[u][h3][b]Garthan Jevnoras[/b][/h3][/u]

Garthan Jevnoras, the Scorch Lands’ diplomat, stood as far as possible from the self declared Emperor’s sent official trying to mingle with the Djarkel’s. His small, narrow eyes fixed upon the the black Esyire. His expression doing little to hid his suspicion and concern. The whole time, his hand lingering near his sword hilt straddled at his hip and rested there. It was impossible to disclaim the imposter who insisted he was the original and rightful diplomat, a fact that made him irritated to know. 

Garthan’s mind drifting to the worries back home. The clans were torn and divided, their alliances strained between following the traditional Head Chieftain and this new emerging Emperor. The later was slowly gaining in popularity though Garthan, or other chieftain heads, couldn’t understand how. On the horizon was civil war which pitted blood versus blood, dividing clans and families alike in the end. If things weren’t changed, the very shifting plains of the Scorch Lands would become red with blood until few reminded. His other hand stirred the mug in his free hand then took a deep drink. His thin muzzle filled by the scorching liquor and sitting it down, noting from the corner of his eyes the new student’s nervous energy. 

Hethro’s head flickered back and forth, panning the scene and namely in the imposture direction. And the young vitamancer Esyire with him. The young male had been googling at her since they arrive, his nature naive to the dangers to infatuation could cause. Though it likely didn’t help they had been engaged before the Emperor’s arrival, the wedding called off when the female aimed to follow the Emperor rather than the tradition resulting in Hethro’s father threatening to disown him unless he did so.  It didn’t help his father was being considered for a future chieftain. 

Gently, the older Esyire placed a hand on the youth’s lower arm where the spiked armor wasn’t. “Calm down and forget it, Hethro. Your father would disown you for it.” 

The youth sighed and gave one last look, then nodded remorsefully. Any further words were cut off when Garthan heard a young voice speak out, a polite and casual tone. 
  
[color=f7941d]"Greetings, would you happen to be the representative from the Scorched Lands?"[/color]

He turned to the side to see a Lues Esyire with red chest plates and dressed in a clean tunic and leather pants. It was obvious he wasn’t an official or any teacher, his attire too casual for that. Through there was a vague familiarity, Garthan shrugged it off. He curled his lips into a smile, his scars marring it a bit, as he confirmed and introduced himself with a formal bow.

 “Yes, I am. Garthan Jevnoras. The Scorch Land representative, unlike that imposter will claim.” His voice held a bitter tone. 

[u][h3][color=lightsalmon]Mar[/color][/h3][/u]

Mar watched as the biped reached for his faceplate and pulled it off, revealing it was Tyrael. Her head tilted in confusion at why he was smelt funny to her. The first thing she noted there was the lacking scents of sweat and smoky, his body purged of the familiarity she had come to expect. It explained why she didn't recognize him right off. 

[b]"It is me. My apology. I had forgotten to remove my mask. If you wonder why I am... Like this, it is because of the feast. I was told that I must wash myself and wear this. I came by to inform you that I will be wearing this for today, and to check up on you."[/b]Tyrael naturally spoke confirming the obvious though he held her tongue, it flickering out again in curiosity. He seemed unsettled which made Mar believe there was more to his present visit than merely to pick up Lyn for her play date. Her suspicions were confirmed when he continued still, Mar's torso sticking outright and settled comfortably low on the ground. 

[b]"I would say that you should use today to socialize, but actually it may be best to stay away from the crowds. Foreigners are annoying and will ask too many questions. Aside from that, how have you been today? Is Lyn up yet?"[/b]

[color=lightsalmon]"You needn't lie to me. We both know [i]why[/i] it is best I remain within my den."[/color] 

Mar said calmly, recalling her reaction to the Yarsomere diplomat. It didn't help most her allies, including herself, had reacted harshly toward the diplomat's insult to her. Only Althalus and Lieth had managed to keep a cool, though the prior was on the verge of sending an arrow through his head. Thankfully he wasn't killed. She could only imagine the fall out between her and the college over that as she already had trouble controlling her emotional outbursts. 

Noting Tyrael peering in beyond her shoulder, Mar added.[color=lightsalmon]"Lyn is off playing in the dining hall with Uicle, which is where you can pick her at. Oddly she was rather determined and eager to get there early to see someone. When I asked, she wrote out a name I didn't recognize. She's managed sounds now though. Her favorite was 'mmm' which we're encouraging her to make often, hoping it help her in forming words. She's attempted dad a few times but can't seem to make the first sound."[/color]
 

[h3][color=goldenrod]Khan[/color][/h3]

Khan had isolated himself in his office since this morning.
Originally it was to gain headstart on the piling paperwork, which had ended over an hour ago, but now his attention was engrossed in something else. The Esyire hunched over the desk where his hand cupped a mortar and grounded the black powder into a fine quality from its coarse origins. Gently his hand swirled over and over into a repeated pattern, keeping a calm and sooth pace throughout the time spent to ensure it was perfect. Else he would gain an unexpected, and often dangerous, experience. One he never wanted to repeat again. 

The powder had additional ingredients, from colored seed grounds to crystals, that when in combination with the black powder made colorful explosions. A tapping of glass made the headmaster pause in his attempt to pour the powder upon a parchment then rolling the twine in it. Shifting the mortar into one hand, his eyes narrowed onto the sound’s source: a small, demonic plant trapped under glass. When his office was purged Khan had managed to save one sprout and like all demonic plants, it grew quite rapidly, even without Rathel’s aid. 

[color=goldenrod]”Hush. You don’t need out. I can’t have you causing any trouble again and feeding off the students.”[/color] Khan scolded it, his claw tapped the smooth glass to shut the plant’s complains. It merely touched a protesting leaf on the surface then for the tenth time that day, tried to bury its roots into the onyx underneath. It recoiled when its roots started to burn. 

[color=Goldenrod]”I told you to stop that. You’re not getting out again, do you understand?”[/color] Naturally Khan didn’t expect an answer, or at least one he could understand. The plant settled down back into its slumped over position while he went back to pouring the mortar’s contents into the parchment. It was then, another disruption halted him in his progression causing the headmaster to jerk his head upright at the door. There was a rush, loud banging that rattled the very frame itself. 

Khan frowned and considered it could’ve been Uicle, Lucilia, or a slim chance of Tyrael approaching his office. After all, few students had ever taken him up on his offer to see him after hours. He listened to the voice that followed causing him to frown.          

[color=39b54a]"Hey! Are you taking your medicine in there? Is this the right place? Does a Khan live here?"[/color]

[color=goldenrod]”Come in.”[/color] Khan said, not recognizing the voice and his curiosity getting the better of him.