[open] diplomatic envoy

[Talon]

70 Glade 121 Steel

The air smelled different. That was the first thing that Talon noticed. The second thing that he noticed was the escort of airships that accompanied them to the Zaichaeri airfield. How many months had he spent thinking on this journey? Too many. His father had made it clear that he was to step into the role of diplomat more firmly in the days to come. It was time for him to make his name known beyond just the borders of Kalzasi both to prove himself as a leader and to prepare him for a more active role in governing his family’s holdings. While the throne might not be as certain as it once was in generations past, the truth was that no matter what he was still the heir to one of the most powerful families in the Northlands of Karnor. Among other things.

It was that other thing that had thrust him so immediately in the line of duty. For the majority of the Glade season, his family had barely let him out of their sights. He understood why. In the past two seasons, Talon had proven to be a magnet for unsettling situations and while he had survived, there was nothing to say he would have. Wraedan, the Lord of Death and the clever Vicis, Lady of Fate, seemed to be testing him at every turn.

“My Prince?” Talon turned his head slightly to indicate he was listening.

“We will be landing soon.” Talon cast a glance to the airships that were escorting them to the airfield. He could make out the crew onboard each of them easily enough. They were flying close, with a point of making their presence known. It was undoubtedly being done in an effort to remind them that they were in Zaichaer’s territory now. “I will be directing the guard to begin getting ready to disembark.”

“Thank you, Soraken Leigh.” The ship captain bowed to return to his duties as Talon returned his attention to the lay of the land ahead of them. He stood on the main deck of the ship just past the forecastle past the foremast. The cool winds of the northern air brushed over the feathers of his wings and for a moment he longed to spread them so that he could fly. The skyship was a military vessel of the Kalzasern frigate class of ships. Whereas the skyships of Zaichaer were engineered to rely upon mundane sources with magical ones as an alternative, the ships of Kalzasi were kept aloft primarily by schematics relying upon air dragonshards among other things. With a full accompaniment of crew and guard, it was outfitted to withstand siege from above or below. Alongside the ship flew four Skyriders, their icewing eagles soaring contentedly as the skyward protection unit. Onboard there was the ship’s staff but they had been augmented with the detail assigned to Talon by his father.

“Prince Talon.” He turned his head at the elegant voice of Tarshenna. His mother’s most trusted guard. She bowed, to which he offered a nod of acknowledgement. “When we land, I expect there will be an envoy waiting for your arrival. If I may?”

Talon nodded.

“I do not need to remind you of the tension between our countries. Zaichaer is a dogmatic and despotic place that takes pleasure in ruling its people with fear and persecution. Our homeland is not perfect, but we must be careful in what we show as our hand. Most importantly, we cannot risk them finding out about you.” Talon turned more fully to regard Tarshenna. She was a proud Siltori elven woman, as most of his mother’s personal guard were of Siltori lineage. She had been at his mother’s side since he was a boy and he knew no finer warrior. There was a hard edge to her words and a guarded veil to her eyes. As with most of the inner circle of the palace guard, she had been told the truth of what had happened to him during the Frost season.

“I would not be surprised if they already knew, Tarshenna.” She inclined her head.

“That may be so, but we need not give them a reason to confirm it. If you were anyone but yourself, I would say lie through your teeth but...” She smirked. Talon smiled ruefully.

“That is a hard thing to do. I will try not to disappoint you.” She stared at him closely for a few moments before sighing.

“Some days I wish you were still the boy obsessed with chasing minova bats, with dirt on your face and cherries stuffed in your cheeks.” Talon’s gaze softened. He understood the sentiment.

“Times change, Shenna.” He smiled then. “I do still play with the bats and cherries are still my favorite fruit.”

That earned a laugh. The warrior bowed and dismissed herself, undoubtedly going to make sure the rest of the entourage was properly prepared. Across his bond, he felt one of his lovers draw near. A shadow passed over the windsails and from out of the sky descended a man garbed in armaments forged by Talon’s personal hand. A collection of black and silver garments, enchanted with some of his strongest work, the labor of nearly three seasons of crafting. Aoren landed nimbly upon the deck of the ship, dropping to a kneel in one smooth motion. Before it could bother him, Talon felt his bondmate soothe the discomfort he felt from the gesture. Talon understood why it was being done. It was to reassert his status among foreigners. Aoren did the telepathic equivalent of lacing their fingers together before rising to his feet.

“You would think you’d be allowed a little more freedom to arrange your own schedule.” He grinned as he stepped forward, taking his place by Talon’s side.

“They are here by order of my father, beloved. There are only three of you that are actually part of my personal guard for this mission. The rest obey my father’s commands, something even I must respect.” Aoren made a show of sighing as he folded his arms over his chest. He tucked his black wings in closer as he popped the bones in his neck with a satisfied grunt.

“They could have chosen someone other than Tarshenna.” Talon laughed.

“Oh, come now. She is not that bad.” His bondmate scoffed.

“To you. The rest of us get our asses handed to us.” Talon shook his head. He resisted the urge to reach out and actually lace their fingers together. Without missing a beat, he felt his bondmate’s mental presence draw closer.

“Look alive. We’re beginning our descent.”

Onneifer Airfield was as Talon expected for a Zaichaeri military compound. On the landing area, he most certainly thought he could make out a greeting party. The Skyriders drew closer, flanking the ship as it made its descent in preparation to land.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner stood at attention, squinting as the wind whipped his hair about his face and the frills dangling from the epaulettes danced about his broad shoulders. Silvery blue eyes were cast skyward as the Kalzasern and Zaicheri airships burst through the clouds above. His own ship, The Searing Victory, hovered above and behind him- looming like the crest of a mushroom cloud overhead. She wasn't amongst the escorts, she was flying banners of welcome though there was little enough about the dreadnought that seemed particularly inviting.

Air Commander Dornkirk wasn't thrilled with his present assignment. He'd have preferred his usual posting overhead with his crew at his back and all the creaking and moaning of that sky leviathan he called his second home. His current posting was the result of having ingratiated himself to the brass perhaps a tad too well. Brenner's father had always encouraged him to play the diplomat for the good of his career and for the advancement of their newly powerful family. Brenner was good at it. Better than his elder brother, the true heir to Melchior Dornkirk's legacy, if only because he liked it more. Stefan found it exhausting to extend himself socially, whilst Brenner found it invigorating.

He knew this posting was an honour, and betokened another rung on the ladder to power having been climbed. If the admiralty trusted him with diplomatic missions, then not even the skies he regularly sailed were the limit to where he might advance. Or so he told himself, as he watched and waited for the approaching vessels to descend to the airfield.

He'd been nervous about this day for weeks, and the anxiety only rose as the foreign visitors descended groundward. As the Zaicheri escort vessels touched down, he heard the thunder of drums behind him as a patriotic march was initiated by the Air Corps' band. He hummed the familiar melody to himself, thinking the the lyrics without forming the words.

As the winged Avialae escort landed alongside the Kalzasern flagship, Brenner unconsciously arched an eyebrow. He always forgot how bloody massive they were. As far more important dignitaries than he moved to greet the foreigners, Brenner extended his arm sharply and bellowed:

"Hail Zaichaer!"

[Rickter]

Talon wasn't alone when he had noticed the difference in the air. For the wolf's nose often twitched and even crinkled a couple of times, as he could trace the odor that industry left within the air as the airship approached Zaichaer. It had been a bit of a marvel to Rickter the moment he stepped aboard, for his mind wondered heavily on the machinations that powered it, while the wolf kept himself straight and upright with his hands clasped behind his lower back. He'd been watching the other Zaichaer ships that escorted theirs toward the airfield, having only to clench his jaw a couple of times now that the end of their trip came into view. Zaichaer. He'd be down there with Talon for sure, and that meant the wolf had to not just look the part, but act the part of Talon's own personal envoy as well.

As far as the looks went though the wolf had that down already, thanks to the tireless effort Talon had put into their suits over the past few seasons. For Rickter the garmets of the attire were silver and black, heavy-duty gloves and boots supported his arms and legs, with a black overcoat worn over the armor plating he wore around his torso. The design seemed simple in nature, but for Rickter it was utterly and completely comfortable with his entire form. Hell even his posture looked better with the outfit on, as the wolf stood tall with his gaze averted from the airfield toward Talon and Leigh. Soon they would be landing... In a way his heart felt ready to drop out of sheer nervousness, having never been on any sort of job such as this before. Mercenary work paled in comparison to this, something that left Rickter a little challenged initially.

But he didn't falter from that challenge either, not when he had his comrades nearby. Sure Telion needed to remain in Kalzasi while he was away, and the wolf had already begun to miss her shortly after their departure, but he knew full well that she'd be fine with the help of Hannah and the others. No. His concerns remained on Talon and this attempt at diplomacy, not because the task felt monumentally posed at the prince, but because Rickter had no idea how to protect the Prince from that task. No. The best move forward was to follow and support him, and any who dared challenge his Prince would find the black wolf there; ready to strike if need be. But it wouldn't come to that, so long as Tarshenna and the others were around. When she addressed Talon the wolf looked to them both, shifting his shoulders so that his form remained rigid as the mountains of Astralar, while he calmly approached the pair with silence as his front.

Yet silence didn't dwell within his thoughts and emotions at all. Lingering closer to Talon now he felt a little more, a little less, guarded than before and he listened closely to the discussion at hand. Tarshenna expressed the fact of differences between countries, the wolf nearly chuffed when he heard of Zaichaer's iron-fisted rule over the people. How that turned his stomach a bit, the wolf having known only real freedom all his life thanks to the place he called home. Kalzasi was by no means a perfect city-state to be sure, but Rickter still prided himself on the fact he came from there. Because it was where he grew up, and eventually where he made his pack, therefore it would always be the one place he'd think of as home. Zaichaer, however, beheld such different beliefs that their culture felt almost foreign upon the wolf, having seen firsthand the airships that littered the skies above the city as they reached the airfield.

A city of technology and industry... If they did know what Talon really was, rather than just who, then that meant the wolf just had to be extra vigilante at all times. Already he'd started to think of a couple backup plans, namely the apt use of his Negation in the even he needed to generate one. Though, Rickter was just being prudent with the cause, something that his Bondmates could pick up on rather easily. He wasn't exactly nervous... well he was nervous in all honesty, but he never let that show even where he stood. For Rickter just simply looked the part and listened to what information he could perceive, admittedly lightly grinning at the part where Tarshenna suggested lying to hide the reality of the fact. Talon was a Draegir. Whether that became public knowledge to their enemies or not, Rickter wouldn't let it be used against them if at all possible. At that moment he reached out mentally, with a bit of encouragement for Talon to use Rickter for any such necessary cover-ups. He was after all the bodyguard, the dividing line between his prince and their enemies, and if need be the scapegoat necessary to protect the truth about Talon however necessary.

Rickter was prepared to be any of these things, and he made it clear with Talon and Aoren just how ready he was. If anything the nerves he felt didn't induce tension, rather, he felt a sense of exhilaration for the fact he was here. Perhaps because he found purpose with his role, and with it, he intended to uphold his duties to Talon as a knight of the Argent Hand. "I'll have to remember that later." Rickter finally murmured quietly in regards to Talon's favorite fruit, having already associated the prince with Minova bats from their meeting in the gardens. Still, the thought on Talon's childhood sparked a genuine smile from Rickter, one that was short-lived when his mind returned to the reality of the situation.

Tarshenna's laugh brought almost a light sense of ease within Rickter, as the wolf gently bowed at her dismissal before she went off elsewhere. Aoren soon swooped in to join with them, which only venerated more peaceful clarity within the wolf the moment he saw him. He felt the connection between Talon and Aoren stir and the wolf weighed in with his own feelings, thinking on how he'd embrace them both securely within his arms when he did. The exchange of feeling rested the stirring uncertainties within the wolf then, as he felt ready to deal with whatever awaited them on the surface below. The discussion of Talon's schedule and how the rest of the envoy was here led Rickter to loosen the firmness within his lips, the stoicism he projected lifted a bit as he breathed a calm sigh through his nostrils. Aoren always did have it rough with trying to please Tarshenna, something the wolf always found as another challenge of a sort. One he often rose to on every occasion, even if he never quite met the standards necessary for her satisfaction.

"Come now, she's not all that bad." The wolf lightly reasoned as Talon laughed, as a grin was shot to the Kathar. Moments afterward the ship captain alerted the envoy of their imminent descent, and just like that the firm tension in Rickter's form arose once more. He was guarded as always but this time differently, for Talon and Aoren were the only ones he kept close to his heart. They were the ones that'd be his guide in this, and he'd be their shield the moment they stepped off the ship. As the welcoming committee looked to be in view, the wolf swallowed hard with another clench of his jaw, in turn, the blue eyes bearing down on the airfield as well as the people gathered; as he readied himself for the diplomatic meeting that was to come.

[Talon]

70 Glade 121 Steel

Talon felt the shudder of the ship as it continued to drift closer to the ground. Onneifer Airfield was impressive, he would grant that. The assembly of airships showcased the potential of what Zaichaer was capable of if put to the task. He had no doubt that the full might of the Zaichaeri Air Defense Corps was not present, merely enough to get their point across. His eyes lingered on the dreadnought flying flags of welcome, decorated to look festive as well as imperious. It looked to Talon like an ostentatious edifice that had been poorly outfitted for the task assigned. He eyed it blankly.

“The Searing Victory, so it’s called. A reminder, I think.” Aoren narrowed his eyes at the skyship, assessing its structure with the curiosity of a man preparing himself for battle. Talon glanced at his bondmate. A reminder of what? They did not have to say. The entirety of the trip from the northern border of Zaichaer to the city proper had been filled with displays orchestrated to carefully and quietly remind the incoming visitors that the City of Brass was called the “High City” for a reason. It gave Talon a good inkling as to the direction the talks were going to go. He wondered what kind of man the Grand Marshal was. He knew little of him beyond the brief information he had been given in the weeks leading up to this event. He supposed he would find out soon enough.

“Rickter?” Talon turned to regard his other bondmate. His gaze softened upon seeing the wolf Rathari dressed smartly in the vestments that he had toiled ceaselessly to create. They would protect him, he hoped, from much of what could be thrown their way. Coupled with the man’s skill as a guardian, and Talon was confident that he had chosen wisely in accepting this warrior into his life.

“You will hear things that will upset you. Zaichaer leans into its judgements. Undoubtedly, we will all witness an insult born from ignorance or a heartfelt belief that there is no other way to think or perceive the world.” Talon reached up. He cupped the side of Rickter’s face, brushing a thumb over the man’s cheek gently. “Do not let it unsettle you. Remember, Zaichaer is not our home. Their ways are not our ways. In order to protect our ways, however, we must play this game.”

Talon let his hand slide to the wolf’s shoulder. He gave it a squeeze. Turning to look at Aoren, the Kathar’s gaze was focused on the greeting party that had gathered below. His posture was tense. His thoughts were clouded with an iron weight that he recognized as his partner suppressing emotions. Talon reached across their bond and drew the man’s attention toward himself. He watched as some of the tension bled out of Aoren. His partner’s jaw was still tensed but he was otherwise more relaxed.

“There’s an Inquisitor down there.” Talon understood then. He reached over, gently grasping Aoren’s chin so that his head turned to face him. He stared into the fiery eyes of his lover steadily.

“You are a Knight of my Argent Hand. You are a Justicar. You are not the same man who fled the Imperium, you are a son of Kalzasi and they have no hold on you.” Talon resisted the urge to unveil his nimbus in order to instill those around him with confidence. He had found that he could protect the spirits of those around him by exerting his will upon the world around him. With a firm squeeze to Aoren’s shoulder, Talon brought their foreheads together. He let his faith in Aoren’s strength and skill pass between them. Nothing could hurt them so long as they were all together.

“Your Highness?” Talon pulled back. Tarshenna and the palace guard were assembled. The ship gave one last shudder before settling in place, agile members of the crew vaulting over the side rails with mooring lines in their grasp. He let out a heavy breath, stretched his wings to alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders then nodded. In total there were only seven palace guards, Tarshenna and six others. The other eight soldiers were members of the Sky Guard infantry. Their armor was a combination of padded cloth and hard plates to both maximize mobility and still provide protection. Among them, Tarshenna and Rickter were the only non-Avialae to form Talon’s entourage. The attire they wore was a mix of black and silver, to compliment Talon’s own outfit.

A silver pauldron covered his right shoulder, his torso was covered in half-plate. Form fitting black leather leggings covered his strong legs, comfortably tucked into knee high boots covered in silver plated greaves. The tunic he wore beneath the plate was a dark dark black, the high collar hugging his neck comfortably. Over his shoulder was a half-cape made of silver thread, with white tassels hanging from the diamond clasp that held it in place. He wore a single silver gauntlet encrusted with a diamond on his right hand.

Talon tucked his wings in close as he made his way toward the off-ramp. The Skyriders astride their eagles landed, forming a column on either side of the path leading up to the greeting party on the ground. One by one, the Avialae Sky Guard took flight, gliding down to the ground to form the vanguard of the columns forming the path. These soldiers were then followed by the palace guard who formed the forward manning of the columns. Tarshenna took one last look at Talon, then Aoren and finally Rickter. She then did an about face and descended the ramp with a brisk but militant walk. The assembled soldiers each stood at a parade rest as she passed, the movement smooth and executed with precision. When Tarshenna reached the head of the column, she came to a halt. The Siltori woman waited for the Zaichaeri officials to perform their greeting. She returned it with a crisp salute before turning to face the column.

“Attention!” Her voice carried out over the gathered with ease. Every soldier snapped to attention. There was a brief pause before she called out clearly. “Royal honors! Post!”

Talon moved then. He stepped onto the ramp. As soon as his boot touched the wood, each soldier drew their sword bringing it before them to grasp the hilt with both hands, blades pointed toward the ground. Talon descended the ramp, the winds brushing over the airfield catching the cloth of his garments lightly. He moved with a straight back, his head held level and with the fluidity of one accustomed to standing on ceremony. Such was the life of one raised to one day inherit the palace. Trailing just a few steps behind him, Aoren and Rickter were to bring up the rear, flanking him as his personal bodyguards. As Talon touched the ground, the soldiers on either side dropped to a kneel, bowing their heads. This continued as Talon reached each new rung of the column of soldiers, they knelt. The question struck him as he moved toward the Zaichaeri greeting party, did they kneel because he was his father’s heir or did they kneel because they knew who and what he truly was? It was a question for another time. He kept his silver eyes fixed on the Zaichaeri official waiting for him. When he reached the second to last row of soldiers, Tarshenna drew her sword and rendered a bladed salute. With her usual precision, she then sheathed it, bowed and stepped to the side.

Talon came to stop just a few paces away from the Zaichaeri official. He stared down at him, studying him carefully. The silver of his eyes shone with a mercurial brilliance as he surveyed the gathered men and women with whom he would become acquainted over the duration of his stay. Tarshenna spoke a command and the soldiers behind him rose to their feet. She then took one pace forward, bowed to Talon then spoke.

“Your Highness, I present the Honorable Envoy of Zaichaer.” An older human stepped forward at her introduction. Talon focused on the man. He was lean but with good posture, no doubt from the years he had spent tending to matters of diplomacy and State etiquette. He bowed just enough to be considered respectful then righted himself.

“Prince Talon, we welcome you and your esteemed guests to the glorious High City of our beloved Northlands. As this is your first visit to our great city, we have taken the liberty of assigning you an attaché. May I introduce the Honorable Air Commander Brenner Dornkirk?” The ambassador gestured to a human man in fine military dress. Talon observed him curiously, assessing what he could from the man’s posture and expression. After a moment, the ambassador continued.

“We hope this visit further aligns the vision of Kalzasi with Zaichaer. If you will excuse me? I must greet the other arrivals.” Talon inclined his head. The ambassador bowed again then nodded to the Air Commander before moving on to greet the other envoys from the other cities. Talon turned his attention fully on the human soldier that had been introduced to him. After a moment, Tarshenna stepped forward.

“By your word, Your Highness?” Without taking his gaze off of the soldier, Talon spoke.

“It is given.” Tarshenna stepped back, turned smartly to the gathered party and began issuing orders for the rest of the disembarkation. Talon then introduced himself to the soldier. He touched a hand to his chest.

“Commander Dornkirk, I am Talon. Firstborn of the House Novalys, Heir to Savien, Sovereign of Kalzasi. May this day be but one of many pleasant ones between our people.”

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner remained stiff-backed and stock still as the delegation approached. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, but the main party from Kalzasi was fully within his vantage. The Avialae looked large enough when contrasted with their wingless companions, but as they drew nearer he noticed that even they were on the taller side. Their leader, and he was unmistakably their leader by virtue of his dress and the reverence they displayed him even in their posture, was more than a foot taller than Brenner.

The Air Commander been well briefed by the diplomatic corps who had, of course, the latest intelligence gathered from Kalzasi. They'd seemed hesitant to speak in certain terms about recent events of concern, but the tidbits they couched as rumours were enough to curdle the blood. Even the most conservative interpretation of the briefing suggest that Talon was, at the very least, a magic-user of remarkable puissance. The rumours beyond that were downright bone-chilling to any good servant of the New Atheist state.

In this rather surreal moment, face-to-face with the real-life bogeymen he'd been reared first to fear, then to loathe, the young human found himself envying the soldiers forming the gauntlet down which the foreigners marched. Though they took knees and debased themselves, it was under order of the state and thus forgivable. But at least their duties were simple and clear-cut, whereas Brenners were nebulous to say the least.

It had never been explained to him why, exactly, he'd been selected to serve in this capacity. His older brother had suggested it was because he was being punished for being too charming at officer's parties. Brenner himself had mused, in response, that he probably overstayed his welcome at the New Years soiree and these were his just deserts. Whatever the case, he was in it now.

As the ambassador stepped forth to offer his welcome and make introductions, Brenner sharply moved his right, black-gloved fist against his sternum and executed a courteous bow. It was precisely as deep as he'd rehearsed with the diplomatic corps, and was one of the few elements of this mission he felt confident in delivering. When he rose from the bow, a blank, stoic expression remained fixed upon his pale visage.

After the greeting, the ambassador seemed content to move on to carry out his duties with no further guidance to Brenner. He parted his lips ever so slightly, as his eyes followed the older man for a few paces, until a resonant basso drew his attention back to the prince.

"Your Royal Highness." He inclined his head, acknowledging the creature's fustian introduction and the cordial sentiment he delivered as smoothly as any seasoned diplomat. Though Brenner was not so practiced in formal diplomacy, he had been raised in a family of very successful social climbers and trained in an exacting military force. He knew how to bottle emotions that weren't useful and his nerves, in this context, were utterly futile unless they served to sharpen his wit.

"I echo your sentiment, and I warmly welcome you and your delegation to Onneifer Airfield and the city of Zaichaer proper. May I present you with the most up-to-date itinerary proposed for the first day of your visit?" Brenner reached into a pocket, and withdrew a card with a detailed schedule written out in exquisite, flourishing calligraphy. He extended his gloved hand toward the prince.

"If you deem anything unsuitable or unacceptable, we shall do our best to resolve the matter with the efficiency and expediency for which our culture is known." He paused, allowing Talon a moment to peruse the schedule card.

"Please let me know if you have any amendments. For the duration of your trip, I am entirely at your disposal."

[Rickter]

At the shudder of their ship the wolf clenched his jaw a little, having never really ridden one before he definitely wasn't used to being aboard an airship. It did have its quirks and that he would give, but there was nothing like being boots on the ground for Rickter. That and seeing that they were now descending to land in new, practically foreign territory, did little to bring a sense of comfort to the wolf. The number of airships visible within the airfield rather daunted him as well, seeing as how Rickter had no idea how much engineering went into the damned things. If Zaichaer had that many of them available, then it was possible that Kalzasi would definitely see its defenses tested, if there ever came a time where the tension between nations broke out into war.

Gods he hoped that wouldn't be the case, such was the reason why they had come to Zaichaer in the first place. Rickter believed in Talon more than anything, willing to put his own life of the line for the prince in fact, because he knew at the end of the day Talon would come through. It was just what he did, one way or another he pulled through. As Aoren remarked upon the name of an airship within the view, Rickter's head tilted forward so that his eyes could gander forward at the sight of it. All of which was impressive to someone like him, he definitely swallowed an underlying chuckle from hearing it. A reminder huh? As if the world needed more of those. At the sound of his own name though the wolf's head turned, his eyes curiously fixated on Talon before they softened to match his Bondmate's line of sight.

He practically stood confidently in the presence of his prince, his expression still firm as he listened intently to what he'd been told. "Understood." He nodded in confirmation after hearing warnings of Zaichaer, the wolf already suspecting that he'd be less inclined to like it here. He had to remember the fact that Zaichaer also dissapproved of magic as a whole, which meant he needed to be considerably prudent with how he approached a situation. As a Reaver, it felt natural to just flick his wrist and materialize a weapon, and by now he knew his instincts would never lead him wrong... just also didn't need to be so domineering as they usually get. Perhaps that was what he worried about most, having to keep himself in line lest he experiences another black out in the moment. Yet when Talon reached up to cup the wolf's jawline, Rickter couldn't help but visibly relax with a light grin returned at the man.

"Game huh?" He murmured softly with a minor aversion of his gaze, before looking directly into Talon's eyes with the same confidence as before. "I may not understand politics a lot, but you've got me at your back. Always, my prince." He promised as he felt the Synnekar squeeze his shoulders, until he looked to Aoren when the Kathar mentioned there was something known as an "Inquisitor" down below. The wolf hadn't realized the whole story of Aoren before now, learning quickly that the Knight Captain had actually came from the Imperium before he'd met Talon. A fact the wolf noted dutifully, for it was important in regards to the safety of his other Bondmate. The wolf approached the Kathar with a sympathetic look in his eyes, before he brought a hand up to squeeze the man at the shoulder. "I'm not afraid to growl at him if you need me to." It was moreso a jest than an actual offer, though Rickter wouldn't put it past himself to carry it out.

Particularly when he felt inclined to defend a close companion of his. Personal feelings aside though he shared in Talon's sentiments as they were shared, the wolf supporting the notions that passed through their bond, with a firm belief that they would all be together and well at the end of the day. Though he didn't count the rest of the days he'd spend here, and when Rickter realized this he also thought of how long it'd be until they returned home. Home. Now was hardly the time for him to get homesick as it were, especially when he'd left on perhaps the best of circumstances with Telion. How he thought of her often, her warmth and scent already a lingering memory in his mind. Yet the guard had assembled and with one last shudder, the airship they were on reached its landing point before the engines below stirred to an idle. Innately the wolf couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, glad that they'd be on the ground soon now that they had finally touched down.

First though was the whole ceremony that was to be done, that which Tarshenna had drilled into him and Aoren numerous times before they departed. Rickter specifically because he hadn't the slightest clue on how to act, though being the personal guard to Talon he was given specific instruction on what to do. Thus the wolf stood close to his friend, his lover, while the rest grew situated in their places to begin the descent down from the airship. Rickter watched diligently as the first of their envoy paraded out from the ship, Tarshenna leading the lot as she began the introduction to the official meeting. There was a moment where the wolf swallowed hard, clenching his jaw as his eyebrows began to furrow with heavy determination. He knew what to do, he remembered what Tarshenna told him, so all that remained was to wait for the queue.

The queue being Talon when he moved to step down from the ramp toward the ground, his personal entourage being the ones to follow him as he did, which in Rickter's case he walked with his shoulders held high. Of course as he followed the prince down Rickter's firm expression did not diminish, and with his hands balled while he moved; the wolf practically resembled indomitable mountain he was on the way down. Though his walk wasn't so practiced in the military standard, it was clear from the way he held himself that Rickter was no simple soldier. He was here as an elite, essentially, one of the fiercest to guard his charge. While his eyes did not meet with anyone in their approach to the committee waiting to welcome them, the wolf's gaze had not entirely faltered to the ground as they normally would either. As they reached their point to stop and Tarshenna looked to each of them, there came the moment where her eyes did meet Rickter's for just a moment.

Were he able to he would've expressed appreciation for her drills and lectures, but unfortunately ceremony demanded that he remain strong and silent. Thus he stood next to Aoren with watchful eyes on Talon, as well as the first man who took to greet him at their arrival. All of this? Everything about this would've felt so out of place, or rather Rickter knew he would've felt out of place before. Yet it seemed that there was something new to face every day for him, so naturally when he learned the coming of this day he prepared as best as he could. No longer did he seem so surprised by the fact he was found in situations like this, because in the end they didn't matter to him, just the effort that Talon was going through to in this entire ordeal. That was what Rickter focused on, the rest felt almost as trivial in comparison.

Tarshenna introduced the envoy of Zaichaer as an older male walked forward, appearing lean yet well-practiced with his pose as he bowed momentarily. "Just stand here and look... tough." Perhaps tough wasn't the best approach, but the wolf didn't know anything better than intimidating. He was perfect for just silently glaring at all the strangers in their midst, so naturally his stoicism was better catered to watching Talon, in an effort to follow the prince's lead when prompted to do anything. Rickter could also still feel the support of his bondmates reassuring him, even as they stood on ceremony and kept up appearances for the time being. When Talon gave the order for Tarshenna to carry on, after the old coot left to handle welcoming the other envoys that arrived, the wolf finally released the breath he held as he stood with hands clasped behind his lower back.

So this "Commander Dornkirk" fellow was supposed to be their attaché as the ambassador pointed out, from the way he held himself when he gave the salute, the wolf could see the pride the man carried himself with. Talon's choice of words in greeting him was well-received it would seem, for Dornkirk chimed over the hopeful prospect of peace as well. Rickter watched the man reach into his pocket and at that moment his own fingers twitched, the wolf on a sudden alert as he watched the man warily, before the commander pulled out some kind of pamphlet from his pocket. Another sigh quietly left his nostrils as he relaxed a bit, keeping his firm gaze locked on the man as he watched him and Talon both. So there had already been arrangements made for the prince it would seem, a thought that the wolf didn't fancy since he didn't know what to expect as a result. How could one such as he be prepared in the event of a crisis after all?

Well, he could very easily try and meditate as he stood around, none of the bastards would know he was preparing shieldcrafted anchors right away right? "Patience... Just patience..." He reminded himself as he nearly bit his lower lip, his gaze averted slightly while he waited to hear his prince's word on the schedule he'd been given.

[Dreyfus]

♅ 70th of Glade, Year 121, A.o.S ♅
Company: Diplomats, Sir Dornkirk| Thoughts: How Curious | Mood: Intrigued

---

♅ It was made clear by his superiors that the foreign delegates were coming, and because of their barbaric view of magic, it was well within the Order's right to have someone greet and access the esteemed visitors of possible magical threats. Of all the reconciliators, Dreyfus was chosen to access the Kalzasian diplomats and ensure their permits and magic were in check.

Arriving at the airfield Dreyfus watched as the airships descended from the sky like metal gods coming to smite the foolish. It was quite the sight to behold, one he could if only for that moment appreciate. He had to remind himself that he was not here to take in the sights and fanfare of the arriving dignitaries but to do his duty and job.

Standing there in the shadows of the airbase, watched as each airship and their respective escorts landed and the inhabitants began to disembark. With a deep breath, he sighed, taking his stride toward the Kalzasian party. The shine from his armor glistened against the sun beaming through the clouds, signaling his arrival upon them to those who noticed. It was made even more so clear he had arrived, as the soldier in the greeting party whispered "The Wolf of Secrets has arrived" only for others to shush them.

Being patient he waited for the ambassador to finish his little into, and watching the air commander greet them. He noticed it was a familiar face, the Dornkirk son he had met. What luck would it have been to see him here, that is if Dreyfus wasn't already prepared to see the young Air Commander here, it was the airfield in which his airship was docked, the Searing Victory looming overhead.

Upon reaching the group in full he took in the Kalzasian party, astounded by the sheer size of the man. "So this is an Avialae huh?" he said, looking at the Prince of Kalzasi with a discerning gaze from under the hood of his armor. The wings, let alone his own height were both concerning and staggering to the wolf.

To think beings this tall actually existed, and to make matters worse he could use magic. His skin color was abnormal, almost a sickly grey, no silver from what Drey could ascertain from where he stood. The prince held a magical symbol on his face, an interesting thing to were on one's face he thought. His eyes scanned over the other two at the Prince's side, no doubt bodyguards of his, but they were not of any importance to the wolf at the moment.

As Dornkirk greeted and saluted the Prince, handing the man the schedule for their visit, Dreyfus decided it was his turn to get down to business. Carving through the soldiers, Dreyfus came to stand a foot next to Dornkirk. With a well practiced bow, he raised his head and removed the hood to reveal his face. "The Order of Reconciliation greets you your Highness as well as your esteemed guest. My name is Dreyfus Monteliyet and I'm here to act as your personal guide while in the city. As Sir Dornkirk express, I am at your full disposal. Now if I may, I must see permits for you and your guests."

He greeted, moving to approach, but fell to his knees as the scar on his chest shot pain throughout his entire body. it was excruciating, unlike anything he had experienced before. His eyes looked to the three men before him, blood running down his face from his eyes like a scarlet river. Who?! Which one of them is using magic. Heavy breaths escaped his lips as he forced himself to stand, a gaze of sheer terror and fury on his face.

After a moment, he took a step back, wiping the blood from his face, though more seemed to replace it. "Forgive me, I've had this ailment since birth. It only flares when magic is present, or ambient aether. Care to enlighten me as to which one of you it's coming from?" ♅

► Show Spoiler

Birth defect: Due to his mother being gravely wounded by magic while pregnant from a mage attack, Dreyfus is burdened by a defect that causes the scar on his chest to glow a bright but eerie shade of red with pain and causes tears of blood to pour from his eyes whenever in the presence of magic or ambient aether, except his own.

---

"Common Speech"
"Silandris Speech"
"Self-Thoughts"

[Pahoran]

Diplomatic
Envoy

70 Glade 121 Steel

This was a completely different experience for the young knight. The pomp and ceremony of the Dawnmatryr had been swept under the run with the fall of the Fortress. So it hadn’t been part of his training. His family had trained the values and ethics of the knighthood into him, and his ability to protect himself with a weapon. In all reality unless it was directly connected to the oaths any fanciness was gone. Waggoners didn’t walk in parades.

Pahoran had been asked by Talon to join him on his diplomatic expedition as one of his palace escort. Pah had joined the other of the palace guards and had been handed over to Tarshenna. The young knight had then been put through the wringer to make sure he was up to standard and wouldn’t embarrass them all. Pah had taken well to rigorous training. It had reminded him of what growing up with his family. They had wanted him to be the best he could be and had been tough trainers and holding to rigid expectation. Pah had enjoyed both challenges and worked hard to rise to the challenge.

Pah had stood with the other guards as the ship made the final approach towards the High City. Pahoran’s ice blue eyes looked out at the world his thoughts focused on the events ahead. In theory this was supposed to be safe, but you never knew what would happened. Pahoran didn’t actually know much about Zaichaer, but everyone was worried. The young man had been able to gather they were both our greatest rival and greatest ally. The Imperium was the real power to worry about, but Zaichaer while would help protect the cities of the north from the Imperium also secretly wanted to do it as governing body of all the city states.

Pah’s white wings were partially opened behind him allowing for the cool breeze to flow threw and cooling his feathers. He like the other guards who he stood with. While his presence had been a surprise they trusted the prince and so welcomed him. They took their job seriously though and so like Pah the stood at the ready. Time for jesting or relaxing was later now was time to be the strength of there people. Everyone would be looking at the prince, but there presence was just was important to his impression.

The Dawmmatryr looked over at Talon. He was with Aoren and Ricketer and they were talking. In the wind it was hard to hear more then snatches, and they were talking with each other. He had seen similar behavior for his family. They were being strengthened by his words, and even though the rest of them couldn’t hear what was being said they could draw strength from the action.

Pah took a deep breath and turned his gaze back on the city and then looked at his fellow guards giving each of them a companionable smile. They were in this together.

Pah did his part in the ceremony exactly as he had been instructed. Including using the ceremonial sword they had supplied for the ceremonial bits. Though a part of him revolted at not just summoning is own bonded blade. Pah then bowed with the others, but Talon would know that the youth bowed to him first and foremost as his patron, and then as his prince. Pahoran loved the city that he had grown up in, but he like his ancestors was a Knight dedicated to the light. He fought those battle first and foremost, which was why he had joined the guard. He couldn’t travel the world but he could do his duty here and now.

So Pahoran, his golden blond hair and white wings reflecting the light of the suns stayed with the other palace guards until they were excused. Though he listened intently to the conversations going on around him. He heard the request for the princes and his people's permits, and then the demand for an explanation of why some minor offical's nose was bleeding. Pah could feel the stiffening of the other guards around him, and he understood to well. Talon was a the voice and body of the people of Kalzasi. They were a sovereign city not some vassal. Pah took a deep breath and held his position. This conference was to keep the peace. He had faith that Talon would handle the clearly tackles loud mouth.

[Lyra]

Nothing changes. Lyra thought as she watched the ceremonial procession. The armor that shown like starlight, their blades like polished silver. The soldiers movements were sharp and precise, while their voices rang out even from this distance clear and loud, cutting through the strong wind that blew through the airfield. There was a faint, metallic smell on this wind. It tasted of ash and coal, and great billowing clouds of white pumped from distant towers. Overhead there was a steady thrum of machinery as the flanking airships began their own steady descent, and Lyra glanced back at the feigned welcome those weapons tried to represent.

In the light, in plain view for all to see, warring nations are cordial. Yet despite pretty words and fake honors, there is an underlying threat. A promise that, should the other make even a single misstep, the drums of war will be sounded.

10,000 years had changed nothing, and Lyra was not sure what it was she felt in light of that revelation. For the entirety of the trip she had held her own counsel, sitting quietly in the cabin provided her by Talon, or rather Sahfri who had insisted she come on. The coercion did not bother Lyra however, for she had intended to visit Zaichaer at some point. Now she stood at the railing on the top deck of the airship, near one of the large magic schema which held the shift aloft. Her fingers curled around the smooth wood of the handrail as she leaned slightly over the side, pushing her loose hair back out of her eyes as it was caught in another wind that whipped it about in a wild fashion. The ground was far, far below, and the sight made her smile.

Looking up Lyra saw Talon and his little group stepping off the ramp and onto the platform where they were greeted by the other performers. The diplomats of Zaichaer would speak cordial words of greeting and welcome, all while hiding their disdain and disgust beneath thin veils that would fall at the slightest provocation. In turn the children of Kalzasi would feign ignorance of the others malice, and conduct the proceedings honorably... at least until the first blade was drawn. When she closed her eyes and opened up her senses to the symphonies she could hear how close both sides teetered. All it would take was one small push, a simple tug... Lyra's eyes were drawn to one man nearest Talon. His Symphony sang of such hidden malice that she almost ached to breath life to those desires. Lyrielle smiled a slow, desirous smile before Lyra turned away and closed her senses to the flows of aether around her.

Though it had only been for a few seconds, Lyra could tell that the music of Zaichaer was buzzing with conflicting melodies. Songs that clashed, keys that mixed disharmoniously. It was so different from Kalzasi, for while there were some tones which stood out and strained against the larger symphony, most wove an overall harmony. Zaichaer felt...

Your not going? Naila asked curiously?

Looking back toward Talon and his group Lyra shook her head, My role is that of an advisor, not a diplomat. I am of no use as an envoy, so I shall not play the part. A new man appeared and Lyra studied him curiously before looking back up at the city at large, We will explore later, after the delegation is settled.

Somehow I doubt they would like you just wandering around.

That, child, Lyra smiled, Is what you are for.

[Talon]

70 Glade 121 Steel

It was a curious thing. There was a pressure on the edges of Talon’s thoughts. He could feel the weight of something boiling beneath the surface in the city of Zaichaer, there at the heart of the very nation that worked so diligently to undercut everything he loved. It danced around the edges of his awareness, flickering in and out always just beyond his reach than what a glancing perusal could reveal. If he concentrated, there was a feeling inside of him that he could pull whatever it was that lurked in the shadows to reveal itself. That would have required he expose himself though. That was not something he was willing to do, yet. He did not know what the City of Brass was fully capable of and Talon himself was still learning to grasp the full scope of his abilities. It helped, feeling the presence of those who carried his mark. Those were people he could rely on, people he could trust. Still, that did not address the immediate need of simply having to navigate the nuances of a simple conversation.

He could feel the nerves in the air. The alertness, the tension forming knots in the stomachs of his companions. Talon shared their nervousness. This was the first visit he had ever made to a foreign country and it was to be a meeting with Zaichaer. The City of Brass detested practically everything his country stood for. How many times had the two states nearly come to blows? They had engaged in skirmishes in the past and even uncovered plots against one another over time. Now he was standing in the thick of it, hoping that somehow his visit would help bolster ties of peace or at least delay what many believed to be inevitable. As Commander Dornkirk stepped forward, returning his comment with an affirmation of his own, Talon pinned the man beneath his gaze.

The Commander’s posture was stiff, Talon did not have to use his Semblance to know that it was likely because he was uncomfortable. He accepted the itinerary as it was extended reading over the listed items. The vast majority of the items listed on it were purely bureaucratic in nature from what he could tell. Talon and his party would be housed at the Kalzasi Embassy alongside the ambassador. It was the listing of the following day that was to be most curious for him. The meeting with the Grand Marshal would not be for at least a few more nights, enough time to settle in, get prepared and be briefed on what he was going into, in the meanwhile it appeared his days were to be filled with tours. Mostly.

“No amendments, Commander. It would seem I am to see the wonders that your city has to offer. Beginning with a visit to the Windworks tomorrow?” He blinked in curiosity. He knew only a handful of things about the place, mostly that it was where many of Zaichaer’s airships were built. He did not expect to be shown or see anything beyond what was publicly available but at least it would be interesting. As a man who could fly naturally, Talon had to admit he was interested to see how they went about building their machines without the use of magic. He was in the midst of handing off the itinerary to an aide when another figure stepped forward. The man introduced himself as a member of the Order of Reconciliation. He was not surprised to see one of their members present at the greeting party but the man’s boldness saw an arching of his brow. Before Talon could respond however, the man stepped forward. Several things happened before the young Novalys had an opportunity to truly respond.

The man collapsed, writhing in pain, blood falling from his eyes. Immediately, Aoren jumped in front of him, black wings spread to shield him he felt Rickter move as well. Before others could join, Talon raised a hand to halt any further advancement. It did not take long to realize this was not an attack on him. As the Reconciliator pulled himself to his feet, staring at all of them, Talon touched the back of Aoren’s neck. He rubbed a thumb gently over the stiff muscles, prompting the Kathar to lower his wings. Talon sent calm across their bond, lending as much of his own as he could to both Rickter and Aoren. Gently, he urged his bodyguards to stand aside. He fixed this Dreyfus Monteliyet with a firm stare.

“If your constitution does not allow you to withstand our presence, Sir Monteliyet, perhaps your Order should assign another more able bodied Minder.” Talon snapped his fingers and the rest of the soldiers returned to their work. “I fear you may find yourself overly taxed otherwise.”

Talon rest his hands behind his back turning his body slightly to proceed with the rest of the disembarkation and getting settled for his stay. He gave the so-called Wolf of Secrets as he’d overheard another glance.

“A reminder, while the Order of Reconciliation is of course welcome to advise us on the proper laws regarding magic use in your city, the “permit” we carry is the invitation of the Grand Marshal himself. If you have any further questions regarding the matter…” Talon glanced at Commander Dornkirk. “...perhaps it is best you consult his office first.”

“When you are ready, Commander, I look forward to the trip to the embassy. I understand it is in quite a historical district.” With that, Talon turned to direct his attention to ensuring his people had everything they needed. Aoren remained behind, studying the Reconciliator and then the soldier for a moment before joining Talon’s side.