Legend of Ransera

The Menagerie, Zaichaer
40th of Frost, 123 of Steel

Aurin Kavafis was, among many things, a liar. Ernst Klein, however, was a man whose word could be depended upon. As such, Aurin Kavafis had called in favors with various personalities within the major covens in order for Ernst Klein to broker a meeting between self-styled manor lord Dreyfus Monteliyet with people who could get things done within the Zaichaeri covens. Aurin wasn't one of those people; no, not at all. And Ernst was but a man who was trusted by the covens.

Ernst met the seemingly urbane vampir in a predetermined place that wouldn't raise any sort of unwanted attention, then led him into the coven market such as it was. There were ways to get in without the Order knowing, and despite how the covens were collaborating more openly with the Order, he preferred not to be on any sort of lists. Lists could too easily become hit lists and he hadn't survived the Eclipse just to get crossed off a list by High Sentinel Admiral Lord Grand Poobah Eitan Angevin, the creepy fuck.

He was a bit less nervous here than he had been at Monteliyet's place, but then they were on more equal footing. This place didn't belong to either of them, and they weren't surrounded by people devoted to him.

"Right this way, sir," he said, opening the door for Monteliyet. Zaichaer abhorred nobility, but the fact of the matter was, people like old Admiral Angevin had been only too quick to decry how his royal blood meant nothing, while keeping the fact of that royal blood in the forefront of people's minds. And Melchior Dornkirk had styled himself lord though he was common as coal soot. Ernst knew less of Dreyfus Monteliyet, but since meeting him, he had asked some questions and heard some stories. He hadn't sussed out yet which were true and which were false, though.

There were marked differences to the Menagerie since the Eclipse, though the marks weren't visible to everyone. The Myshalarai were illusionists, anyway, so Ernst didn't trust a damn thing he saw in their fancy inn. The taproom had good beer for cheap, though. He had to wonder if they just bespelled rotgut to make it taste fine, though.

Once he followed Monteliyet inside, blue eyes went darting hither and thither looking for Kavafis' contacts that Klein was playing off as his own. Kavafis could have arranged this in no time. It had taken Klein a couple of seasons, though. There ought to be Eshar for the Myshalarai, Valencia Grey for the Railrunners. Muin would likely speak for Farza if they appeared as planned for the Kindred, and someone from the Grymalka, though they hadn't clarified who; nor had the Sunsingers, but he couldn't track down Imogen.

Klein had given up correcting the blueblood, and so he was Sir for the time being. He flushed a little, though, not sure if the well-born man was subtly mocking him or not. Red hair, red cheeks, and he flushed more fully when he caught sight of Valencia Grey and other powers that be among the covens scattered hither and thither. Perhaps they were attempting power moves or chicanery, but when the woman inclined her head and began to move closer, he quickly bent to whisper in Monteliyet's ear.

"The woman approaching is Valencia Grey, sir, of the Railrunners. Not their leader, but certainly a leader, and she spent some months aloft at the Windworks with Minister Dornkirk and his lot. She's working with the new Order. There are other people here, but I think they will be observing you... either until they can make a dramatic entrance or until they take your measure. I know not. Be yourself. Don't lie. At least one of them will be able to tell..." There was no coven of semblers here present, but being a Railrunner only meant she had Traversion, not that she had no other runes etched into her soul stuff.

"Mistress Grey," he greeted respectfully, pulling out the chair opposite Monteliyet for her. "This is Dreyfus Monteliyet of... well, I don't rightly know what his manor house is called, but he has one. I could point it out on a map for you. Sir, ah, Monteliyet..." He didn't know whether he ought to call the man a lord in a land that wasn't supposed to have lords. "Valencia Grey of the Railrunners."

He would, of course, tuck her chair under her whenever she chose to sit. Otherwise, he stood upright, a touch of nerves clear as he waited to be dismissed. After all, he had just been the middle man. These were powerful people.

The Menagerie buzzed with every sort of life; quiet conversations flowed from tables all around and music could be heard being played from somewhere deeper in. It was not the fast-paced dance music that sometimes filled the den of business and vice, it was still lovely, tugging at the listeners with suggestions of enjoyment to be had. There were several Myshalarai present, it was their den after all, but none seemed to be spending their attention to the two newcomers. Aether too flowed throughout the building from the people and objects within to its very walls; vibrating with magic of so many kinds it would take a Master Sembler to sort them all out.

At the redhead's indication, a woman of middling height broke off from another group and began to make her way toward them with with a singular intention. She was comely, with long white-blond hair and a face pretty enough that one might be fooled into thinking her a vapid young woman, but only for a moment. Her expression, carriage and the piercing perception of her gray eyes told a story of her being both significantly older and significantly more dangerous. Her manner was that of one suffused with a comfortable confidence and a no-nonsense attitude.


A nod was given to each of them before she seated herself opposite Monteliyet. If the greeting it had not specifically shown respect it also didn't exclude the option, should they show themselves worthy.

"Klein." She said, glancing at him not unkindly by way of thanking him for his assistance as she sat, then her attention turned to the taller of the two.

"You are known, in this place, or who you once were was known. You are dead." She left this in the air for a long moment before continuing, "Legally speaking. Which must leave you in an interesting predicament."

Once Klein had re-seated himself the handsome young man who was often to be seen behind the bar arrived with drinks for each of them. They had not ordered but each drink was to the liking of the one it was served to. The bartender smiled at each of them, lingering a fraction longer on Klein than the other two.