---

"Ay, tranquilo, both of you."

If there was one skill where Amerigo's mastery was self-evident, moreso than even the blade, it was the subtle art of speaking with a sharp yet unbothered tone when cutting into a conversation that was trying to speed past. In a way they were similar, demanding poise, precision, timing, command— but few pushed the metaphor quite so far into reality as the Brother strolling out from the ashen cloud.

To wit:

The length of his blade sank between the faces of the two tiny abhumans, coming to a controlled stop a few inches above Raguelie's arms, regardless of how vigorously she attempted to throttle Erfir— as pointed and inarguable a barrier as any man could muster. In the hands of a lesser, begging for an accident— but Amerigo did not allow those. To him, this was little different from getting his bare arm between them, corded muscle where he'd instead gone and put the flat of the coral. He spoke in similarly even, pedestrian tone, his clipped Arrowfellian falling back behind the curtain of he and Aubri's lilting vowels and melodic Republican cadence. Like discussing the weather, albeit with a blade in one's hand.

"You show good, strong spirit," a hint of an acknowledging nod Raguelie's way began his chiding. "But remember how that eyesore found us to begin with, claro? The wind carries voices. Theirs and ours both." He glanced to the castle, eyes narrowing before barreling on, heedless of any protests from those barely scraping the four-foot mark.

"Now then, allow me to make something clear. Signore Aubri and myself are not pirates. I am in fact paid to cut pirates down. We are here on business. Our business." A glance to his employer, before his eyes were cast back down onto the two children he was looming over. "The interests of the Most Serene Republic are represented through him— and its' protection through me. We are not quite so partisan in the conflicts of a faraway place as you may believe. Though, in saying that,"

As smoothly as it had passed between the two, Amerigo's blade rose, and returned to its sheathe with a brief flourish, sliding Bone against leather until the swept hilt seemed to click into place. The barrier between them now removed, his point seemed more or less made. For a moment, at least.

Then, with both hands now freed, each settled atop the scalps of either side of the little proxy war in the courtyard, blonde and coal locks both getting worked over by the foreigner and his cheesy grin.

"I do represent my own interests as well, and chief among them is ensuring I won't be made into a liar. I promised you both your lives— let us four at least not 'liberate' one another. The blaze has surely taken enough already from the city and the people, before what other demons may yet prowl. This Countess Vernon being our next best option after the Queen, to hear you say it— she must have the guards available to keep you safe until this blows over, no? A Brother's duty is to deliver his charges to safe harbor."

He returned his gaze to Aubri even as he continued to mess with the two runts, his tone dropping ever so slightly closer to serious. "And in a storm like this, any safe port may work, so long as we arrive with a favor in hand, no? We are here to make an impression. I doubt either option could find much fault in learning the first thing we did here was save innocent lives."

He would follow his charge's lead with little fuss, at the end of the day— but a Brother of the Bones' word held certain weight, as Aubri well knew. Amerigo, flighty and lax as he had so often been on the voyage, still had his points of pride. To one of them, he had tied at least the assurance that these two would draw breath by tomorrow. Whatever happened on either side of that, he had no qualms ceding.

"I have seen good friendships begin with far less."

@Estylwen

---

Gervese gave a polite bow upon their approach and Anton cast a glance to Sylrael that essentially said, 'See? Very polite.'

Sylrael's lip curled, still unconvinced, but joined Anton and Melodia in heading inside.

The interior was every bit as modest as its exterior, but was nevertheless very homely. A fire crackled in the fireplace where two different pots bubbled and brewed respectively. The aroma of tea and scent of meat stew hung pleasantly in the air.

'It smells absolutely delicious in here, Miss Evoek,' Anton complimented. Ryllae finished tapping a spoon and turned to Anton, a hint of surprise crossing her crystal eyes. In response, Gervese rumbled and introduced Sylrael and Melodia as Anton's guests. Satisfied, Ryllae gave a low curtsy.

”Welcome to my home, Lord Agravaine and his guests. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Anton looked to the table and beckoned to his comrades. As Sylrael and Melodia took their seats on either side of Anton, he set down his helmet nearby and unclasped parts of his armour to make movement a little more bearable. He winced sheepishly at the clatter.
'My humble apologies,' he offered in apology for the noise, 'In our line of work, it always paid to be prepared for anything-- even lunch.'

After taking his seat, Ryllae dished out and served bowls of stew. She then served tea for each guest, before placing a board of bread, butter and cheeses in the center of the table. She then took her own seat, wiping her hands on her apron. Her smile was soft as she beckoned for everyone to enjoy. Anton nodded graciously, and began by buttering some bread and sitting it on the side of his bowl. Sylrael still had his doubts, having half-expected his friend to have some caution. But Melodia began eating as well, clearly a little famished, and so Sylrael decided to trust his captain's judgement.

”I'm afraid I don't have the pleasure of knowing much about you, Sylrael, Melodia. Why don't you tell me about yourselves?”

Since Melodia had started eating, Sylrael paused to answer.
'Well, I'm Anton's Lieutenant within the Braves of Marceilles,' he began.

'He's making that up,' Anton interrupted, 'there are no ranks in the Braves, so he's no more a lieutenant than I am a captain.'

'Listen, the lovely little lady asked me, so I get to tell my tale,' Sylrael retorted, 'What is it you always say? "Don't let facts get in the way of a good story".'

'Implying it's a good story...' Melodia muttered between spoonfuls.

Anton merely scoffed and continued eating as Sylrael went on.

'I happened across Anton when he was set on a noble goal: to break the chains of slaves,' Sylrael explained, 'Unfortunately, he had no knowledge whatsoever of fighting in swampy or forested terrain that was so plentiful, so he needed the aid of one pragmatic and heedful wood elf. Enter: me.'

'I like to think I've learned since then,' Anton added, as he sipped his tea. It was still quite hot so it was but a tiny sip.

'Maybe, but back then you were every bit the prat on a horse who could only conceive of battle on an open plain or in the streets.' Sylrael replied, inspecting his fingernails for effect. 'Unfortunately for both of us, our first collaboration has entwined our fates ever since.'

Anton chuckled and kept eating. Then Sylrael turned to Melodia as he picked up a piece of bread with a cheese slice.
'I know how I ended up here,' he then took a chomp out of the bread, 'But how did you meet Anton exactly?' he asked with a half full-mouth, clearly not too versed in table manners. Melodia looked at Anton, who smirked knowingly.

'He paid me handsomely to incinerate an entire baggage train in less than five minutes,' Melodia replied, matter-of-factly, 'I did it in three.'

Sylrael stopped chewing upon hearing this. He then looked at Anton, who's smile had stretched ear-to-ear. 'Did she really do that?' A hint of begrudging respect mixed with fear inhabited his voice, while Melodia resumed innocently eating.

'You've seen her use fire, have you not?' Sylrael pursed his lips, so Anton went on. 'I like to surround myself with talented friends. You can fell eight men with your bow in six seconds, and Melodia can turn an entire shipment of supplies to ash.'

Sylrael turned back to his meal, idly spooning stew with his cheesy bread. 'If you say so...'

Anton then turned to Ryllae. 'Thank you so much for having us break bread with you both,' he said sincerely 'However, I have been wondering: what exactly compels the Order of the Looking Glass to join me in my goal?'

_{@Andre Valias}

---

Ryllae sat, watching with her long-lashed eyes, her ball-jointed hands folded in her lap, straight-backed and polite as she listened with intrigue. Gervese too, listened in between spoonfuls of stew that disappeared into the shadow of his face.

'Thank you so much for having us break bread with you both. However, I have been wondering: what exactly compels the Order of the Looking Glass to join me in my goal?'

Ryllae's butterflies fluttered in response to such a poignant question, before she leaned forward, one forearm resting on the table.

”This past year has been difficult. We have tried to liberate smaller villages from the rule of the Wizard Queen, but she is clever. Anyone we instate is soon removed or bribed, and the village falls back under her rule once more.

“I've realized there's only so much we can do as two people. And, when we came across your correspondence, I saw an opportunity that I would be a fool to pass up. A noble of Ravenfell may be the key we need in turning the tide against the Wizard Queen, and finally setting things right…”

Ryllae offered a patient smile, ”You can ask me as many questions as you like. I would be inconsolable if your meal grew cold, though. I'll answer while we eat, and while we take a trip down to my cellar…”

That was when she passed her meal to Gervese, giving up the illusion that she actually ate. Whether it was to make her guests feel more at ease, or any other reason, it was unsure. Gervese didn't complain, dutifully finishing off a second bowl of stew and tea.

Soon, everyone had finished with lunch. Ryllae rose to remove the dishes and leftover bread, butter and cheese. Placing them on the counter, her hands wiped on her apron, turning back to face them. ”Shall we head to the cellar, good gentlemen and misses?”

Shutting the front door behind the group, Ryllae guided the group to the back of the cottage-like home. There was a a small double-door cellar entrance that Ryllae and Gervese opened, one door each.

Stepping down the dusty staircase revealed barrels of wine, cheese, and other canned goods. And, at the back of the small cellar, half hidden behind a barrel, was something that glowed. Ryllae nodded to Gervese, who gently shoved the barrel to the side.

There revealed was a jagged block of crystal with a glowing tunnel within it, just big enough for a person to enter if they crouched.

”A fairy gate.” Ryllae said, a hint of mischievousness in her soft tone as she glanced at Anton. ”Have you ever seen anything like this, my Lord?”

@Estylwen

---

Anton watched as Ryllae's butterflies fluttered before she leaned in and rested one forearm on the table.

”This past year has been difficult. We have tried to liberate smaller villages from the rule of the Wizard Queen, but she is clever. Anyone we instate is soon removed or bribed, and the village falls back under her rule once more.

I've realized there's only so much we can do as two people. And, when we came across your correspondence, I saw an opportunity that I would be a fool to pass up. A noble of Ravenfell may be the key we need in turning the tide against the Wizard Queen, and finally setting things right…”

As Ryllae spoke, memories of Evelyn in her previous life standing snidely in the shadow of DuRant came to the fore. She might not have been Ravenfellan, but she played the great games of court better than any other-- perhaps even better than DuRant. After all, he was dead and she was not.

When Ryllae mentioned him being 'a noble of Ravenfell', Anton scoffed at the thought. 'That at best qualifies me to be an ignorant foreigner in this land,' Anton replied remorsefully. 'I am the last living man from a kingdom of ghosts, which makes me very capable of dying. Forgive me if I doubt what you expect of me.'

His brow then furrowed. 'How exactly did you know I was from Ravenfell?' he asked, 'I avoided mentioning it in my letter to His Grace.'

”You can ask me as many questions as you like. I would be inconsolable if your meal grew cold, though. I'll answer while we eat, and while we take a trip down to my cellar…”

Anton acquiesced and continued eating. He then saw Ryllae pass her meal to Gervese, which made some sense. Anton still couldn't fathom Gervese feeding himself, though. It was almost comical, in some way.

When they were finished with lunch, Ryllae motioned that they head down to the cellar. After strapping his armour back in place, Anton followed Ryllae and Gervese, while Sylrael and Melodia remained close to his sides. Around the back of the cottage, Ryllae and Gervese opened one door each of a double door leading downward.

As they walked amongst the cellar's expected storage, Ryllae nodded to Gervese who moved aside a barrel and before them stood a jagged block of crystal with a glowing tunnel within it, just big enough for a person to enter if they crouched.

'What is this...?' Anton asked as he approached.

”A fairy gate. Have you ever seen anything like this, my Lord?”

Anton shook his head, feeling somewhat wary.

Sylrael, on the other hand, drew his bow and arrow. 'Once,' he uttered, uncharacteristically serious, 'Not something I'd keep beneath my house.'

_{@Andre Valias}

---

'How exactly did you know I was from Ravenfell? I avoided mentioning it in my letter to His Grace.'

Ryllae nodded gracefully. ”This isn't the entirety of the Order of the Looking Glass. We have people in each hold, and watching the border. You could say we pride ourselves on our… Political knowledge.”

Standing in front of the fairy gate, the air grew suddenly tense.

'Not something I'd keep beneath my house.'

Ryllae gave an easing gesture towards Sylrael. ”It's entirely safe, I assure you.”

She then turned to Gervese. ”Keep watch on the cellar, please.”

Gervese glanced down and nodded, standing a little straighter in his position beside the gate.

Ryllae nodded back, before whispering to one of her butterflies. It fluttered from her hair, taking its perch atop the gate. Satisfied, Ryllae turned to Anton and his companions.

”The Seeds are through this gate. I will go and retrieve them. You are welcome to remain here, My Lord. However, I assure you, it's quite the view.”

With that said, Ryllae gently stooped and stepped into the fairy gate. There was a shimmering flash of light, and she disappeared. Now, if Anton were to follow, he would enter into a field on the other side. The skies overhead were shades of purple, with rolling clouds of lavender that swirled. The fields themselves rolled with a slight wind, illuminating white, even the meadow poppies, even the stalks of grass. The colors of white over purple immediately gave this place an otherworldly charm.

Poking up from the grass and glade were little yellow eyes and little wispy figures. Small shades. Though, they did nothing more than stare.

Ryllae moved at a steady pace to a small thicket, moving past glowing white trees to a small clearing where Feathered Nightmares roosted. The large birds stirred slightly at her approach, but besides that held their peace, staring curiously. She slipped past the birds, edging deeper into the crowd, until she came face to face with a blue-tailed Feathered Nightmare, larger than the rest.

”Valokein. (Welcome.)” The bird rumbled, its voice, like air hissing against metal, spoke.

”Zu'u lost bo fah nii. (I have come for it.)” Ryllae said in response.

The Feathered Nightmare nodded, before stepping back. in its nest where it had been roosting, there was a lack of eggs. Instead, there was small, wooden chest. Ryllae stared for a moment, before reaching down, picking up the chest. She procured a key from the folds of her cotton dress, opening the chest. Her face lit up with the luminescent colors of the Seeds glimmering within. She seemed to count them for a moment, before she looked up at the bird.

”Nox hi. (Thank you.)” She said.

The bird gave a low nod of its head. The Seeds had been acquired.

@Estylwen

---

---

---

---

Though the air felt thick and strained with unease, Ryllae played the calm in the storm and bade Sylrael to relax. She then turned to Gervese, telling him to keep watch on the cellar, and he obeyed. She was quiet for a moment, then a butterfly flew from her form and perched on the gate.

”The Seeds are through this gate. I will go and retrieve them. You are welcome to remain here, My Lord. However, I assure you, it's quite the view.”

With that said, Ryllae gently stooped and stepped into the fairy gate. There was a shimmering flash of light, and she disappeared.

After a moment, Anton stepped forward to follow but halted when Sylrael gently tugged on his arm. '... Be wary, captain,' he whispered.

Anton stared at Sylrael's expression, marred with worry, before patting Syl's grasp and offering his leader's smile. 'Keep Gervese company until we return.'

Syl's anxiety was only somewhat abated, but it was enough to let his friend go. Anton stepped forward and mimicked Ryllae moments earlier, stooping as low as she had, and stepping through. The light that shimmered was much brighter up close, and Anton winced-- blinded for a few seconds.

He could feel a breeze that faintly licked between the seams in his armour. Anton opened his eyes slowly at first, then his eyes widened as he found himself in an otherworld of lavender. A seemingly endless field of grass and poppies that danced in the wind and shimmered white. Glimmering petals gracefully floated into the air. Anton stepped forward, seeing Ryllae moving at a steady pace a little ahead of him, but noticed little shadows and yellow eyes watching from the grass. They did nothing, otherwise, so Anton ignored them to catch up to Ryllae.

They approached a small thicket of glowing white trees, where great birds of this otherworld roosted. They stirred ever-so-slightly as they approached, perhaps bristled even at the clanking of Anton's armour, but otherwise stood by. Anton continued to follow Ryllae quietly as she made her way into their midst, until she stopped before the largest of these birds whose tail was coloured blue.

”Valokein.” The bird rumbled, its voice- like air hissing against metal- spoke.

”Zu'u lost bo fah nii.” Ryllae said in response.

Anton could only watch as the two conversed, looking like old friends who've not seen one another in a long while. The great bird then inclined its head, and stood back. Where it had been roosting was a nest with a small wooden chest. Ryllae took a moment before picking up the chest, and with a key retrieved from her dress she unlocked it. As she lifted the lid of the chest, Ryllae's face was illuminated by the prismatic array of Seeds glimmering within. Anton's own Seed seemed to grow warm beneath his chestplate. After a moment, Ryllae looked back up to the bird.

”Nox hi.” She said.

The bird gave a low nod of its head. Anton continued to remain quiet, following Ryllae's lead through this strange otherworld that he was entirely a stranger in.

As soon as they were outside of the thicket, Anton took the moment to ask his newest questions. 'Ryllae: what is this place, and who were they?'

Aubri had barely begun gathering the two children into a jog before he heard that familiar sound. The quiet ring of the negating bone blade against the fabric of magic. It was faint- some said it was non-existent, a popular sailor's tale and nothing more. But real or imagined, he heard it. The ringing of the quietest note as dream met lucidity. And all at once, where there had been a hundred faces, a hundred voices, a hundred streams of spitting acid- there was ash.

Aubri slowed himself, ever mindful of the pointed edge of the sword in his hand and the place of the two children. Wouldn't that be something- Amerigo saves the day and I accidentally chop off someone's finger.

While Amerigo interspersed himself between the arguing children, Aubri struggled to sheath his blade. The damned curved steel was something he never could get used to. But as he tried once, twice, three times to get the thing sorted, it gave him time to think.

The queen is not here.

And these children know the queen is not here.

The children know there is some kind of rebellion afoot- which is more than we knew while aboard the ship.

Opportunity for reconnoitering outside the looting and the depths of the fire had presented itself. Best take the ship that was at port rather than waiting for another in whatever condition it might be in.

"I think taking shelter inside is wise and prudent. But we should be prepared to move at a moment's notice," Aubri said, giving Amerigo a knowing look. "One never knows which way the winds blow and where they may take the flames. Please, show us to this Lady Vernon."

---

"Oh, good, you did manage to keep out of the way of all...that..."

If he was relieved at seeing that Anabel hadn't gotten hurt during the fight, any recognition of that relief went away as his tone shifted into a dubious rise at seeing her reaction. Seeing the girl worried almost to tears, after how she'd dealt with nearly getting kidnapped or speaking face to face with the queen, was about as far from his expectation as could be possible. "Yes, well, you know how it is. The queen asks, we have to follow. I'm sure you would've been more excited by everything down there."

Leaning the now-sheathed sword against his legs on the deck, he finally pulled off the necklace that had been placed on his neck, the pearls and mother-of-pearl shells gleaming in the sunlight. "Would you like this?" he asked, holding it towards the short girl. Easier just to push on ahead than to keep wondering why she was getting so worked up when she'd barely known him for more than a week. "It's not really my sort of thing, anyways—I'm more interested in what I just heard Vulluin saying. Raiden couldn't manage to run this time, eh?"

_{@The Otter}

---

Anabel perked up at the offering of a necklace. She hastily dried her eyes, trying to remember her decorum as a noble, as she took the offered necklace. Placing it around her neck, she played with the pearls, clearly in love with it.

”Thank you. I suppose I'll forgive you for disappearing and risking your life for Her Majesty.” She said with a nod.

Vulluin had moved away from the Queen, who had returned to her quarters. His elvish ears pricked, and he laid his eyes on Callum, staring for a moment.

”Well, Her Majesty appears to trust you. Why don't you see if you can get anything out of the Sparrow, while we make our way home?” He said, gesturing to the Swiftsure.

Sure enough, just across the waters, Raiden was getting hoisted out of the water, a number of swords leveled at him. He didn't resist as his hands were bound, and the ships were brought closer together, laying down a gang plank. He was escorted down to the brig on the Battle-Blood Minstrel. And, with a double-check to ensure Jikoryss was secured tight in the water, all ships began to make their way home.

***

Down in the brig, Raiden sat in the floor of a locked cage, hands still bound in front of him. His head was leaned against the wall, and the way he sat was relaxed, almost casual, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Softly, he whistled under his breath. Anyone who knew the tune knew it was a song that those who were imprisoned unjustly sang before their execution.

---

_{@Andre Valias}

---

'Ryllae: what is this place, and who were they?'

Ryllae glanced over as they walked back through the white meadow and grasses. Her lips pursed into a small smile.

”Dremora's Shade. The Otherworld. Where shades of all types and designs live and reside.

“The birds you saw are called Feathered Nightmares. They like to stick in groups, and have a close connection with certain humans. Most would consider them a curse - they eat human years, after all.”

Her footsteps slowed to a stop. They were in the center of the field now. Tiny shades peeped out from the grasses, eyeing them. She paid them no mind, though, as she turned to Anton. With that small smile on her face, she presented the box and its key to him, bowing her head respectfully.

”Your Seeds, my Lord. You'll be able to do your transaction with Duke Rhinecliff and his representative effectively now.”

She held that position, waiting for him to take the Seeds.

---

_{@AWildSquirtle, @HereComesTheSnow}

---

Raguelie's went wide like saucers when Amerigo brought down the sword. Erfir too, shared the same shocked expression, though his was not as apparent. He, after all, didn't have his arms in the way of a blade.

"But remember how that eyesore found us to begin with, claro? The wind carries voices. Theirs and ours both."

The fear of the All-force put into Raguelie, she promptly, and very carefully, let go of Erfir. The last thing she wanted was one of those monsters find thing them again. She could put her fury to the side, for now. Amerigo was very convincing, after all. Her hands dropped, and she stepped back, eyeing his blade.

"Now then, allow me to make something clear. Signore Aubri and myself are not pirates. I am in fact paid to cut pirates down…

The interests of the Most Serene Republic are represented through him— and its' protection through me.”

The news had two different effects on the children. Erfir allowed his disappointment to cross his face, ”Wait, you're not actually pirates…?” It seemed he had hyped himself quite a bit over that possibility.

Raguelie, on the other hand, mouthed the Signore bit. She was trying to get a feel for the hierarchy system in this Most Serene Republic, before an embarrassed blush crossed her face, and her eyes snapped wide.

Quickly, she gave a low bow, forcing her hand on Erfir's head to do the same. ”Please forgive us,” She said frantically. ”We didn't realize you were nobles from afar, on business, no less. I fear we have given you a terrible impression of Hathforth.”

"I think taking shelter inside is wise and prudent. But we should be prepared to move at a moment's notice. One never knows which way the winds blow and where they may take the flames. Please, show us to this Lady Vernon."

Raguelie straightened, nodding hastily. ”Of course, I'll take you.”

—

Raguelie, with Erfir in tow, led the group to the castle. They passed by raging fires, and the hazardous smoke caused Raguelie to cough up a storm. Hiding behind an abandoned carriage to avoid a second confrontation with a Shade on the loose, the group eventually made it across the open drawbridge and to the inner courtyard of the castle.

The castle itself was towering and majestic, untouched by the fire, red tiling on its roofs and window glinting in the firelight.

”Not much further, come on!” Raguelie said, excitement in her voice as she went at a half-running pace to the massive front double doors.

”Hey, wait up!” Erfir called back, huffing as he stumbled after her. He still held the coin purse of Amerigo's tightly in his little fist, careful not to drop it.

The group entered the front doors past the guards, who seemed entirely unmoved. Perhaps they recognized Raguelie. Regardless, the group was allowed passage in, and the throne room was bustling with refugees. From nobles to peasants, they stood or sat somewhere in the throne room (except for the throne itself, of course). Some cowered in fear, others comforted friends and family.

Raguelie pushed past them, marching right into a left-side passageway that led to what appeared to be a war room. There was a massive map of the province on one table. However, the one that had gathered the heads of state was a secondary table deeper in that had a detailed map of Hathforth stretched across it.

Raguellie walked past the adults, standing on her tiptoes to try and see past them,until she found the one she was looking for. A woman dressed in armor and a cape, her ashy dark hair flowing in tresses as she poured over the map. Almost every voice at the table was speaking to her, and it looked like she was absorbing all the words as well as study the map.

A pat-pat on her thigh caused the woman to look down. Raguelie was there, offering a curtsy before smiling wide, ”Lady Courtesy, I have brought guests from the MSR!”

The Countess stared for a moment, glanced at Amerigo and Aubri, before whispering a short word to one of the knights poured over the map beside her. He nodded and took over the heated debate, while Elysabeth stepped aside.

She reached down and embraced Raguelie, ”Blessing of the All-Force, it's good to see you.” Raguelie giggled in response.

Before Elysabeth stood again, and gave a polite bow of her head, ”Representatives of the MSR, on behalf of Her Majesty I welcome you. As you can see, we are currently under attack. However, I assure you, I'll be finding who's responsible and enacting justice.”

Raguelie patted the Countess’ thigh again, and Elysabeth stooped as the angelite whispered in her ear. Elysabeth frowned momentarily, before her eyes darted to Amerigo.

Then Raguelie stepped back and Elysabeth have the two representatives her attention. ”What business is it that brings you here today?”

As Elyzabeth asked, Raguelie rolled her eyes, ”Erfir, stop hiding.”

Erfir peeked out behind Amerigo, clearly uncomfortable with being in the den of dragons.

@Estylwen

---

"Dremora's Shade. The Otherworld. Where shades of all types and designs live and reside."

'Dremora's Shade?' Anton looked around them, 'It's a little less shady than I imagined.'

“The birds you saw are called Feathered Nightmares. They like to stick in groups, and have a close connection with certain humans. Most would consider them a curse - they eat human years, after all.”

Anton perked up at that last point she made on them, his eyes a little wider. 'Well,' Anton began afterward, relaxing a little, 'All things considered, they were rather cordial.' It hadn't been the first time Anton had wandered into a situation of the supernatural so ignorantly and emerged unscathed, though he wish it weren't such an occurrence.

He continued to follow Ryllae, glancing about the Shade with a newfound curiosity. He had heard tales, of course, but the only people who spoke of the Shade were god-fearing men of the All-Force. And very oft, they told their tales very VERY loudly. Something something demons. Something something root of all evil.

But perhaps it was good to have one such perspective in mind. Anton watched as glimmering petals skittered past his eye line, and his inherent expectations of the Shade washed away. It was beautiful, in truth. But then Anton wondered if this was but one aspect of the Shade.

Ryllae's footsteps slowed to a stop. They were in the center of the glimmering field now, just near the portal of the Fairy Gate. Tiny shades peeped out from the grasses, eyeing them. Ryllae paid them no mind, though, and so Anton paid them no mind either. Ryllae turned to him, and with that small smile on her face, she presented the box and its key to Anton, bowing her head respectfully.

”Your Seeds, my Lord. You'll be able to do your transaction with Duke Rhinecliff and his representative effectively now.”

Anton bowed his head respectfully in turn, as he lifted the burden of the key and chest from Ryllae.
'My sincere thanks, Miss Evoek,' Anton thanked, 'for this, and the experience. It has been quite illuminating.' He cast a look to the lavender horizon one more time, eyes passing over the white thicket in the distance.

He then wondered something- a flicker of vain hope- but kept it to himself.

Anton turned back to Ryllae, beckoning for her to lead on once more as they went back through the Fairy Gate.

---

---

Anton sat, cross-legged, in his room quietly. Syl and Melodia had taken to their own rooms on either side of his. The chest was tucked safely away, and the key in his pocket. Anton had then stripped himself of his armour and changed back into his plainclothes, before taking the moments of respite he had to collect himself and compose what he was going to say.

Only one candle was lit in the darkness of his room, sitting on the dresser in front of him. Anton needed only to focus on the flicker of the candlelight and tune out the faint din of the tavern bellow. He took a deep breath, and watched as the flame curled and danced in the slight draft sighing beneath the crack of his closed door. As he focused, he cast his mind through the fire like it were a window.

It took him back to Marceilles, his anchor. From it, two days ride to the west was the Rosen City of Kings: Athroyeaux. Up the steps and into the White Palace, he could see in its vast and empty hall the Throne of Ravenfell at the end. The red-and-gold of the throne was draped with black-and-white, the colours of House DuFairre. In its nestle, King Lamont sat. Not in his shaded ruin, but in the glory of his prime when they were younger.

For the purposes of this spell, it mattered not. All that mattered was that it was the same person. And Anton always imagined it like this- it brought him small comfort.

Lamont, I have found new allies. Rhinecliff is my next point of call.

Anton held onto the vision for a few moments longer, but knew better than to expect a response. Lamont and the White Palace melted away into oblivion. Left in it's place was the Ghost King and his forlorn court, just before it all faded away.

Anton was back in his room once more. The candle had been snuffed by the draft, leaving him in darkness save for the light creeping beneath his closed door. His hand clutched the White Flower as his heart sagged with sorrow, and he could not tell which of the two was heaviest. He resigned himself and retired to his rest for the night.