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[h1][b][i][color=Olive]Richard Laine[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/36/1d/84/361d844c78fb71a93ab62dcb7651714b.gif[/img][/center]
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[center][color=Olive]Location: The Palace[/color][/center]
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Richard gave a prolonged and forlorn sigh at the antics of Thalia. [color=Olive]"We also do not light our fathers on fire, mon cher."[/color] He noted with humor in his voice as he lowered his head to kiss the small Zekarra on the head. Giving her mother dragoness a reproving look while doing so and managing to make it look cheeky. [color=Olive]"Forgive me dearest wifey, but I am [i]not[/i] fire proof and you don't need me worrying about burns when I am here to be your everlasting servant."[/color] 

Giving a peck to the mother of his child's hand, he wrapped his arms about Thalia's shoulders protectively and not to small in a way possessive. Doubting the small Zekarra wanted anything to do with him as of current. It wounded the man slightly, but he shoved it aside. She was a baby and hardly knew he [i]wasn't[/i] fireproof. Was he resistant? Yes, but not foolhardy. As the others uncovered a tome of strange writing, Richard thought it might be wise to look himself though he could not resist a parting jab. [color=Olive]"You all offer to look, instead of asking the Dragon Lady of the room who probably knows more? My apologies for my wit dear ladies. It's my truest failing."[/color] His head laid on Thalia's shoulder as he gave a grin at the current company and his young daughter. [color=Olive]"It reads... 'Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down...'"[/color] His voice remaining serious and courteous as he raised a brow. [color=Olive]"Shall I continue?"[/color]

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[h1][b][i][color=Gold]Rhys Asher[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/378688333867646976/422255485312565259/df0f62f8c2142e8ad9d0dec68836d9f6.png[/img][/center]
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[center][color=Gold]Location: The Castle walking to his home[/color][/center]
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Pain was nothing new. It happened at times and it was never convenient but he would deal with it. The spell thankfully closed the wound in his leg. The walk home was not what he would call pleasant but he needed the time. Barges would be faster, yet he could feel the icy rage stir within him. Damn the ExtraOrdinary Wizards for allowing the Witches into the castle not to mention the Young Army! Thought that thought led him to a cool and calculated notion. The Young Army was known for stealing and enslaving children namely of political enemies and orphans. But truth was never a clear thing and people were very loud about their young.

Listening to the whispers, Rhys only grew more elated inside. Rumors were spreading about what was happening at the castle and the rogue wizard was in glee to hear about the supposed 'cursed child' on the throne. With the suspicious death of the Queen, the Witches' little war in the Port Coven's Quarters, he suspected there would not be much good will towards either side. Battles were messy things and often people on the side could get hurt. Property would be damaged. The Young Army was in the Castle as well. A cruel smile sprung to Rhys's lips. He could work with this. Young children disappearing the supposedly fill the Young Army's greedy ranks. Perhaps, turning up a time later dullard and broken. Waifs and orphans would not do for that. He would need prominent children. Those from respectable families. A complication. One that would not do as of ye. Setting aside the idea of action, Rhys focused on the idea of words. The far more powerful and hard to prove weapon. A dagger that was invisible, and as useful as fear.

Many people here were frightened. Terrified even. He would use that terror. Lure the Young Army woman out again and into his clutches. Women often responded well to kindness so he would continue that trend. Continuing on his way he feigned a cough which in truth was a grimace of pain. Words of magyck leaving his lips as he drew out a shiny coin and peered into the reflective surface. [color=Gold][i]"Woman of the Young Army with eyes of ice blue. Hair of Auburn, curls of light. I [b]Watch[/b] and [b]Listen[/b] to you."[/i] Careful to keep the coin in front of him lest he would not look where he was going the man, peered against the surface. Hoping to see some glimmer of a name.