“Kaeleer…is good. It’s home,” Jandar answered Dareen’s question simply. “You’ll see when we get there,” he added with a light shrug. He was soon distract from all other matters by Fatima receiving a letter. “He…left?” the Warlord asked, frowning in thought about Xandar. “My Lady,” he addressed his Queen, mildly hesitant. “Perhaps I could arrange a meeting with her myself, to see how the Prince fares and what he is up to,” he suggested. “It might be best if I appear Hyllian, and if I might bother you to help me draft a letter the local Queen might accept as well, I’d greatly appreciate it,” he said.

It took a bit for all the matters to be taken care of, the letter to be sent, and for Jandar to get into his full Aristocratic persona. Then, he only had to wait for the reply before he could head to Alice’s HQ…

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The outskirts where the Priestess made her home was a weed-infested garden but tamed it would be easy to see the delicate paths that curved through the beds and around hedges that had grown wild over the past few years. Places for people to sit and enjoy the beauty of the large stone building that housed the Dark Altar and where people would gather for public Birthright ceremonies and Offerings to the Darkness. But vines were beginning to sneak down from the roof, the old Priestess fiercely defending the ground level as best she could. The smell of freshly cooking soup floated upon the air as Mikhail, Fatima, and Gennar, by Denvar's insistence, found their way down the cracked and uneven road. Showing just how long it had been since the Blood of this village honored the old ways. Though it would be discourteous to assume that they had done it simply on a whim. "Happens when people don't want to gather and risk news getting out that they just happen to have a dark jewel in the family that could be a potential asset." Gennar stated quietly to the others as he felt his wings closed tight to his back in wary dislike of the fact. He didn't add that they also hid the fact a daughter was a Queen if they were not of the aristocracy and even if they were of such a rank. A Queen who was a child was a target to be a pawn under a more powerful or clever Queen. If they did not bend? He didn't want to think about those broke jewels and the shells that wore them. There had been far too many over the years.

The creak of a rocking chair would reach the group's ears as Mikhail would be the first to spot the elderly looking woman who fit the description of a story book's Black Widow more than she did a Priestess. Her fingers though old, nimbly working through the skeins of yarn that twisted and danced between a pair of knitting needles. A delicate iron table that had seen better days holding a basket of more shades of yarn next to a rather thick mug and a larger pitcher. Several others chairs were arranged about the entrance to the small cottage that sprouted off of the building where the Dark altar was housed. An uncommon thing. Most caretakers lived in the same building. The Summer-sky Priestess looked up with a wary squint of her eyes. "Well, a fair few visitors in one day. What does a Queen want with an ancient Priestess and a useless altar?" The words were not a jovial as she had used when speaking with Jandar, and in fact, wouldn't have been wise to use with any Queen. But age came with a few blessing and one of them was that Olenna knew she had lived a good life and was ready to see the end even if the end was at the hands of one of those young upstart Queens... "And a dark jeweled Queen." Olenna stated with some surprise, her hands pausing in their knitting. "You are not of Chaillot or this Territory. A long-lived race and I doubt there are any Dhemlan Queens left in Terreille." It was a whispered and horrifying rumor that none had been able to confirm. That Dorothea had sent her agents to find Dhemlan Queens and root them out. Even the youngest would never hold their birthright.
~~
The Queen’s Residence was a lavish manor that sat in the heart of the small port town. It had been built almost on the sea itself with pale stone reflecting the cloudy sky and basking in what sunlight could get through. The gardens that sprawled about it showed only the beauty that could be found locally, and there were gardeners aplenty as Jandar made his way down the grand drive and past fountains and pools that sported colorful fish. The great oaken doors had opened to a lavish hall boasting artwork plenty and scented with the overpowering smell of incense that took away the clean smell of the sea. An older man showed him to a waiting room that was much the same if not a bit gaudier. The furniture was a bit ostentatious with its silken cushions and gilded edges. Statues of two sirens flanked the door teaching playing an instrument as they watched Jandar with unseeing marble eyes. The ceiling was a fortune in pounded brass that seemed recently installed and really only made the room look ridiculous, but apparently was the style of the times.

"The Lady will receive you shortly," He had informed Jandar in the proper tones, though the Dhemlan would notice a slight worry in his eyes. A tightness about his mouth. Whatever the man said, Alice apparently was as capable to take on a visitor now as ever and the older gentleman thought she would be taking her time. Something that could reflect poorly on the Court and the Queen if Jandar was a messenger from an influential source. "If you have need of anything ring the bell, and a servant will fetch it for you." He beat a hasty retreat to inform the said Queen, the polish wood of the flooring rapping out the older man's quick footfalls.

Alice sat perched on a chaise lounge several women sitting about her 'study'. In all honesty, the once 'borning' room had been refined into one more suited to the Lady's taste of work. The work of gossip and cutting remarks when she wanted to 'work' on whatever suited her fancy which thankfully wasn't too often. As well-meaning as the Steward of her Court tired to put her intentions the young Queen caused more of a mess than she helped to rectify one. The books that lined the wall were covered in slight dust that no one would notice unless they took them down, but that was the only imperfection in the room that Sybl knew about. "It was a real shame about that handsome fellow..." Sighed one of the Lady's companions. A mousy headed witch, who was often speaking just a bit too freely. "But that's Eyrien brutes for you. It really is a shame you couldn't have kept him."

The blonde-haired Queen gave an irritated look at her companion. "How can I help it if he had a bounty on his head? Besides I can probably purchase one for what the Queen of Askavi will give me. What is a shame is that he killed three of my First Circle!" The fake tears welled in Alice's eyes as she gave a stifling sob. "And now my Court is short and could be declared-!"

"No! Don't even think that! Any man with a brain would more than willingly serve you!" Came the encouraging reply from Elle, a blond from Chaillot who looked quite similar to the Queen. As well she would, being a close cousin. "You'll be fine, Alice." All heads were ripped from the discussion as they turned to look at the door as an intruding knock sounded. Biding it to open with a pained voice, Alice gave a weak smile at one of the First Circle men, a new one who had stepped up from the second Circle to take the position one of his fellows had left vacant. Not that it was the dead man's fault. She had expected the Eyrien to be more biddable to her charms. Instead her Black Widow had laid down her life to trap the man. Which left with without one of the 'unnatural' women ontop of everything else.

"There is a man from Hayll to see you, Lady Alice. He has a message from.."

Alice shook her head with a slight sob cutting her servant off. "No! He cannot see me like this! I need to freshen up and... contain my grief." She gave the older gentleman a pleading look. "Perhaps he could wait for a time? Of course he could! And he will! I am in mourning!" The Queen declared with a smile that would put any fox to shame. Giving a innocent look to the pretty manservant she purred in Sybl's direction. "Dearest, wouldn't you entertain him and make sure he stays out of trouble while he waits? I don't want a Hayllian visitor to think we are... inferior." She smirked and gave a imperious look to her ladies with a gleam in her eyes. "Perhaps we'll get luck and have that handsome Warlord Prince- yes, the one who supposedly wears the 'Black'- come to our Court too!" She laughed lightly despite the death of her beloved men. Giving Sybl a beaming smile she made a shooing gesture. "Well! I wouldn't want to keep him waiting if he was! What a day that would make!"
~~
Dareen would find herself left at the small inn with a rather comical show playing before her eyes. Faeril had said little, retreating to the rooms she had turned into her de facto quarters of business. Denvar had been trying to help and consequently been banished downstairs while the Pruulish woman found herself being Faeril’s unexpecting keeper by some unspoken agreement between the Healer-Black Widow and Warlord Prince. The room was tidy, with the trunks needed brought up form the carriage and carefully arranged to meet the Ashkevron’s standards. Measuring out several dried herbs from small wooden boxes, Faeril spoke. Her voice rough as she poured the spoonful into a mortar. ”I am sorry that Denvar conscripted you to keep an eye on me. He would love to do it himself, but as I would argue…” She shook her dark head, her blue eyes closing for a minute as the wooden box was replaced and another was drawn out to be measured. ”Warlord Princes are stubborn men. They will only compromise so much against their favor and even then it’s in their favor.” Her tone was exasperated as she tapped the yellowed herbs into the bowl as well and replaced the box. ”And it’s thankful there are only two of them.” There was the more usual grumble of the grouchy healer.

Mikhail ended up being informed of the contents of the letter after he had calmed down his own thoughts. Unfortunately, the situation Xandar put himself into wasn't exactly a desirable one. Having been invited by the so called "Lady Alice", whom they barely knew, he exposed himself to danger by walking right into the claws of a queen. Trusting the said priestess that could open a portal to Kaeleer was already risky, but it didn't even came close to blindly trusting an unknown queen. That day had been nothing but trouble. The first problem arose at the inn, with the discussion and what was said to Faeril, in a few moments though, one problem turned into two when they saw themselves forced to trust an unknown priestess to go to Kaeleer and finally, the two problems turned into three when they received Xandar's message.

With the group dividing in three groups, Mikhail was tasked in accompanying Gennar and Fatima to see the priestess that was supposed to help them going to Kaeleer. Even though Mikhail was, in a certain manner, relieved to have received the least problematic task, he still had his worries regarding Faeril, whom despite being safe at the inn, didn't show signs of getting better yet and more importantly, he worried for the situation with that 'Alice'. Jandar went to her court alone. While it could be interpreted by the queen as a sign that they had peaceful intentions, it could also put them in disadvantage. Jandar was, after all, by himself and Xandar... well... his actions were as erratic and unpredictable as ever.

Mikhail followed Gennar and Fatima down the old road that led them to where they were supposed to meet the priestess. As they approached the place, Mikhail soon heard the rhythmic, creaking noise of a rocking chair. The moment his eyes saw an old woman, carelessly knitting in front of an old cottage, he was visibly more relaxed. That fact, coupled with him not perceiving any other presence or strange noise around meant that the priestess was probably, harmless... Or at least the number of manners that she could be a threat to them were very little.

As the group approached the old cottage though, the old priestess proved to have quite the sharp senses as she greeted them, almost immediately mentioning that Fatima was not only a queen, but a dark jeweled one at that. Leaving the introductions to Fatima, whom among him and Gennar, was probably the most suited to those type of interaction, Mikhail simply nodded to them, silently letting them know that it was everything okay before looking to the old priestess and making a discreet but rather polite bow, greeting her in silence. Despite her age, she had sharp senses and judging by how much she was able to tell about them with a single glance, had wisdom according to her age. Maybe meeting that old priestess could be a blessing instead of another problem for them to deal with.

Dareen had been placed in a position she would never have imagined she would find herself in just six months ago. Lone bodyguard of a Black Widow. Being somewhat of a social pushover it wasn't the hardest thing in the world to wordlessly imply what Dareen should do and have her do it. But as Faeril, the Black Widow, complained about her companions, her back turned, moving and arranging the trunks and the items within them, a pit of guilt and dread sat within the Pruulish woman's heart. This didn't feel right. Dareen had to say something. It was probably a bad time, given that Faeril may be in a bad mood, but this was the first time she and Faeril had been alone with each other. Truly alone, with no one to listen in.

Her heart rate ticked up nervously as she smiled weakly, nodding along with her complaints. Her sword was sheathed on her hip, her two hands wringing each other and cracking joints. As it so often was, Dareen's back was against the wall. Literally, and figurativly. With plans of returning home to Pruul, and with the Black Widow she had found herself serving isolated from the others, an opportunity had presented itself.

After a long silence, she worked up the courage to begin speaking. "Um...Faeril." She started quietly, waiting for the Black Widow to acknowledge her. I have to talk to you about something and...I..." She glanced around the empty room, exasperated. "Wh- why am I here? Alone? With you?" The ex-mercenary asked.

"You...you know what I've done. What I do. I'm not...trustworthy." Dareen managed. She leaned forward, emphasising her point with earnestly clenched fists. Dareen was a killer. A murderer. She exhanced blood for coin. Moreover she gained power and wealth by hunting down and killing Black Widows. Healers and exiles. How many little hilltop homes had she kicked the doors in? How many Black Widows and their found familes has Dareen torn apart with steel and strategy? To her shame, she didn't know the exact number. Perhaps it wasn't that Dareen wasn't trustworthy, she wasn't worthy, period. Instead of hatred and disdain, she had been mostly treated with respect and cordiality. She even liked these people, and it seemed like some of them actually liked her, too. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel real. Dareen knew she had somehow tricked her way into becoming these people's ally. These feelings were all bottled up and much to her chagrin, needed to be talked about.

Faeril paused and turned slightly to study the mercenary, her lips a thin line. ”Not trustworthy? And do you think I-” The Black Widow paused and turned fully then to face Dareen, her head cocking to one side in thought. A frow creasing the brow as she spoke softly. ”I never did look into your mind, did I? I never did check.” Faeril winced internally at that thought, how could she have been such a fool as to not check?! Well, there was the given answer. She had been exactly that. A fool who had overreached with her power. Taken too much at once and let something- someone- slip through the cracks. ”Yet you remained. You never tried to slip away, and even now you claim you are untrustworthy to my face rather than attempting to do as I have said and sell us out for a rich reward to a corrupted queen.”

Still, Faeril was careful to pull her gloves off with dainty fingers. Readying her snake-tooth subtly as she fiddled with the gloves. Careful was one thing, and the Black Widow wouldn’t deny being a bit paranoid after being driven from her home. ”Now why would you admit that? There is a Warlord Prince who is my kin downstairs and would tear you apart if you harmed me- let alone his Queen.” Arching a brow, she commented in a dry tone. ”But allow me to point out once more that people who are dishonest, generally don’t just declare their dishonesty.”

Dareen wasn’t going to let herself off the hook that easily. She looked away and covered her mouth with her hand before slapping it against her thigh. "Okay, so, maybe I’m not dishonest, but that doesn’t mean I’m trustworthy. What if...what if, I’m just kind of trailing along looking for opportunity, and then as soon as things get tough and flee and sell you all out. You don’t know! You don’t know anything about me, and yet, your protective Warlord Prince has left you alone with me and you didn’t even consider me a threat until I brought it up." Dareen rambled, not even realising she had clocked and then pointed out Faeril’s slightly defensive posture and preparation of poison.

She leaned back into the wall, letting her boots drag along the ground a little bit.

” Would you rather I did force myself into your mind?” Faeril stated softly, but there was iron there. ” Tear into your secrets and leave it all bare? I don’t like doing that. I don’t like to invade people’s inner thoughts, Dareen.” The Black Widow’s lip curled. ”It is… unclean.”

Dareen shook her head, looking conflicted. ”I mean...no." She stood up straight against the wall. "But maybe I deserve it. I thought it would happen, but it didn’t. I thought...maybe it was fate. That I should meet you." She trailed off. Her heart was racing and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say, or what she was even trying to say.

"You could at least ask me some questions. You don’t even know why I’m here, what my intentions are. I don’t even think you know my last name- I don’t-" She swore a single syllable curse in Pruulish. "I don’t even know why I’m here, really."
”We never had the time.” Logic, cool and collected, was Faeril’s greatest weapon. The dispassion she displayed to most people. The aloofness born of being far too close. Faeril studied the Pruulish witch and gave a small nod of agreement. Of apology. ”Fate is never a simple thing. You came here because you were at the right place at the right time- or the other way around. But, you are not wrong. So, Dareen ‘Whose-last-name-eludes-me’. What is your name? And why did you come to my village?” Well, at least she was going to be tearing through the woman’s mind. Faeril always hated that. She could do it, and would, but she was a Healer. Not merely a Black Widow.

Dareen exhaled, smirking a little bit. It faded quickly. "My name is Dareen Kahina. And...it’s not that I came to Aren as much as I stumbled across it. I was merely travelling north, away from my homeland of Pruul, when Xandar ‘found’ me, and apparently decided that I would be of interest to you." She explained, with a bemused shrug. Recounting the incredibly simple sounding event that led to her being dragged into all of this. Nothing more than a chance meeting. She left it there, leaving crucial words unsaid, such as why she was leaving her homeland.

Faeril shifted uncomfortably reminded of their missing member. ”So simple, yet not.” Sitting back on one of the trunks, she let her skirts drape across the wood as she arranged them carefully. ”But if you are not to be trusted, your words and not my own, then why were you heading North away from Pruul? Away from family and friends, comfort, I would presume.”

Dareen bit her lower lip and moved her jaw to the side. Time to just come out with it, she supposed internally. She couldn’t move on without the truth being out in the open. Didn’t make it any easier, any less shameful.

"Something like that..." She trailed off briefly. "I was...running. Running away. From where I was, from what...from what I was doing." She tried to put it into words.

"I used to run with...with a mercenary company. Closest thing I ever had to a family, really. We were the only kind allowed to exist. The kind that traded blood for coin, the kind that had the approval of the Queen." She said, her voice going low, her eyes on the wooden floor. She kept going, though, not wanting to leave anything implied.

"The kind that hunted the enemies of the Queen." She crossed her arms and dug her fingers into the cloth.

The Black Widow winced slightly at the meaning behind those words. The hunting and killing of Black Widows and anyone the Queen could poise to being a threat or a bandit was something that happened. All underhanded, but it happened. Faeril was a few centuries old, young for one of the long-lived races though she rarely admitted to that fact. The appearance of age gave her a boost as a no-nonsense Healer. ”And you enjoyed it?” There was that dispassionate voice as she considered the woman across from her.

Dareen briefly looked up at Faeril and considered her briefly. "In the same way that anyone enjoys the work they are good at. Finding Black Widows became a regular occurance as the Queen trusted us more. The tracking, the hunting, the fight. It was challenging work, and paid well." Her voice was grimmer in tone as she committed to this confession. Now she offered no excuses and just let it sit there, not attempting to defend herself or sugarcoat the truth.

Faeril forced herself to remember that Dareen was from a short-lived race. That she had no hand in the whispers and framings that force Black Widows to bow to the Queens or die. ”Regular… And what is regular?” She hoped it was maybe a handful a year. Young Black Widows born of recent years and not the elder witches that held the knowledge. Those ancient crones had gone to ground.If only her aunt had been so wise, Faeril thought wearily.

Dareen shrugged passively. "Don’t know. Two or three a year towards the end. Mixed it with the other...targets. We also ran protection and all that. If a despot wanted someone to get their hands dirty, we could be there." Dareen looked away from Faeril. "Most around my age. A few old ones. Some younger." She furrowed her eyebrows and stared not at the wooden floor, but past it. "The last one...I couldn’t tell how old she was for sure. But she looked and sounded younger than me. We had to burn her out, then we cut her down. It..." She closed her eyes for a short moment. "Made me consider. For the first time that..." She seemed to come back into reality and stared at Faeril, her dark eyes two muddy pools of sand, blood, and regret.

"Faeril...I am a bad person." She concluded succinctly.

Faeril closed her eyes, unable to hide the pain and anger that the thought of her sisters in the Hourglass being burned out of their homes and cut down caused her. ”Why.” It was a demand and there was raw pain in the Black Widow’s voice as she asked it. ”Why did you choose to hunt down my sisters when there were other options.”

Dareen was silent for a moment as she saw the hurt she caused Faeril. Really the first time she had ever seen her actions hurt someone she knew directly. Faeril was a healer. A good person who fixed, who didn’t destroy. She asked a very hard question.

"Because...because the lives of those I didn’t know didn’t matter. Mortal lives have no inherent value outside of that is perceived by the individual. I didn’t know your sisters. They didn’t matter to me. No one except my brothers in arms did. I lived by the sword, so I would die by the sword. It was honest." Dareen’s words slowly stopped becoming her own as she echoed the man who has had the most influence over her short life.

"Honest work. Kill, or be killed. Everything else, the society and rules we have constructed and choose to live in, are just extensions of that single, simple concept." She explained passively. It wasn’t a particular hatred of the Black Widows. In her life, it was a total disregard for all life. It could have been anyone on the other side of her blade. Dareen sat neutrally, trying not to defend herself. To offer excuses. She wanted Faeril to be the judge, jury, and executioner on the truth. What could she say, really, to defend herself? That she had changed? That wasn’t true.

"Honest," She added bitterly, with a hollow smirk. "Like you said. I’m not dishonest. I’m trustworthy and reliable in what I do." Dareen concluded. Hopefully, she thought, that was a good enough answer for a question as hard to answer as to why people choose to kill. It’s easy to kill when no life, not even one’s own, has value.

Faeril’s mouth was a thin line as she studied Dareen. She did not like what she had heard, but there was truth in those words. Minutes ticked past before Faeril spoke again, searching for the words she needed. For once, her skills as a witch failed her. ”And now? Would you slaughter an old woman for her caste or a babe for who their mother was?”

Dareen shook her head quite quickly. "No. I wouldn’t. It was never about the people I killed. It didn’t matter who they were or where they had come from. It was about the money, and my brothers, and the sword.” She paused, furrowing her brow. Then she raised an index finger and pointed it at the invisible truth in the middle of the room.

But...the people with the gold were all the same, and the people they wanted dead were very often all the same. So I often slaughtered old women for her caste, and babes for who their mother was, even if I claimed that it didn’t matter. Right? That’s the rub. I didn’t care, but the people paying me certainly did. Oops." She shrugged with faux-flippancy, mocking herself. She had never personally killed a baby before, but some of the people she killed had to have had children somewhere, so she didn’t bring that up as a defence.

Faeril closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. Then she opened the blue icy gaze again. ”So you would betray us for coin?” The voice shook slightly as the Black Widow spoke and her eyes were dangerously flinty. ”All for the sake of coin that people have hunted and killed my sisters of the Hourglass. Claiming them to be unnatural women to the point I must work the magic of that craft in the deepest part of my Eyrie without the sun or sky in sight. That I must harvest the herbs and plants I would need in the darkest of nights in the wild? Growing it and to be proven to grow it would mean a death sentence.” Faeril took a shaky breath and a question came. ”Do you know what witchblood is? It’s a red flower, common in Terreille.” She gave a brief description of the beautiful bloom.

Dareen kept quiet as Faeril asked her questions. In confessing, she couldn’t help but recede into an unusually unemotional state. She nodded slightly as she asked her final question, the one she wanted an answer, too. The mercenary felt like she knew where Faeril was going, but she answered anyway.

"Yeah," she answered quietly, "A little."

"Only when we hung around the area long enough," She added, remembering several hard to forget images of red flowers and violence.

"There is a story that those flowers whisper the name of who was killed. How many will whisper of witches you killed?" Faeril asked harshly. She looked away harshly as she took a shake breathe. Darren was nothing more than a murderer in some sense. A horris thought, but none the less true she had killed for marks, the Blood's money. "I will leave Fatima to pass judgment. I cannot. You murdered people and got paid for it. All because-" The Black Widow turned her head away. Torn between wanting to like the woman and disgust for the murders Dareen had committed. "What? Did you hope I would absolve you of the guilt? You chose to pick u p the blade and murder innocents- not all of them, but there were innocents in there, were they not?"

Dareen shook her head. "Probably," She said simply.

"Faeril, I...I’m not looking for absolution. Or...forgiveness. But I wanna do the right thing. So I couldn’t keep this a secret. Especially since...well, I thought you already knew." She chuckled lightly, awkwardly, floundering slightly at the gravity of the situation.

"I don’t want to betray you. I won’t. I-” She hesitated, frustrated. She didn’t want to guilt trip Faeril into going easy on her. As far as Dareen was concerned, she deserved whatever harsh judgement was coming her way. She had accepted that when they first met.

”I’m looking for closure. Whatever form that takes. Be it helping you all do what needs to be done, or finally watering some witchblood of my own. Or both. I thought I would tell you, first, since, well..." Dareen trailed off. Since you’re a Black Widow,

Faeril ran a hand over her face, torn between her emotions. The killing of Black Widows stung, and it had been one thing to be a mercenary… But to be a hunter of innocents? Oh, she knew not all Black Widows were innocent, especially now. Yet, it stung. It made her want to water the ground with Dareen’s blood. But the Pruulish witch was little more than a child in the sense of the corruption that had plagued the realm. She could hardly be blamed for what was today’s society.

It didn’t make Faeril feel any better.

”I must think on this… But Fatima will have the final say.” Yes, let it be the Queen’s problem. Because this judgement was too much, too messy for the Black Widow’s hands. ”Stay or go play dice with Denvar. I have business to attend to.”

Dareen finally looked up at Faeril solemnly. "All right. I know it doesn’t really mean anything but...I’m sorry," She muttered quietly, taking her leave of the room.

---

Jandar strolled into Queen’s Alice manor. It was rather difficult to keep his expression politely neutral when he was feeling the utmost disgust at all the pretentious ‘splendor’ – especially the awful, ugly ceiling. The heavy perfume also made him want to sneeze, but he refrained. The furniture was overdone as well, but really, there were so many things [i]wrong[i] that a few overly luxurious chairs were entirely unworthy of mention.

“Of course, I understand how busy a Court can be,” the Warlord replied to the servant civilly, offering him a curt but forgiving nod. He was left alone for a while after the servant left, and Jandar strolled along the receiving hall, his expression coolly judgmental as he examined all the trifling decoration. He had the feeling that it’d be a long while before he could see the Queen – if she’d receive him at all. Who knew what inanities she was occupied with.

Though he knew perfectly well he could call upon a servant, he didn’t see a cause to do so. Perhaps he could explore a bit under the guise of bored wandering. Trailing a finger just in front of one of the paintings, as if he were absorbed in inspecting the manor’s artistic adornments, he slowly and leisurely began to trek further inside.

Sybl inwardly winced. If there were few things in this world of which he was certain they would include these:
If it were the black jeweled warlord prince there would have been more panic in the steward’s voice.
If he were to serve under Alice she would come to find it most tedious.
And lastly, that she would not live long once she exposed herself for who she was.

None the less he smiled. "It would be my pleasure, my Queen," he said in his quiet rasp before moving through the doors. It was not long before he saw the man who came to call. Certainly not Saetan. "She'll be upset if she finds you left the receiving chambers," he told Jandar as he approached. He gestured back the way Jandar had come, indicating that he should walk before Sybl.
Jandar turned when he heard the newcomer, and looked him over in a quick up-down-up sweep. “Then she should not have given me the opportunity to loiter,” he answered. He’d deal with the Queen’s potential irritation if he had to. However, he did follow the direction of other man. He was a mixed Warlord Prince, it seemed, which was somewhat curious. “So, you are to occupy me until the Lady deigns to receive me, I take it,” he stated, rising an expectant eyebrow at the green eyes man.

Sybl raised his eyebrows to the man. How odd that her trust should be seen as something to take advantage of. Was he one of those young men who were perhaps looking to get into the Lady's good graces? And then perhaps her bed? It would certainly give Sybl some reprieve.
"Or perhaps to babysit," he replied cooly but with a smile on his lips. "In truth she hoped you were the Black." He wondered what the man would do with this information.

“It is common sense that guests need to be minded lest they make their own entertainment, no?” Jandar retorted, amused. He was not at all offended by the implication that he’d done the kind of misdeed only a recalcitrant child would have done, because even if that were true, he had his own reasons for acting as he did. “Besides, what else is all this beauty for if not to appreciate?” he drawled, perfectly polite but with an undertone of something else, as he gestured vaguely at their surroundings.
Jandar cocked his head to the side when the other man mentioned that his lady was hoping for SaDiablo. He could guess based on that fact that whoever the local Queen was, she must be lacking in brains - or simply fatally reckless - to hope for such a thing. “The kept beast?” he sneered, injecting the appropriate amount of scorn to cover his ambivalence at the idea. “I’ve certainly heard he’s let out of Dhemlan every now and then, but for him to be sent here…that would have to be quite the occasion,” he smirked lopsidedly, blatantly lightly mocking now. Partly to fish for information, partly to vent, and partly because he had nothing better to do.

"He is in possession of quite a…. An individual personality." He put it as kindly as he could think. Bearish would also have been appropriate. Violent. But Sybl could not entirely fault the man for his rage at his situation. "I doubt the man would ever appear in so small a Court. Queen Alice is only just a rising jewel." He spoke with hollow pride in his voice. "What brings you to visit our lovely lady?"

“Know him personally, do you?” he asked with scoff. Though it was possible, Jandar would sooner believe the mixed-blood had only heard of SaDiablo’s reputation. Sybl declined to answer this question and remained silent. “Mm, small but quaint. Nice seaside location. Could be useful for a little vacation for those of discerning tastes,” Jandar couldn’t help but let a bit of critique leak into his voice as he emphasized that word. “This place does have some potential,” he prevaricated to cover up for the minor slip beforehand, acting the part of a haughty assessor. “We were travelling for leisure, and I’ve heard some tidbits about the local court that piqued my curiosity. So, I’m here to acquaint myself with it, make some connections. You know how it is,” he shrugged lightly.

Sybl could hear the way his words were emphasized or changed. This made him anxious because, with others, this would mean some kind of mind game he would likely lose. He was not good at discerning what was to be meant - only the “lyrical” changes of voice. He frowned slightly and looked toward the door. “And who is we?”

“We are the Lady I serve and her growing court. She’s young, but has potential,” Jandar answered curtly. He didn’t want to give much more away to this Warlord Prince, especially since he’d have to make some things up for Alice later on.
"A Lady not invited? How daring." He crossed his arms and shifted his weight slightly. "I wouldn't mention your Lady to Queen Alice." Should he tell Alice of this woman though? If they were just passing through… what if they were here to take over Alice's claim? He was suddenly very uncomfortable.

“Is Queen Alice not interested in an alliance, then?” Jandar wondered. He suddenly gazed sharply at the other man, as if seeing him for the first time.

"A Queen must be invited before entering another's territory." He raised an eyebrow. "Surely someone of your station would know this. Unless your Queen is here to make trouble there are certain channels through which something like this should be done." He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer to Jandar. "Are you here to make trouble?"
The Warlord chuckled lightly, despite feeling a light sliver of intimidation from the approaching Warlord Prince, and due to his own mistake. “She’s a troublemaker, but not in that sense. We’ll be leaving soon, so you needn’t worry. But proper or not, it was a risk worth taking...or so she claims,” he shrugged. Honestly, Jandar hadn’t considered that a Queen visiting uninvited would be such a great offense. Once again, he’d said too much.

He sighed and shook his head. "I'll let my Lady decide to what she shall take offense. I hope the risk really is worth taking. I hope your Lady is worth this risk." He moved back, leaning against the wall.

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Fatima walked the old road with some sense of nostalgia. Her own town had decaying roads such as this. She could remember a time, walking down them to see to her people and their sheep. The scent of sea air made it a less complete picture as well as the lack of incessant "baa-ing." She had to admit she did not miss the baa-ing. The scent of food mixed with the sea air and Fatima found she was hungry as her stomach growled loudly. The next thing to come to her was the creaking sound of which its source soon became apparent.

She offered her best, crooked smile to the old woman but this soon fell as she mentioned her darker jewel. This was a secret and something like this in the hands of the enemy could be devastating. Of course, she knew not if the woman was indeed an enemy. It left her feeling off-balance. After a moment's silence between them, Fatima gathered herself and smiled once more.

"Good morning, Priestess. I hope you are well. You have a beautiful home." She took a few steps forward but did not come too close. She did not want to appear aggressive or invasive but did want to offer some semblance of respectful distance. She opened her hands and held her arms out from her body in an encompassing gesture before curtsying to the woman. "My name is Fatima and this is Mikhail and Gennar. I had hoped we might have the chance to speak regarding your old altar."

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The old Priestess did not rise from the steadily rocking chair as she continued knitting. In truth, it seemed that her fingers knew the motion well enough that she need not put any thought into the action to perform it. As Mikhail and Gennar bowed and Fatima curtsied, Olenna cocked her head slightly. "Beautiful? Perhaps in the way the past is beautiful, dressed up in the ribbons of what once was remembered. The glories of its day. No, Lady. This place is falling to ruin even as I sit here. Slowly fading to obscurity with all rituals having to be overseen by the Queen and no, not to any good end." There was a sad sigh, as she moved one needle to join the other in a hand and drew the mug to her to drink of it's contents. "You wish to speak of my altar? And what if I don't want to speak of it? There is hardly any Queen in Kaeleer would tolerate the misuse of the Bloods' Law as what goes on here. Their Warlord Princes would rise to the killing edge. Do you still wish to speak of it, Queen from Hayll." In truth, the woman was a crone. She had lived a long life and seen much with little of it being untainted by the spawns of Hayll. Olenna did not hate those from Hayll but she resented them. She resented what they had brought to Winton.

Gen remained silent, unsure that acting outside of the brutish Eyrien role he had partaken would do any good. This Priestess was a kindly looking woman, but Fatima was taking the lead and Gennar was happy enough to let that be. Though he did rustle his leathery wings a bit impatiently. Already upset over the spat with his brother and Faeril, he did not wish to be gone too long and leave Faeril with fewer protectors. It was perhaps with Fatima cavorting about the area surrounding Winton. Which was unfair, she was hardly doing that. It was mostly his own worry, Gen thought glumly.
~
Alice sat back in the stylish, though hardly comfortable armchair. The newest fashion, the Queen thought, was far too soft. She sunk into the thing, making her appear all the smaller. One would think that a Queen could just make the fashion what she chose it to be, but it was not so when you were the mere Queen of a village like Winton. Setting fashion was for the Territory Queen or a powerful Provincal Queen. As the five other young aristocrat witches were arranged about in similar chairs around a low coffee table, the blonde Queen looked over towards her cousin. The only 'sensible' one in the group, and who in such a sensible agreement gave a small nod while the rest of the group chattered on about who the possible 'guest' was. Raising a delicate finger and gleefully smiling as the conversation died, Alice looked to the mousey haired witch who had spoken out of turn. "Laseen, go tell my guest to come in. We shall receive this guest." Laseen looked about to argue, but wisely thought against it. She was already on thin ice with the Queen. Much more and it could be the ruin of her. Alice sat back and continued to sip tea, while the mundane speculative guesses as to who it could be, the next fashion that was coming, a few whispering, which was nothing of the sort, about the handsome Sybl. Oh, this would be amusing! Fluffing her hair, she let her features take on doll-like innocence as Elle poured her another cup of tea. Perhaps Laseen was the wrong one to send, with her big mouth and inability to curb it, Alice thought, but it would give her an excuse to dismiss the witch if she did step out of line.

The door opened with little noise as a brown mousey haired girl poked her head in to spy both Jandar and Sybl. "Lady Alice will receive you now." She informed the guest, giving the Dhemlan a speculative look. Not that Laseen would notice the difference between Hayll and Dhemlan. The girl had maybe gone out of Winton a handful of times with her mother. "You may find yourself feeling a bit lonely if Alice takes him on as a new favorite, Prince Syble." She said in what was an attempted at a seductive croon, but the tone was far too high pitched as she batted doe-like eyes at the servant. "Perhaps you could find other favors. Favors enough to keep you about with those tricks you picked up from Sadi." Her smile was like a sharks as she tried to look down a far too short nose on a far too short a person at Jandar. "Then again, maybe you'll be the boring one needing favors. Doubt you were trained by Saetan Sadi through, you don't have Sybl's good manners. Well, come on, she's waiting." Not waiting for the two of them as was proper, Laseen turned about and hurried back into the grand room which served Alice as her 'sitting room' for receptions. As the two entered it they would hear the curious chatter of the young witches and the various topics. Lady Alice's attention however was on the newcomer who had entered, while Laseen thankful for the Queen's distraction hurried back to her seat.
~
Denvar looked up as heard the door closed and raised a brow as Dareen came down the stairs. That was... less than fortunate. "Did she bite your head off over something?" His tone was concerned as he collected a bottle of scotch from the rack behind the bar. Dropping the appropriate number of marks onto the bar. Denvar was all too thankful the old innkeeper had left to deal with a few matters called shopping and Thom had been too eager to go with the woman. Get away from the tension which the boy felt, and rightly so, that he caused. Dunny however had opted to join his young friend, who was having a hard time of it. It wasn't the boy's fault Faeril had taken a liking to him. Faeril adored children. "Don't think too badly of her. Gen said... He shot her in the heart. Brought up an old heart wound that didn't bear mentioning." The Eyrien Warlord Prince sighed and pulled out two glasses offering to pour Dareen one as well as himself.

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It seemed the old woman had a penchant for speaking in nostalgic retoric. For days gone by, for what once was. Fatima found herself thinking that for the future they would need to let go of what once was and build something new. Something that could not be corrupted in this way. She brought her hands in front of her, clasping them at her stomach.

She nodded solemnly. "I will not force you to speak on anything you do not wish. I only hope to do what is right by my people. And I am ready to take on any challenge to ensure that their needs are met." She was attempting to be vague enough that she did not give away their true intentions to someone who could not be trusted. But as she spoke, the way her words sounded made her think that perhaps she was coming off as too ready for cruelty. "I am seeking a safe haven." She took a deep breath, glanced at the two men who had come with her, and then looked back at the old woman. "I am looking to crossover."

Giving a small bow again as Fatima introduced him and Gennar, Mikhail simply heard as Fatima greeted the woman. Just as Mikhail himself, it seemed like Fatima also realized the moment that the old priestess greeted them that fooling or trying to hide anything from the old priestess not only would be useless, but it probably would make her doubt them even more. Fortunately, Fatima did go straight to the point, asking her about her old altar, which Mikhail also thought that it would be the best way to approach the old priestess.

Upon mentioning her altar though, the old priestess seemed to have quite a few things to talk about it. According to her own words, the local Queen wasn't exactly one that respected the Bloods' Law and the old priestess made no effort to hide her disapproval with both the current situation and the queen herself, which was an interesting point to notice. Despite the old priestess' apparent unwillingness to discuss about her old altar, if they pressed a bit on the matter about the local queen, they might be able to take something out of her.

"I am afraid we aren't exactly acquainted with the local Queen nor the situation that is happening in her court or the town." Mikhail said in a respectful tone.

"That said... It doesn't take much for one to see that this place shouldn't be in this state nor that the rituals shouldn't be overseen by the queen instead of a priestess." Mikhail said in a neutral tone.

He was being very careful to not say anything that could arouse her suspicion and especially in the tone he was using to speak of her. It was true that Mikhail didn't care about the Bloods' Law or their traditions and if he tried to sound as if he cared, the old priestess would probably see through his small act. In that manner, it was better if he didn't try at all, merely being as genuine and truthful as possible.

Dareen compressed her lips at Denvar, finding a nearby wall to lean against like she usually did, crossing her arms. That conversation went about aswell as one could hope. She was sure Faeril would fill Denvar in eventually. Dareen wasn't sure she had the energy to go through something like that again today. She'd much rather get into a fight. Maybe that was her problem?

The boy seemed to be gone, and so did everyone else. It was just Dareen, Denvar, and Faeril. As Denvar spoke, he poured her a glass, which she tried not to be too eager about. Either way she ended up at the bar next to the Eyrien and sipped at her glass. He assumed Faeril had done something wrong, when in reality it was Dareen who had made the mistakes. The Pruulish Witch could probably guess at the old wound Gen had mentioned, the image of that lonely room flashing through her mind.

"Faeril...she's uh...she's a good woman." Dareen commented quietly, looking into the middle distance. Making eye contact with Denvar, Dareen asked, "How long have you known her?" Dareen's voice was light, trying to make casual conversation. "If you don't mind me askin'."

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The creaking of the chair that had been a steady beat ceased as Fatima stated her wish to cross over. The elderly priestess narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied the young Hyallian Queen, her gaze sweeping over Gennar and Mikhail as well in a speculative look. "You wish to cross over, despite what I've warned you?" Though question it was, there was no real wait for a response. "You seek a safe haven in Kaeleer, and you a Grey Jeweled Queen. A wonder you weren't broken on your Birthright ceremony. I hear Hyall is especially vicious about Queens they cannot control." The creaking rock of the chair began again as the Summer-sky Priestess spoke, her expression impassive save for the glint of amusement and curiosity in those old eyes. "Tell me this, what would you do in Kaeleer? Would you seek to take land from the other Queens? Carve out your own piece to rule as other Queens have done here?" There was a bitter laugh as Olenna smiled at Fatima. "Do you think crossing into Kaeleer is so easy? The Priestesses tend to keep the way shut per their Queen's demand- in both of the living Realms. Keeps the taint of the Blood in Terreille and out of Kaeleer. I can open the way to Kaeleer, but I will need time to make the candles and I find that I would like an answer. What would you seek to do in Kaeleer? I'd rather not go down in history as the dodgy old woman who caused the taint of the Blood from Hyall's influence- which you are- to seep into Kaeleer."
~
The large eyrien gave Dareen an amused look, chuckling a deep, friendly sound. "How long have I known Fae?" The smile that tugged at Denvar's lips was positively smug. "She was about four feet tall and just had her birthright ceremony. A tiny little witch with all the sass and seriousness of Queen. Given her mother was one, it's not really a surprise." Taking a long gulp of the scotch, the Eyrien leaned back against the chair. "She was just learning the Black Widow's craft, apprenticing under her aunt who wasn't as horribly serious as she is. So I'm thinking she probably got that from her da. Met him once, Lord Falkar. Ever see an angry rooster? Yeah, that'd match him just about." There was a snicker to the Warlord Prince's voice hinting that he might be the reason that Lord Falkar was puffed up like an angry rooster at the time. "Lady Nivarian liked him well enough. They weren't made to work together on delicate matters, too stubborn. He split, went to join a court in the North from what I recall. Did his duty to Fae, but they never were close. Don't think I even heard her call him da once." Denvar mused absently. "Then again, Fae was too busy with my brothers and I, not to mention trying to fit her studies in."

Mikhail could feel the air between the group and the old priestess getting a bit heavier when Fatima stated her desire to cross over. The clear resistance from the old priestess to attend to Fatima's request could prove to be a problem for them, which could cause a change in their plans that could potentially leave them in an unfavorable position, considering their situation and how they had a queen after them.

Much to Mikhail's surprise though the old priestess also showed curiosity instead of only suspicion as she spoke to Fatima, inquiring about her reasons for wanting to go to Kaeleer despite her warnings. That said, Mikhail himself couldn't blame the old priestess for her questions and thinking that Fatima was just like the other queens. Considering what she went through, it was no wonder that she probably saw Fatima unfavorably just because she was a queen. Other than that, her concern regarding what Fatima would do in Kaeleer wasn't unfounded, especially given how most Hyallian queens were.

"I can assure you that Fatima isn't like other queens. The reason for the... situation we are in is exactly due to that." Mikhail said, looking to the old priestess with a serious stare.

"That said... I think that there is no one better to talk about it than Fatima herself." he concluded, looking to Fatima and nodding towards her. Even if he wanted to make sure that the old priestess would agree with their request, the only person whom could probably give the old priestess the answer she would like was Fatima herself.

Dareen leaned onto the bar and listened intently. Denvar, she noticed, was a good story teller. Dareen had always loved a good story. They were the only way to learn about things without having to see them herself. Her eyes glazed over a bit as she listened, trying to picture the people and places. Little Faeril? What would that look like? Despite the fact that Faeril looked younger than Dareen, she was actually probably several hundred years older. It was impossible to tell how long. The only thing she knew for sure is that the long-lived witches who actually looked old were impossibly ancient. The life span that boggled her short-lived mind. So this story, though Denvar recounted it like it was yesterday, could be a very old one. Though old was entirely perspective based, she supposed. Still...Dareen would be old and grey before Faeril got her first wrinkle on her perfect face.

She wasn't surprised to learn that Faeril was a serious child. If she had heard that she was some kind of mischevious, gleeful trouble maker that would have been hard to believe. It also seemed that Faeril had a somewhat complicated relationship with her father, which Dareen could relate with. Honor bound, stoic, aloof, professional. It really did sound like her own dad. Faeril and Dareen couldn't have ended up more different, though.

Idly she took a sip. There was a lull in Denvar's story, and so the Pruulish witch took it as her opportunity to speak.

"You're close, then? You, your brothers, and Faeril. Some people say you can't choose your family, but that's not really true, is it?" Dareen asked rhetorically. She herself left the only family she ever knew behind. The pack of killers she called brothers. "Or maybe family picks you. I don't know." She shrugged non-committally. Taking another sip of her alcohol, she sighed softly.

Jandar stepped into the room, gaze immediately meeting the village Queen’s boldly. “Queen Alice,” he announced his presence. Very briefly, he looked at her other companions. “And friends,” he uttered politely, though almost dismissively. He promptly refocused on the main person of informance, the local Lady, and introduced himself. “Jandar Varan, but you may call me Jean if you so please.” He smirked charmingly, and approached, observing. Blonde, fluffed-up, and almost swallowed by her recliner, the Queen reminded him distinctly of a poodle. But the eyes of all the females were sharp and glittering like a vulture’s, so the Warlord would not underestimate any of them.

“It seems you have terribly desired to meet the notorious Black Jeweled Prince, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint, ladies, for it is but I,” he uttered, with a sarcastically raised brow. “As keen you are for news of him, I’m certain you’ve already heard he resided in Shalador for a bit,” he continued blithely, though intently focused on the women’s reaction. If they hadn’t known, that would be already a point in his favour.

“But what you could not have known,” and here he paused shortly for emphasis, “is that I and some others happened upon him quite coincidentally. And what an encounter it was!” he chuckled lightly, fondly. “Ah, but let me not bore you with such inevitably sparse accounts too much,” he continued shortly after, just when their interest in the topic might have peaked. If his present company was as starved for the so-called Sadi, his attempted deflection would incite them all the more to know as much as they coul. “You must have been preoccupied with some rather riveting events, I am sure, to have thought my visit such a paltry thing,” he concluded, a brief forgiving smile stretching his lips.

Alice gave a delicate smile as her ladies gave soft mutters of approval. This was a rather bold fellow and most likely served in the court of a queen. Perhaps he was low enough in rank to feel slighted and tempted to break the contract with whomever he served? Oh, that was a daring thought, but one she would need to be careful about. “Lord Jean, it is a pleasure to have such an elegant man stop by. You spoke to the infamous Warlord Prince, or claim to? A truly marvelous feat to see you came out in one piece. He tends to be very temperamental from what I have heard.” Alice let a slight tone of doubt and amusement color her voice. She doubted the Warlord had ran into Saetan, the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince was elusive. “And you claim your visit is not paltry? On what pretense? You certainly did not imply otherwise to my Steward or make the proper arrangements.” The tiny queen chided, her ladies looking a bit curious as to what important news this man came with.

Sybl sauntered along behind, always behind. Once they entered the room he found his way to a nice quiet patch of wall where he could observe the goings on of court. He had to raise his eyebrows at the grand way "Jean" made his entrance. All charm and wit. If the man so desired, if he played his cards right, the Queen might be tempted to steal him away.

“I’ve felt the results of his temper for three days,” he drawled, then shrugged lightly. “Though I understand it’s a preposterous claim.” He lowered his eyelashes, curling his lips as if privately amused at a joke he wasn’t sharing with anyone. “The visit was rather impromptu, yes. Mainly due to the mercurial nature of the would-be-Queen I serve. She wishes to forge connections, though she can admittedly be a bit brash and willful due to her youth. So, I was sent here on a rather short notice, as you can see. Regardless, she is powerful. She is also familiar with Hayll, which I presumed might interest you,” he answered smoothly.

Alice perked up sitting a bit straighter as she considered the man before her with a shy smile that looked all too much like a cat in the cream. “Oh, you poor man. I do hear that the Black can be an utter brute.” Alice shook her head in disappointment. “Goodness knows it’s my day to deal with brutes. We just were forced to arrest an Eyrien for our good friends over in Askavi, a brute of a man. A handsome brute of a man. But being so well off and infamous as the Reaper is…” She shrugged in dismissal of the topic. “We couldn’t let him harm anyone in Winton! It just wouldn’t do at all!” There! Alice was giddy with herself. Let the man stew with that particular thought! Oh, he’d see her strength now! Though the tiny Queen did not care for this other Queen stretching and tenuous claim over this ‘Jean’. “But you were speaking of a young Queen? We would gladly seek to aid any sister from Hyall! Why it is curious why a man so polished as you would seek such a young and brash queen rather than looking for who is rising to be the province!” Alice fluttered her eyes as she heard Elle give a polite cough. A pointed warning she was stepping a bit far. “Well, perhaps when I myself have more polish.” She admitted, looking bashful while she mentally promised to scald her beloved cousin for the interruption. Why couldn’t she be the provincial queen? Who would be better than she?!

Jandar did not have to fake his astonishment. “The Reaper?” he asked in surprise. Inwardly, he was horrified. “I did not realize the likes of him wandered these parts...it is admirable that you managed to subjugate him, however. Anyone would commend you for such excellent work, Queen Alice,” he said with a nod of regard to her. His expression and voice had soon smoothed back into polite neutrality after the initial shock. “Let us just say that I am acquainted with some of my Lady’s relatives. I am not too dissatisfied with my position - call it an investment, if you will. Though perhaps in a few years, if the gains are not satisfactory, I may reconsider,” he offered. He did not miss one of the other women cough in warning when Alice was bragging too much, and briefly glanced at her. A sensible one, who would have thought. As he refocused back on the Queen in front of her, he couldn’t help but wonder if one such as her appreciated sound advice.

“Ah, surely you jest, when you are so charming,” the Warlord smiled obligingly. “You have a nice place here, and you are more attentive than most. I’ve heard you described as very dear to the town,” he paraphrased a comment he’d heard, not mentioning the negative tone it’d been said in. “You frequent some establishments to show your presence and promote the business, do you not?” he enquired rhetorically. “You ensure a good catch and harvest, which is essential, as such resources are rather scarce in the East, as you may know,” the Warlord complimented. “Beyond that, I would perhaps advise that you attempt to make the town even more inviting than it is; plenty pass through, but few seem to linger, if I am not mistaken,” he suggested carefully and politely. “Perhaps a local speciality, such as seafood cuisine? I am sure you know your town the best,” he added. “I do believe you might spread your influence if the people travelling to Chaillot were willing to mention Winton as a pleasant experience to others,” he explained. “Ah, but see how much I’ve rambled; a businessman’s habit, I’m afraid. I hope I haven’t bored you too much,” Jandar chuckled. He did wonder what Alice’s reaction would be, though.

Alice beamed in delight as the man was pleasantly surprised by her capture of the rogue Reaper. “A challenge, though one my Court could meet and defeat.” Though it had taken the lives of some of them and left a mess of her private garden. “Yes, I am rather grateful that the Queen of Askavi will deal with him. For such a lovely man, he is a Warlord Prince and they can be so difficult. Except for you, Sybl. You are just darling.” She directed a smooth wink to the servant. Oh, this man was so very sharp! Alice was delighted by the thought of adding him to her court to replace her fallen men. “Such a talent, why we could put you to use.” And your queen in the grave, though she kept the last bit to herself.

It was then Elle spoke up, studying the tea within her cup. “Cousin, I believe he was here on behalf of a Hyallian lady. Perhaps we ought to see about welcoming her to our festivities? Why not send Sybl to help the dear girl become acquainted with the local customs?” Her smirk at Jandar was nothing short of a challenge to see how he reacted to the jab.

Alice, picking up on her beloved cousin’s game, beamed as though it was the best idea she heard all day. “Yes! Why don’t we just do that! Have a feast prepared to welcome her tomorrow for lunch? That will give Sybl enough time to assist you with the local area which you may not have noticed. I know minor details can get missing in the towering cities of Draega.” The tall buildings of the capital of Hyall shut out nature even as they shut in Hyall’s Hundred Families. The noble houses of true aristo Blood in that particular Territory. It was a odd and, widely considered, snobbish tradition. One that had the rest of Terreille looking sideways and tutting.

“Thank you, Queen Alice. That was but a preview of the benefits of our surely mutually benefitial future alliance,” Jandar replied smoothly. He noted the jab Alice’s cousin directed him, but did not deign to respond beyond a mockingly raised eyebrow. What was it to him to have a falsely presented image of his true Queen maligned, after all? Nothing at all, of course, so his hackles weren’t stirred in the slightest. “Yes, I do believe that would be helpful. It is very kind of you to offer, and I am certain she will be eager to accept. The sights of this quaint town shall be quite the nice prelude to a small luncheon,” he answered oh-so-sweetly, accepting the invitation with a regal nod.

His self-pleased smile showed he was completely aware his two descriptors of the town and Alice’s property would make it seem as if he saw them as but a small if pleasant trifle. He had fun imagining he’d manage to incite her into trying to impress...only to be left hanging on the morrow when no-one showed up. Of course, he and company would have to have vanished by then...but he’d think of that later. For now, he made his goodbyes. “If that is all, I will ask to take my leave. We have much to prepare before meeting anew, after all,” he bowed curtly and fluidly, not too shallowly to come across as crass but neither so deep he’d seem obsequious. He arched an expectant eyebrow at the so-called Sybl before taking his leave, urging the man to get on with it. Silently, and on the way out of the manor, he was already considering whether it would be too presumptuous to ask Mikhail to dispose of the man discreetly.

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Fatima frowned, understanding fully the way this woman saw the Queens. Especially Hyallian Queens. She sighed and shook her head emphatically. "No no. I do not plan to take from others there. I wish for asylum and to seek help to end the plague that is our current governing powers." Forth right and honest she supposed would be best at this point. There really was no beating around the bush with this was there?

"I want to change this realm. And I believe we need the help of the next to exact this change. The numbers of us here are too few and too powerless. We must find help lest we all fall into the games of our decadant and bloated Queens." Her tone was pleading, begging this woman to see the truth in her words. "But if you do not help us we will continue to fight the taint regardless." This she said with striking conviction. She would not give up.

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The chair began creaking again as Mikhail and Fatima spoke. Gennar leaving them to it as his eyes were trained more on their surroundings. Smart boy, Olenna had to admit. The Eyriens as a whole were generally in tune with their surroundings more than their words. "You are an unusual one that is for sure." The Priestess noted, her weathered fingers linking together as she considered what had been placed before her. A strong, young, and pure Queen who was from Hayll? It seemed Witch had a twisted sense of humor. Her chapped and cracked lips twitched as she wondered how long it had been since she thought of the legend. Too long, she supposed. Yet Olenna could hardly chasten herself for it. This land was forgetting and it had been in her best interest to forget to. To let time wear away her mind and her ability to care. "Well, you don't ask for much." She chuckled and considered the Grey Jeweled Queen. "I will make a black candle and open the Dark Gate, but there is a price." There was always a price for everything, the question was if this daring Queen would pay it. "You must take the Black Jeweled Warlord Prince with you. Yes, I know the rumors about his ill-temper. The monster people call him." She sneered the creaking of the chair stopping as she gave Fatima a serious look. "Monster or not, he saved a young Priestess from being broken for the amusement of some aristocratic Blood. He'll take the blame. And I don't think you want to throw your Court against that man on the killing field." The old Priestess sighed.

Denvar considered the Pruulish witch and shrugged absently. "You can choose your friends and family. The world is what you make it." Taking a stout drink from his cup, the Warlord Prince refilled it and studied the ceiling. The soft sound of footfalls scuffling overhead as Faeril hovered about her workroom. There were several louder thumps and Denvar gave a chuckle. "She can never not work on something. But as to how we know each other... My brothers and I, we're half Eyrien. Other half is Hyallian, much to my brothers' disgust. Our father would have been better off if the Queen had given him over to Auntie to shave him. Alas, he was banished and our mother was protected by Lady Nivarian." Studying the liquor in the glass, Denvar's look was guilty as he sighed. "She was always a bit... lost though. Broken somewhere inside. Auntie did her best to heal her, but you can't heal what doesn't want to be healed. Lady Nivarian tried to find out more about Mother's past... No luck. She lived in Hyall for years before having Gen. Had just enough sense to snatch Bellinar and myself up and sprint for the mountains when our father started bragging about having Warlord Princes for sons." There was a ugly snarl to Denvar's face as he set the drink to the side without taking another sip. "Bastard."

Mikhail said nothing as Fatima began explaining her motives to the old priestess. In that situation, Fatima's pure honesty and good intentions would be much better than anything Mikhail could say or do for himself. Exactly as Mikhail was expecting though, Fatima proved his thoughts to be right. The way she spoke, by itself was already a clear indication to the old priestess of how different she was from the other queens. The way her feelings were clear behind her voice and expression, an undeniable proof of her pure and good intentions. As she spoke though, Mikhail couldn't help but to stop for a moment, realizing how he was coming to change his view and opinion about Fatima, which were now, much more different than they were when he first met her. That said, just as he said and was thinking himself, she was completely different from other queens... maybe, just maybe... Different enough to deserve his respect and loyalty... But that was something only the time would tell.

Mikhail found himself breathing easier, relieved when he heard the old priestess' next words, acknowledging that Fatima was indeed an 'unusual' queen and agreeing to help them. The old priestess would prepare a candle and open the portal, but when she mention that there would be a cost, Mikhail's expression immediately changed. Indeed, nothing ever was for free. The moment the old priestess mentioned her cost though, Mikhail couldn't help but be a bit worried. A black jeweled warlord prince was a ticking bomb. Unstable and dangerous. Even more than even Xandar. No matter that he had saved a young witch from being broken or that he was a good person, he was still incredibly dangerous and unstable.

Mikhail simply looked at Gennar and Fatima with a concerned expression after hearing the old priestess' words. It was still Fatima's decision but if they indeed agreed with that deal, they would need to have a way to control him.

Dareen listened intently to the storied backround of Denvar, trying to make sense of it. It all sounded very complicated to her. Bloodlines and aristocratic families, shame and pride. She had never been acquainted with somebody who took these things seriously, or had had them affect their life. To the people she called family such things were considered trivial, unimportant. To be honest, she still felt that way. It certainly hadn't made Denvar's life any easier, the expectations laid before him and his family.

With a final curse to his arrogant father, Denvar sat aside his drink and Dareen returned to hers.

"Whuf...didn't mean to bring down the mood, Denvar." She said with another small sip, slowly chipping away at her alcohol. She considered where he had come from to where he was now. Him and his closest friend and brothers on a quest to...whatever the goal of their little group was. "Families can be tough." She was silent for a moment before picking her nearly empty shot glass between her fore fingers.

"To the subversives?" Dareen raised her glass to Denvar in a tentative, not entirely serious toast indicated by a small smile on her face.

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Fatima stood momentarily in stunned silence. An odd Queen indeed. However, that was not what had stilled the usually flamboyant woman. It was the fact that the old priestess had agreed to help them. Her features darkened at the mention of a price. Of course. It would have been naive to think anyone in this world would help for free. The price the woman mentioned made Fatima turn pale, a cold sweat rolled down her back and she brought her hands to her lips. This was a steep price indeed.

After a long moment of consideration, she came to the only possible conclusion. There was no other choice.

"I accept your terms," she said as she lowered her hands. She made an attempt to look as Queenly as possible but the fear that rolled in her gut like acid stayed visible. "I shall return with he who wears the Black." She curtsied to the woman. "I bid you a farewell for now. It is best we work on this mission as soon as possible. We shall meet again soon."

Or they would all be dead.

She turned to the two men she had come to the cottage with and offered a thin smile before heading in the direction of the inn. As she walked she took Mikhail's hand in her own. Looking up at him she said, with warmth, "Thank you for saying such kind things about me. You always offer me such strong support. I appreciate it." She squeezed his hand before letting it go. She had to figure out a way to steal away the most important and dangerous man in all of Terrielle.