Legend of Ransera

"Ah, but I meet a man from another country on the day of the Dread Meests. Also from the North. Hees name was Feenn. Ees thees your friend?" Khyan seemed incapable of, or at least disinterested in attempting, the rhotic R-sound that was common to Common, instead flipping each one as one did in proper Vastian.

"Your... ward? You breeng someone from Zaichær and feed on them?" He shuddered at the thought and suddenly wished he could just pop open one of the wine bottles in his basket to drink away the discomfort burgeoning with him. He was suddenly glad he hadn't found himself slave to a Sanguisor. There was a reason it was uncommon and typically the province of only the most privileged toward the peak of the Solunarian hierarchical pyramid. But he was glad of that scarcity. Otherwise he might have ended up more cattle than chattel.

"Eef you were tempted... why deedn't you?" Khyan wondered, looking ahead to where the rows of houses opened out to the finer estates of the Sanctine District. In the distance the spires of the Academia Arcanum's Umbrian campus peaked over the rooves of the stately homes.

As Dreyfus' thoughts turned, again, to violence his anxiety did indeed increase. Apparently to the point that the Sanguinor noticed and felt cause to comment.

"Oh, uh... All right. Thees ees good. Thank you." As they made their way into the properly wealthy part of the Sanctine and silence hung between them, Khyan ever so slightly increased the pace of his steps. He glanced sidelong at the question posed.

"Not long. My family was subject to Lex Agni. Do you know what thees ees? We were sentenced middle of Seareeng, then I had to be trained. I started weeth my master begeening of Ash. I... wish to be as I was, not only to be free. To be free but poor? This, to me, seems worse than a slave, no? At least slave has shelter, meals... but poor man ees promised nothing."

The laughter that answered Khyan's query caused the young mostly-human to arch his brow. Either the man was particularly potent or he was particularly presumptuous to flaunt the laws of the land with such flagrancy that he would announce his crimes to a stranger he'd met moments earlier. Whatever his reasons, Khyan felt vindicated in the choices he'd made thus far.

Dreyfus' next utterance truly perplexed the Vastian.

"You theenk creemeenals won't be meessed een Solunarium?" He clucked his tongue. On the one hand, the man seemed unconcerned about feeding on locals if they fit into what his foreign sensibilities deemed safe. On the other hand, the men who'd just accosted Khyan fell outside of that. The former patrician was confused as to what the distinction might be for the peregrinus, but he wouldn't give voice to his questions after hearing the pace of his heartbeat addressed. He narrowed his eyes, and cast his gaze to the ground before them as they crossed deeper into the Argentine District.

"But you are peregreenoos." Khyan seemed genuinely confounded by the apparent offer of aid. "How would you posseebly help me to regain my statoos?" He waved his hand, dismissively over their heads.
"Nevermind. Eet does not matter." His dark eyes darted to a sentry standing nearby- a handsome moonborn elf in black and silver that denoted membership in the order of the sentinels. Light blue eyes met Khyan's deep, chestnut brown and, after a brief moment, their eye contact broke.

"Tell me, Dræfoos, of the preeveledge and prestige you enjoyed een Zaichær..." Khyan suggested, genuinely interested in the subject matter. Khyan certainly knew what it was to have advantages in the Luxium, but the northern states remained conceptually elusive to the servus. "What ees your hierarchy?"