Valdemar described this place as the greatest fortress in the world, and while Rohaan's interest was peaked, he was also a little unimpressed. He was not an army, come to batter at its walls with engines and fire. Nor was he a wily but stupid common thief, who thought he could crawl in and not be noticed, or bribe someone to get inside. No, he was Rohaan Ja'aisen. He was the master of thieves, and the shapes of all beasts were his to wear. If there was a courtyard, no one would begrudge a sparrow for flitting among the grass. If there was a sewer, no one would think twice about a rat scurrying inside. Getting inside was not a problem. Getting out was the tricky part. 

"Yes, yes, greatest fortress and all, right." He flicked a dismissive hand. "You need a man of infiltration, Valdemar, which is why you chose me. I get that. And you need someone that, when everything goes sideways, has...teeth." He let the double meaning of that turn-of-phrase sit for a moment. "I wonder if you find irony in so desperately needing the help of a silverblood. You know, the people you see as a nuisance and less than a person. I've always wondered if your humans' hatred of us came from jealousy, or even fear that we might actually be better than you, stronger. What a pity it must be to have to live your whole life in one single shape..." This was not taunting, this was an honest sentiment that he held. He couldn't imagine being stuck to one form for a lifetime. No wonder humans were bitter, they could not fly...

"You mentioned at some point you didn't care much for the details of this expedition. I really hope you meant that, or your choosing me is worthless. I can't guarantee my methods, and I can't guarantee that if enough things try to kill me, I won't burn Durgan to the ground. I used to sink ships as a boy, I'm sure a fortress wouldn't trouble me now. "Hope there's nothing else of interest there for you. As for our deal, don't burn me and I won't burn you. Literally or otherwise."

Rohaan pocketed the flask in one of the pouches across the leather bandolier he wore, though he'd been planning to do so anyway. He wouldn't have considered it a theft, either. Too easy, and it really was more of a gift anyway. Besides, it seemed like he'd be needing himself a stiff drink these days to get through this madness. The ring though...he wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, it might give him some leverage out there, knowing that he was associated with the Emperor. He almost retched at the thought. He'd much rather rid the world of an evil and torch them all to ash right now but...no. His time with Berlin had taught him enough to know when to pass up one opportunity for a better one. This was one of those times. Rohaan also wondered if anyone would really honor the significance of the ring. It might be noteworthy and not some common token, but he was not some common man. Rohaan took the band of silver from him and stashed it away, too. He did not wear it, and did not want it visible. 

He stood, grinning devilishly at the captain. Rohaan sauntered over to him, leaning in close and patting him on the cheek like a man might pat a good plow horse. "Did you hear that, Ca-mm? We're going to be [I]good[/I] friends. I'd ask you for a little pocket change to cover some necessary expenses but..." Rohaan shrugged, holding aloft a leather purse filled with heavy coins. It belonged to the captain...or it used to, and at some undetermined point, the shifter had swiped it. 

"If I can, I might send a sign that I've made contact. Don't need to worry about it being intercepted--it won't be in letters. You'll know it when you see it." And then in the blink of an eye, his man shape became something larger and darker. A dragon now stood in the grass beside the banquet table. It was not the large, armored breed often found in high mountain peaks and rumored to have stashes of hoarded gold, but it was a cyradan. Significantly smaller, leaner, and though the scales were thick and tough, they were not as impervious as other varieties. They were smooth and close fitted like snake skin, though they were a matte black that seemed to drink in light and consume it rather than reflect it. The spine had only small, curved black spines, and the face was mostly angular and smooth with only small spikes framing the jawline. The wings were not entirely leathery and sinuous, but were almost velvety like a horse's nose. His teeth and talons were all a deep, dark grayish black reminiscent of less shiny hematite, and there were small lines running along his body and face that pulsed a bioluminescent red that in the light of the sun was easily missed or mistaken for a faint reflection. Yet, as always, his eyes were slit orbs of lapis lazuli. By its build, this particular variety of dragon was built for speed and agility, not to mention nighttime stealth. 

Rohaan gave one last parting roar, a two-toned sound that seemed like two different voices speaking as one. One deep and resonating like the grumblings of an elephant. The other was as sharp as broken glass. And with a good launch and a few pumps of his powerful wings, the shifter was gone at last. For a long time, there was no other news of him, except that a group of five men, all conspirators in the Emperor's trap, were seen by doctors the next morning to treat their sudden and bloody lack of tongues, and also venomous snake bites.

Rohaan did not linger after that. He flew high and by night, trusting to stealth to keep him out of trouble with high success. The rate at which he reached Durgan would make any caravan balk in disbelief, but then he was not limited to the use of winding roads, and he was not burdened with carts. Rohaan allowed himself some much needed rest that he'd earned after many days of hard flight, and then with determination, he began his quest in earnest. First, he needed information.