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Esben Mathiassen




"It seems this voice gave us no chance to heed it or not," Esben remarked drily. "No wonder it's a clown, it must have been so starved for attention..." As the shadows around his feet rapidly coalesced, inky black pools of aether reaching towards him with hands and claws, he deftly danced around them and away from their grasp—tangling no small number together with themselves.

If he had to fight a cursed, ancient clown, he'd at least make a fool of it in the process.

"Any other interesting aquaintances we'll get to see before we're out of here, Rudolf?"

Even if the news of what was happening in Skael had been a shock, Esben's mood seemed remarkably improved compared to when they'd all been riding up to the Demet estate. Having something tangible to work towards always had made him feel better than just a general problem to worry over, he supposed, so it only made sense that he'd be back to his usual self.

And few things were more tangible than a demonic jester trying to harm him. He came to a stop in a clear spot, drawing his sword and pulling out the pistol he'd taken off a Valheimer corpse aboard their airship, and fired as Chisato lobbed a bomb at the ghastly thing that had accosted them.
Esben Mathiassen, Kayliss Lambert, Cadmon and Wulfric Demet




"Stories like you wouldn't believe," Wulfric started when Éliane leaned over his way. "You should've seen the time he almost sliced the tip off his own nose when he was first practicing with a sword—" He cut off suddenly as a door quietly opened, a few blonde locks poking out from a hood being the most immediately recognizable thing to keep him seated where Izayoi got ready to fight...before 'aunt Kay' took over the conversation entirely.

He and Cadmon both sat quietly for a moment as the entire group took in the news of Solitude's troubles. Knife and fork set silently next to his plate, he watched his father for their next steps.

The earl, of course, had already assumed something was wrong in Solitude. Earlier than he actually needed to, perhaps, but now he had confirmation. "Have you told István?" he asked Kayliss, letting Galahad's words hang for the moment. Wulfric, for his part, flicked Rudolf in the ear. Not quite the slap to the back of the head he might normally have given, but he couldn't entirely blame the younger man for being surprised by the revelation either.

"Of course not. That's your job. Shilage territory is in the exact opposite direction of where I need to be."

"Weeks since you last came through and told me to write to Leo, and you couldn't take care of that yourself..?" the grey-haired lord groused. "Take what you'll need when you leave. Wulfric, pack your things—you're riding north at dawn. Once you're done be ready to help the rest of them if they need anything."

"Aye." He picked up his plate, finishing off the last few bites that were on it before pushing his chair back and leaving the room. Cadmon's eyes passed over the table, lingering for a moment on the nearly-untouched plate in front of Chisato. "Eat your food, girl, it's impolite to leave your plate completely untouched," he commanded, before turning back to Galahad.

"I just wrote to him not long ago. I'll have to wait and see if I hear back—your father is probably a lost cause for me, but hopefully István and Wulfric can bring him around to get something done, though I hope he doesn't decide it's a good idea to toss his last remaining child into the meat grinder with the rest. I'll see if I can't find a way around that other problem he's made for himself while I'm at it."

He beckoned a servant over, refilling his cup of tea and taking a small sip. "What brought on the sudden change, Kayliss? It's not like you all to have something so stable fall apart so quickly."

"Unless they had someone that knew what they were doing finally chip in."

Esben had been almost totally silent since the problem presented by Chèrle d'Artoé had been dealt with. Given a return to near-safety for the moment, a place to rest, and not having the constant distraction of pain and healing, his mind was free to wander—and it had nowhere to wander to but the other ugly problem that had reared its head for himself just before they went to deal with the crystal beneath Brightlam. Alexia Sigursdottir, better known to most SEEDs as 'Loki.' One of the deputy-director's most promising protégés; perhaps even the most promising, bar none, at least in terms of skill. She had excelled in all of her studies, putting her natural talents to use in deception, infiltration, information gathering, the subtle manipulations needed to destabilize certain seditious elements that threatened Skael's internal peace and stability.

Alongside the deputy-director, had passed much of it on to him, though by his own estimation he was never quite as good, nor did he share the talent for disguise. Nor had he been as able to recognize it as he should have, given that she'd been wearing a mask right under his nose and he hadn't the faintest clue about it. It took Miina and Rudolf stumbling into her on the night they were figuring how to deal with the trio of Grovemasters for the deception to be revealed. He'd managed to overlook what were, in hindsight, completely obvious tricks, especially given the warning to be on the lookout that Kayliss herself had given him, saying that headquarters hadn't heard from her in some time.

It had added on to the near-sleeplessness he'd dealt with the entire time through Drana Asnaeu, barely reprieved by the forced rest after defeating Reisa, his mind racing non-stop whenever he didn't have something else to distract it with the multitude of possible problems that Alexia could cause. Just a day right back to it was enough that he could tell his own sorry state looking in a mirror as they had first gotten to tour part of the Demet estate—careworn. Tired. Haunted.

He'd barely touched his food too, although perhaps Cadmon had been inclined to be a bit more generous with him, recognizing him as the other Skaeller member of the group.

"Miina and Rudolf accidentally uncovered Alex while we were in Brightlam. She'd assassinated Grovemaster Alambert and taken his place—she managed to hide right in front of all of us, before you even told me and Éliane to keep an eye out for her. She was probably the one behind the entire plot to destabilize the country, it fits her style and it was still a bit too subtle for how Valheim normally does things. She left before they proceeded with their main attack...more than enough time to get back to Solitude, while I was convalescing."

He'd straightened up the second he caught Kayliss moving to the table, and his stiff posture hadn't let up since. His brow furrowed in thought, though as he stared at his plate he pointedly avoided meeting the eyes of anyone else around the table—certainly not the pink-haired officer sitting not far from him, who had far more to be upset about with this turn of events than he did. His family was at least somewhat safely set away from the capital city, and despite his time studying and working there, he'd never really called it home, and didn't have any close relatives that lived there who would be dealing with a hostile takeover.

Certainly not parents or a sister.

"You're organizing the wider response. What's the director's status?"

"Helping the remainder of the Seven keep the rest of Skael from falling apart." Kayliss caught Esben's eye when he avoided Éliane's, a minute nod given in his direction. "They're sparing what forces they can, but we're seeing Blightbeast outbreaks dispersed around the country. Nothing uncontrollable as of yet, though it's spreading our forces thin, especially after losing contact with all of our units stationed in the capital."

"Maybe we shouldn't have told Chèrle to piss off," he mused with a wry twist of the mouth. "He turned around and probably took a boat back south—if you didn't run into him, you might send someone to his family home, in case Coulos is one of the compromised ones."

"...That buffoon was here?" Kayliss didn't sigh, but her expression said enough. "No, his father remains safely outside of Solitude. Don't worry about him, focus on the task at hand. For the time being, we'll assume that Sigursdottir has gone fully rogue and act accordingly." In other words, kill on sight.

"I was already planning on that, with or without approval."

"Eat," Cadmon commanded, cutting into the middle of their back-and-forth with the same command he'd given Chisato. "And drink some coffee. You'll need your strength, and murder is best planned with a vigorous, sharp mind. It'll give you a moment to step back and focus on your immediate plans, as well. You too, Rudi." The chunk of potato that hung on the end of the faux-Sagramori's fork, as of yet untouched, hadn't escaped the earl's gaze either.

"What a lovely time for all of this. Always right into the shit with you." He spared a sidelong glance at Kayliss, biting back a long-suffering sigh. "There's something else I need you all to do when you head south, and luckily, it's far enough inland it shouldn't be any real detour on your way to Falcon's Nest. Stop and visit with Viscount Breien—he'll restock you for the next leg of your journey, and he has something important for Rudolf, anyhow."

Esben's eyes narrowed instantly, head turning to meet Cadmon's calm gaze.

"Halvor Breien? What do you have to do with him?"

This time, Kayliss couldn't help herself. She did release that long held-in sigh.

"Shiva's grace, I'm not dealing with this. Cadmon, this is yours and István's mess alone. You can explain to his boy." She said, completely washing her hands of any and all involvement in the matter, no matter if she may have provided the bones of the scheme or not.

This time Cadmon's glance at Kayliss wasn't the soft, friendly one he'd given before. "It's very simple. Rudolf Shilage is, officially, a sickly young man who has been fostering with the good viscount and learning some of the arts of statecraft that are lost on his father and brothers. The colder air seems to do his poor lungs well, and he needed to be free of his cousin and his brothers' visits. Halvor, of course, hasn't figured out how to tell me that Rudolf never showed up, but there's some things for the both of you there. And he'll be able to resupply all the rest of you for the next leg of your journey."

Esben fell silent at that, pursing his lips for a moment before returning to his plate of food.

"Finish your meals. My tailors will visit you all tonight. We'll have proper clothes for you all heading down south in the morning. Try to get some sleep, but I'll be available if you need me. If I'm not in my study or the library, check the gardens." With that said, Cadmon pushed back from the table, leaving out the same way that Wulfric had minutes earlier, and leaving the Kirins to any remaining questions they might have for Kayliss as the servants began to clean up the two empty spots at the table.
Calaphindë




"Even a tame griffin is probably going to be more of a struggle than that," Calaphindë muttered, glancing over the listings in his hands at Hyseleia. At least they'd all rapidly gotten past the idea of wounding or maiming it to bring it under control, although...for a random musing on his part, it was a bit of a surprise that they latched onto it so quickly.

What were their names again?

The other elf pointed at him, and he raised an eyebrow. "Ah, sure. I'll see if I can't put something together in case we do have to hurt it to subdue it, too." He glanced back down at the listing. Lord Alexander Lowell of Venne. Locate and capture Blackbeak unharmed. "Wouldn't want to make the one paying us unhappy..."

He paused, looking back up at the other three.

"Or if the rest of you get hurt. What are your names, again?"
Cadmon Demet




"I have tailors for that," the earl replied blithely, waving off the question. "I won't send you all off into the frigid south without adequate protection. Before I let you all go for the night and see you off in the morning, though, I'd like to be apprised of your progress and what all you've seen happening—both near and afar. In return, I may have some news for you, and a recommendation on somewhere else to stop down in Skael."

By now, there was little doubt that most of the Kirins knew that Cadmon was the one that Rudolf would write to. Given that, he felt little need to hide just how aware he was of what all they had been up to. "I'll start, even. Given that, so far as I am aware, yours is the only team to actually accomplish what you all were convened for, I have taken the liberty of informing Leo of your success." The smallest flick of the eyes accompanied his words, looking to the pair that had come from Skael for just a moment. "Your reward should be waiting for you once you make it back to Balmung. Which, alongside Midgar, is the source of my first question for you all."

His eyes settled on Galahad, seated opposite him.

"Your father and I haven't been on speaking terms for most of a decade, and Leo knows better than to involve himself in the middle of that. I know a bit of what happened at the banquet, but otherwise I'm sorely lacking for any news that comes from that part of the country that isn't sent to me by Rudolf's father. Are there any developments that I ought to be aware of, if I should have any reason to ride up there?"
House Demet




"So there I was, elbow-deep in this Blight-twisted bear, blood running down my arm, still had half a sandwich in my mouth, when Cuno sneaks up behind me and just starts aping its growling—"

Wulfric, of course, after he'd gotten over laughing at Rudolf's reaction to the whisky he'd been offered, had dove right into telling a story to his favourite dragoon. "—about like that groan Rudi just had, only three times as loud. I'd just gotten my hand on the thing's heart, and my nerves were still a bit high after the fight, so when I jumped back the organ came with and I spiked it straight into his chest. I've never seen the man so affronted." He was at least fairly certain that Galahad had met the presumptive heir of the Sagramori leader, so hopefully the dragoon could also enjoy the thought of the normally-severe warrior covered in blackened blood and just as shocked as his target.

Assuming Galahad could get past having Wulfric try and regale him with tales of what he'd missed since they'd last seen each other, of course. Thanks to the letters that had been sent by Rudolf, there was precious little opportunity for any stories to come from the Kirins' leader's side.

He looked over to the rest, as the servants went about ministering to their various needs, frowning for a moment. "I promise, they're not trying to be rude. Quite the opposite, they'd rather not give any accidental offense," he said to Izayoi and Chisato. "Given the recent past, I'm not sure I can blame them, but even if it struggles to seem like it you are all welcome here. Right, Balder?"

"Of course, milord. The household's opinion on that mess is quite clear, and your father wasn't about to let anybody who disagreed have any chance to come near his guests."

"Indeed. I'm sure that no fewer than half of the young lord Caradoc's relatives have been praying for my misfortune since I made my thoughts known about all of that. Not that it should have surprised any of them, but I can't account for the thoughts of, hmm, northern barbarians."

The grey-haired lord of the Demet March spoke through a crack in one hallway door, before pushing it open and walking through. He brushed one stray lock out of his eyes with an irritable flick, before looking over the assembled party. "Apologies for not having more to offer you at the moment, but they're a bit busy preparing dinner for all of us to really give any better snacks. Or entertainment—I'm sure Wulf likes to talk about his childhood friend with his childhood target, but I can't imagine that interests any of the rest of you. Or the one hearing the story, for that matter."

"You get what you pay for, of course."

"One would think so many years of my life were worth more," came the equally-dry reply, father furrowing his brows at his son before turning back to the rest. "Before anything, accommodations. Your chocobos are being settled in the stables, of course, and we'll have a spot for your Moogle if he wishes to avail himself of it. Galahad, if you or whoever else among yours you trust with it can get with him and get me a list of any provisions you'll need, all the better. All individual rooms, or are there any pairs I should be warned of?"
Esben Mathiassen




"He will at least know who Éliane is, and likely her family," came the whispered reply. "Whether he knows me and mine I can't say, although his father certainly would. On both ends, I'd rather not risk giving him or his family a vendetta against us." His eyes darted back and forth between Wulfric and Chèrle, frowning slightly as first Rudolf and then Galahad both joined in. He'd hoped that the Kirins could at least minimize their involvement in whatever was about to happen, but in the interests of both expedience and propriety...

He sighed. "He's the son of one of the current ruling families, to simplify it as much as possible. He should know better than to go around picking fights like this, and if this mission is his justification for acting this way, I don't think even his family would be willing to prop him up back home—especially given the progress we've made on it. Letting him make a fool of himself may be the best option."

At least, the time for diplomacy between the pair standing between their respective forces was long since gone.

"That puts us in an interesting position. We would, of course, be honour-bound to intervene on behalf of our hosts, given that they've sent someone out to ensure our safety in travel. Two of us would also be bound to minimize harm to Artoé, though we'd at least have a good argument in our favor for subduing him assuming he starts whatever happens. I think Rudolf and Galahad have already picked up on that. In that case—we don't make the first move, but you be ready to take him out as quickly as possible. Non-lethally, please, I don't particularly want to have to put all the rest of his retinue to the sword to keep things quiet."
Wulfric Demet




Wulfric's grin down at Rudolf was far from the bloodthirsty one he'd faced Chèrle and his retinue with, though he managed to keep his own chuckle at the blond's expense down. "That was the idea," he agreed, with a small shrug. "Alas, that you all would find me when I have to play host to someone else..." He sighed tragically, turning his eyes back to the Skaeller nobleman.

"You see the fix you've put me in, Artoé? You're not the runt I was out looking for, but here you had to come, trampling down the countryside, acting all high-and-mighty and scaring the smallfolk. That's bad enough manners as it is, but this really takes the cake, you know?"

There were no more threats, thinly-veiled or blatant, to be made. "I can still forgive it all—and, rude as that greeting was, I'm sure this motley crew can forgive you as well—so long as you behave yourself and come along. Father's more diplomatic than I am, anyways, he'll probably give you some cakes and tea and apologize for the trouble and send you on down south without any more delay. But you really must be a good boy and do as I say."
Calaphindë




He squinted at the listings just as the Lamia pulled them down. If he'd even noticed that another person who come up next to him while they were perusing the board, he certainly didn't show it. "Beef hearts seems a bit large for a house pet," he disagreed. Not that he'd had much interaction with the larger griffins, but the sort that could really be described as a "house pet," the Least Griffins, were cat-sized. An entire cow's heart would be half of one's weight.

Not to mention, a nobleman looking for a 'beloved griffin stallion' probably wouldn't have left out pertinent information like it being a miniature.

One ear twitched as he heard the Hundi at the table nearby talking again. Another one about griffins?

He stepped over, looking over the shoulders of those that had congregated around the diminutive woman that had yanked multiple of the listings off the board. "Ah, thank you," he said to none of them in particular, one hand shooting out and scooping up the request from the farmer with cows going missing before returning to the Lamia, Dark Elf, and...tall human.

"Sightings south of Venne, cattle being attacked by a griffin south of the capital...Beasts that are notoriously difficult to tame and even that only really applies to those they trust. Do any of you know a good way to trap one?"
Esben Mathiassen




"But of course, we should be so put upon," Esben muttered, drawing up close to Izayoi, Galahad, and Éliane himself. "I don't know what good either myself or Éliane will do here—if I recognize him right, he outranks both of us, and is in a good enough position that he won't have any real fear of retribution from our superiors for making our lives difficult. Unless his father decides to abandon him, but that's...unlikely."

He glanced sidelong at Éliane for a moment. "Let's try not to antagonize him, could we? Or if we do, at least make whatever happens to him look like it was an accident so that Kayliss and Baramoux have less to try and cover up after. And less hassle for our own families when his goes on the war path."




Wulfric Demet




"Ah, did one of them give you the attitude adjustment that left your nose a little crooked?" The taller man next to the angry Skaeller nobleman kept his tone light and polite, standing as relaxed as could be despite the tension in the situation. Just as the party riding up had heard him laughing, his face still had an easy grin, no matter how annoyed he might actually be feeling. Something that only Rudolf could guess at, most likely.

Wulfric scanned over the assorted Kirins as he talk, giving the erstwhile-Shilage-cum-Sagramori a long look and a slow nod, before his full attention fell on the exceedingly-agitated bellowing blond he was looking down on. "It is shameful it didn't work, of course, but they can hardly be faulted for that, can they? These things do take some mutual effort, old boy. Self-reflection, you know? Internal, not the sort you get staring at one of these after you've done too much polishing."

Callused knuckles rapped on the shorter nobleman's shining breastplate, before resting there lightly. Not yet reaching to grab at the edge of it, yet, but making it plainly clear how highly Wulfric Demet rated his opposition's bluster.

"Really, though, I think it's you who doesn't know who he's talking to, my dear Comté d'Artoé. Chèrle, right? Coulos's son? Why, not only that, but I daresay I know more about what you're supposed to be doing than you do." He grinned, patting the man's back with his other hand and turning to the rest of the those standing opposite his own posse, raising his voice without any apparent effort so that they could hear as clearly as when their own leader was bellowing at him. "There's no would about it, I'm afraid. I will bar your passage, Artoé, unless you and your band submit to my lawful authority, hand over your weapons, and we escort you all back to meet with Earl Demet and then he can send you on your merry way after making sure you aren't going to cause any trouble. Otherwise, we can escort you back to Caerdaran, and let you hop on a boat and find some other place to go make yourselves a nuisance."

The son of Earl Demet was well named, it would seem, for the wolf-like way his grin had changed as he looked back down at the hopefully-chagrined Chèrle d'Artoé, leaning in close to the man's ear. "Choose wisely, good man. Don't go thinking you have a third option to try and play around with, hmm? It's been so dreadfully boring ranging out here, but I am trying to work on my patience, you know. I'd hate to have somebody go and ruin that for me."
Esben Mathiassen




As Esben had been finding out since earlier that morning, even a week under the combined ministrations of Miina and the Brightlam Cathedral's healers was barely enough to feel up to doing much of anything after the battering he'd taken. Even if it wasn't debilitatingly so, he was still sore all over, and still had to remind himself that he could afford to breathe fully and deeply now. After having to get up early, finish sorting out his things, and then make his way through the tree-top city back to the cathedral, he was already aching. On top of that, the exhaustion that had kept him sleeping so well with his wounds had long since run out.

Were it not for the miniature galette he'd been given for his breakfast helping to brighten his mood, he might have let the growing frustration with everything in Drana Asnaeu get the better of him. Neve taking the place of one of the other Grovemasters was unsurprising, even if he was glad that it came about naturally rather than the Kirins installing her in the position. Eve fully parting ways was just as expected. Likely for the best, as he'd said to Izayoi; anything else that could be said regarding it wasn't worth the air it would take, given how set the decision was.

So his focus would be purely business, then.

"Skael should prove more of an opportunity for us to rest, recover, and resupply," he said after swallowing his last bite. "Not to mention that Éliane and I have quite a bit to report on regarding what has happened here, and it would be far easier to do that in person. Edren's crystal ought to be...doubly secure, by this point. Unless anyone should have a particular objection, the main question will be what route we take. Passing through Lunaris and the Earl Demet's lands seems to be the frontrunner there."
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