extent. She had gone through plenty of nannies over the years that would scare her with monster stories about Shifters, and that had done the trick for the most part. That same travelling troupe that had the magician, also had a young Shifter boy, who could change himself into a whole series of fantastical and exotic birds. He had been the most beautiful boy that she had ever saw, and she developed a bit of a crush on him, though that had mostly passed a few years ago. If she was reading Rohaan correctly, then it was safe to say that he had none of the qualities that the boy from her memories had. In fact, it likely wasn't a stretch to say that Rohaan was the time of person who would happily slit the throat of that boy while he slept. She shrugged at that single thought. At least that meant that the Shifter that she was now dealing with had a bit of honesty to him. Still, her options had clearly narrowed considering she was dealing with a Shifter whose capabilities she wasn't completely aware of. That didn't really change the endgame that she was currently pursuing. If he ever reached the point in which he had to shapeshift into anything so he could subdue her, then that would mean that he had lost. At the very least, Ash would get some satisfaction out of that.

She let Rohaan speak without interruption, she was in a need for more answers after all. In truth, she didn't think she had ever heard his name before or knew who he was. Obviously, it was to no one's surprise that he was a cutthroat, though that didn't really make the current situation any different than it currently was. Durgan was essentially on the very edge of the Empire, whatever happened in the heartlands was definitely none of her concern. Besides, Ash had never been the type of girl to pursue court gossip. Even if there were whispers of a particularly skilled Vokurian thief, she would have never paid it much mind. She wondered if it would damage his ego if she said as much to him?

Rohaan continued to speak, and Ash really had to restrain herself from striking out to break his jaw. She definitely would have done so if the circumstances were even slightly different. Ash glared at him as she found a pile of rocks that were the remnants of an old structure to sit upon. From her pack, she pulled out a strip of dried meat and bit into it. It tasted like leather and had a similar consistency, but it didn't matter. Her stomach was empty. She was progressively growing more and more pissed off. The only father she had ever known was Lord Cassander, so much of what Rohaan was spouting out of his mouth was nothing more than nonsense, in her view. Still, he didn't seem to be a good enough of an actor to improvise to such a degree, and he knew far too many details about her to completely discount.

"Rio, or whatever your bloody name is, you hungry at all?" Ash offered the other half of the strip of meat she had been chewing on before she tossed it to the ground not far from Rohaan's feet. She doubted it would be the first time he ate something off of the ground. She spit out some gristle that was in her mouth before she started picking at her teeth with her fingernail. "How about you tell me who your master is, and I might actually care about what you're saying?" At that, to took a long drink from her canteen.