[center][h2]J A V I Y A H[/h2][/center][hr][hr]
The journey was a downcast, quiet affair. Javiyah had expected no less. Were it that the three she had now found herself sharing a carriage with had been shuttled for as long and as far as her, it would not be a stretch to assume their spirits were equally sapped. Though she prided herself on her cartography, she gave up on identifying villages, and now this city, long ago. She knew where she was going. That was enough. Javiyah glowered out through the murky view to observe the city as they rolled by. Once, a new city would have made her breathless with anticipation and wanderlust. Now she could only make out the indications of unrest, of squalor, and neglect. Indeed, rolling through the urban scenery gave no new inclination for conversation, and Javiyah eventually turned away from the torrid sight, no interest left for the hardships of the commoner in the street.

She felt as much as saw the gaze she received from the passenger opposite her but made no immediate attempt to meet his gaze or retort. Everyone stared. Some in intrigue, some in revulsion. Eventually, everyone wondered. He was a dwarf, and presumably used to stares himself if travel was in his blood. Javiyah pressed forward a distant smile as she considered the first time she met a dwarf. She’d asked him so many questions that she was now sure he would never answer a question again. The novelty was not quite so high, anymore, but she nevertheless felt the urge to question who he was, where he came from, and what he had seen. 

The cowled woman on the other hand; what was her purpose? Another like her, perhaps. Surely. The way that the squalid conditions of their vista seemed to grip her on their ride, she was either a champion of the simple folk, or woefully out of her element. There was something strange about her – the way she moved. She was old, but Javiyah paid it no more mind. She would learn more if they remained this close in proximity. Javiyah rubbed her arm in idle fidget as she cast a glance to final member of the carriage crew. A burly, dirty fellow with the tale of war and battle written on his skin. The letter calling her here had been vague, at best, but with this sour young warrior at her side, she could better imagine the exact nature of the Lord’s request.

The plights of the common man stiffened her heart as they rolled into a manor courtyard, watching the chaos spread among the masses as they fled their own protest. This was the way of life. Cause and effect. The next time, the peasants will have prepared. Ushered along with the others into the chambers of Lord Malcast, Javiyah remained quiet and observant, simply bowing her head to the Lord himself as he welcomed them. Now they would discuss the purpose of their journey in full, at last. Or not. Javiyah frowned as the Lord vanishes away to some distant part of the mansion. Another crisis? 

They were taken to some manner of dining hall, which reminded her of home. Opulent, but forgotten. Magnificent, but troubling. She moved to examine a bookcase as the others toured the room and seated themselves in equal measure. Many books she had not read – some in languages she did not know – but judging from the dust, neither had the Lord of the house. A voice she has not heard previously breaks, and Javiyah turns to spectate the introductions.  Aemma. Thadurim. Good names. Giving the warrior among them another glance, she takes the chance at speaking next, taking a step away from the bookcase and laying a hand on the back of a chair. She will not sit immediately, but she has at least claimed space by the table. “In the presence of nobility, sometimes lies are all we have.” She feels eyes on her, and quickly adds to her retort. “I am Javiyah. Although I feel as though we know each other already, after such a journey.”