Hugh – Basilmeron Castle
As the two departed from the throne room, the man stretched his shoulders and gave what he hoped looked like a supportive smile. With so many scars, looking comradely wasn't an easy task, but it was one set up for him out of necessity. After all, the prestigious ruler of Bravura had named him as the captain of the Reclaimers of Peace; it would be necessary to give off the appearance of confidence, trustworthiness, and openness at every turn, and if there was anything a former actor was good at, it was keeping up appearances.
“Honestly, I think that went rather well,” he informed the woman walking beside him, who called herself Jeanne. “Normally the Basileus is very strict with criminals. Not easy to make a thief into a protagonist, but he seemed aptly convinced. Must have been your lines about 'symbolic value of acceptance and reconciliation.' I must tell you though, I will be keeping an eye out, but I hope I have nothing to fear.”
The two navigated a flight of stairs and breezed out the castle's main entrance. In the courtyard stood twelve people. To call them warriors would have been inaccurate, for some were pacifistic. To call them soldiers would have been an overstatement, for some still had yet to respect the weight of command. To call them diplomats, even though their mission was of peace, would be to grossly underestimate their propensity for violence. They, Hugh acknowledged with no small sense of pride, were Reclaimers.
Once Jeanna had joined them, Hugh stood before the group and clapped his hands for attention. Once this was attained, he began to speak. “Well then! The stage is set, the cast has arrived, and the curtains are about to be drawn. Some of you have been designated Reclaimers for more than a week as plans were made, supplies gathered, and allies rallied, and some of you just got here. No matter! However raw we might seem, we're now united in purpose. You all have a twenty-minute intermission to get to know one another, should you so choose, while I round up the convoy for travel. Then, we're off to the riverlands!” Giving a slight bow, Hugh pulled back and headed in the direction of the stables, where the horses were waiting to be hitched to the Reclaimers' storage wagon.
Sanguin – Basilmeron Castle Courtyard
A pair of bloodshot hazel eyes watched him go. Sanguin was a bit out of sorts; the night before, she'd joined a revelry in the castle town in the spirit of celebrating the eve of her mission's start, but as always a little too much wine had been imbibed. With her crimson wolf mask tucked beneath her arm, she kneaded her scalp with the other hand, wishing that she'd had the foresight to grab a skin of water.
She tried to distract herself from the headache by thinking about the road ahead. Even for a mage-profuse miniature army, stopping a war wasn't easy. The thought that some outside force was manipulating events, keeping the kingdoms of Panoply and Bravura pitted against one another even when they both longed for peaceful coexistence, made her sick. The promise of cutting whoever was responsible down the middle, however, and watching their blood run down her obsidian blade, made her almost eager. Wait...no. There was Sanguin again, not the person but the persona, inside her head. If it was just a voice it would be easy to pinpoint, ignore, and progress onward, but the wolf made itself evident in her feelings and instincts...things not so easily pushed aside.
Sanguin began to massage her eyes instead, hoping that the sensation would at least partially drown out her other pains. Interaction with her fellow Reclaimers, while not expressly spurned, would not be initiated by her.
