The Hraeslag family, it occurred to Lirrah, would make fantastic customers if she could pour on the charm. She was still sour about giving a bunch of acid to that noble brat for free. As if he needed the money. Lirrah needed a win, but she wasn't exactly keen to go seek out Cadmon again.

Right. It wasn't about money for him. Why should it be? He could have paid for that acid and it would affect his bottom line about as much as a drop of water in the desert. So then what?

Power, probably. He likely enjoyed Lirrah's anguish, to some extent. She had always wondered how he got along with István so well, so maybe they had some deep-seated sickness in common that they had bonded over. He got a power trip out of abusing tiny merchants, and given their relative statuses, there wasn't much Lirrah could do about it.

They were playing very different games, and Cadmon's was much easier. He probably realized that.

Still, she would have to interact with him at some point if she ever wanted to get her money's worth out of their 'friendship'. If she ever wanted her investment to pay off. Lirrah gritted her teeth, but expertly hid the expression her face had wanted to make at that moment. She would have to leverage her good will with Velvetica (whatever was left of it) in order to meet with her parents and get them as far into her pocket as she could. She had to-

Ah, it was the mercenary. Lirrah looked up at the man, who was curiously carrying around some obviously damaged clothing. He appeared to be looking for something. What was his name, again? The man wasn't exactly important, and certainly wasn't her top spender.

"Are you looking for something, poss-man?" Lirrah asked brightly, grinning up at him. She had heard from a fellow merchant that if she couldn't remember a man's name, she should call him 'boss-man', because men liked to be called that apparently. Weirdly enough, it usually worked.

"Perhaps your merchant friend can help! I can get whatever you need~"

Still, a potential customer was a potential customer. Besides, in Lirrah's experience, if a man like him finds a merchant he likes, he'll very likely go back to them for future needs. Doesn't want to put too much thought into anything.

What other type of person would be a mercenary, after all?

With his hands both free, he was finally able to remove his helmet. Even though he wasn't in combat, it was part of his flight attire, shielding his head and face from the biting winds when flying.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Roger assured him as he put the box down and opened it up, allowing the least griffin within to come out. In his experience, griffins didn't like being boxed or caged, but because Sirona wouldn't go with an unfamiliar human like Roger, it was necessary to transport her in a container.

He couldn't fault Cadmon for keeping such a pet. As difficult as they usually were, griffins were majestic creatures, and a Least Griffin allowed one to bask in that majesty without the incredible maintenance and trouble that accompanied a full-sized griffin. They weren't just for show either, as they could be used for hunting very similar to falconry.

"Baron Bridger? I know who he is, but don't know him personally. Our family hasn't really been considered nobility long enough to become involved in noble politics," he answered Earl Cadmon's question. "Is he an acquantance of yours?

@The Otter

"Flatterer, I don't get paid enough to be anyone's boss, merchant."

Urden had come across the diminutive merchant tagalong, Lirrah, first. Worked for him, since he suspected that whatever sewing was needed would take awhile. Still, his tone was pleasant enough, clearly no offense taken and more a matter of poking at being called a boss of anyone or anything. Still, now that one of the people was found, he could at least stop carrying around ruined clothing like some sort of lost child. Unfolding the damaged trousers, he would demonstrate the hole that the arrow had left both entering, and being removed after healing was available, while speaking on the events like someone might talk about what was needed from a trip to the market.

"Someone, well two someones, and you sure are one of them. Took an arrow in the leg thanks to those Morahti, and while it healed decently enough, sadly magic doesn't mend significant holes in clothing. Bit too much for my rather crude stitch work, so I figured I would see if our resident merchant might just happen to have a service available for mending said damage? Already took the liberty of cleaning the blood and grime out, so that shouldn't be a concern."

The mercenary also had suitable payment along with him as well, as loath as he was to part way with hard earned coin over something as simple as mending clothing. Better that than buying new clothing completely, of course, assuming the Nem merchant didn't try and gouge him over the request of course. He also could have probably asked around and found someone in the Boss's employ that could have done it too, now that he thought about it, but he was already committed at this point. Still, the mention of looking for people gave him at least enough of a thought to ask if Lirrah had seen the resident daemon summoning healer.

"Seen that ever so helpful hundi healer lurking around? Got some matters to discuss with her as well."

@Psyker Landshark

The symbol of endlessness continued to swirl through the grounds in even tempo, as the stone-carved face (more a gargoyle than kingly bust) held its tongue until the assassin had finished with hers. He'd known better than to believe the hustle of campaign to have fully shaken that moment from her mind— she worked with enough professionalism that a background of some covert capacity seemed to almost be the only reasonable choice. She was no bloodthirsty murderer-zealot to a foreign church of death, nor did she share the naked avarice of, say, their mutual associate in Urden. To the eyes of those in the sphere that would need watch for them, the guess had come naturally. This was merely confirmation. Any lesser blade that cloaked itself in shadow would have preened and accepted the misidentification as praise.

"Your point is quite apparent," he rumbled, a dull earthen eye sliding over to meet her gaze as he worked through his ritual. Assessment of the goings on from the northlands was on today's itinerary, leaving he and his ward with the thankless task of remote counsel and administration to look forward to for the coming hours. As the years continued to pass, he found his mornings had grown to see him wake a little duller than he liked. Given the circumstances of the fief's chain of command at present, he didn't need to go and advise a misstep off the back of a clouded mind.

A calm smile spread over his face, light enough to avoid registering as mockery. Regardless of his reasonable safety (her wariness of investigations would prove well-founded, should the boy suddenly find cause to bring the weight of the Demet fiefdom onto her head), he had no need to further antagonize a Potential Asset.

"As one such ambitious man, I would be remiss not to remember when hands are shown or lines drawn."

Much. There was one thing he had noticed in between the pointed, knife-shaped subtext. Something that had piqued his interest. He turned to face her fully, as steam wafted forth from the spout of the kettle in his hand. Warmth radiated against his knuckles.

"Now that you've further clarified where we both stand, I have to say: How lucky our host and her swiftly rising star must be, that those interested parties above are no longer privileged by your service. To your clandestine point, I imagine it must be quite the rare thing to find one's way out of their employ and into another's."

It wasn't like she could have feasibly aged out of the position and retired. There were more cards to coax onto the table, but he wouldn't be getting them here.

---

@Crimson Paladin

---

The griffin exited her carrier as soon as the door was open for her; as proud a creature as she was, though, she gave off nothing more to show her displeasure than some irate clicks of her beak before preening her feathers and taking a quick glance around the new room she found herself in. In a moment more she quickly leaped into the air, landing on Cadmon's shoulders, whereupon she immediately took to trying to tame his unruly red hair.

All the while studiously avoiding acknowledging Roger's presence whatsoever.

"I would rather he wasn't," Cadmon replied to the griffin knight's question, appearing utterly unperturbed by Sirona's struggling with his hair. "Evidently he and his wife must get very bored managing their manor, given by how he keeps finding children of his to try and betrothe to me. This is the third daughter he's tried it with, and he even tried one of his sons before this."

He read along a bit further, shaking his head as he did. "The dowry is abysmal, as always. He knows what my position entails, and yet he's got no intention to make sure she's able to support herself at the level she's used to living at if I should meet some untimely demise. The dower I'd have to put up to ensure her is far beyond what should ever be expected. And that's on top of everything he's hoping to gain through this match. I can't help but think he doesn't value or respect either myself or any of his children other than his heir."

Cadmon's talk of dowries and marriage deals reminded Roger just how foreign the aristocratic politicking was to him. He understood the concepts well enough- in this case, this Baron Bridger was trying to obtain Cadmon as a son-in-law. The mention of a meager dowry, and the multiple offers, indicated to Roger that this baron viewed marrying off his children as nothing more than a transaction.

It wasn't the same way with the Falkners or their beasts. Between their commoner status up until a few years ago, and the importance of not alienating potential clients, they had always managed to avoid getting entangled in political marriages and the political intrigue of the nobility. In fact, his parents' marriage was initially opposed by his mother's family, right up until his father proved himself in the eyes of his beloved's father. The Falkners' griffins themselves were the same way- they chose their own mates, mated for life, and trying to sway them away from their choice of mate was a dangerous exercise in futility.

Would this be the future of the Falkners, to be married off for alliances?

"And what does he want out of you, that he'd make such an offer so many times with so many of his children?" he stated. "I'm guessing it's a lot more than you'd be getting out of him."

@The Otter

At least the little lordling's pet brute understood the point. Unfortunately, he was quite a bit sharper than expected. Kayliss's respect for and wariness around Istvan went up several notches as he started drawing closer to a truth she certainly didn't want or need anyone to know. This line of questioning was going far too close to the truth of the Crownsblades' status. Of the entire outfit, only Lady Velvetica knew, and even that had been too much information revealed for Kayliss's liking.

"It's more convenient for everyone involved that the Lady has specialist assistance close at hand." Kayliss finally deigned to give a bland response to Istvan's prodding. Simply dropping the matter would only invite even more suspicion. "Consider my official status to be...on loan, as it were."

This wasn't even untrue. If the opportunity arose, Kayliss would return to the Crownsblades in a heartbeat, if there was any semblance of an organization left. Scattered survivors, certainly. But not enough and with none versed enough in leadership positions for any true centralization.

"The Lady is fully aware of my status and consented to my positioning in her ranks. Rest assured that I'm here largely for the mission statement and not for internal politics."

@HereComesTheSnow

Lirrah might have frowned at Urden's retort if her face wasn't semi-permanently affixed in a cutesy, honey-sweet euphoria. Smartasses, every last one of them. Lirrah smiled wider.

"Ehehe, well, I can help with that. Just mending? You know, I recently got in some quality clothing," Lirrah threw out casually as she examined the tear, "very practical. Many pockets. Resilient fapric. You would like them! Put this, this I can do with ease. Very quick hands. It should not take me too long."

Lirrah offered Urden (whose name she still could not recall) a reassuring smile, and quoted him the relatively fair price of 1200 Librans. She'd want him to come back as a regular, which he wouldn't do if she tried to cheat him on his first transaction. Maybe he'd buy some new damn pants.

"As for Gisela... I would guess reading at the liprary or napping in a side room," Lirrah suggested, not knowing much about the Hundi herself except that mages tended towards books and sleep. How nice for them.

"Can I help you in any other way, dear friend?"

Lirrah tucked the garments under her arm and bombarded the mercenary with her cutesiest head-tilt.

---

@Crimson Paladin

---

"Favourable trading rights through my border, financial access, all in the name of strengthening our bond," Cadmon replied with unhidden disdain. "And, of course, I would be honour bound to commit myself in defense of him if he should need it, and with me at his back, I'm sure he'd be quite a bit bolder with his many ambitions. At worst I fear I'd either have to turn traitor to the crown or be known as a betrayer of family. Out of all parties involved, the only one who wins anything is Baron Bridger himself." He flipped the page over, looking at the sketch left along the back of it.

Professional, and Baron Bridger wasn't one known to waste his money on overly idealized portraits.

"A shame, she is pretty. Might be I could accept, rescue the poor girl from a father that doesn't truly care about her, and then forestall any disaster by rebuffing him as soon as all the ceremonial tripe was done with. Leave him to wallow in his well-deserved humiliation. She might even appreciate it, at first...but that's not really a good foundation for a successful, long-lasting relationship. Are you done?"

The sudden question was clearly directed at the chimeric creature still fighting with his hair, though for once Cadmon's expression seemed at least somewhat amused. The scolded griffin squawked back at him, before continuing its valiant struggle. He rolled his eyes in return, looking back down to Roger. "You know, a lot of us envy lower knights like you. You have freedoms that many of us—those who don't just foresake their duties, anyways—don't have."

The Hundi was indeed in a library, although it couldn't be said that she was reading much. The tomes owned by most nobility, no matter how expensive or old, were hardly of interest to somebody like her. While some families might have a few works on magic, it was exceptionally rare that any single family would have such a magical tradition as to personally own enough esoteric works to hold an experienced mage's attention. She knew of at least one such family down in Thaln, but the political mess there made the ongoing trouble here look almost harmless... although, part of that was the troubles further north spilling over into the dukes' internal conflict.

Instead of reading, she was seated at a table, diagramming... something. "That looks like a magic circle" to the untrained eye, and indeed it was, but the goal or function? That would be a mystery.

Not that she was alone in inspecting it, the red-skinned demon leaning over the table seemed to be scanning it as well. Which could only suggest that it was something summoning related, she didn't seem the type to care much for other mortal spells.

"Do you really need this many redundancies to focus the mana? You're hardly lacking for power, even with the inefficiency you could power this one on your own."

"It's more the principle of the thing, even if nobody else would ever use the design..."

Urden allowed the merchant to make her sales pitch on new clothing, selling their qualities while looking over the damage done and the mending work to be done. It sounded like it shouldn't be too complicated a job. So why, pray tell, did it cost as much as it did then? Damnedable mark ups no doubt, but he would consider the information the Nem gave as part of the deal to be generous, and frankly, to save him time since he had other pressing matters to consider before spending time haggling with the Lion's attached merchant. He would surrender the clothing and agree to the payment, considering where the library was. Dear friend would have almost brought a snort of amusement from the merc if his coffers hadn't been lightened by as much as they had, but he fortunately needed nothing else from the merchant currently.

"I will keep the new clothing shipment in mind, let's see how well the mending goes first, shall we? As for anything else, I think the information and mending will be all for now. I won't take up any more of your time since, how's the saying go, time is money?"

Urden excused himself with a polite smile, though once he turned and was sure no reflective surfaces would betray his expression it quickly fell into a neutral, not quite pleased one. Being charged quite that much for a simple job didn't sit right, but he frankly didn't feel like either burning bridges by snubbing the merchant, or wasting even more time carrying around damaged clothing like a lost child. He'd need to get better with his needle work so that he wouldn't be paying quite so much in the future, or work a damages clause into his contract with the Boss. Though he didn't fancy renegotiating an entire contract for one addition, that was never a good look, but it didn't take him long to reach the library. Lucky him, he didn't need to go bothering servants and making them wonder what some mercenary wanted with the family library. Entering just in time to hear the remark on nobody else using the design, he made a rather chipper remark in response, also announcing himself at the same time. Spooking mages was never wise, especially ones with their pet daemon around.

"Don't got selling yourself short, Handy, you watch, legends will one day speak of the groundbreaking magics of yours."

Whether the mercenary was being serious, mocking, or just taking a crack at the mage and her work was hard to say. Still, Urden wouldn't pretend to understand a damn thing that she was doing, mages weren't too chatty with hired help typically, and the odd mutterings rarely made any more sense than a stark raving madman might. Not that he would ever say that out loud, he was brazen not stupid, though as he approached and got a better look at the circle, he could safely say it might as well be random scrawls for all the sense it made. Not that it needed to, not like he'd ever be slinging more than throwing axes. Still, he acknowledged the daemon before getting into the main purpose of his interruption, inclining his head to the duo briefly. Despite, or more likely in spite, of the off putting aura around the Hundi healer he kept the jovial tone from before, and kept up the bravado in casually addressing the daemon as he did anyone else. Sure, most folks didn't find having a daemon around particularly comforting, but from what he had seen Red here was about as honest as you could expect a daemon to be. Put most professional soldiers to shame with the combat prowess, and that he could focus on and just sidestep the whole horns and red skin bit.

"Hey Red. I won't distract you two too long, maybe. Probably. Thanks for the healing after the little scuffle with the Morahti Handy, though correct me if I am wrong, since I probably am, but magical healing usually doesn't leave a throbbing ache this long after the magic was used?"

Ideally, it would all just be a case of complaining over a lack of understanding healing magic and to just give it a few more days, but his gut instinct told him that by now he really should not be feeling any sort of aftermath to the injury. Normally he couldn't afford the luxury of magical healers and went about having his wounds mended the simpler way, stitchwork and bandages from the handiest person available.

"Magical healing? No, there should be no ache," the mage answered, ears twitching as she turned to look at Urden with a frown, "Sometimes, there might be phantom pains, but usually that comes with wounds that healed naturally first. Maybe if there was poison or some type of curse on it..."

The demon behind her had dragged over another sheet and roughly outlined the same circle, sans most of the detail. What was important was numerous sections outlined in red chalk. "These need to go, if you're going to make it a circle any halfway competent mage could power."

"But..." the hundi's eyes flicked back to the paper, despite Urden's presence, "Then the circle would need to be completed for every summon. That defeats the point of making one directed by the caster's intent."

Krysia groaned, straightening up, "Puppy... you're forgetting that most people don't know anything about demons. Or only know enough to select the worst examples. And in any scenario, they wouldn't know how to make a binding agreement safely.

"You, soldier," the red-skinned giant said, pointing at him, "Imagine a world where any mage could summon almost any demon, without knowing the first thing about controlling them."

@Eisenhorn

Urden decided to consider a cursed arrow the less likely option between cursed and poisoned, despite the kind of luck that it would take to have been hit with a cursed arrow from slavers, of all things. No, poison made a sort of sense, especially one that interfered with mobility even after a wound otherwise healed. Made it easier to incapacitate and capture, so he was inclined to suspect a poison of some sort. That of course led to the next question of whether the poison would sort itself out after a period of time, or if that meant more magic healing being slung at his leg.

"If I was a gambling man I would lay good coin on a poison of some sort rather than a curse. I don't think we ran into any particularly magical mercenary slavers, and a poison that interfered with movement to any degree would make some sense to..."

The rather large daemon interrupted at this point, dragging another sheet over and making quite a few modifications to the original design, apparently noting quite a few things needed to go. Handy objected, apparently the modifications made it so that the circle wouldn't...work solely based on intent? If he had the slightest inkling about magic, summoning, or magical summoning that would probably be cause enough for alarm, but his gut instinct told him that letting anyone do something just on instinct alone was probably questionable at the best of times. Of course, Red explained, mostly to Handy, but the explanation gave him at least an inkling of what was going on. As it was, the current circle would let someone summon a daemon with no control over it what so ever? Well that was a damn fool decision if he ever heard one, and he cocked an eyebrow at Red when she promptly asked him to imagine a world where mages could summon daemons without any inkling of controlling them.

"Hell, that'd be like leaving a bunch of kids around loaded siege weapons. Inevitably going to cause excessive collateral damage, at best. Except, I suppose, the siege weapons could promptly slaughter the kids, reuse the circle, and just let every last friend of theirs through to here. Least that's what I would do, if I was some daemon summoned by someone who couldn't negotiate out of a wet bag, let alone into a contract."

In short, Urden couldn't say that it was a very bright idea to have a summoning circle anyone could use without proper training. Last thing anyone would want is someone just smart enough to get themselves into trouble using it, and before you know it, everyone's neck deep in daemons. Well, maybe if he got a head start in planning he could prepare and make a killing, figuratively and literally, in the daemon slaying business. That many just running around, everyone who had coin worth a damn would be looking to hire exterminators. Though, more likely, it would be some grand apocalyptic event those religious folks sometimes rambled on about, to scare folks into behaving and being good boys and girls. Still, his day had started with damaged clothing and a sore leg, he had gotten overcharged for clothing and now he was listening to Handy and Red discuss a creation that could, in the, well, right or wrong hands be used to hold open a door to hell forever, if he understood the capabilities right. Some days he wondered if guarding merchant caravans would have been a better choice. It certainly would have been a damn sight more boring, that much was clear.

@Raineh Daze

"Poison, hmm..." the mage climbed from her seat and shuffled over, placing one hand on his arm and starting to chant an invocation. The aura of chaotic magic around her stilled, replaced entirely with the rather unnerving feeling of constrained magic running through the Hundi and into him, a feeling like the smell of grass after the rain and a scent of the sound of thunder. Then she fell silent, the rush stopped, and the unearthly aura came back--slightly diminished, for now, but still there, licking away.

"That should remove any poisons," Gisela said, hand lowering, "Along with any intoxicants, medicines, other drugs, or similar."

It was rather like her to go for the maximal option of just removing everything vaguely poison-related from anywhere in the body rather than identifying and neutralising it, "If it still aches in a few days, I can heal any residual damage off. If it gets worse, come back and I can deal with curses."

Curses would be a bit trickier.

"Besides, you don't need this circle, you can draw a much more specific one whenever you need it," the demon added, having procured a match from somewhere and started playing with it. "I've watched you work before."

Gisela's ears drooped as she started explaining, "I was thinking of getting a house some day, inlaying this in the floor with quicksilver or similar so I didn't have to keep drawing new ones."

There was the sound of metal on flesh as Krysia's hand met her own face.

@Eisenhorn

From the mercenary's response, Lirrah got the horrible premonition that this was not a man who would become a big spender. In her experience, mercs came in two flavors: those that let their hard-earned librans flow like water into a repository of hedonism, and those who saved their money in the vague hope of cashing out one day.

Given the occupation, most were the former. If dying was a very real possibility every single day, why shouldn't you enjoy your money while you can? Lirrah liked these mercenaries. They spent. Looking down at the pants that were to be mended, she wondered how many years they'd be subjected to stitching in lieu of buying a new pair.

'Time is money' indeed. But Lirrah didn't necessarily have anything more lucrative to do, so she figured she may as well spend five minutes mending pants. She took the garment to a room she had cordoned off for her own use (the Lions were composed largely of men, she needed some space of her own) and started to work.

Her eyes, being about as deft as her fingers, were quickly able to pick out a matching thread color. She skillfully mended the hole such that it looked almost as if the garment had never been torn. Beautiful. Lirrah admired her handiwork for a moment.

If Urden saw the quality of her services, perhaps he'd at least buy something sometime.

With that done, she put the pants aside. She would bring them to the mercenary later. For now, she had business with Velvetica. Or at least, she hoped she might have business with Velvetica. Or her parents. Same money. Lirrah looked around her room for a gift to help facilitate a smooth transaction, and her gaze landed upon a stuffed frog knight she had made while bored. A lion probably would have been better, but Lirrah liked frogs, and she honestly hadn't planned that far ahead. She had not anticipated that she would be invited to Hraeslag Castle, after all.

She didn't know whether or not Velvetica would appreciate a stuffed toy. She seemed too serious, too divorced from any softness she might have had. Perhaps conflict and killing had hardened her. But, well, the frog had a sword and a shield. Maybe she'd like it? It was impossible to say. Lirrah knew that Velvetica liked Velt and justice, but the merchant couldn't really give her either of those things.

Lirrah set off, wandering around the huge castle with a frog doll in her arm like a child looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night. Lirrah, however, did not have to be embarrassed about this because Veltans thought Nem were just adorable little things anyways.

And Lirrah was the most adorable.

Eventually, she spotted her boss chatting with a man in the main hall. They looked similar, so perhaps it was a sibling. Lirrah knew a thing or two about those. It would be gauche to interrupt, so she would wait for them to finish before approaching.

The mercenary cocked an eyebrow when Handy got out of her seat and walked over, the sense of discomfort growing slightly stronger as the Hundi got closer and rested a hand on his arm, and the feeling went silent and, if he didn't know better, Urden would have had to assume he was going just slightly mad. The fact the sense of magic felt like other senses certainly could be disorientating, but Urden kept a level head as the sensation faded and the general feeling around the Hundi felt slightly less off putting. Of course it was still there, and a part of his brain wondered if it felt slightly off because some of that energy had been channeled into...or was it through him? Logically, a purge should go through, but there wasn't anything logical about magic.

"So next time I overdo it at the tavern, I should come to you to clear up the senses, got it. Appreciate the assistance, here's hoping that clearing out a poison should suffice. Not sure I want to know how clearing up a curse might go."

Of course, leave it to Red to chime in again about the original topic of the magic circle and not really needing it. Apparently the past work of Handy had proven the lack of need of this intent fueled circle. If he was forced to admit it, this was all frankly well above his head in regards to understanding, but the fact he was spending time agreeing with a Daemon was certainly not what he would have considered a safe bet. Then the mention of a permanent one in an eventual house brought a face palm from the daemon, which in turn got a snort of amusement from the mercenary.

"Right, going for the traditional tower design or something a bit less, what's the word, conventional? Though if you make a permanent circle, wouldn't that keep you from modifying it for other use in the future?"

Why did the stories always have mage and wizard towers. Why did a bunch of bookish types love going up and down flights of stairs constantly, now that his own commentary got him thinking. He didn't like going up and down flights of stairs all day, walking and marching was all fine and well, but having to carry stuff up and down stairs was another matter completely. Nevermind the fact that, the more he heard about magic circles, the less of a good idea they seemed to be. Some days he considered himself fortunate that he didn't have some ancient bloodline, heroic destiny, ancient magical powers, or other such nonsense. He got to do whatever he wanted with his life, even if he had chosen to follow in the family business of trading blood for coin.

@Raineh Daze

@Psyker Landshark

"On loan." He repeated, nodding slowly as the beans steeped, then settled. As ever, the rise and fall of the foam told him when things were due to finish, when the brew would reach its most delicate balance between strength and subtlety. Too far to either side, and it would tip until unrecoverable. Many things were this way in life— navigating the balance point between the two virtues. "Fascinating. I had never known such an arrangement to be possible— I'll have to divine how the Lady made that happen. What an oversight in my understanding."

He got what he'd expected, more or less— an answer that slotted easily into place at first or even second glance, and given with only a little pressure, a little probing. He saw no reason it didn't make sense save for the incongruence with her organization's own mission statement— and the ease with which she gave that up, in the grand scheme, did make a certain facet of him suspect this as incense thrown into the bush, to throw off hunting hounds.

The best way to dissuade questions was always to feed them an answer they expected.

But by the same token, couched within the idea was the implicit concession that, like anything else, money and influence had their ways of making inroads on even the most esoteric of organizations. Was that truly less believable?

In all instances, this was the balance point, once again. And he had somewhere to be. A game of strength and subtlety needed too to end, when it came time.

"You've taught me something worth remembering for future endeavors— I must extend my thanks." His smile broadened, as he began to spoon foam into the awaiting mugs that had stood quietly to witness the exchange from start to finish. "Tell me— would you care for a mug, or shall my silence on the matter alone suffice, as I take my leave?"

He didn't believe her. At least, not completely. The man was difficult to read, but it truly sounded like he still suspected her somewhat. Kayliss just knew this was going to be trouble in the future. Fortunately, Istvan was the one to end the conversation himself, likely suspecting he wouldn't be able to get anything further out of her if he pressed. She'd take what she could get. Her own objective in speaking to him had long been completed. The rest was just damage control.

"No, thank you." Kayliss replied quietly, ignoring the rich aroma of the coffee. She wasn't exactly fond of the beverage. It was acceptable in taste, but the stimulant effects weren't something she desired constantly.

"So long as you understand where things stand, I won't keep you. Good day, Sir Istvan." With that said, she turned and left the kitchen. A peek into the hallway afterward would reveal her complete absence, somehow.

@HereComesTheSnow

... using her magic to deal with drunkenness or hangovers would be wasteful, but if someone were to ask, she wasn't going to say no. For one, Velvetica wasn't paying for her services on a case-by-case basis, so she was going to be available. Secondly, any excuse to cast some sort of spell was a good one in her mind. Maybe she could refine it some more? Selectively purging toxins wasn't the sort of thing she needed to do much, but it might make for an interesting challenge, if she could scale it up that might allow for a large-scale sobering spell to affect an entire group.

"I was thinking more of a small cottage..." the mage mumbled, eyes going to the demon for a minute, "Maybe quite a large one. With headroom. Oh, and I'd need somewhere to keep books."

"Permanent circles have their uses, if the mage casts the same spell often enough. They can use magically conductive materials to make it easier to cast, and get to it at a moment's notice. It's generally only useful when the effect is very draining, or the circle is very generic," the demon took over the explanation, Gisela having grabbed a spare sheet and apparently decided to start sketching out a floor plan, "A less proficient summoner might make one when they arrange something with a more powerful demon like myself. This one put something like that in her staff to cut down the time it needs.

"Which is why we're not leaving one around that would let every average mage accidentally summon Merophayal because they were frustrated." The hundi whimpered at that.

@Eisenhorn

"A cottage isn't a bad end goal. Wouldn't be a bad way to wrap things up, just vanishing after a long life."

Urden had considered retiring once age slowed him enough, and nominally didn't just throw all his payment away solely on booze and hedonism for the expressed reason, and if asked he would confirm such suspicions. Of course, the number of mercenaries that got to retire he could name on one hand, and those were just the ones he knew from hearsay and stories. Mages were practically expected to retire, settling into some tower or sprawling manor that they could ride out the twilight years neck deep in books and study. Least as far as he heard it told, once again reminded that most employers with magical powers weren't even a fraction as chatty as Handy and Red here. Speaking of, Red started in on the usefulness of permanent circles for a mage that has cause to cast the same spell over and over again. Guess that made a sort of sense, the usefulness being for taxing or broad effects. He could see healers using something like that, just stick the sick and dying on the circle, wiggle their fingers, and wounds closed, disease banished, everyone's all happy. And the healer's purse is that bit heavier, of course. The mention of such a circle being put in Handy's staff would have gotten more of a remark if it wasn't immediately followed up by the mention that this circle could, in the wrong hands, accidentally bring Merophayal about. Didn't take a mage to know a name like that, though he did his best to keep a neutral expression.

"If even a fraction of the rumors are true, said frustrated mage will have plenty of time to regret his decision. Fortunately Red here seems to be as adept at being a voice of reason as a battlefield menace, who'd have known?"

For all the aloofness on the mission, Handy certainly was an odd one to try and get a read on. Urden knew she was capable, that much had been made apparent, and Red certainly made that clear as well. Metaphorically reeked of magic, to such a degree that even after expending a burst of it had done little to get his skin to stop crawling. Maybe it was something he would have to get used to, and given his apparent inability to avoid injury, that might just be necessary. But the sheer lack of consideration of long term consequences, even if it was just conjecture, was a concerning point. Then again, he was in a band of nobles, at least one assassin, and a griffon rider to name a few oddities compared to his usual, pre Lions dealings. A mage with more magic than sensibilities was hardly the strangest thing in the world when put in such circumstances, even if her voice of reason was daemonic in nature. And if said duo was going to make it even easier to keep collecting pay until he could also wander off and be forgotten, well, who was he to look a gift Hundi in the mouth then?

@Raineh Daze