"Relax young Mia," called a soft voiced man, "for these men have the favor of gods on their side."

Brother Vas stood in the doorway of Emperor's Chambers, unceremonious in his entrence. He had quite enjoyed the girl's little song, a soft tone in times so bleak. He turned to the seated patriarch and his paladin, bowing to them respectably.

"His Grace Eyrin, Lord and Emperor of the World's House and Sir Sayrin Mordun, of the Royal Guard. The New Order sends their regard and their light."

Brother Vas looked away for a moment, a bandaged face staring of to the void. He smiled, as if a joke had just been whispered into his ear and turned back towards the Emperor's Throne.

"Ah, and Talas Thassil! Elven bow-master of the Royal Guard. Shadows speak in jealous tones in your name. Many a would-be assassin slain, I believe. Come friend, there are no poison daggers or dark hearts here."