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[h1][color=steelblue]Xiuyang Solari
Company of Monsters[/color][/h1][/center]
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[center][h2][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JuaOjT2h2k]♬[/url][/h2][/center]
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	Xiuyang returned to her room in the merchants' district of the student dormitories, bag in her hand. Stuffed full of correspondence and other trinkets, it would soon join the pile on her desk. Or rather, piles. On the right, there was the small 'urgent, definitely going to read' pile. To the left was the 'semi-promising, maybe' pile. Then a 'hard maybe' pile after that, and finally, a 'junk mail' pile, which was [i]not[/i] the conspicuously empty trash can on the floor next to it. She was a merchant, after all, and sometimes a little advertising could serve as inspiration. She was also a skilled binding mage, and had made a habit of recycling paper for her own purposes. Not a scrap of parchment that was sent Xiuyang's way was wasted. Yes, her room reflected her nature. She was disorganized. Messy, even—but efficient.

	Sorting through the various letters, she would eventually find one with her family's own seal on it. That is, the Esparza family's seal, as her father hardly used his own anymore. She held it up, feeling its weight. It was light—definitely her father's style. Her mother would have filled it to the brim with pleasantries and the gossip of Torragon, which she also enjoyed, to the detriment of her limited time. Cautiously optimistic, but eagerly, she employed what scant understanding she had of magnetic magic to find her letter opener from among the detritus that littered her desk, and had her father's words in her hands in short order.

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[i]A riddle or two for my dearest little girl:

	When the west wind changes direction, does the east feel its heat? Or, does she perceive the smell of smoke on the air?

	When blood is in the water, do the threshers resist its call? Or, do those caught in the waves not cry for salvation?

	Can five-fingered hands form a seal? Or, can one stop a deluge with one's palms?

	I look forward to hearing from you. Let your unique insight guide you. Yours in confidence.[/i]

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	Xiuyang nodded her head along as she transcribed the coded message in her head with the proper cipher. The words were cryptic, but not encoded with an agreed-upon lingo. When her father wrote of concrete business opportunities that she was, without question, intended to act upon, there were specific code words to watch for. Every client, every country, every business, and every established meeting place had a specific code name. More vague, 'riddle me this' propositions were more like friendly advice. The meaning was clear to Xiuyang—perhaps to anyone else who had been paying attention to the situation in ReTan, as well. With the first line, he was covertly asking her if she'd been paying attention, herself. The second line appeared to imply that the course of events there had taken a turn for the inevitable. The third postulated that the Twin Emperors—the two hands—and their ten fingers, the Black Guard, may be facing a foe or a force they cannot abate. The possibility existed that they were, proverbially, a 'sinking ship.' He seemed to be suggesting that she investigate the matter.

	As she placed the paper down, it became blank, as the ink wet, removed, and stored itself in a nearby ink pot for future use. Rather than destroy the letter, she placed it beneath her desk on top of a pile of other blank sheets of paper. She sat in her chair for a moment, alone with her thoughts. What she was considering was certainly dangerous. It would be best to go with someone else, but she didn't exactly have any options. Everyone that she even vaguely trusted to protect her life had been sent on various missions. With that in mind, she sat in her chair, meditating as she drew upon every source of energy she could. The stack of papers weren't exactly in short supply, so one at a time, they became potential energy. Every ounce of heat in the room was slowly drawn to her. Xiuyang felt a nearby bottle of previously warm beer start to frost over, and without missing a beat, she quickly reached over to chug it before it became completely frozen.

	Once she had finally drawn enough to feel a slight pressure inside her head, she stood up. Her room had gone dark—and soon she would as well. She strapped her medicine box to her right hip as usual and, with no guarantee of protection at her destination, she reluctantly grabbed her bagh nakhs. Practiced kinetic magic with a touch of magnetic opened the door to Xiuyang's room automatically as she approached it. As she stepped through it, she vanished. She walked, silently and invisibly, with grim determination. The stakes were high, and exactly one person she trusted could help her reach her destination on short notice. She reached out, trying to sense Jocasta's presence.

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	Xiuyang sat on the railing of the balcony, enjoying the view from her vantage point above the group. ReTan was a new, but familiar sight. It was like looking at an image of a nostalgic childhood dream, depicting an event that may or may not have ever actually happened. However, one look down at the scurrying locals, or one look up and to the side at the smoldering mountain would turn the surreal atmosphere into a nightmare. Thankfully, she already possessed a mask that could filter the air she breathed.

	Suddenly, Xiuyang felt eyes on her. It seemed the group had finally noticed her, once Jocasta had pointed in her direction. Holding her hat and medicine box in place, she kicked off the railing, landing with an impossibly soft noise as her boots absorbed the harsh, second story impact. [color=steelblue]"Knee, how! Oraff keyp jhou, frens!"[/color] she greeted with a phony accent, clearly to amuse herself. Her mouth hadn't moved an inch. Instead, her face was covered with a mask that emitted a voice for her. It was the voice of a much more mature woman than suited Xiuyang. An invisible smirk was almost certainly responsible for the change in her eyes' expression. [color=steelblue]"My name is legally Salomé, but call me Xiuyang. Or else,"[/color] she added playfully. [color=steelblue]"Most of you don't know me. Some of you think you do, but you don't."[/color] She shot Yalen and Jocasta a cheeky and knowing wink. [color=steelblue]"I'll cut to the chase. Neither the school nor the church sent me here. I'm here for my own personal business. What that is, is for Oraff to know, and for me to hopefully find out sometime today. Does it have anything to do with that over there?"[/color] She gestured behind herself with a thumb, pointing at the 'that' in question, as if the aftermath of Ingrid's spell were an equivalent crisis to a jellied toast that had landed jelly-side down.

	Some of the students may have tried to convince her to leave, either because it was too dangerous, a second binder wasn't necessary, or [i]she[/i] in general wasn't 'needed.' However, she was undeterred by their words, which received only more cheeky answers in response. It was the realization that she'd been provided with an outfit to wear at the audience with the Twin Emperors that gave her pause, though. How was it possible that they already knew she'd be here? Only her father should know that there was even a chance she'd be here. The letter should have been impossible to decipher, unless their information network was compromised. She was pretty sure her entry into ReTan had been flawless. She hid, invisibly, in the shadow of Jocasta's raw magic power, until they were well enough away from the portal that she'd blend in with the crowd. Nobody, not a single soul should know that she was here, associated with this group of students. She seemed genuinely disturbed as she looked over the garment, her mind racing with endless possibilities. One thing was clear. Her presence was not requested.

	They were [i]demanding[/i] she show up.

	First, she tried to sense magic on the garments provided. This turned up nothing, but she wasn't satisfied. [color=steelblue]"Give that here,"[/color] she said as she reached out for the one that was, eerily and unmistakably, marked with her full name. She reached out to hold it, somewhat reluctantly. Feeling it in her hands, it seemed unnaturally soft and luxurious, but otherwise perfectly normal—until the skin on her hands began to turn red and itch. [color=steelblue]"[i]Cazzo![/i] Damned royals and their [i]unique[/i] dyes!"[/color] Her voice rang more annoyed than disturbed at this point. She swore several more times as she reached for her medicine box to retrieve something to get rid of the itching problem. Nobody else seemed to have this reaction to the fabric, except her. At first, it seemed like it might be allergies. She did wear an air-filtering mask at all times, after all, and never really told anybody why.

	Eventually, however, it was deduced that Xiuyang's hands weren't breaking out in hives over mere paranoia. The realization of the plushtail oil plot came among an avalanche of other information that was new to Xiuyang as the others, mostly Maura, brought her up to speed on current events. During the discussions, she didn't say much, but those that watched her carefully could see her calm, cool cat demeanor slowly fade as she began to take it all in, eventually being replaced with an almost 'fed up with it' attitude. After she was brought up to the current moment, she announced rather flatly that she was going for a walk. Some wondered aloud if she'd be coming back. She eventually would, after taking some time in the markets to clear her mind. She won an action figure as a lottery prize, which didn't help her mood.

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	While the group were preparing to be taken to the Forbidden Quarter, there was a sudden commotion. Xiuyang and her much, [i]much[/i] larger and beefier escort were arguing angrily in unintelligibly rapid Rettanese. Jocasta was trying to figure out what was going on before he'd get fed up and start beating her to a pulp. [b]"She can't to wear face covering in presence of Emperors! Magic item is forbidden!"[/b] he roared. [color=steelblue]"Like I've told this oaf, I [i]can't[/i] take it off,"[/color] she shot back. [color=steelblue]"Never mind that I can't speak without it. I breathe the wrong air, I [i]die[/i]."[/color] Her words certainly seemed sincere. There was no small number of rumors on campus about why she covered her face and skin, and this might be yet another. Regardless of the truth of the matter, Jocasta was apparently vouching for Xiuyang. [b]"Fine! But she must to cover ugly mask with cloth! Is looks very evil!"[/b] he finally relented. Xiuyang scoffed, probably about to make some comment about how it was less ugly than him, but Jocasta shot her a glare that said "just stop."

	With that slightly terrifying episode out of the way, they were off. Xiuyang hadn't been carried anywhere since she was a child, and it was kind of surreal. Being stared at made her uncomfortable. She was used to blending in even without trying. Meeting a stranger's eyes usually preceded a confrontation. Well—this was about to be the confrontation of a lifetime, she supposed. Once the crowds were gone, she was able to settle down just a little as she admired the scenery. [color=steelblue][i]Ah. A fine place to die.[/i][/color] She had enough tact in her to not say it, but she certainly thought it. As they slowly approached their destination, Xiuyang eventually supposed she should be trying to come up with some kind of plan. What could she realistically do if things turned south, though? Run? Run where? Run how? She'd be caught eventually. The Devourer mana type didn't let her draw energy fast enough to remain both mobile and invisible indefinitely. That was assuming that her illusion magic even worked on these monsters in the first place.

	And at last, upon arrival, she learned that she'd have to leave her medicine box behind, to top it all off. She was [i]screwed[/i]. Coming here was unequivocally a mistake. She should have fled the moment she laid eyes on those poisoned garments—damn the consequences. It was all she could do now to put on a frosty exterior and hope that her apparent lack of intimidation passed their bullshit radar.

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	So it was that Xiuyang remained eerily silent through most of the dinner, her face unreadable behind the veil of cloth which covered her mask. She spoke hardly a word, except some small pleasantries exchanged in fluent Rettanese with the servants who brought the food, and others who shot pointed questions in her direction, to which she responded with characteristically Rettanese answers. That is to say, she spoke evasively and in riddles, as was apparently the local custom. In fact, she spoke nary a word of Avincian the entire time, seemingly hesitant to even speak to her supposed allies. Was she trying to play at being the 'reasonable one' of the group? Was she losing her nerve?

	On the contrary, unbeknownst to anyone but her—Xiuyang's guard might have dropped as she listened to the Emperors speak. She spent enough time on the water to recognize a drowning fish. Though it may not appear so to untrained eyes, the Twin Emperors were weak, and desperate to appear strong, by her reckoning. One of them seriously dropped the "you'd be dead if we wanted you to be" line without so much as a hint of ironic mirth, and she'd just barely resisted the urge to laugh. The other put forth the same "for the greater good" excuse that history had recorded many times before. Xiuyang could practically see, in her mind's eye, her aged self reading to her grandchildren about the fall of the Ten Dynasty in one of her history books. She supposed she'd expected more philosophical depth from the elder sanguinaires.

	That's not to say that she'd been rude or disruptive during the dinner; Xiuyang's manners were impeccable. She sat upon her legs in the proper way, hands in her lap when appropriate, as a model to her fellow students. She was also one of the first among them to bring a morsel of food to her mouth, though it was not entirely clear how she could eat with her mask on. She believed that the meal was likely not poisoned, but she was confident in her poison resistance besides. Her etiquette regarding tea—a notoriously difficult subject—was flawless as well. Eventually she would let the mirth of the party get to her a little, and she'd tilt her head back to chug some alcohol. Her intake could nearly match that of the drunken Mountain Spring, though if she'd gotten even the slightest bit drunk, she didn't show it. Only one thing was on her mind. The Twin Emperors might be in a weakened position—but she lacked the means to either communicate or capitalize on her suspicions. If only she'd had the time to develop some clandestine method of communicating with the others, they might have had something.

	That was when the Twin Emperors made their offer. Rich rewards to those that joined them—or a violent end.

	Xiuyang was an enigmatic addition to the group of youths. Why was she there? Had the 'old guard' of Ersand'Enise—those sympathetic to the Ten Dynasty—sent her to assist in defusing the situation? If so, she wasn't putting much effort into it. Why would she voluntarily get involved? Was she hoping to tip the scales of the conflict and profit from the fallout? Did she know what she was getting into? Was she entirely of sound mind? Both the students of Ersand'Enise and the Black Guard of ReTan showed signs of divided opinion. Some viewed her with suspicion, others shot her hopeful and expectant glances. None of the lingering questions or speculation seemed to bother Mountain Spring, who approached her as she was quietly eyeing the coin in her hand, playing with it with her fast, mercantile fingers. Before he'd get the chance to sweep her off her feet, Xiuyang shot Jocasta an eerily 'final' glance—like she suspected this could be farewell. She was afraid.

	Fittingly, she was paired with the notorious drunk of the guards. At least he didn't reek, [i]for now.[/i] [color=72B587]"C'mere you."[/color] He gestured for the quarter-Rettanese to come over with a jolly smile and a light tint of pink on his cheeks. Women of lesser constitution would have balked at his 'uncouth' approach. Certainly, many noble ladies who sprang to mind would complain about his casual address and beckoning hands—but not her. Contrary to the stiff manners she had displayed thus far in the proceedings, she merely lifted a brow at the man, as if to suggest that she too was curious about where this was going to go. Incidentally, where it was going was [i]up[/i]. When at arms' reach, her shoulders were seized and she was launched in the air with great force. One instant, Xiuyang was standing there among her peers—and the next, she wasn't. Mountain Spring quickly followed her up into the sky. Xiuyang's coin fell to the ground with a harsh 'clink,' leaving the students to speculate about her intentions while the Black Guard howled with laughter. It seemed unlikely, to say the least, that she could survive combat with Mountain Spring for more than a few seconds—assuming he hadn't killed her just now.