[@ERode][@AThousandCurses]

[b][h3]BLUE CARRIAGE, NORTHERN NERO ROAD[/h3][/b]

"So many inquiries," Fianchetto would murmur as he looked towards Otis, thumbing the corner of his book. His eyes would scan the Strigidae a moment, then another, and once more, the questions cycling through his mind and gauging intent as he did so. There was, after all, not many reasons to wonder such things, was there? Curiosity had to be sated, the old man supposed, and it was up to him at this moment. With a reluctant glare, he nodded and spoke.

"Vaal Shakta is not a place of Astrite faith - or not one that requires it, strictly speaking. It is... a place of cynics that have long since moved beyond the whimsy of discovery, perhaps. A place where, to researchers, facts are the only language necessary, and theses their lives. An 'interested party' would be one of the various government magi, whether that be faculty at Strigari or one sworn in through the proper legal channels as a Strigari alumnus, or... one that Headmaster Gorias Velyphus finds intriguing enough to handwave as an exception to the law. The research is often kept very close to the chest, depending on the researcher pursuing their thesis. They're generally more open about the study of Umbralism, in the capital - or, rather, the study of its ideology, its scripture, and of its decline. Spells and rituals from the faith are, of course, still quite illegal there."

Once more cracking open the book to a different page, Fianchetto rummages through to set his eyes upon his novel instead, hesitant to continue. Nevertheless, he would grumble, "I have only heard rumors of true Umbralism, but yes, I do believe that certain magi are entrusted with the examination of Umbralist creations. Actual Umbralists, I do not know; but yes, some among them were known to alter their biology through rituals. That was the reason, after all, why the Dysis Monstrum was formed to bring some sects to their knees so many years ago. Such as the creation of shadow lycans through the perversion and corruption of the lycanthropy disease, which of course led to the purging of all werecreatures at the hands of the Dysis Monstrum. A gruesome affair."

With a shudder, the old man would shake his head and once more begin immersing himself in the book he held. He would undoubtedly answer further questions if prodded, though seemed increasingly withdrawn the more he explained of Umbralism - or perhaps the capital's approach to life? It was unclear. Maybe both served to create a cocktail of doubt in the elderly mage. "Some say at least one lycanthrope of the original, non-Umbralist variant still exists in the capital, though," he would mutter as he flipped a page.

Davil looked over with concern towards Chunji. At first he seemed to try to reach over to pat him on the shoulder, but realized that while locked in place in the middle of the carriage, he could go nowhere. Instead, he awkwardly slid his hand back to brush over his own hair and chuckle, coughing a few times, and then gesturing towards the boy. "You good there, Chunji? You're not in rebound or anything, right? Got enough sleep? Enough... rest?"

Rio would chuckle darkly shortly after, and slap Davil on the shoulder, producing next to no reaction from the wheelchair-bound boy. "He'll be fine. If he lost out on any Z's, it's his own damn fault for his stuck-up anti-fizz lectures," Rio would scoff as he pulled out a can of Feemie's Fizzy Fun, cracking it open and taking a swig. "Besides, there's no difference between sleep and rest, that's redundant. Should've just saved your breath."

"Mmm... I-I dunno," Davil would respond after a beat, brow furrowing in thought as he looked towards the carriage ceiling. "I've had non-restful sleep before, and I've walked away rested from situations without sleeping before. It's a [i]kinda[/i] important distinction at least, right?"

Rio would exchange a glare with Davil, eyes locked a moment as if in silent judgment, and at least on Rio's part, he would drop the subject unless others were to bring it up - he had fizz to drink.

After some amount of hours on the road and further discussion, regardless, the carriage would slow to a stop. Kann would peek out one of the windows out of curiosity.

[hr]

[@Estylwen][@Psyker Landshark]

[b][h3]RED CARRIAGE, NORTHERN NERO ROAD[/h3][/b]

Alto shifted in his seat, adjusting his scabbard. "I think that kind of responsibility is really important, Kyrios. Not just for what it represents to the nation, but that we have the privilege of living in a country that hands out its blessings so freely to the worthy. The leyline we live upon, draw from and feast upon? The blessing of the ocean air, from a long-deceased hero taken before his time? That Astra itself claims the Neroite cathedral as its birthplace, in this new age we live in? Just compare that to a place like Rekordia, or even Mirris."

His gaze downcast, in thought, he continued. "Rekordia, where the north suffers from scalding sands and where the south freezes under an eternal tempest. Barren landscapes from essence harvesting and usage as the result of an empire of over a thousand years. The first nation, chosen as the birthplace of mortalkind. Now they fight for scraps like rabid dogs, the northern sultans and southern tsars in eternal war as they each dine upon their own hubris."

Sighing, his rant continued, spiraling without realizing. "And Mirris, the kingdom of heroes. Glorified conquerors, stuck in the traditional ways of old knighthood, content to perfect their martial prowess with spear or sword with the abundance of essence at their disposal. Much as Rekordia once did, or so history tells us, but they don't see it yet. They expand, they conquer, they... take. And with their four Stalwara and the hero king of the Golden Year, now, who can tell them otherwise?"

A long exhale, as if Alto had been meaning to get that off his chest for some time, followed. He finally looked towards Iraleth once more, with a steeled gaze. "Just try to remember all that the next time you think about the so-called burden of corsairs, Kyrios. No country is perfect, but I'll take the words and blades of Nero's sea-blessed before I ever accept Mirrisian or Rekordian zealots. A single one of the Stalwara could likely ash our nation, so I refuse to believe the weight of a corsair is too great. Things like them, things like the students of Wingram, Ethos-based education, it's all... necessary, to keep this country safe."

The instructor's head would then turn towards Ciara, hand still gripped on his scabbard as he rested it on his shoulder. "Rest assured, it'd be quick if I ended you. There's no desire in me for theatrics, I'd take no joy in it. Just don't give me a reason, alright? I'd rather not have to explain myself to the Court later. I'd prefer you face judgment at the hands of those geezers rather than from me. They'll not sing songs of how a grown-ass swordsman cut down an Umbralist fledgling," Alto would chuckle.

Chloe remained silent through all this, looking out one of the carriage's side windows as the road passed by. Her torso leaned away from everyone else, lost in her own world out the window of the carriage. She looked towards the boys' carriage on the other side, chin leaning on her palm as she simply zoned out.

After some hours of travel on the road and further discussion, however, the carriage would slow to a complete stop. Alto would begin to move towards the doors to investigate.