Exalted: Age of Sorrows (IC)

[Luminesa]

Medi Munkii

Medi finally awoke, feeling soothing warmth running through his body. His eyes opened to the nothingness he is used to. But he felt invigorated, at least partly. He breathed in deeply, and used the small amount of essense that he had built back up to activate his senses. He focused, allowing himself to scan the room by the disturbances in the air. He sensed the cot he was laying on. He sensed the others that joined him, several of them he could hear groaning in pain. He sensed the man just above him in cleric's robes. The cleric was looking down at him as he checked Medi's condition. Medi smiled for a moment. He remembered the beach and the soldiers who helped him. He did not sense Azrellia in the room, which worried him, but he believed her to be safe.

"Hey, Doc!" Medi said enthusiastically as he suddenly sat up on his cot. He looked the cleric right in the eyes as he spoke, the hauntingly grey but joyous eyes peering at the man, making it hard to guess that Medi were actually blind. "How am I doing? I feel pretty good, so you must do great work!"

Azrellia

Azrellia, a spirit of friendship is one that never wishes to harm anyone if she doesn't have to. Especially not a new potential friend. but in her weakened and borderline battered state, she is not even conscious of the fact that she is siphoning energy from Gregor as she rests by him. her smoke like form gradually thickening and turning deeper shades of grey. She remains unconscious for a time, but being in the presence of a Dragon-Blooded, allows her to heal and regain strength more swiftly than she would be able to otherwise. Her unconscious mind is filled with a plethora of dream like thoughts. Most of them return to Medi, and her hope for his well being. The few that are not are ones of anger and hatred, towards the being that attacked them. The memory of the blue glow and the scream makes her shiver in her slumber.

Medi the Stowaway

“AH! Oh! You’re awake! This is good.” The cleric taking care of Medi was shocked to see Medi suddenly jolt in the bed. The man’s face lit with an enthusiastic grin, which assured the doctor that he was at least feeling happy. He did not seem to have any other wounds either, leading him to think that he had just suffered exhaustion.

“Yes, it seems as if you’ve suffered some exhaustion and some superficial wounds, but those will heal nicely. One of our respected young Clerics left these ointments, which heal minor wounds.” The cleric showed Medi the ointments, but when he saw his eyes, he realized he was blind. He took the man’s hand, and he let him feel the jar. Smooth, with the scent of sweet-grass.

The doctor then put away the ointment, and coughed. “Yes, it seems you will be fine, as shall your friend. One of our generals has been trying to accelerate her healing, from what a soldier has told me. He has quite the experience with sorcery. We’ll also make sure to look over her,” he explained.

Gregor - Sleeping By Spirits

The Mahajan Noble felt some aching and creaking in his body. Though Gregor had not fought today, and had only ordered his men around, he felt as if he had spent the day chopping through the necks of Orcs. He groaned and rubbed his neck, before grabbing his pipe and giving it a long puff. He noted that Azrellia’s form was healing and reshaping quickly. “...Hm...perhaps the Magic is working...and she is also draining my own Magic...lovely...”

He thought about dumping her with a Cleric, who maybe could risk to give her some of their life-force. At the same time, Azrellia was healing faster in Gregor’s care, and would continue to heal rapidly as long as she stayed near him. He only hoped she would finish soon, as he needed to sleep and to make sure he had the Magic necessary for an imminent lengthy battle.

[Antimersia]

Medi Munkii

Medi picked up the jar of ointment. He scoops out a healthy amount with three fingers and begins to apply it generously to some of the parts of his torso that are sore. He pops up off the bed to his feet. He walks around the room, observing things with his senses. He notices that Azrellia and this general the cleric spoke of aren't in the room with them. He turns to the cleric, looking directly at him with the accuracy one would never expect of someone without sight. "Hey doc, I'm not sensing Azrellia anywhere in this room. I don't sense that general either. Not unless your generals wear clerics robes that is." Medi says with a hearty laugh at the end. "Where can I find them? I really wanna make sure she's alright." he adds.

The cleric, seemingly confused by Medi's perceptions despite his lack of sight, informs Medi where Gregor's chambers are. Warning Medi that it likely isn't a good idea to interrupt the general. He also offers Medi an escort, but he declines, thanking the cleric for his help before leaving the room and making his way towards Gregor's chambers. With his sense restored navigating is no struggle for Medi in the slightest. Within a few minutes he is standing on the outside of Gregor's chambers. The large door makes it difficult to use his sense to see the inside of the room. But it is strong enough that he can make out the vague shape of two figures. One laying down, and one sitting in a chair. Medi can make an easy guess as to which of these two is which. Medi, not wanting to be rude to the people who have so graciously helped him and Azrellia, knocks on the large chamber door, waiting to be invited in. "Mr. General guy? I'm Medi, I think you have my friend in there." He calls out, announcing himself.

[Luminesa]

Medi Munkii

Medi picked up the jar of ointment. He scoops out a healthy amount with three fingers and begins to apply it generously to some of the parts of his torso that are sore. He pops up off the bed to his feet. He walks around the room, observing things with his senses. He notices that Azrellia and this general the cleric spoke of aren't in the room with them. He turns to the cleric, looking directly at him with the accuracy one would never expect of someone without sight. "Hey doc, I'm not sensing Azrellia anywhere in this room. I don't sense that general either. Not unless your generals wear clerics robes that is." Medi says with a hearty laugh at the end. "Where can I find them? I really wanna make sure she's alright." he adds.

The cleric, seemingly confused by Medi's perceptions despite his lack of sight, informs Medi where Gregor's chambers are. Warning Medi that it likely isn't a good idea to interrupt the general. He also offers Medi an escort, but he declines, thanking the cleric for his help before leaving the room and making his way towards Gregor's chambers. With his sense restored navigating is no struggle for Medi in the slightest. Within a few minutes he is standing on the outside of Gregor's chambers. The large door makes it difficult to use his sense to see the inside of the room. But it is strong enough that he can make out the vague shape of two figures. One laying down, and one sitting in a chair. Medi can make an easy guess as to which of these two is which. Medi, not wanting to be rude to the people who have so graciously helped him and Azrellia, knocks on the large chamber door, waiting to be invited in. "Mr. General guy? I'm Medi, I think you have my friend in there." He calls out, announcing himself.

Gregor - Who Could it Be Now?

Gregor continued to feel fatigue as he gave his energy to Azrellia, but he let himself pay no mind. He found a bottle of thick, blood-red wine, and poured himself some. If he was going to be tired, he was going to be stylish as well. He smoked his pipe for a few moments, and then took a sip of his wine. "Ahh...At least this day is almost over. Perhaps...I can manage to help with fortifications tomorrow. We're going to need some sort of Magical Wards, something they will not expect. But I'll have to make those when I can take some time to myself...Perhaps Shi and Eugeni...or even...Lady Zara...can lend a hand to such a plan..." He hated the idea of asking Zara for help, but if she was good at anything other than battle, she was good at Magic and sorcery.

He walked around the room, keeping an eye on Azrellia's form as she was reshaping. He had not watched a lot of ghosts in recent times, though he had seen them many times in the past. His private studies had led him down some dark corners of the realm, including some dark ethereal realms. Such visions had left scars on his soul, but he embraced those scars. They gave him the experience necessary to care for spirits and for other otherworldly beings. He took another long sip of his wine, and sighed. "Who knows what I'm going to have to witness in the next hundred years...Our land seems to be floating in a sea of uneasy peace. I wonder what we shall see once those waters become stormy..."

A knock on the door interrupted his ruminations, and he turned toward it. The loud rapping was just a bit annoying, but he expected that perhaps some soldier required his help. He opened the door, and as he brought his pipe to his lips, he noticed the man Navid had brought into his midst not too long ago. He was now quite perky, his posture bright and spry, and his grin enormous. Gregor studied him for a moment before answering him. "And so...you are the young man that my lieutenant brought into Lethlinberg. I see...you have had no problems recovering from your injuries. My name is General Gregor Azar Zohan Mahajan. You may refer to me as General Gregor or General Majahan. Or Lord Gregor, or Lord Mahajan. Pick your poison. Now...I am going to guess that this ghost is your friend?"

Medi had rather large eyes, which were a milky grey full of wonder and excitement. Gregor was not startled, but he was surprised to see that a blind man had managed to rush all the way into the Western District with almost no help. "...If you walk inside, about fifteen steps, your ghostly companion is resting on the floor within a ring of Magic. It will not harm you, unless you have ill intentions. I would be interested, however, in knowing how exactly you got all the way here, once you are settled...and if you're not set aflame."

[Luminesa]

The Prancing Squirrel - Why You Wanna Hurt Me?

The soldier stared at her, and then looked back to his friends. Clear as day, Silisia could not want less to do with him, but clarity is hard to find with beer goggles. The men seemed to nod to him, as if they were goading him to do something possibly quite stupid. Only one managed to take notice of the Vai soldiers in the room, but they said nothing. The soldier talking to Silisia continued to pay attention to her, unwarranted or not. He paid for another drink, though the barkeeper gave him a suspicious look as he went to dig for the liquor.

"If you touch her, I'm cutting you off. We're not tolerating that, sir," the man warned. He squared his shoulders and gave a look to the bouncers at the door. When he gazed back at the drunk in question, he waited for a confirmation that he had heard him.

The man hiccupped, and then hiccupped and burped at the same time. "Ahhhhhhhhh the doctor always said it feels sure good to get it...ALLLLLLL out before you go to bed...thanks, barkeep. You're the father I always wanted," he slurred, with a stupid grin on his face.

The barkeeper looked a slight bit uncomfortable, but nodded. "Take your drink and go sit down in that booth. Understood?" The soldier barely made it to the booth and put his rum on the table, before his head smacked the edge of the table and he fell into the booth, legs straight-up like uncooked pasta. The tender sighed, and gave Silisia a sympathetic look, before another soldier walked toward the bar. "May I help you?"

He looked back to the same group, which gave the bartender a bit of a pause. "Uhhhhh yes, sir, I'd...like a shot of some of that pale ale right there," he said, pointing with a noodly finger toward Silisia.

Silisia - The Prancing Squirrel

Silisia looked to the Barkeep as he warded off the first man and flashed him a genuine smile of appreciation, that smile turning to rot as another man from the same group of Mahajan soldiers sauntered up to the bar. He came uncomfortably close to Silisia, closer than the first man, and she tensed up her muscles to lash out at him as he pointed to her drink.

"I'm going to finish this drink and then leave, this is getting annoying," She muttered under he breath, looking at the half empty cup she was holding. She tipped it up and a third of the remaining liquid dissapeared into her mouth. She kept her eyes on the new drunk beside her as she drank, always keep her hand on the heavy wooden cup that would serve as a decent improvised weapon should it come to that. "You're a little close for comfort and you aren't so easy on the nose, mind giving me back my personal space?" She said to the drunk, once again swiveling half way in her seat to face him.

The Prancing Squirrel - In Da Club

The soldier smirked at her, as if her words had fallen on ears caught underwater-and under copious amounts of liquor. He was a bit unsteady, and was propping an elbow against the countertop. The barkeeper was keeping an eye on him, frowning severely and occasionally eyeing the bouncers. He was a few seconds from flagging them for help, until another soldier walked over and began to try and pull him away. "Hey, look, she doesn't want any. Maybe you need to come sit and-"

Given that the drunken troop did not even know who had grabbed his shoulder, and that he was also getting both dizzy and frustrated, he bolted to his feet a little fast. The bouncers jumped to high alert, as they saw the drunken soldier lob a punch at the other man. The less-intoxicated man tried to block his face, shocked at the sudden attack. "Hey! Watch it! Now hold it right there, I'm one of your-" He flinched back as a fist almost clocked his nose, and the other Mahajan soldiers stood to try and help stop the fight.

"GUARDS!" The barkeeper yelled to the bouncers, who began to head toward the ruckus. More Mahajan soldiers were circling to try and peel away the aggressive troop. Shouting, shoving, and shuffling filled the room, as the bouncers tried to reach the troublemaker and to throw him out of the inn. Ledaal soldiers who were hanging around had also joined to try and calm the room, given they had not gotten as drunk as some of Mahajan's men. All the while, Silisia got to watch these men attempt to avert a disaster.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

"A toast to the victory at Lethlinburg!"

Aerion rolled his eyes and raised a glass of rich plum wine at the braying of one of his senior officers. The drink was sweet and smooth and warmed Aerion as he surveyed his servants. They had been housed in one of Lethlinburg's smaller halls within the castle yet it still comfortably seated the 100 or so senior officers and close companions of his. Flickering lanterns cast reddish colours across the tables of the assembled host. At the bottom sat the officers, above them on a raised dais at the front of the hall sat Aerion's closest advisors - his brother Lucien, in his mid-thirties by now, a seasoned officer who'd marched with the Burgundy Legion and was well regarded in military circles, his cavalry officer the young and dashing Courtnay Lightrose who was said to be the fastest horse rider in The Realm, the icy Jacarys Longbow, an exalted himself who scarcely spoke a word unless he was in a command tent were just a few of them. Above them all sat Aerion on a table by himself, gazing over his host.

Between the tables moved serving girls, all smiling, some fake some real. At the back played the musicians who sprung up in times of war like mushrooms in the rain. Nimble Dick played the lute whilst Cho Yung sang. A few dogs were diving and fighting over discarded scraps of meat. One of his sergeants had hauled a dancing bear in at the beginning of the feast, saying he'd seen it cheer up the men in the barracks. Aerion's guards had stripped the man, clasped him in irons, and given him to the bear's owner to go dancing through the icy streets. Aerion could tolerate dogs but not a giant hairy thing like that when it got the scent of meat.

The image of the man with tears freezing on his cheeks, his nose blackening and falling off with frostbite filled his mind and a happy smile came across his lips for the first time all day. his finished his final course of iced blackberries in thick cream. He'd brought his own cooks and some of his own provisions from home. They had started with a soup thick with leeks, carrots, barley, and turnips white and yellow, along with clams and chunks of cod and crabmeat, swimming in a stock of heavy cream and butter washed down with beer made from rice, honey and grapes. This was followed by quails in honey, then a saddle of lamb, goose livers drowned in wine, buttered parsnips, and finally suckling pig in honey and mustard. The meal had been acceptable.

His officers wore simple white robes with black ermines, and different men and women had chosen different styles to represent his house's fox. Most wore brooches or badges with the fox's head, some wore sashes of orange, one woman had lined her sleeves and neckline with fox-fur in an attempt to impress. Aerion was once again alone in this, wearing the heavy war armour of his ancestors. A steel helmet with an orange plume sitting atop his brow. He had intended for it to be a message: I am armed and armoured you are not. I can go and pluck you from your chair and disembowel you and they will pretend they do not see. Instead, he had mostly found that it made his muscles ache and restricted his movement.

He had worn the armour since earlier that day, where he'd controlled the battlefield from the castle's great hall surrounded by his personal guard. A glorious victory had been won they said. The rebels had been flung from the battlements and sent scurrying off in a defeat they'd not soon forget. However the overall commander Zara Azairya Vai, an inexperienced lordling; had failed to press the advantage, allowing for a thoroughly thrashed and demoralised enemy to return to their camps and lick their wounds. House Brightwater had suffered only minor casualties, with the great majority held in a reserve which was never committed. Instead, their archers who manned the battlements bore the thick of the fighting.

The army had been cajoled back into the city of tents and makeshift barracks they occupied, not taking part in the demeaning physical labour some of the other households engaged in by trying to rebuild the city. Aerion had half a mind to join them, bored with the feast that had finished anyway. He rose and walked down to the floor. he could see his brother standing and bowing out of the corner of his eye and smirked. When Aerion was 10 a cat belonging to some peasant that his mother used to feed milk every night had snuck into their mansion. Only mother was away at court so Aerion had greeted it with a knife. he's sliced 2 of its legs off and laughed as it hobbled around the room. Lucien had heard the screaming and hit him so hard 2 of his teeth flew out. Maybe I'll take your hands dear brother it's illegal to strike a Dragon Prince. or maybe I'll take your legs and watch you hobble like the cat. His legs pulled him away and he gave a dazzling smile to his officers, tossing a few silver to each singer as he and his guards entered the winter air.

Snowflakes gently tumbled down as he greeted his men. They occupied their time in different ways. Some trained, some gambled, he saw some carrying women on their shoulders and wrestling, some were mending old wounds. They were unwashed, unintelligent brutes. He reflected, gazing at their beady close-set eyes. But he gave them smiles, clasped their backs, asked about fat wives and ugly children, gave them advice on handling their swords. He gave them nothing. empty courtesies and they were happy to lay down their lives.

The end of his walk brought him to the Great Hall where the Vai Matriarch had made her lair. He turned to return to his quarters before reconsidering and approaching the entrance. He had been dutifully following orders, but if what he'd heard was true he was not sure he could follow an incompetent on blind faith. He needed to get to know what she had planned and measure if it was perhaps not better to take command for himself. He approached the guards outside and decided against gutting them like fish.

"You can see my banner, you know who I am. I mean to meet with Her Royal Highness and discuss the battle in greater detail." the honorific felt heavy and bitter on his tongue but he chose to be polite with the guardsmen and waited for the message to be relayed and for the doors to heave open.

[Revlona]

Silisia - The Prancing Squirrel

"Well that escalated fast," Silisia muttered to herself as she slipped out of her seat at the bar, drink still in hand, and stepped away from the still fighting men. She took a sip and leaned against a part of the bar that was further away from the brawl. "This could be bad," she muttered, eyes on the obviously intoxicated men. The obviously intoxicated men who were fighting each other. The obviously intoxicated men who were fighting each other and were armed. "Yeah very bad," she muttered as she downed a large portion of her remaining drink, hoping to finish it off as soon as possible and leave the bar before someone ended up drawing steel and blood began to hit the floor.

With a final gulp she finished off her drink and set the wooden cup down on the bar an extra silver coin inside it. She then turned and eyed the fight from the corner of the room that she had made her own, it had grown worse. Half the remaining patrons, including a large portion of the Vai soldiers and all the remaining Ledal and Mahajan soldier, had entered the brawl as they either tried to land haymakers or stop others from fighting. No one had drawn steel still, she could thank the gods for that much at least. Still there was one major problem facing her attempt to leave the bar before getting caught up in the fight, it was the simple fact that the shoving, punching, grabbing, and wrestling soldier had moved the brawl from where it had started in front of the bar to directly in front of the entrance.

With a sigh Silisia resigned herself to waiting out the fight and hopped up onto the bar, one foot resting atop a chair as the other foot dangled towards the floor. Her hands rested behind her, besides her bottom, as she leaned back into the bar trying to make herself comfortable. Well it wasn't such a wasted night she realized as she thought to herself, food, drink, and entertainment. She couldn't have asked for much more.

[Antimersia]

Medi Munkii

Medi looked up towards the slightly taller Gregor. Once the door was open his sense of the large chamber became vibrantly clear. He sensed Azrellia clear as day lying on the floor close to the fire. He listens to Gregor introduce himself, and explain Azrellia's state. His grin never fades, enjoying the hospitality of these strangers despite his worry for Azrellia's safety. Medi stepped in, listening to the many name options that Gregor offered to him. But it was the statement to 'Pick your poison' that he focused on the most. "Yeah that's my friend Azrellia. Thanks for the help Greg! You and all of your soldiers are really nice for having helped us." Medi said, walking into the chamber and squeezing past Gregor. He passes by the magical ring with ease and sits with his legs crossed beside Azrellia. He places a hand on her upper arm. Medi suddenly feels slightly weak once again. He can tell right away that Azrellia is sapping strength from him. but considering all she did to save him not long ago, it was more that she deserved from him in return.

"My name is Medi by the way!" Medi looked back at Gregor pleasantly. "Well, considering your a lord and all I should give you the proper introduction. Maediacles of house Munkii of Brightwork. But seriously call me Medi! Oh and you asked how I got here. Short answer is I walked!"

Medi continued to gently rub Azrellia's arm, soothing her as best he could as she healed herself. His playful grin never wavering, as his worry for her is vastly outweighed by how glad he is to see her safe.

[Imperialisium]

Main Hall

Zara had not left the Main Hall. Instead she took the periodic reports from various observation points about the city personally. Circling the large table festooned with strategic and tactical maps. Idly scanning the various models and counters. Mulling over her plans and actions which could be taken. The first assault had been a series of probing attacks to assess strength. The main weight of the enemy would fall upon them soon. But if she was right, and her sentries correct, then the enemy force was only around the same size as her own if not a bit larger. Nothing more than 10-20% larger. To disrupt their siege lines with the planned cavalry charge which Barisan was preparing in the Northern District with her House and Vassal cavalry could inflict losses upon the foe to such a ratio as to make their siege lines tenuous. they would have to tighten their ring around the city and expose their soldiers to her missile forces.

The order had gone out to impose rationing with predicted results. Many civilians grudgingly accepted soldiers moving in to gather stores of food from their homes. All must be tallied and handed out carefully to sustain the populace and her army. Reaching down she picked up a report predicting the time they could hold Lethlinburg with available resources. Seven months. Seven months till no food left in the city. But the hunger would be apparent well before that. Not that she planned to remain on the defensive that long.

Outside, one of the guards had transferred Aerion's request for an audience about the ongoing siege to a soldier waiting on the inside. The soldier, clad in the red tunic of House Vai. Winged serpent sigils on his black armor as he moved to the Main Hall. Past the eternal vigilance of the snow white clad warriors of Lady Vai's personal household guard. Coming to a stop the soldier bowed deeply. Zara did not look over to him and merely gesticulated with her left hand to speak.

"Lord Aerion of House Brightwater wishes to discuss the battle with you in greater detail."

Zara's mind momentarily drew a blank on who Aerion was, neurons firing for a solid ten seconds before she recalled House Brightwater. Minor nobility, few Dragon-Blooded in recent generations, still prominent. She nodded to the soldier abruptly. The soldier bowed his head once more and rushed off.

The gates opened before Aerion scant moments later. Revealing the warmth of the entrance as the pair of sentries outside stood aside. The soldier which had been sent to herald Aerion's arrival turned to the side and held out an arm to beckon him in, "Lady Vai is expecting you, Lord Brightwater."

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

The heavy wooden doors swung open after a short wait and Aerion and his personal guard promptly entered the Main Hall. he was led forward by a soldier in pitch-black armour, Winged Serpents skillfully wrought into the metal and past a line of snow-clad warriors in all white, their purity seemingly radiating out into the hall. Compared to the majesty of House Vai, House Brightwater's soldiers seemed... Common. Their armour was typical of slightly above average plate, brown and studded with circular disks at their chest. The only difference from some regular force of well-armed cavalry were their cloaks which displayed his house's sigil, or perhaps the plumes of orange fox hair on their helmets. But compared to the armour of House Vai it looked very insignificant.

His own armour looked slightly better, ancient plate enamelled golden with a fox head displayed at the front. Aerion had worn it in the presence of his officers but now his guards moved forward, and unstrapped him, pulling it away. He could not intimidate these people like his own. He thought bitterly, but this sign of self-induced vulnerability could perhaps flatter her. Thick blonde hair tumbled out as his helmet was removed, it curled down to his back. He had once taken to weaving roses into his hair, thinking it made him look more like his sigil before his father smacked him with the flat side of a sword. He wore a slashed doublet on white and orange velvet, soft doeskin gloves and boots. While less intimidating than plate and iron his face now unbound by a helmet could charm any man or woman in The Realm.

He bowed deeply and respectfully and looked into her eyes with his own glimmering blue sapphires "It is an honour to be in your presence your royal highness." the words were more difficult than the gesture. His father had known a time when House Vai and Brightwater were not dissimilar, but one had been elevated and one tumbled downwards. It was still difficult to stomach calling House Vai great but he said it all the same.

He approached the mock battlefield strewn across the table and pretended to study it, understanding all the intricacies of the little wooden foxes. "I prayed last night for our victory and the gods sang out clearly today. Honoured Mela saw the winds be fair and true for our archers, honoured Daana'd held back his rains and fogs and allowed the enemy to be seen true, honoured Pasiap saw our defences hold as firm as the mountains, honoured Hesiesh blood of mine own saw our warriors' hearts emblazoned with the fire of victory and pushed them forwards even when their muscles ached and honoured Sextus saw the spirits of our great ancestors fight beside our troops, as if our army was double its actual size. Tonight I shall light 5 candles, and on the morrow, we should sing together at the temple for another day like this." he smiled.

He had never really spoken to Zara Azairya Vai, although they had shared the same room once or twice. She was comely, of a similar age and they were both unmarried. He had told his brother he was going to wed her and he'd laughed. Aerion's house was mediocre yes, but it also meant that unlike a more significant house he would not demand anything of her. Their children would take the name Vai and carry on her bloodline. A Dragon Prince had been discovered on his lands within the last month anyway, so he could be adopted and his children could continue the Brightwater name. Aerion was young and handsome and would be far more preferable to some old bald cheese merchant lord from House Ragara despite the gap in their birth, and they would be bound by the blood they spilt during this war.

"But... The gods alone do not decide battles, battles must be fought and won. And I have heard those who question the events of today. Where an enemy was thoroughly defeated, thrown back from our walls and yet allowed to return to their camps unmolested. To lick their wounds and rebuild their strength whilst we let the initiative fade away. A victory is a victory your royal highness but I need to know your plans for the morrow, and why our armies are not already marching to a new conquest."

[Imperialisium]

Zara Azairya Vai

Zara was, as Aerion likely knew to be clear, a beauty. From her straight and noble nose, sharp brow and cheeks, eyes slightly almond and angled to give a fierce expression. An exotic beauty to many, despite being born on the Blessed Isle. Her eyes, shimmering like embers, merely matched his gaze. Midnight black hair pulled back into a military style top knot with flowing tendrils of dark silk falling straight beneath a fiery bronze clasp. But she made no betrayal of feeling to Aerion. Her face was passive and unassuming in what she thought of him. Merely lowering slightly in a bow to match his own much deeper decline of his torso. His pleasantry, expected, was not replied too. For it need not have a reply given the difference in their station. So she looked down at the table, and moved several paces to squarely stand opposite to Aerion.

Hearings you say. Perhaps merely your prodding? Zara remained passive at his invitation, merely replying, "Perhaps when matters of greater import have been dealt with." An ambiguous, political, answer. ...initiative fade away...plans for the morrow...why aren't we marching to a new conquest.

Zara mentally smiled. Polarized between the sure tone of her words, "Perhaps those speaking about why I did not harry the enemy beyond the walls needs a lesson in the art of war? The attack by the enemy was a minuscule amount of their full force. Merely to test our defenses and most importantly, our resolve. Surely, any observer with a spyglass would have noticed the enemy amassed at their actual siege lines?" There were no surely. This was all rhetorical rebuttals on her part.

Her eyes flashed to look at Aerion abruptly, like a viper, need to know. You need not know anything Lord of Brightwater, "Tomorrow a cavalry assault to the new enemy positions on the Northern arc of their encirclement will commence at dawn. Vai and my vassals will have our horsemen break through the enemy lines and disrupt the security of the besiegers. They will have to react to this or face further destruction in detail."

She clasped her hands behind her back as she awaited Aerion's response.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

The girld was undeniably beautiful, but so was he. With sparkling blue eyes, smooth fair skin, strong and sharp features, and beautiful hair. He stood straight and strong, albeit with the haughty nature of those Exalted by fire (and a healthy dose of natural arrogance). But those sparkling eyes at times seemed to hint at unspoken malice, they were not happy bright things. And his lips were prone to smirks and sneers, and his smiles seemed more mocking than genuine. Still, his appearance was usually more than enough to ensure that most never truly grasped the hidden intricacies of his expressions, most infatuated by his hair or dazzlingly handsome eyes.

She was much the same though. Her eyes seemed like a predators and they bore into him furiously. He maintained her gaze for a few seconds but it seemed as though her eyes were stripping his flesh away, burrowing deep inside and gazing into his very heart and soul. He pretended to study the board to avoid having to look into the things any longer.

There was nothing he hated more than interacting with a high lord. To think he'd invite her somewhere and not even receive a reply? Aerion had never experienced that before in his life. Most women fell over themselves for even a look at him, an invitation would stop their hearts. Even other noblewomen, even those of prominent birth would smile and get close, perhaps they wouldn't be overly impressed but they were all curious. But this woman wouldn't even give him that. She barely bowed, did not return any polite greeting or expression of thanks to be meeting him. She looked for all the world completely nonplussed by him. And that was worse even than revulsion. He wanted to grab a dirk, to force it past those high and mighty cheekbones and see if her blood was as dark and polluted as her hair.

His hand was shaking, he realised. He placed the wooden fox down and backed off, placing his hands behind him and hoping she was too bored to pay much attention to his behaviour.

He breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm his anger. "My officers are of the highest calibre in The Realm. I am sure they will be amused by your lesson in war Your Royal Highness, I am merely wondering why we can afford a cavalry charge tomorrow but not when the enemy was demoralised and breaking." he wasn't really sure of any of this. He could not see the enemy from his command tent and he had not gone near the front lines but it felt right to say. "And if you truly decide on this strike then allow some of House Brightwater's cavalry to accompany you. They were not engaged and each and every one of them has a bloodlust that cannot be sated waiting in the city. Let them dip their lances and they will allow for my own victory to be shared with you. Each fights as gallantly as Lord Imry all those centuries ago. Give them a place in your vanguard and the day will be won before you even leave the city's gates."

[Imperialisium]

Zara Azairya Vai

The eye of a viper begets many findings. One of the variable phrases about vipers that Zara's grandmother, Azairya Vai, would oft say. If Aerion believed that Zara had noticed his shaking hand after their first interaction, his aversion of gaze, then he was indeed a fool. His expectation of being treated as anything reminiscent of an equal being dashed, and eliciting such a subconscious response, spoke volumes of what kind of man this Lord of Brightwater truly is. Which, in Zara's mind, would be chalked up into the not much category.

Zara folded her right arm under her left. Index thumb resting on her perfectly formed chin. The ending of her angled and clean cut jawline. She did not break her gaze however. A form of domination? Perhaps. A subtle reality check for Aerion that he was the underling here? Most definitely. "If they are of high calibre then they would know charging out after a forlorn hope while the vast majority of our enemy lies in wait would be needlessly reckless. Especially, since they would be prepared to receive our assault." They were not demoralised or breaking. You would know if you had deigned to come out of your 'command tent'.

Zara turned and began to slowly take steps around the table. Not enough to come around to Aerion of course. But a few steps nonetheless. Her eyes, however, remained firmly latched upon him. A lioness stalking a wounded stag over their personal pride being stricken asunder. Her supple lips again formed words, sultry and intoxicating.

"Your men will join them if that pleases you; and perhaps, you would take the honour of leading the vanguard then? What with a man possessing the blood of fabled Lord Imry in his veins." She reached out, eyes still upon him, as she plucked the fox up from the table and placed it at the northern city gates.

[Luminesa]

Medi Munkii

Medi looked up towards the slightly taller Gregor. Once the door was open his sense of the large chamber became vibrantly clear. He sensed Azrellia clear as day lying on the floor close to the fire. He listens to Gregor introduce himself, and explain Azrellia's state. His grin never fades, enjoying the hospitality of these strangers despite his worry for Azrellia's safety. Medi stepped in, listening to the many name options that Gregor offered to him. But it was the statement to 'Pick your poison' that he focused on the most. "Yeah that's my friend Azrellia. Thanks for the help Greg! You and all of your soldiers are really nice for having helped us." Medi said, walking into the chamber and squeezing past Gregor. He passes by the magical ring with ease and sits with his legs crossed beside Azrellia. He places a hand on her upper arm. Medi suddenly feels slightly weak once again. He can tell right away that Azrellia is sapping strength from him. but considering all she did to save him not long ago, it was more that she deserved from him in return.

"My name is Medi by the way!" Medi looked back at Gregor pleasantly. "Well, considering your a lord and all I should give you the proper introduction. Maediacles of house Munkii of Brightwork. But seriously call me Medi! Oh and you asked how I got here. Short answer is I walked!"

Medi continued to gently rub Azrellia's arm, soothing her as best he could as she healed herself. His playful grin never wavering, as his worry for her is vastly outweighed by how glad he is to see her safe.

Gregor - Behind Red Eyes

Medi might not be able to see the lavish chamber Gregor had, but he would smell plenty of heavy scents. Smoke from candles and his pipe, a crackling fireplace, and a tint of a mature red wine. The room gave the atmosphere that it belonged to a man who enjoyed class, mystique, and dark sophistication. Yet the Mahajan noble was not a threat. He made sure the door was closed, and watched Medi walk toward the circle. Nothing reacted, and so he simply took another smoke of his pipe. While the young man's grin was a little unsettling, he did not seem to mean anything by it. Perhaps he was hiding some of his fear and sorrow, though his eyes did not tell any tales.

"Medi...Very well. Well, I figured you walked, but considering you've...never been here before, I supposed you'd need some help to find me. Someone must have pointed you in my direction, which...I do not mind. Though I would prefer they tell me in advance, normally I am not privy to inviting strangers..." Gregor walked over to the circle to observe Medi, taping his fingers along the insides of his arms as he stood with them folded. The young man was gentle toward his ghostly friend, whose presence he felt without seeing her. He could see the tension in Medi's body evaporate, as he saw that Azrellia was well. Even if he had not healed her completely, Gregor had managed to stabilize her, and he was glad to do a small favor, even if he was not usually the nurturing type.

He walked to his chair and sat down, putting his wine glass on the table. "...Since you are reunited with her, it would be best that you bring her to the shelter in this district, to allow her some time to rest. While I would be glad to keep her here for her safety, she will also be safe among the many guards at the shelter, and I...frankly, cannot siphon all of my energy to her, when I have my own duties to attend. But given I am Exalted, I've given her plenty to begin her healing. I would not put her too close to other patients, if possible. However, she will be happy to see you when she awakens, I am sure. Now, about your ship-"

A door crashed open at the moment, with a Mahajan guard rushing into the room. Gregor gave him a peeved look, as he held his glass and was about to take a sip. "...What?" he inquired, his tongue sharp.

"A fight in the bar, it's a bunch of your men, I...we...tried...stopping them, they...oh gods..."

Gregor stared at the man for a moment, and then narrowed his eyes. "You are asking me and not General Daana why?!" he inquired.

"General Daana...busy in...cleaning...don't know where...is...told to...get you..."

"Oh for Hesiesh's sake..." Gregor pulled himself to his feet, took a sip of his wine, and looked apologetically toward Medi. "Excuse my soldier's rudeness, he will bring you to the shelter in the Western District. Now, which bar is this?" He spoke first to Medi, though he addressed his troop, who by now was both panting and drowning in cold sweat. His General's voice had become steel, and he feared what his fellow men would see.

"The...the uh...Prancing Squirrel?..."

Gregor nodded, and motioned the soldier toward Medi and Azrellia. "If you can bring them to their shelter, please. I will...quell the demons of foolishness in some of my men." He gave a respectful nod to Medi, and then walked out of the room, throwing his mink over his shoulder as he walked through the cold. His gaze was as icy as polished rubies, and he moved with purpose. He knew the aforementioned bar before he saw it, based on the cacophony he heard from almost a mile away. He marched to the doors, and threw them open. Upon the sight of some of his own men being involved in a brawl with both Vai and Ledaal soldiers, his blood began to boil. The troops sober enough to recognize the pillar of fire and rage standing in the doorway. Silisia would also note the man in blazing crimson and jet-black, who looked frightening even when he was in a kimono with light armor.

"ON YOUR KNEES. NOW."

The Mahajan soldiers who heard his enraged voice immediately fell to their knees, bowing their heads in shame and terror. A couple who were both terrified and drunk prostrate themselves, and one could hear a pin drop. Gregor took a few deliberate steps into the room, glaring at the troops at fault. He did not give his gaze to soldiers from Vai and Ledaal, as he figured they had not started the fight. "You wretches wish to drag our name into the dirt with this crass behavior?! You dragged Ledaal and Vai, our allies, into a bar fight, and proceeded to attack them?! THEY ARE ALLIES. ALL OF YOU will be stationed doing extra exercises tomorrow, before dawn, and I will inform Daana of your misbehavior. If you are late, you will be subject to my hand. Am I clear?!"

"YESSIR."

Gregor nodded, and stomped his foot to order them to their feet. They took the signal and jolted to their feet, slapping the blackout-drunk members awake. "To your quarters. NOW." The soldiers scrambled out like rats, heading to the Mahajan quarters without a sound. Once they were gone, the Mahajan leader walked toward the barkeeper and gave him a firm, questioning look. "How much damage did they cause here?"

"No physical damage, though two tried to harass this lady over here." The bartender nodded to Silisia, glad that she had not been harmed and that Gregor had disciplined his men.

Turning to Silisia, Gregor gave a polite bow. "My apologies, miss. I was only made aware of this misbehavior from my men just now, and while they should have addressed their lieutenant, as per the normal chain of command, I am the head of my House and I take responsibility for any harm that has come to you. Are you alright? Did any of these men cause you trouble?"

[Revlona]

Silisia - The Prancing Squirrel

Silisia couldn’t help but allow a shit eating grin to transfigure her face for a moment as Lord Gregor made his presence known in the bar, the Mahajan soldiers falling to their knees of prostrating themselves before him. She of course knew him by sight and reputation, the...well she couldn’t really remember where he ranked in the Mahajan family but she knew he was important. Either way, Silisia was both happy and amused to see the soldiers put in their place.

She forced the grin off her face as the Lord dismissed his misbehaving soldiers like toddlers and strode towards the bar. He asked the important questions, taking immediate responsibility for his men’s misbehaving and wanting to pay for the damages caused, luckily for the Lord the bartender waved it aside, saying now damages were done. Silisia found that hard to believe but put it off to him trying to win the lords favor.

She started in surprise as he motioned with his hand towards her, mentioning the two drunks behavior that lead to the bar fight itself. She frowned as she was made the center of attention, both for the Lord and for the remaining soldiers in the bar. She once again forced her face into neutrality and bowed low as the lord approached her, her face now free to scowl as it was hidden away from him.

She raised herself up again to meet his gaze as he spoke to her, she fought hard not to show the anger she was feeling. She most definitely was not a damsel in distress during that whole situation and did not appreciate being made out to be one. Normally she would have snapped at the man and told him just that, but she quickly smothered such thoughts and swallowed any such response, instead going for a more subtle approach, “I am quite alright Lord Gregor, as a soldier I face hardships on a regular basis, this was nothing in comparison. If it had come to it I am honest in saying I could have handled two drinks...Lord” she said, her voice flat and calm, barely suppressing the irritation she was feeling as she spoke.

[Luminesa]

Silisia - The Prancing Squirrel

Silisia couldn’t help but allow a shit eating grin to transfigure her face for a moment as Lord Gregor made his presence known in the bar, the Mahajan soldiers falling to their knees of prostrating themselves before him. She of course knew him by sight and reputation, the...well she couldn’t really remember where he ranked in the Mahajan family but she knew he was important. Either way, Silisia was both happy and amused to see the soldiers put in their place.

She forced the grin off her face as the Lord dismissed his misbehaving soldiers like toddlers and strode towards the bar. He asked the important questions, taking immediate responsibility for his men’s misbehaving and wanting to pay for the damages caused, luckily for the Lord the bartender waved it aside, saying now damages were done. Silisia found that hard to believe but put it off to him trying to win the lords favor.

She started in surprise as he motioned with his hand towards her, mentioning the two drunks behavior that lead to the bar fight itself. She frowned as she was made the center of attention, both for the Lord and for the remaining soldiers in the bar. She once again forced her face into neutrality and bowed low as the lord approached her, her face now free to scowl as it was hidden away from him.

She raised herself up again to meet his gaze as he spoke to her, she fought hard not to show the anger she was feeling. She most definitely was not a damsel in distress during that whole situation and did not appreciate being made out to be one. Normally she would have snapped at the man and told him just that, but she quickly smothered such thoughts and swallowed any such response, instead going for a more subtle approach, “I am quite alright Lord Gregor, as a soldier I face hardships on a regular basis, this was nothing in comparison. If it had come to it I am honest in saying I could have handled two drinks...Lord” she said, her voice flat and calm, barely suppressing the irritation she was feeling as she spoke.

Gregor - The Fox and the Dragon

Silisia seemed to have a bit of a peppery spirit behind her cool eyes. Gregor noticed that she was hiding something, perhaps a smirk or even a laugh. Yet she held herself well, and she even commented back at the Noble with quite the relaxed air. She was not worried at all for her safety, though the barkeeper had been worried and made the situation seem as if she was about to be attacked. The Mahajan noble gave a deep sigh, as if he was far too tired in his soul to deal with unruly soldiers at this hour, but he nodded to the girl and gave a smile. "...Excellent. I am glad to hear that you are well. I shall be sure to keep my men more in check, though I don't imagine they will misbehave again, after the ice and snow have their say tomorrow morning. And if that does not work, well...Daana is just as good at straightening foolish men as I am," he explained. He then gave a polite nod, and handed the barkeeper a few golden pieces. "Keep the money, for your troubles. If any of them come back for drinks they're cut-off, and that is my authority they will be challenging."

He then nodded to Silisia and walked out of the hall, once again into the chilly evening. He began to head toward his hotel once again, until he noticed a figure heading into the Main Hall. A minor general, one who had kept to himself during the last few days, and whose symbol he had not seen among the troops in previous battles. A vermillion fox emblazoned his armor, and he recognized golden locks emblazoned by torches. He blinked, and decided to go take a listen. He managed to leave the door open-not the most intelligent person-and Gregor did have questions regarding the next few days of combat.

With a huff of frosty air, Gregor walked to the Main Hall, wrapping his mink around his shoulders with a growl. He looked to the soldiers stationed outside the doorway, and nodded to them. "If I may ask, would that have been General Brightwater who entered these halls? I hope I am not disturbing you at this hour. I need to speak to Lady Zara regarding our defenses and the Bull," he explained, his voice now calm and polite.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

Now she was just mocking him.

He was going to hurt someone tonight. He vowed to himself wordlessly. I'm going to skin one of the washer-women hanging around my camp and make myself a new cloak.

She stalked around the table, mocking his initiatives and offering a challenge to lead the van into battle. Usually, that would be a compliment - the vanguard was probably the most important formation within an army, the one which made first contact with the enemy. But in this case, Aerion was under no illusions that the Lady of Vai was trying to honour him. He did not lift his eyes to meet her gaze.

"My lady." he said measuredly, wanting to spit the words into her face, wanting to grab a dagger and thrust it into one of these damned eyes. "It is the greatest honour to be offered such a magnificent command position from a commander such as you. However..." he bit a lip as cold anger dripped from his pores. He was not a common soldier content to struggle through mud and shit, marching into the midst of battle. He was a Lord, a commander. "I lack the experience I believe necessary for a battle such as this... Might I suggest my brother Lucien? He led the Burgundian Legion's van on multiple occasions... Or one of your own generals if you find them better suited."

He was going to kill her. he vowed. One day, he didn't know how. Maybe they'd be married after all. And he'd drop vipers from her wedding canopy. It took all of his willpower not to light the table in front of them into flames.

[Revlona]

Silisia

After Lord Gregor had left the Barkeep had looked around the tavern and came to a swift decision, "We're closed! Everyone out!" he said, raising his voice as he did. He motioned with his hand towards his harassed looking bouncers who began to move people out of the building and into the streets. Silisia had already begun to leave at this point and was one of the first people out of the door. She strode out into the street and stretched her sore muscles, the stress of the previous situation had taken an impact on her body and so she now made moves to alleviate that stress.

She looked over her shoulder at the still emptying Tavern before and narrowed her eyes at it, "Damn I'm still kind of bored, I'll just go for a walk" She muttered to herself. So she began to wonder the streets, not really going somewhere intentionally. As she walked she passed by groups of soldiers who were going through with Lady Vai and her ration orders, restaurants and private homes begrudgingly allowing soldiers to enter and inspect the places.

Unknown to her she had strayed from the main road and onto a side one before coming out again upon a main one. She looked around herself, trying to gauge where she was by her surroundings. There was a hall up ahead at the end of the road that was over decorated with banners bearing what looked to be a fox, she raised her eyebrow and turned away, starting to walk slowly away from the hall, towards the Vai Encampment and the Command Hall.

[Antimersia]

Medi and Azrellia

Medi's senses tell him much about Azrellia in the moment. He can tell how lithe she is. How weak her form is, even after spending time in the presence of a fellow exalted like Gregor. A fact that did not surprise Medi to learn. The size of the room he was in, as well as Gregor's name and title made it unsurprising to know of his exalted nature. So with that in mind he know Azrellia must have been hurt shockingly badly. With the soldier's help, he carried Azrellia through the halls and out into the streets. He held her with on arm around her shoulders and one under her legs. She was so light, that even with Medi's still injured and achy body, she was exceedingly light. They walk through the streets towards the shelter. The soldier, nice as he is, needlessly directs Medi along the way. Medi is pleased to sense the shelter when they arrive at it. The plethora of people should allow Azrellia to heal from them without hurting anyone in particular in the process. Families and soldiers alike fill the building. Even some clerics going around to those that need them. Medi finds an open cot tucked away in a corner and gently lays her down on it to continue resting peacefully. He brushes his hand along her arm, feeling better about her health as he sees her slumber.

Not knowing where he is, or what is going on in this city quickly begins to bother Medi. He had sensed soldiers before, but never this many in one location. He thought back to Gregor instantly. Surely a general would be able to explain the situation. And the thought of having washed up right into a war zone both terrified and excited Medi. A new experience, but one that might put his friend in danger. Medi got the attention of a nearby cleric, explaining Azrellia's state and asking him to watch over her while he investigated the city. The cleric agreed without hesitation. Before leaving, Medi remembered the name of the bar Gregor had been told about a fight in, the "Prancing Squirrel". He asked the Cleric to tell him how to get there from the shelter. And once he had the directions Medi sped off. Straining his body to run as he rushed through the shelter and back out onto the street. The heavy foot traffic would make him struggle to move quickly, so Medi does what he usually does. He improvises. With a pain filled leap and gust of air pushed out of his feet, Medi lifts himself up into the air and onto the roof of a nearby building. The people that were around him having tumbled and been pushed by the sudden gust. Medi notices them fall and get startled. "Sorry!" He yells down at them with a smile and a giggle before sprinting off along the rooftops towards the Prancing Squirrel. He uses his abilities to leap across roof to roof until he lands on the roof of the Squirrel. He gently glides himself down onto the street once more before entering. It takes him a moment as he senses the people within the building. And just outside the main hall he notices a man that based on how he is standing, is dressed, and is commanding the people around him, is most certainly Gregor. Medi runs over to him waving as he yells "Gregor, hey!" He stops about three feet in front of Gregor and grins stupidly. "I was hoping I could ask your some questions. Oh wow that is a nice cloak. What type of fur is it?"

[Luminesa]

Medi and Azrellia

Medi's senses tell him much about Azrellia in the moment. He can tell how lithe she is. How weak her form is, even after spending time in the presence of a fellow exalted like Gregor. A fact that did not surprise Medi to learn. The size of the room he was in, as well as Gregor's name and title made it unsurprising to know of his exalted nature. So with that in mind he know Azrellia must have been hurt shockingly badly. With the soldier's help, he carried Azrellia through the halls and out into the streets. He held her with on arm around her shoulders and one under her legs. She was so light, that even with Medi's still injured and achy body, she was exceedingly light. They walk through the streets towards the shelter. The soldier, nice as he is, needlessly directs Medi along the way. Medi is pleased to sense the shelter when they arrive at it. The plethora of people should allow Azrellia to heal from them without hurting anyone in particular in the process. Families and soldiers alike fill the building. Even some clerics going around to those that need them. Medi finds an open cot tucked away in a corner and gently lays her down on it to continue resting peacefully. He brushes his hand along her arm, feeling better about her health as he sees her slumber.

Not knowing where he is, or what is going on in this city quickly begins to bother Medi. He had sensed soldiers before, but never this many in one location. He thought back to Gregor instantly. Surely a general would be able to explain the situation. And the thought of having washed up right into a war zone both terrified and excited Medi. A new experience, but one that might put his friend in danger. Medi got the attention of a nearby cleric, explaining Azrellia's state and asking him to watch over her while he investigated the city. The cleric agreed without hesitation. Before leaving, Medi remembered the name of the bar Gregor had been told about a fight in, the "Prancing Squirrel". He asked the Cleric to tell him how to get there from the shelter. And once he had the directions Medi sped off. Straining his body to run as he rushed through the shelter and back out onto the street. The heavy foot traffic would make him struggle to move quickly, so Medi does what he usually does. He improvises. With a pain filled leap and gust of air pushed out of his feet, Medi lifts himself up into the air and onto the roof of a nearby building. The people that were around him having tumbled and been pushed by the sudden gust. Medi notices them fall and get startled. "Sorry!" He yells down at them with a smile and a giggle before sprinting off along the rooftops towards the Prancing Squirrel. He uses his abilities to leap across roof to roof until he lands on the roof of the Squirrel. He gently glides himself down onto the street once more before entering. It takes him a moment as he senses the people within the building. And just outside the main hall he notices a man that based on how he is standing, is dressed, and is commanding the people around him, is most certainly Gregor. Medi runs over to him waving as he yells "Gregor, hey!" He stops about three feet in front of Gregor and grins stupidly. "I was hoping I could ask your some questions. Oh wow that is a nice cloak. What type of fur is it?"

Gregor - Cutting the Fox's Teeth

Gregor was not expecting a crowd to follow him toward the Main Hall, but as he stood outside and heard some of the conversation between Zara and Aerion, he was greeted by both of the young people he had just met. Medi might as well have crashed into him, as his loud, excited voice rung through the deafening quiet of the evening snowfall. The Mahajan Noble turned to look back at the footprints he had shot through the snow, and he could not help but suppress a laugh. This boy seems to function on pure will and determination. Even blindness hasn't stopped him from finding me, he thought with some amusement. "I would prefer you address me as Lord Gregor, first of all. Second, this cloak is mink," he responded dryly.

Silisia, on the other hand, did not make her appearance known so abruptly, and Gregor had to stand in the quiet for a moment before he realized someone was standing behind him. The young woman had stopped in the snow and was examining the Main Hall. Her eyes aimed toward the fox banner, before she seemingly became bored and started to walk away. Perhaps her army did not require anything of her, or maybe they had not asked her to do anything. "...We meet again. I suppose you decided you needed some air that didn't smell like cheap alcohol?" he inquired to the girl, giving her a friendly smile. Of course, friendly in this case meant an invitation to potential mischief, as he knew that Aerion or Zara could most likely hear him. At the same time, Silisia did not strike him as the dainty flower the barkeeper had addressed, and she seemed to have the spark of someone who might even enjoy a little mischief.

Inside the building, any torches or candles that lit the Main Hall allowed Gregor to be a fly on the wall-or a flame on the wall, in this instance. He could see Zara's cool expression as she sized-up Aerion without blinking. The young man had potentially come with the expectation that he would get exactly what he wanted from her-unyielding respect despite a very foolish question. He had asked why they had not moved to other conquests when there was an enormous conquest glaring them in the face. Perhaps he had come to fight a war of his own, though he would be far from the only Noble with ulterior motives for going to Lethlinberg. Yet his age showed in the way he carried himself. His arrogance was as bright as his halo of hair, his hands shook as Zara addressed him as if she was him, an old professor speaking to a green and immature new soldier. "Oh child, you decided to bother her of all people with your idiotic questions...Now you're going to learn."

Yet Aerion seemed he was not willing to learn. His eyes did not reflect on her answers with discernment, but rather with rage. Lust poisoned the pure porcelain of his face and caused his brows to crinkle in disgust. He knew he was being outclassed, and even worse, she had not given the slightest consideration to his handsome looks. In her eyes, he was a peasant who should have known the answers to his own questions. Gregor grinned, and hoped Medi would not be too loud asking more questions. This argument was almost better than theatre, and he wanted to see it to its ending. He pulled his pipe out of his pocket, and took a long draw before letting a smoke ring fade into the frosty air. Perhaps the worst of the tale came when Aerion asked that his men go into battle with her own, only to back away from leading his men. "I lack the experience I believe necessary for a battle such as this..." the boy had said.

Gregor almost choked on his pipe as he recalled that Eugeni, the Exalted most afraid of battle, had offered himself to the front lines with his own men. He had never seen combat in his life, before Lethlinberg, and was afraid to even incapacitate someone. Yet he had the battle scars and the experience to prove himself, even if he was still too gentle to be a proper general. "I cannot actually believe what I am hearing..." he thought. He took another drag of his pipe, and he put a finger to Medi's lips to signal for him to whisper or be quiet.

[Antimersia]

Medi Munkii - Outside the main hall

"Sure thing Lord Gregor. Never really got the whole lord thing. I hated when people called me that." Medi said to the clearly distracted man. Medi turned his focus towards the wall that Gregor seemed to be looking towards. He seemed very interested, as if he saw something within the walls that Medi could not even perceive. "So what are you looking at? Stonework especially interesting to you? I've always wondered what was so special about it myself. Its all just piles of rocks to me." Medi says with a grin, he begins to ramble for a bit before suddenly Gregor puts his finger close to him. Medi grins and nods in understanding. He continues on, whispering now at Gregor's behest. "So what is everyone here for. So many soldiers and generals. There some sort of war going on?" Medi asks, clearly oblvious to the state of Lethlinburg.

[Imperialisium]

Aerion Brightwater

Now she was just mocking him.

He was going to hurt someone tonight. He vowed to himself wordlessly. I'm going to skin one of the washer-women hanging around my camp and make myself a new cloak.

She stalked around the table, mocking his initiatives and offering a challenge to lead the van into battle. Usually, that would be a compliment - the vanguard was probably the most important formation within an army, the one which made first contact with the enemy. But in this case, Aerion was under no illusions that the Lady of Vai was trying to honour him. He did not lift his eyes to meet her gaze.

"My lady." he said measuredly, wanting to spit the words into her face, wanting to grab a dagger and thrust it into one of these damned eyes. "It is the greatest honour to be offered such a magnificent command position from a commander such as you. However..." he bit a lip as cold anger dripped from his pores. He was not a common soldier content to struggle through mud and shit, marching into the midst of battle. He was a Lord, a commander. "I lack the experience I believe necessary for a battle such as this... Might I suggest my brother Lucien? He led the Burgundian Legion's van on multiple occasions... Or one of your own generals if you find them better suited."

He was going to kill her. he vowed. One day, he didn't know how. Maybe they'd be married after all. And he'd drop vipers from her wedding canopy. It took all of his willpower not to light the table in front of them into flames.

Zara Azairya Vai

Zara remained unfazed at the backpedal done by Aerion. If anything the air about her almost gave off the vibe like she expected it. "Very well. Your brother Lucien will be due at the North Gate before sunrise tomorrow." She turned away from him, fingers steepled, pace moving her back around the table whence she came. Only pausing once she was firmly opposite him once more, and not even looking, gave a slightly more authoritative tone to Aerion, "Is there more you wishes to discuss?"

Whispering Candles

Lord Gregor's snooping had not gone unnoticed. In fact, something had been stalking Gregor for much of his time in Lethlinburg, tied to the war chest of House Vai via an emblazoned glyph onto those wooden boxes. The glyphs shifting from a burnt black to a pale red. Brightening to a glowing orange and finally a blazing glow of yellows and whites. Raw essence coursed invisibly in the air, and Gregor's spying was erupted as a burning sensation struck him in the eyes. Forcing him to close them. Something had torn his sorcerous sight away from him like litter on the streets of the Imperial City caught in a morning breeze.

The snow before him began to melt and churn. Hissing and crackling as the temperature around them rose precipitously. Eventually the cobblestones exposed underneath began to spark and glow with near molten heat. A volcanic form spawning from the ground before them. Manifesting into a graceful masculine form.

"I thought I had sensed some eavesdropping. Certainly, you would think as to do so without my knowledge? Eh, stripling?"

Mephisto. The Guardian of the Vaults of House Vai. Bound to the treasuries of this Great House as its protector and unofficial accountant of all its contents. House legends tell of Azairya Vai, Zara's grandmother, being the one which struck a nameless bargain with the spirit. What was exchanged remains unclear. Only that Mephisto has dutifully guarded the treasures of House Vai and receives worship at his Sanctum at Manse Vai from various surrounding towns and villages.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

Aerion could feel the redness in his face as she accepted his retreat in quiet dignity, refraining from even lording it over him. That made it worse. Her effortless air of superiority hurting worse than simple insults ever could. Her House was more common than the other Great Houses of The Realm but nothing in her demeanour suggested than and Aerion had not been expecting her behaviour either.

"No Your Highness." was his only reply to her. Has voice had been sapped on the malicious anger from earlier. Its energy replaced by resignation and defeat. This wouldn't be their last meeting. He told himself. Let us see how superior she is after a few of those teeth are knocked out. He gave a deep bow, although he did not hold it as long as politeness usually dictated. He had planned on inviting her to the next day's victory feast but he decided she probably would not entertain the offer and sit for hours by his table if she would not even consent to praying beside him.

He did not reequip his armour before leaving the Hall, wanting to get out of that woman's sight as quickly as possible. The great doors of her chamber heaved shut behind him but when he approached the entrance to the hall itself he was greeted by a few camp followers huddled in his way, beside a wall. He did not recognise and some conjured spirit, volcanic in nature. Could they have heard?... The thought made his face redder than before and a scowl crossed his full lips.

A small fox, made entirely of heatless flames appeared and curled between his feet with every step. He did not know them, but they would know him. They would fear their better. And the little volcano would know they were both blood of fire and respect him as well. He drew up to the group and stopped. There was space either side but Aerion would not move out of his way for them. His pride had been wounded, and he was going to rebuild it.

"You are in the presence of a Lord. Move." he commanded effortlessly, with the flick of a wrist. His guards drew closer to him but did not bare their steel or otherwise try intimidating the creatures.

[Luminesa]

Aerion Brightwater

Now she was just mocking him.

He was going to hurt someone tonight. He vowed to himself wordlessly. I'm going to skin one of the washer-women hanging around my camp and make myself a new cloak.

She stalked around the table, mocking his initiatives and offering a challenge to lead the van into battle. Usually, that would be a compliment - the vanguard was probably the most important formation within an army, the one which made first contact with the enemy. But in this case, Aerion was under no illusions that the Lady of Vai was trying to honour him. He did not lift his eyes to meet her gaze.

"My lady." he said measuredly, wanting to spit the words into her face, wanting to grab a dagger and thrust it into one of these damned eyes. "It is the greatest honour to be offered such a magnificent command position from a commander such as you. However..." he bit a lip as cold anger dripped from his pores. He was not a common soldier content to struggle through mud and shit, marching into the midst of battle. He was a Lord, a commander. "I lack the experience I believe necessary for a battle such as this... Might I suggest my brother Lucien? He led the Burgundian Legion's van on multiple occasions... Or one of your own generals if you find them better suited."

He was going to kill her. he vowed. One day, he didn't know how. Maybe they'd be married after all. And he'd drop vipers from her wedding canopy. It took all of his willpower not to light the table in front of them into flames.

Zara Azairya Vai

Zara remained unfazed at the backpedal done by Aerion. If anything the air about her almost gave off the vibe like she expected it. "Very well. Your brother Lucien will be due at the North Gate before sunrise tomorrow." She turned away from him, fingers steepled, pace moving her back around the table whence she came. Only pausing once she was firmly opposite him once more, and not even looking, gave a slightly more authoritative tone to Aerion, "Is there more you wishes to discuss?"

Whispering Candles

Lord Gregor's snooping had not gone unnoticed. In fact, something had been stalking Gregor for much of his time in Lethlinburg, tied to the war chest of House Vai via an emblazoned glyph onto those wooden boxes. The glyphs shifting from a burnt black to a pale red. Brightening to a glowing orange and finally a blazing glow of yellows and whites. Raw essence coursed invisibly in the air, and Gregor's spying was erupted as a burning sensation struck him in the eyes. Forcing him to close them. Something had torn his sorcerous sight away from him like litter on the streets of the Imperial City caught in a morning breeze.

The snow before him began to melt and churn. Hissing and crackling as the temperature around them rose precipitously. Eventually the cobblestones exposed underneath began to spark and glow with near molten heat. A volcanic form spawning from the ground before them. Manifesting into a graceful masculine form.

"I thought I had sensed some eavesdropping. Certainly, you would think as to do so without my knowledge? Eh, stripling?"

Mephisto. The Guardian of the Vaults of House Vai. Bound to the treasuries of this Great House as its protector and unofficial accountant of all its contents. House legends tell of Azairya Vai, Zara's grandmother, being the one which struck a nameless bargain with the spirit. What was exchanged remains unclear. Only that Mephisto has dutifully guarded the treasures of House Vai and receives worship at his Sanctum at Manse Vai from various surrounding towns and villages.

Gregor - Secrets On Fire

Zara had almost completed her proverbial lashing of the younger Noble when a burning sensation struck Gregor in the eyes. He almost dropped his pipe, as he shifted backwards and slapped a hand over his eyes. “Agh!...Blasted...did one of the guards...” He stopped himself, as he heard the roar of a rising flame in front of him. As soon as the stinging sensation subsided, he moved a hand off his eyes, and he blinked.

The snow around this pillar of fire had melted, sizzling to nothing more than a vapor. The sound was quite loud, like a bonfire coming to life. Once the fire had emerged from the ground, however, it began to take a shape, and the Mahajan Noble recognized the elegant, blazing being standing in front of him. After a shocked moment, a small grin came across his face. He took a smoke of his pipe and composed himself. Being a professor who had plenty of experience with sorcery, he understood that this spirit had been connected to Zara, and to the wards she had placed around the Main Hall.

“Well, well. Mephisto?...I apologize if I seemed to have stepped on any toes...My intention was not to bother Lady Zara, but rather to watch as the blonde brat got a lesson in true cunning. After all, despite our differences, Zara was my student.” Of course, much of Zara’s calculating nature was her own, but Gregor could not help but feel he had played a part in encouraging that behavior. He may have even made his own life more complicated by doing so. Yet if Lady Vai was aiming that behavior at a young man who perhaps needed to understand who he was playing with, then for once his encouragement was worth the pain.

He chuckled, looking Mephisto up and down for a moment. “Sounds like a bonfire and built like one too...” he thought with a little impishness. He had to wonder if gulping down all that spiced wine might have done something to him, but given his evening had been interrupted by idiot drunks who could not take care of themselves, he figured he could indulge himself in a little mischief. “Do pass my apologies to Lady Zara, if she does not wish to see me at this time. I was looking to talk, but whether or not she’ll admit me is up to her,” he requested, with a short bow. Appearances, appearances.

As he straightened his back, the doors of the Main Hall opened, and he noticed Aerion marching out of the building. He had guards, all dressed in full armor, and a glowing fox of fire proceeded him. The young Noble marched toward the group, and Gregor made sure to put a cool, nonchalant look back on his face. He could flirt later. The boy managed to have the guts to approach him and to command him to move, and he had to control every nerve in his body to keep from rolling his eyes. Nevertheless, he smoked his pipe and blew a ring toward Aerion’s face.

“And you are standing in the presence of adults. Specifically, the Lord of House Mahajan and some of his associates. I do believe you’re up past your bedtime, and I’m not a man to read bedtime stories to children,” he muttered. He did not fear the young man and his guards. He flicked his pipe, and a short row of flames fell at Aerion’s feet.

[Imperialisium]

Mephisto

The guards had taken a few steps back as Mephisto had erupted from the ground. But, some soft murmurs confirmed that this was indeed the spirit charged with the guardianship of Vai's treasury. Not a totally unheard of practice. Even paltry villages will make offerings to local spirits, ancestor or not, in the hopes of beneficial returns. The truly wealthy of course could afford more lucrative and meaningful deals with the occult, but of course the price was oft high and the services bound by a contract so Faustian that any Sorcerer worth their salt dare not go beyond the most basic of transactions. One could only imagine the length and loopholes such a contract with a Spirit of Mephisto's calibre had wrought on House Vai's long deceased former Matriarch. Evidently, combat was not one of those conditions of service, as Mephisto had been remarkably absent during the enemy's probing attacks on the city walls. Nor, had he been present at any war council or meeting.

Mephisto cocked a head at Gregor's remarks, "Save your pleasantries meat suit. If I believed you a danger to House Vai's treasures I would have immolated you were you stood minutes ago." Treasures. How purposely vague. Would Mephisto not intercede to save Zara's life in the event it was threatened by an assassin? Would he preserve his custodianship over her life as well should he choose?

Something about Mephisto's voice belayed a casualness that was, to be frank, unnerving. It was not callous but surely indifferent. As if Gregor could fall dead before him and Mephisto would scarcely acknowledge it. A wholly alien intelligence, Spirits can be, and Mephisto seemed utterly keen on not bothering to form a repertoire with the Dragon-Blooded and regular Humans around him. Save perhaps Lady Vai, his technical employer, not that anyone had seen them converse to any extent.

Then there was the rapidly approaching, huffing, form of Lord Brightwater coming upon them. Demanding they move. Mephisto merely made a show of checking his nails, while on his other hand he rolled a jade coin back and forth on his knuckles expertly. "Hmmm I believe my point has been made Lord Mahajan. I will not be so courteous next time I catch your eyes were they shouldn't be." He grinned as his form evaporated in a haze of fire and smoke. The ground cooling underneath until only a black soot mark remained. Vaporous tendrils wafting into the air as the cold reclaimed it's lost patch of ground.

[Woodstovia]

Aerion Brightwater

The fire elemental dissipated, probably out of respect for Aerion but the man before him stood as still as a stubborn, annoying statue. Well, that was untrue, his feet were still but he himself seemed to delight in insulting and mocking his better. The man was no Lord. Aerion could have his tongue cut out for his words. His age and status of exaltation meant that Aerion probably should have bowed to the man out of respect. Not as low nor for as long as he bowed to Princess Vai, but some minor gesture of respect. Aerion did not grant it.

Aerion took a few steps back (as did his fox) and his guards stepped forward as a small and thankfully harmless row of flames shot into the floor. Aerion's men drew their weapons now, glaring at the man and the supposed lord. The air seemed to shimmer with anger and tension, though it was most likely the pyrotechnics display from the stranger.

Aerion could not believe his ears, it was one thing for the matriarch of a Great House to scoff at him but this worm? Aerion was not overcome with anger this time but with laughter. A high and sweet sound rang around the room and echoed down the hall as Aerion clapped two porcelain hands together. A smug smirk filled his lips, although it did make him look better than the anger or defeat from earlier.

He opened his purse and flicked a silver coin at the man's feet. "I've always appreciated a good fool." he giggled as his retinue continued forward, the disappearance of Mephisto allowing for them to pass. Even then one of the guards did seem to barge into Gregor somewhat unnecessarily.

Men and women could not help but stare as Aerion crossed into the cold winter's night, the moon hanging gently in the air. He was used to it, everyone desired him. Well everyone but that blasted woman anyway. His guards helped lift Aerion onto a white palfrey and he rode back through the rows of red Vai tents to his own, smaller encampment. Tents of white and black and orange, around 5,000 soldiers in total. He'd have to tell his brother he was leading the van tomorrow. He thought bitterly. The fool will see it as a compliment to his martial prowess rather than an insult directed at me.

As he approached the smaller secondary hall where he'd been stationed he turned to the man on his right. Mencius had been a loyal man who'd served the household as long as Aerion could remember. He'd shown him how to first hold a sword, and at 15 he'd beaten his first girlfriend for Aerion when she'd annoyed him.

"Go find someone in the camps. A serf. There'll be washerwomen and men, cooks and serving men and women. Someone unarmed nobody will notice. There's no need to drag them just say their lord wants a word and bring them to my drawing room. Mencius nodded in understanding and rode into the tent city. Another of Aerion's guards took his place as they approached the gates of his hall.