[i]Good stuff![/i] Haljon thought after downing half a flagon of wine in a single gulp. [i]Very good stuff![/i] Of course, he would prefer something a bit more stout - as he dreaded the reunion with his former companions - but this particular vintage would have no issues giving him the slight buzz he desired; provided, of course, he had several flagons of the stuff. Just enough to numb him somewhat, and for it to be clear he had been drinking. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Apparently his lictors disagreed, as Haljon swiftly concluded after a quick glance at them. Little more than boys, he held no misconceptions of their worth in a fight; why, he was almost certain he could handle the majority of them with nothing more than his fists! Disgraceful as it was, he supposed it was meant to be that way. Nothing kept a would-be despot more humble than the ever present threat of death-by-angry-mob. Haljon chuckled to himself. Not that it particularly mattered in this case. Despite tradition Cyrus, his second-in-command, had insisted on sending a patrol of Khavi ahead of Haljon's little procession, just to be safe.

Haljon fingered the green sash wrapped about his left bicep. It still felt surreal. Him, a guardian? What lunatic had decided [i]that[/i] was a good idea? He struggled to remember the ritual which had made it official, but failed miserably. All he recalled was a blurry haze of events and that it had required much pomp and ceremony, as it was held in the parade ground of the Khavi barracks. He had been drinking of course, which is why he remembered so little. [i]Ah, but the ale was particularly fine...[/i]

He entertained such thoughts for a little while before returning to the present. They were in front of the Hall of Guardians, and the boyish lictors looked up at him expectantly; some in open scorn, others in silent amusement. He ignored both and walked inside, his heavy steps sending small quakes through the ground. As he entered he paused, gazing over his assembled former comrades. A neutral nod towards Kanros, a bitter sigh and shake-of-the-head at Erwun, narrowed-eyes for Leytan and Ephraim, and murmured greetings for the rest; this is how he greeted them. It seemed anticlimatic in a way, after so long, but Haljon had never been one for drama or showmanship. He walked towards a seat near the back - purposefully stumbling a bit on the way, the damned liqour getting the best of him of course - and sat down heavily, immediately reaching for the spiced wine. After a few large gulps, he concluded it was excellent, and helped himself to more whilst the others talked. At Ephraim's retort to Leytan's suggestion of bears, he could not help himself, and let out a booming laugh that shook dust down from the ceilings. He waited for Nasharia to finish, admiring her poise and the little hints of her figure that shone through her conservative dress, before rising to his feet to give his own thoughts on the matter.

[b]"I have ordered patrols tripled and for all Khavi to be on the highest alert status. I have two dozen of my best men investigating any witness accounts and potential clues pertaining to the most hein-hein.."[/b] He paused, frowning, then plowed onwards. [b]"[i]Heinous[/i] of murders on our once-beloved guardians."[/b] Haljon frowned again, displaying his distaste for the flowery words. He grunted, evidently deciding to dispense with such speech with his next sentence. [b]"The main issue, as I see it, is maintaining an image of stability and security. Both of which have been severely compromised in the public eye."[/b] He paused, waiting for this to sink in, then moved on. [b]"There are currently around five thousand men in the Khavi. I propose doubling that, and perhaps supplementing my Khavi with some of Kanros' blackgu- mercenaries."[/b] He raised a bushy eyebrow, searching the faces of his audience. He had been careful to slur some of his words in his speech and now he looked for what they would react most strongly to; his speech, or his conduct. That would reveal a great many things to him, a great many useful things.

He sat heavily, and helped himself again to the wine. It really was quite good.