[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center]

[@The Otter][@Ithradine]

[color=c0392b]"[i]Easy—[/i]"[/color] Rudi yelped, all but diving to catch the utterly spent Faye's head before her slack frame clattered it off the hardwood deck. She was, even without the blindingly obvious indicator in the blood from her nose, clearly in terrible shape. He looked to Neve, a call for help barely forming on his voice before Valon's cast itself over the field, dropping his name, Galahad's... and Leonhart's.

The words were little answer for the Edreni cohort's burning questions as to why the dragoon had become a turncoat, but all the same, Rudolf's died unspoken. Ill-gotten throne...? Was he insane? Leonhart's family had risen to power a damn sight before any of their times— let alone with even a glimmer of illegitimate means. 

They'd taken a man so loyal to the country that he'd leapt at the chance to possibly die for it, younger than Rudi was now... and got him spewing that, of all things.

The airship slunk away into the clouds. His fellows returned to the deck, one by one, as what was left of Bikke's crew began to scramble to return the ship to working order.

He shuddered watching it go, and as it stilled, the last of his strength left.

Just in time to feel eyes fall upon him, with new suspicion. Valon was clearly a changed man, but he was still the same loud bastard he'd once met, so long ago.

The name echoed in his mind. [i]Shilage. Shilage. Shilage.[/i]

He grimaced, but didn't meet the gaze, as he softly laid Ciradyl's head to the deck... and after only a few dozen trudging steps, collapsed against the main mast, on his haunches next to the family's parting gift.

[hr]

[color=c0392b]"Trouble with Customs, Sir?"[/color] a clipped, professional, [i]inquiring[/i] South Edren-accented voice sounded from behind the main mass of their party, once a lull had appeared in the wake of Esben's opening salvo. Any glances in that direction and away from the sunny-smiling heir to a barony would find a much shorter man trying to jockey for position through the assembled ranks, robes, and armoring, a half-dozen [color=c0392b]"Do excuse me, please"[/color]s flying from his pale, worried expression in undertone. 

By the time "escorts" had left Mathiassen's lips, Rudolf had set to work ducking behind the frames of his peers and slicking his platinum hair back over itself. He was far from the walking arsenal he'd entered Osprey as at this point, and a good bit scrawny to sell himself as one of the bodyguards— to [i]these[/i] guys, anyway...

"I don't believe we should have anything or any[i]one[/i] aboard that should warrant an undue search or seizure..."

Was Eliane's new toy in view from here?

As he emerged and drew just behind Esben, then, he took upon himself the role of a beleaguered porter, a carrier-of-things that looked between the two Kirins and the guard squadron, the mask of propriety on his face hiding a racing mind. Baron Cadon, Baron Cadon, where had he heard a [i]Baron Cadon's[/i] name pop up before?

Was it even real? It had to be, Esben never lied or made people up.

Esben never lied...

Son of...

[color=b3ccff]"Ah, yes, my man Rudolf here—Rudolf, bring over my bags, if you would—I first ran into him on the road up through Edren, if you'd believe it! While he's here with me, he's also under the employ of Earl Demet from Edren's southwestern border..."[/color]

Blinking slowly, his gaze now pinned itself onto the taller blonde, who had already turned his easy smile back onto the guards.

Even if it was a Barony he couldn't remember, Esben was its blue-blooded heir. A man of noble birth.

He knew. With that wrinkle revealed, Rudolf suddenly understood that Esben didn't just [i]suspect[/i] him. He had long [i]known[/i] the nature of [i]that[/i] particular facade.

[color=b3ccff]"Earl Demet has good relations with Brightlam, doesn't he? The couriers in southern Edren made it sound as though he had quite a reputation, sending messages, payments, and people back and forth from his home to the Grovemasters some years back. Rudolf, would you be able to hazard a guess?"[/color] 

For a moment, the tropical heat and sun of Costa del Sol, world-renowned resort, fell away. In its place blew a frigid wind from far, far south of here, freezing Rudolf's blood at the heart.

Their eyes met.

Esben saw what he saw within dull gold, then...

[color=c0392b]"[i]Ahem[/i]. Yes. Yes, I believe that [i]was[/i] the case— albeit some years before my employ— but he [i]was[/i] in regular contact with the Grovemasters and their finest. He was a... very [i]determined[/i] patron of the White Magics."[/color]