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[center][h2][color=92278f]Harun Fakim Al-Kashir[/color][/h2]
[color=92278f][b]DATE:[/b][/color] Year 7,432 of the 3rd Era. 3rd Month, 15th Day
[color=92278f][b]LOCATION:[/b][/color] The Sprawling Plains of Bervenia, Heart of Bervenia
[color=92278f][b]INTERACTING WITH:[/b][/color] Morgan[@Lyla], Nimue[@Crusader Lord] 
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	[color=6ecff6]“Thank the gods.”[/color]

	Three staunch horses stood at the crest of a grassy hill amongst the rolling fields of Bervenia, their riders overlooking the Twinned City. Two women, both with red hair and simple travelers clothes, and one, rather busty and scowling. One of the slimmer women looked to the others, a mischievous smile on her lips. Her voice was not the thief’s own, but it was one he was quickly growing accustomed to. [color=6ecff6]“I can’t believe we’re finally here. Now you two can move on with whatever grand destiny you have and I can knock out my chores. I would like to say it has been a pleasant journey, but I don’t lie. For the record, Fly Without Wings is a fantastic stallion, don’t you dare let them geld him. I’ll be checking back in with him in a few days.”[/color] With that, Harun ran his hands over his horse before transforming into a sparrowhawk, spiraling off towards the city. Fly Without Wings was a beautiful beast, and the thief had every intention to keep him, Fraweth be damned. Xil was eerily silent on the subject.

	Traveling to Bervenia had been hard. Not the actual route there, the road was easy and the wind was always to the travelers’ backs, but let the world be damned if it wasn’t awkward. The two lady legends were sheltered in their own tents, though the thief distinctly heard them sneaking between them multiple times as they traveled. It was obvious that where the warrior’s bodies had long been dead and their spirits dampened, they were looking to make up for lost time.

	More importantly, Xil’Gurash had been uncannily quiet since the launch party, only breaching the silence between them to bring up their ‘important talk’ that needed to be had. It was usually at these points that Harun would change the subject or begin addressing minor issues with the two Ladies, putting things off. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to have the conversation with Xil, just that he didn’t want to now, and sure as hell not in the company of those two. More than that... he didn't know what to say. Xil had been happy, that was easy to tell. He had a wielder who deserved him. But Harun had found him first, saved his life even! Surely that made him deserve to wield the holy blade... right?

	Putting those thoughts away, Harun was actually glad for the budding romance between the two stone-brained fools. As far as he was concerned, the more the twin heroes of Fraweth paid attention to each other the less they paid to him, and he had more than his fair share of work to do. As they made their way, he continually set contracts with local spirits for the sake of surveillance, gathering information and leaving spies. He even set a few gusts of wind to watch his associates and respond in case of emergencies. Nothing they would notice without obvious magical assistance, and if they did then what of it? He was looking out for all of them, whether they liked it or not. That, and he was learning their mannerisms better and better...

	Regardless, they were finally here, in the shimmering jewel of the plains. ...Or something along those lines. The point was that the shapeless prince had finally found the object of the strange urges in his mind, and could get down to business. Or at least, those were his thoughts when he landed in a stall in the market. Shifting to a familiar shape of a tabby cat, Harun walked down the streets unmolested, taking in the strangeness around him…

	[b]“Excuse me, Harun?”[/b] The tabby spun around, claws out and back arched. The thief could already feel the anger rising. The witch had followed him to the city? Seriously? After trekking across the gods-damned continent sighing and moaning and wishing that he wasn’t with her, she followed him?! 

	It was at this point that the southerner realized that the voice addressing him was male and coming from a tall, armored form. Still, the man was looking directly at him, mostly stoic. Much more importantly, he was speaking Kashiyem. It was stilted and obviously not something he was fluent with, but it was Harun's own language. Blinking once, the bandit king stopped dead in his tracks, seeing how things would go. This was different.

	[b]"Yes, er, Harun Fakim Al-Kashir? Sandwalker? The Ladies of this city request your presence at the palace with the other heroes, as well as the Ladies Morgan and Nimue as soon as they arrive in the city. Lady Royce would also like to comment that ‘redhead and the busty fool’ seems like a disrespectful way to refer to someone when speaking with spirits, but your life choices are your own. Additionally, I've been told to inform you that your stallion will be more than tended to. Mayhaps more importantly, the Lady addressed him as 'your stallion,' so as to avoid conflicts. Follow me, if you would?”[/b] Immediately the guard turned around and started to walk, his face slightly red as the people in the street stared at him, speaking to a cat. It wouldn't be odd if Harun didn't follow him, but this seemed like a way to get answers, or at least important questions, so...

	Harun ignored the strained laughter in his mind, Xil’Gurash chortling in his mind’s ear. Considering his options, The tabby cat followed the guardsman, blinking with confusion. Either the leader of this city was a divinist or another spirit speaker, and considering how common the latter was in his own age... Divination magic was always a pain in the ass. He could take any form he wanted, if she knew his name he could be found eventually. Horribly inconvenient, but she knew he was alive. That itself spoke volumes as far as he was concerned. The bastard king would be at the palace soon, and would be more than happy to speak with this ‘Lady Royce.” Maybe she would have some godsdamned answers.

	His thoughts came to a halt as he was led through the palace to a small chamber, silks and cushions piled in small mountains. To be entirely honest, it was a little too similar to his own throne room for comfort. More greens than he favored, though. Still, his attention was more than taken with the throne across the room, facing away from him. As he stepped inside, he shifted, taking his full form plus a few inches of height for dramatics. He swept into a low bow, a confident smile crossing his handsome face as his amber eyes flashed in the dim light of the room. He didn't bother changing languages. She would know plenty. [color=92278f]"Lady Royce, I presume? [/color]