Nasharia listened carefully, watching everyone in the room carefully rather than contributing much herself after her initial placation. She was pleased to see that she had been able to redirect the order of things back to the important business at hand, but the tension in the atmosphere built continuously as the contentious issue of magic was discussed at some length. Each of the men around the table had something of worth to contribute to the running of the city, she believed, even if that contribution was a the sort of passion that she was accustomed to redirect toward her own means.

The discussion of the occult was obviously stirring memories in many of the Guardians, not least Nasharia, whose spine tingled coldly as she remembered the swirling maelstrom of magical energy that had pressed on all sides of her mind on that dark day all those years ago. She also remembered the hot flashes of fury; the way she attacked like a madwoman, blood saturating her green robes until they hung like limp lengths of rain-soaked cloth on a drying line. She remembered the way that the battered bracelet that still encircled her wrist had flamed up with a yellowish glow, and how, at the edge of her mind, she had heard a foul, dark whispering in an unknown language and then, as the tide of the battle had turned, a chorus of approval from her ancestors.

They were uncomfortable memories, and they were duly suppressed - it would not do for someone whose life revolved around the impassionate pragmatism of the politician to be so affected by the passionate throes of her early life. That was done; her parents had been avenged. Her allegiance was to Dara now - for it was within these crumbling walls that the ex-poisoner and herbalist had been able to find status, fame and gold. More than any of the others around the table, Nasharia's status was inextricably entwined with the city's own systems of social class and government.

As the tension in the room mounted, Nasharia stood carefully, once again ready to diffuse the situation in any way possible. She first looked to Kanros, who had addressed her about surveillance far beyond Dara's reach. "My next caravans will be despatched with orders to observe the local gossip and goings on along their trade routes. If there is any such whisper of an increase in occult activity along the major trade routes, then we will know of it within a matter of weeks,"

"I shall, naturally, also keep a close eye on things within the city's magistrate and amongst its more highborn denizens... a task with which I shall, I am sure, find collusion with our resident brothel-keeper," She continued, with a light-hearted nod to Landar. He was turning out to be as politically competent as Nasharia had both hoped and dreaded. 

The Green Woman had been considering Haljon carefully since his interjection. It was not considered very good form to drink to excess at the slightest provocation - especially on state business, and doubly especially when the matters at stake were so essential to the continued existence of the city and (Nasharia remembered with a pang of apprehension) the continued lives of everyone around this table. Nonetheless, it was entirely possible that the watch commander had become complacent with the pencil pushing lifestyle of the leader, and had indulged in all manner of hedonist extravagances in the interceding years between their time together. Nasharia chose to believe that this was a minor blip, or else some manner of ruse, for in her dealings with the city's government she had not heard many whisperings of Haljon being a particularly incompetent commander. "I must vouch for Leytan. I know his students to be of sound mind and of a disciplined temperament - and I think their deployment would do much to allow us to continue with a conducive investigation without the unwelcome possibility of exciting the attentions of the lower orders too much,"

She paused contemplatively for a moment, tapping her chin with a bejewelled finger. The emerald hairpiece that held her elaborate style in place glittered hungrily. "If I may also make another pragmatic suggestion," She finally said, peering around at the assembled. "We should put out an official account of the deaths of our predecessors - perhaps that there was a gas lamp explosion of some sort, or something equally mundane. I would daresay that it would not fool a great deal of people, but an official account would at the very least dissuade some attentions; particularly from foreign states who may look to the sudden death of our entire ruling body as an opportunity of some sort or another,"

"Furthermore, I also believe that we must make a public show. Some sort of open parade or other such event, in order to show the people of Dara that the Guardians are still an extant force with a strong backbone," She finished optimistically, hoping that the others would see the need for this petty political posturing. Presently, the tensions at the table ignited, and she turned to Ephraim somewhat sharply.
"My friend, it is my intention to work with all assembled at this table with equal respect. I cannot, however, sit by while you threaten your fellow so physically. Put the sword away, before this situation turns bloody. They are still scrubbing the remnants of our predecessors off of the walls as we speak - I need not remind you of the precarious fragility of all of our existences?" Nasharia fired somewhat sharply, her eyes narrowing as she reeled on Ephraim. She was, of course, taking something of a gamble in confronting the situation at the table with so much vigour, but she hoped that it would be her who could easily disperse any tensions. "Personal attacks must not occur here - verbal or otherwise,"

She folded her arms over her dress, sighing slightly. "We must all do our part in whatever field we are experienced in. I do not agree with the methods of some of those here at this table, but I recognise their worth," Continued the lady, eyeing Ephraim pointedly. "I hope that all of us can do the same,"