Kire chuckled at Ysaryn’s description of being the Chieftain’s daughter, then nodded at how she described the port city. She wondered what it would have been like to be shunned for one’s race the way Ysaryn had been used to. Even as an exile, Kire knew it wasn’t the same: she still had privilege, and she had at least known comfort in her life. She got up after the elf, brushed herself off, and nodded at her warning. “I know. Thank you.” She offered a smirk. “I can’t die too early. Not before I take some heads with me.” She turned toward the entrance that led into the kitchen. “Let’s find a bite to eat, shall we?” 

[i]Be careful of Rulitus, huh?[/i] Kire’s mind recalled that moment when she had just cut his bow and she had come close enough to sense his magic. She imagined him to be someone teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss; even now, after having reunited with some of his people, Rulitus was a man just going through the motions of life. Anger and emptiness were a dangerous combination. She had felt that, these past six months, and back then, as a young Empress bereft of her mother and father, fresh after the Black Storm. When it happened then, she did fall off that edge, and she was paying the price for the darkness she had let consume her. 

She picked off some cured meat; by now, the breakfast Rulitus had cooked earlier was long gone, and she wondered, a little disappointed, who had cooked whatever was the now-absent source of the lingering aroma in the kitchen. “It’s a damn shame about Cordon, and your people’s experiences there. Maybe someday you could travel, see other coastal settlements. Living by the sea could be quite nice at times. Though I dislike being on a boat for too long.” She cringed at that. “I wonder if Envy’s talked to Rulitus about this—arrangement.”