Legend of Ransera

To mitigate the fact that he might have overplayed his cards, Aurin blushed when Vhask mentioned his ears, and then more deeply when he backpeddled.

"Well, I ah..." he managed while the guardsman protested and the door opened. Both their eyes swung in that direction, and Aurin was pleased to see they were joined by the mysterious traveler whose age didn't quite fit the world around him somehow.

"Oh..." He set his cup aside so he could push off the ground and the wall to stand and offer a half-bow. They were all of a class, even if he was the lady's guest. "Aron Krimmena," he said. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Lady Rhyenne dumped me on poor Vhask, who has been kind enough to offer wine and song and conversation while the lady does... whatever ladies do in noble houses." Perhaps Varex took his blush for embarrassment regarding the lady in question

Aurin crouched down to retrieve his cup. He looked like he wanted to offer, but thought better of it. This was Vhask's room and wine he had procured. Aurin glanced to the handsome guardsman for guidance, while also attempting to taste the resonance of the bond between the two men. The strange elf had come seeking Vhask in his room, after all. Perhaps they were friends or Master Invyx had some need of a guardsman, or perhaps it was something more, some kind of leverage, or at least an opportunity to dig deeper in aura, in mind, and in whatever else they might let slip for him to pocket like spare change left behind.

"Honestly, she probably forgot I was here... If she weren't so nobly born, I would just go and stop wasting everyone's time."

There was an air of affability between their two Auras, with Varex ironically feeling protective over the guardsman. The valet was clearly the elder of the two, as the marks on his face would attest, and judging from what Aurin felt now and had felt earlier in Varex, they hadn't seen each other in a while.

"Aron Criminal, then." Vhask amended, though he'd misheard the surname even when presented.

"Well met." Varex replied, archly, eyeing Aurin as his own Rune of Semblance took to seeking what it could glean from the stranger in their midst. Varex, being a mere apprentice, would not be able to pierce that which Aurin sought to conceal, but that didn't stop him from trying. After a moment, he slipped his hand into a pocket and produced a bracelet, which he closed about his wrist, promptly shutting down access to his Aura. He glanced to Vhask's bare wrist and arched a brow.

"Your uniform is incomplete, Guardsman. Are you not on duty?" He tapped his own bracelet for clarity's sake.

"Yeah, guarding the downstairs servants' entrance. I never..." His eyes darted to Aurin, and it clicked. "Oh." Eyes wide and struck by a renewed sense of anxiety, Vhask reached for his bracelet and fastened it to his wrist, closing his Aura off from further inspection. Varex stalked over, took Vhask's wine up and raised it to his own lips, looking down upon Aurin where he sat.

"Were you indiscreet about anything important?" The valet spoke Silandris,

"I only told him that the ambassador is rarely here. We mostly talked about my career and Solunarium." Aurin would pick up the name of the realm, which was a cognate between Common and Silandris.

"Were his interests focused?"

"They didn't seem particularly so..."

"Forgive us, Aron." Varex switched rather abruptly to Common, "I was eager to share a bit of gossip with my colleague that I couldn't hold in..." He didn't even seem to try to conceal the fact that this was an overt fabrication. Aurisian courtesy at its finest. He would hand the wine cup back to Vhask.

"If you'll excuse me..." He nodded to Aurin, before switching back to Silandris: "...I must intercept Her Ladyship to make certain she is not being incautious with strangers." As he turned, Varex would find himself face to face with the very lady in the doorway, his eyes wide and hers narrowed.

Aurin - or Aron - chuckled at the mispronunciation. It was more accurate than intended. He had been teaching Rivin about personae, though he had always used his own glamours to alter the Lysanrin's appearance for him. It was helpful in confidence games to fully be who one claimed to be, foibles and all.

If he had a smattering of Silandris, it wasn't enough to give him more than Solunarium, which was close enough for anyone to conceivably pick up. His own aura and runes were masterfully shielded, thankfully. Varex seemed better at this than Vhask, which was a shame, even though Varex was the person of interest what with his aura tasting of strange magics. Fortunately for Aurin - Aron - he made a habit of keeping his skills sharp so he wouldn't be a mewling kitten if his magic tricks proved useless.

"Far be it from me..." he began, sliding back up the wall with his cup retrieved. But Varex was on his way out and when their eyes turned toward the door, they all saw the lady.

"My lady," he said, dropping a bow. His bashful smile managed to happily marry a rakish smirk. She wanted a bit of a challenge, but not too much of a challenge if he had read her aright. But it was anyone's guess how she would react to Varex being in the room where Vhask had hidden him away for her. Her reaction might be telling, however, all auras aside - and cloaked.

"The party continues, but they're gossiping without me. In a language I haven't mastered." He said this without accusation, but rather disappointment. He was really going to have to focus on picking up more languages; less to speak, more to listen. People said more with less caution when they assumed all they had to do was change tongues.

Lady Rhyenne's ire was palpable at walking in on a statement about her- Particularly one that smacked of criticism and condescension, as that one had. An exchange in Silandris transpired, during which Varex was at first ashamed and embarrassed at having been caught. He was mostly silent as his superior berated him, but something shifted at a certain point after the valet replied with something pertaining to the name 'Davion'. This seemed to unsteady the noblewoman, rendering her suddenly unsteady in her indignation. All this was brief and Aurin's interjection seemed to be a welcome one on all fronts. Perhaps particularly from Vhask, who'd been silent with his eyes downcast during the entire back and forth.

"Would that it were gossip." Rhyenne replied with a grimace and a sidelong glance to Varex, who bowed before stepping out of the doorway and disappearing down the corridor.

"In any event, why don't we head upstairs and pick up where we left off?" She inquired, without so much as a glance to Vhask, who seemed perfectly pleased to disappear into the background in his own living quarters. With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out and toward the steps leading up to the residence proper.

The architecture was starkly gothic, the hues tending toward darker hues of black and grey. There was more colour to be found in display cases here and there displaying relics that didn't fit the motif nor, indeed, seem to cohere to any particular cultural style. They were disparate items collected from various locales. Perhaps Aurin might wish to focus upon some, but they would offer little of interest to his present focus. The one exception was a blade carved from a dragon's tooth and set in a hilt of runeforged platinum. It was very old and quite clearly Solunarian to anyone remotely familiar with their culture.

Rhyenne would lead him past all this and ultimately into her boudoir...

'Aron' managed to look slightly abashed, though nowhere near as much as was Vhask. He was trying to walk the fine line of seeming clever enough to be entertaining without being so clever as to be a danger. While Rhyenne ignored the guardsman, Aron drained his cup and set it aside, offering him an apologetic smile and a nod before he followed her.

He followed her through the halls of her home, casing it for future burglary as he had learned to do long ago and never quite stopped. A more reckless Aurin might have come back for that one sword he saw, but his eyes were on grander prizes. There wasn't time for it anyway. In a few days time, he would hie himself hence to Tertium.

So he didn't ask about Varex, nor 'Davion,' and didn't attempt to steer their conversation in any particular direction. He fucked her, attendant to her enjoyment. At best, she might want to see him again ere he quit Aur'arnis and give him another chance to gather intelligence.

Before they parted, he did put in a good word for Vhask - probably too late to secure a threesome, though.


It had been so long since he had been to Tertium and he hadn't spent enough time there that he could be choosy about where he opened up his portal, and so his first steps back upon the continent of Ecith were an alley where he had woken up, sick and trembling, the hangover he had earned trying to drown out certain withdrawals that continued to plague him making him wish he were dead.

There was still the faintest trace of Oren Cavafy there, broken, twisted, wanting to die, but not wanting to do it here. He shivered, and then the rest of him shivered as he took on the seeming of a sunborn elf of quite some means, and inverted his aura such that only some few would be able to perceive his glamour trick. Let them know he was a sembler, with the ability to vault and to ward. He was stronger now.

For all that he adopted the guise of the ruling race, he avoided most places where he might offend, instead seeking lodging an an inn fine enough for a minor noble. There, he took rooms as K. Val'Aureus Proteus, ate, and fell asleep, needing to recuperate from the difficult journey, no matter it took but an instant.

The next day, he went out to get the lay of the land, to listen, and to find either passage to the capital with a caravan or a riverboat or even a direct portal, though he supposed he might have to doff his disguise before walking into Solunarium itself...

Although the borders of Solunarium were more open than they had been in the not-too-distant past, the insular dominion was still discerning when it came to outsiders. The ports of entry were under the joint control of Golden Guards in lustrous armour and silent Silver Sentinels who, in their veils and robes, seemed to cast off attention like raindrops on the feathers of waterfowl.

For all their exacting scrutiny, at least the Solunarians were efficient. Solunarians were separated from foreign nationals and one of the black-clad Vigils directed individual travellers toward specific queues. Aurin was sent to queue up in one of the shorter lines, but they were all moving apace. Perhaps he would notice that the larger queues were occupied by travellers who bore no Cardinal Runes, whereas his section was composed mostly of mages... perhaps entirely, if one considered that warding might be employed by some of their number.

A golden knight, half-elven with bronze skin and blonde hair, gestured for him to step forward where he would face a diminutive robed sentinel seated at a desk. He would be stood there for no more than thirty seconds, while the figure took down notes with a gloved hand. At the end of this silent session, the figure would lower their pen, lift their hand and employ their Craft to mark Aurin's aura. It was a subtle thing, and the Sentinel would not remark upon it unless questions were posed. Otherwise, they would gesture for him to move on, at which point he would be handed a pamphlet highlighting the more important laws of the land and then the arrival process was complete. He would be free to move about the city under whatever guise he chose to don.

He found himself at the Taberna Flavo Basiliscus, which had the image of a golden draconid on its signpost. Perhaps he would learn that this translated to "The Blonde Basilisk". Regardless of this knowledge a handsome, half-elven innkeep would greet him with a nod of his flaxen head.
"Ad Basiliscum salvete, viator..." The ostensibly young man would switch to practised, if accented, Common if prompted and identify himself as Dænymon. Once the room was sorted, he would offer himself as a resource to greater knowledge of the city of Tertium and the realm entire should his guest seek it. When he woke the following day, Dænymon would be there to offer breakfast to Dominus Val'Aureus.

'Proteus' didn't know how well his ruse had gone. None had commented upon it, but he knew the Silver Sentinels to be more potent than most police forces throughout the world. Apparently his old drug-addled mind hadn't remembered so far into Tertium as he thought it had, and so he went through customs. Perhaps the innkeeper, at least, was no grandmaster of the mystical arts. Aurin did better when he had that edge. Well, obviously.

His memory was a touch blurry after attempting such an ambitious jump from Aur'arnis to Tertium, and so he was - moreso than normal - careful. His wardrobe was fine and varied; while he planned to glamour himself for all occasions, they were better when there were fewer details to change.

Proteus looked the part of the traveling nobleman when he descended into the dining room. Master Dænymon had been obliging the evening prior, but they had agreed he would come down to eat in case his travels required more sleep of him than he had anticipated.

"Ah, salve, proprætor," he said magnanimously when he found the half-elf. Knowing a poor grasp of much beyond gutter Vastian, he switched to perfect Common. "I will break my fast now."

Of course, he would pick up as much Vastian as he could, the better to collect information and secrets - ostensibly for Arry's benefit. There was no reason they couldn't both benefit. He looked around the room. Perhaps later he would dine in private, but for now, he wanted to see and be seen, hear and absorb what the desert had to offer.

"Bonum mane!" The cheerful half-elven innkeeper exclaimed at the sight of his customer. Aurin hadn't seen or heard another soul upstairs and had likely come to infer that this establishment was a very new venture for its boyish proprietor. There was clanking from the kitchen to at least indicate Dænymon was not completely on his own and out to sea at his seaside taberna.

Nodding at Proteus' prompt, Dænymon gestured to the empty barstools and tables beyond.

"Sit wherever you like, yes?" His not-so-perfect Common was spoken as if he'd learned it from reading without hearing. He voiced Common words as if they were Vastian, tending to pronounce silent vowels, flip or roll the Rs. His accent seemed thickest when it came to his way of phonating V and J sounds.

With Dominus Val'Aureus getting comfortable, Dænymon would disappear through the door leading, if Aurin's ears were to be trusted, to the kitchens. When he returned he had a tray of sliced, cured meats neatly arrayed with several types of cheeses, warm, fresh-baked bread and ramekins filled to the brim with herbed-laden oils, tapenades, savoury yoghurt dips and sweet chutneys. There were a few buttery pastries with sweet fillings lining the edges of the tray, as well. He placed the offering before Aurin with a steady hand, and stepped back.

"Tea, coffee, wine, ale?" He inquired, before going to fetch whatever beverage was selected. When he returned, he placed it down and smiled.

"Is there a busy day planned for you, Dominus Val'Aureus?" Whether he knew it or not, Aurin had selected the name of a prominent senatorial gens. Dænymon's curiosity about his guest was palpable in his Aura and his slightly crooked gaze. Why would a Re'hyæan aristocrat be so keen on speaking Common over one of the local tongues? And if he was a foreign elf who happened to share nomenclature with Gens Val'Aureus, was he from the land that cast out his elven ancestors? There were so many questions running through his blonde head, but he was hardly going to make his guest uncomfortable by broaching then directly. So, for now it was merely pleasantries.

The man's aura betrayed his confusion, and Proteus realized he would have to adapt to his own shortcomings. With a trained ear, he would slowly add little vowel shifts and cadences that were foreign to his Common, borrowed from Dænymon so he would at least sound more Re'hyæn in the catholic tongue.

With a nod and a benevolent smile, Proteus took up a seat at the head of a table large enough for his character's ego. When tea had arrived, he waited for it to steep.

"In a few days, I shall travel to the capital, but for the nonce, I shall explore Tertium. I was not raised in the realm, and so I shall be a stranger in a strange land. Any guidance would be appreciated. I understand weighty changes have taken place of late, and I would fain walk into the capital with more contemporary intelligence." He was not wrong in this, nor lying. Arry was family, so he could lay some claim upon the realm, at least to his mind - enough that the acting was based on some sort of truth. And he was going to have to speak here and there, even though this seemed like it would be a situation where it were better to keep his mouth shut and let people think him a fool than open it and prove them correct.

Proteus took a careful sip of the tea, then nodded slightly; it didn't need doctoring. The red-gold expatriate considered Dænymon with eyes and arcane senses, the better to reply when it was his turn, the better to play his part. Given time, he might as well be able to read his mind. If his mind proved worthy of plumbing, all the better.

"Ah, the capital. It is very beautiful there, yes? But very, uhm..." Dænymon struggled to find the word, "Not relaxed. Relaxing?" He shrugged, deciding whichever it was his point had been made.

"I was born here, but stationed there for a time. As soon as my service was, uhh... concluded, I return here. Open taberna. People here, they have less pressure. Makes me less tense." He took a sip of his own tea, and leaned with his hand on the back of the chair opposite Aurin.

"Yes. Big changes in Solunarium. I knew there were strange things on the wind when Crownwyrm flies over Tertium last year, now His Exalted Majesty is our co-ruler. What a time to live!" He chuckled, a bit awkwardly. He didn't know whether his guest was pledge to one Crown or the other, and did not wish to make a show of his own allegiances to one upon whose custom he depended. But he was certainly curious.

"I am not the most informed, but I follow the news. If I can be helpful, please, uh... enlighten me how?" He inferred from Proteus' prompt that he was plumbing for intel, but without more prerequisite knowledge about the aims and interests of his guest, it was difficult to ascertain what might be helpful to him. It certainly wasn't as though Dænymon was in a position to offer privileged information... not anymore. That was one of the reasons he was so pleased to have left the military in favour of this civilian, mercantile life he'd since adopted. He was close to the beach, his worries were over creature comforts rather than matters of national import... although those lines could be blurry in the capital.