"Indeed, well... Mother Vivari understands well enough that rigid adherence is not the source of success, but rather the ability to bend and adapt. He who will establish himself must yield according to circumstance; like the hard oaks of a forest, which, though possessed of great strength and built strong and tall, is soon broken by the storm-wind when it remains obstinately immovable. It does not understand the noble art of bending like the willow, which adapts and outlasts it." Zakroti replied with a light nod, standing up from the ground and appraoching the Ganaut again, rubbing his hand along its scaled head softly. 

"Sometimes, one must fight, whether they would wish for it or not." Aurien affirmed as he stood up and shouldered his weapon cautiously, peering out over the horizon "Neither Drun nor Vivari favours those who stick to lofty notions over the blunt reality of war; It doesn't matter what the man was killed by a blade or arrow or the slinging of a spell, what matters is that he is dead and the battle is won."

Zakroti furrowed his brow lightly as Aurien spoke. He was right, of course, to put it bluntly the Gemmenite way of war was something he didn't quite understand. Oshweli fought with spell and sword and bow as happily as any other, yet the Gemmenites, it was said, bound themselves to fighting in a more 'civilised' manner by leaving aside those physical implements of war. Zakroti wondered, then, how they supposed they could be expected to win against enemies who wouldn't agree to tie one hand behind their back as they did; Playing fair was hardly to be expected from the enemy in times of war, and that the Gemmenites had managed to find themselves utterly under the thumb of the Drakken with little in the way of effective resistance would in his eyes make it obvious that the status quo was not wise. Perhaps they simply had no other way, and told themselves that it was for this reason than humiliate themselves by trying; He doubted that the Drakken would let the Gemmenites arm themselves enmasse now even if they tried to.


Zakroti turned again lightly in place to regard Nenra, smiling warmly to her as she elaborated upon the bundles of seeds she carried with her. She had sidestepped the other segment of his bait nimbly enough, but that would wait until another time. The servant moved forwards to collect the spent bowls and cups, rushing away again.

"By all means, keep them safe then until we finish our journey and arrive, I will be happily obliged to show you where they might be planted! I should very much like to see them growing at Mu'Jupostat. One day, perhaps, we will be able to try these fruits!" He declared with a small grin, guessing that would be quite some time before they sprouted fruits; Indeed, many of the trees often took four or five years. He could be patient, however, time had taught him that much. He had heard, of course, all manner of half-truths and rumours about Gemmenite gardeners, so he wouldn't dare to speculate on the matter at this time.

"Postat." Zakroti ordered again, causing the hulking lizard to set itself down on its belly  once more. He swung himself atop it swiftly and peered towards the Gemmenite women, shifting in place to situate himself within the saddle "You should mount up, we have a long way left to ride."