Golben

[Lazarus]

It had been a lengthy journey so far, Lazarus reckoned, as he led the sure-footed Peony along the meandering slopes of Myrken Wood. Gentle rains refreshed his spirits, soft grasses fed Beauford in his wooden cage, and easy terrain lightened Peony's burdens of weapons, a tent, and other essential goods for the errant knight. Having breached the Myrken perimeter, the land became distinctly less sloppy and much more enjoyable to simply walk through.

"No more worrying about sinkholes, mosquitos and muck," Lazarus enjoined to Peony as he gently stroked the horse's blond mane. "At least," he added after noting the ongoing swats of Peony's tail, "not as many mosquitos."

A sigh, a smirk, a look for the sky and a shake of his head. He was lost and he knew it. Unfortunately, neither he nor his companions had ever travelled to Myrken Wood before. And even if his companions had, they had no way to let him know save through a miracle. A moment for prayer then, a simple beseeching for help and direction, and continuing forward. Without any other indication or warning, straight was as good a direction as any.

Hours later, as the sun had begun to wane, Lazarus spied some collection of men and work going on in the distance. "I don't think we are there yet," Lazarus confided to Peony. "The knight said it was near the river, and a priory I think. But not the one in the mountains, he told us never to go there," he continued with a gentle chewing upon a lower lip.

"Well, hope they are friendlier than those bandits who saw us off out of the fens," he smiled to himself. Then smirked. It had been a very quick, very brief introduction to such things as sword play and self defense. There was an awful lot left to learn. He rubbed his shoulder with a grimace and stretched the still aching arm with a rueful smile. best to enjoy the pain while it lasted, he mused, before he felt nothing at all.

With another small prayer, a bit of hope, and mingled curiosity, he set towards what appeared to be some fashion of labor camp to see what was going on. And how a knight errant might assist them.

[Dulcie]

The work at Golben had been going on for a few months now, and it was an interesting production to say the least. The giant crater in the earth had now become the center of activity and movement and yet were a person not directly upon it they wouldn't even know that it was in existence out there by it's lonesome. Within the pit work had already begun with huge pulley systems that were lowering down huge crates into the pit which were being unpacked by dark skinned men who spoke to one another in a foreign language.

Above ground were some locals, set to work on making what appeared to be various series of walls, though for what it was difficult to presume, each set looking as if they didn't belong with the other at all. It was the sort of things that could draw questions, but the workers were being paid far too handsomely to ask any of those. Instead of chatter there were just the quiet grunts and groans of those at work on their tasks.

Further away from where the workers were a tent had been set up, large and lavish looking with people that came in to deliver a bottle of wine here or a plate of food there, it's occupant overseeing the work with a certain degree of style. A sighting of a person however sent a tiny little man scurrying into the tent, which was followed by the emergence of the occupant from within. Out would step Stefan Berdini, dressed not for work, but as he always was, his trousers perfectly pressed, his frock coat layered over the crisp white shirt beneath and the cane that he was never seen without. His green eyes would turn almost immediately to the horizon where the figure had been spotted, lifting a hand in greetings to the stranger. There was nothing to see here of course.

[Lazarus]

The first person he had seen in Myrken Wood waved from the edge of this place in turmoil. For here there are dark-skinned laborers, and there are a great crowd of men doing something... rather straining, though the specifics escape his grasp. For several moments Lazarus merely stands and attempts to take the whole of it in, finding it too large, and slowly starts forward. A raised arm in reply to that greeting, the first person he had seen in some time beyond the bogs and fens.

It has set his heart all aflutter.

And with that fluttering, several steps that carry him forward leading the sinewy beast beside him. A stury horse, bearing an odd assortment of personal weaponry, rolled bedding, waterskins, and a cage that is home to one rabbit whose ears twitch and eyes dart as they near the leashed din of heavy labor.

A shouted greeting as the distance between them dwindles, a bright smile from this man of no significant height or weight, a man of average and indistinct build. A length of scraggly beard has gnarled its way across the breadth of his jaw, a furious moustache nestled beneath a rounded nose. Features overall given to curves and gentle proportions, so that the beard and length of scraggly hair are ferocious in unkemptness his visage is inevitably a friendly one, possibly even rediculous.

Green eyes are eventually for this one, should the sight of one unremarkable, save for needing a good haircut and a change of clothes from worn woolen jerkin and darker trousers stained with old dirt, boots equally caked with the road, and a squint from the sun's constant company.

"Good day friend," he calls amicably, the syllables given to leaning against one another and marking him with a hint of backwater drawl while working a length of grass from one side of his mouth to the other.

"I've no mind for engineerin'," he continues with a broad smile, straining to make sense of the enormity beyond the stranger, "but that looks like a mighty big job. I've got hands for the labor, if you need 'em. Or eyes for the watchin', if you need 'em too."

A pause, an extension of his right hand after a moment's thought. "Call me Lazarus. And you are?"

[Dulcie]

For all the man with the cane seemed casual and relaxed as the stranger approached his green eyes fastened upon every detail, down from the beast that walks with the man, to the assortment of weaponry on the horse and even that caged little rabbit, an addition that drew a smile from the man's lips. As the stranger would approach he too would begin to cross the distance of the labour yard, making his way towards the strange man that would approach their encampment. As he walked with the edges of his frock coat fluttering it would be apparent that he didn't need the cane for walking at all, a tool in hand that required no measure of the man's weight upon it.

"Good Day there traveller! Welcome to Golben!" He said with a jovial smile, finally standing an appropriate distance from the man, his gaze taking in more details now, the way the man was dressed, the sound of his voice, the words that he said.

"Oh yes, it is quite the job isn't it.. Lazarus you said?" He'd affirm the man's name, reaching out to shake the man's hand with one of his own, the palm of which was far more calloused than it should have been for a man of his obvious stature in society. "Stefan Berdini, Councilor for the Arts of Myrkenwood, welcome again to my little project here. I say it's a safe wager to assume that you've been travelling for some time? Come then, I never have anyone working on one of my projects if we haven't had the proper time to meet one another, though you're quite right, a pair of labouring hands is always welcome. Do come with me will you? I can have one of my men see to your horse while you come share a glass of wine with me hmm?"

[Lazarus]

"Lazarus, yessir, it's my given name," he drawled easily as he warmly clasped the councilor's hand, shook it a moment too long with his toughened own, and smiled. Anxiety flitters across his features, open and guileless as the shining sun, matted down with so much hair. Green for green, in the eyes that is, and a little clearing of the throat helps him to resume the conversation a pace.

"Well, I reckon myself for a lucky man sir," he continued, taking a step back and resting that hand on his waist. The sweat has already begun to dampen his brow. "The first Myrken man I meet here, and he's a councilor. Of art no less." The smile continued, jade eyes squinting from both habit and sun. "I'm afraid I know little of Myrken, less of councils friend. We don't have such things in the fens."

He gestured the way he had come, left hand still grasping bridle for peaceful Peony. "Ghreu Fenn that is. Then the wanderbug hit me, an well..." a pause, the smaile and face falter towards the ground, before he looks again to the councilor. "Apologies sir, I'll spare you the story. I'm a bit of a knight errant, you might say, but not above helping with any honest work for my bread and feed. Even Peony here," an affectionate pat for the horse's soft blaze, "is a hard worker, Ser Bernidinni," he smiled gently at his stumbling through the councilor's name.

"Glad for the company, and for the wine," he continued as he fell into step beside the councilor. "Haven't had much. You're a bit more welcomin' than I was expectin, no offense councilor but I heard Myrkenfolk tend to be a bit on the standoffish side." A glance for the ongoing labor.

"Golben is a new name for me, ser. Please tell me what the manner of your work is, ser? And about this place if you don't mind? And of yourself, certainly, for that matter!"

[Dulcie]

"An interesting name at that. But no family name to go with it I presume?" His tone was simply curious of course, and already he'd be motioning for the man to walk with him, his cane tapping lightly in the dirt as he continued to address some of the what the new fellow had mentioned. "I'm afraid there's no cause for celebrity over my title. I have very little in the way of true authority, it seems that the Governor ran out of people who could ask to take up the job and my name was at the top of a very short list." He'd flash the other man a smile at that, clearly amused by the whole scenario. "But as it is my dominion is entertainment and this is just a part of my many endeavors. Something for the public to enjoy, but I'm afraid I can't reveal too many details about it. It would spoil the surprise after all."

The man would pause then, spotting a few of the dark skinned workers who had just finished lowering one of those heavy boxes into the pit. He'd motion to them and begin speaking in the language that the newcomer could certainly hear all about the place. It was a strange language, the sounds extremely foreign to the common tongue and would be nearly impossible to reproduce without extensive training, and yet the pale Councilor managed to produce them just as clearly as he had the language he had been speaking a moment before. The men bowed their heads in awknowledgement of whatever it was that Berdini had said and would then begin moving towards Peony.

"They will take your horse now. There's a bit of shade and water over there where they'll take her for food and rest." He'd say, motioning with one hand to a copse of trees where indeed a few other horses were tethered and currently taking in some hay and the shade. "I'm sure that she could use the rest as much as you could. This type of travel is so very hard on our four legged friends isn't it?" The men would wait there however, patiently awaiting the passage of the reins from the stranger to their hands.

Lazarus had begun his story and at his apologies Berdini would wave them off with one of his hands, the motion smooth, elegant, almost as if he had been well practiced. "There is no need for apologies Mr. Lazarus. I rather enjoy a good story and I should hope to hear all about this Ghreu Fenn. It's a place I've never explored personally."

The invitation for wine was accepted and the Councilor smiled. "Wonderful then, wonderful. Right this way, I have some of the more exotic wine than you can find in this place. The keeper at the local inn manages to find some decent vintages but the woman rather lacks ambition if you ask my opinion, there are far better grapes grown than those in Derry." He'd chuckle a little at that, as if the joke was all his own. "Ah Myrken folk are suspicious yes, but you'll find they can be most accomodating. You should fare better than most, those who are human usually do." And something in his tone indicated that perhaps he agreed with that divison between the races. "As far as Golben goes I'm afraid I can't share many details, as you may have presumed I'm not a local myself and what I know is pieces of the local lore. I believe it was the site of a magical accident many years ago, though I don't dabble in magic myself, never had a talent or a desire for it. Now it's simply as you see it, nothing more than a gaping pit. I intend to turn it into something marvellous."

"And what is it you would like to know about me Mr. Lazarus? For I am most happy to share."

[Lazarus]

It is with some hesitation he trns over Peony's reins to the laborers, a gentle hand for her mane and a warm smile for his constant companion. "She could definately use a rest, listening to me prattle on an' on over our trip. Adventure, more like it, at least to me." His fingers find purchase upon her muzzle, affectionate pats and smiles for his valiant steed, such as she was. "These men 'll take good care of you. Just make sure they don't forget Beauford," and with that his finger is poking in between the bars of a wooden cage of branches and vines to stroke the gray rabbit between his pointed, black-tipped ears.

And with that the pair have begun to move onward.

"Well," Lazarus resumed, rubbing one palm along the inside of his sleeve and arm. His clothes have become different shades of grey and brown, baked beneath the sun, worn down with travel and sweat and earth. "There's not much to tell 'bout the fens," he drawled with that easy smile. "Bogs and brack and whatnot. Mostly home to castaways, bandits and people tryin' to eek out a livin'. People like myself!"

He peered over towards the worksite as they continued on towards the promise of some rest and refreshment. "Mind if I ask where your boys are from? I don't recognize whatever language they speak, an' that you speak. You must be a travelled man, ser, if ever I met one. Where are you from, if not from Myrken? And how did you find your way to turn this hole into a place for the people? Sounds mighty ambitious if you ask me, but a good idea."

A pregnant pause, a glance for his left arm, and that smile has been winnowed down with some private knowing. "I think, to be so bold ser," a sidelong but kind glance towards this host of his. "That to take something wrong and make it right, why that itself is God's own work. You must have a big heart to seek such a thing."

[Dulcie]

The Councilor would look to the man's rabbit with a bit of a wry grin. "Of course. I'll assure that he is attended to as well. Care must be given to our lesser creatures for where would we be without them?" He'd speak to the men then as they walked away, using the same foreign tongue he had before and motioning to the rabbit in the cage. They'd bow their heads once and continue their journey before Berdini led his guest to the tent that was awaiting them.

As he pulled back the flap of the tent it was apparent that the man had little lacking in the way of wealth and exotic acquisitions. Within the temporary shelter there were extravagent looking pillows that created seating of a sort on the ground, crafted from fine gem colored silks and embroidered with intricate patterns in gold. Around the center of the pillows was a low table, currently clear of much, though a quill and ink still lingered which would indicate that some manner of writing had been done here recently, the bottle of ink hurriedly corked. To the far side of the tent rested a locked chest, and beside that a sideboard table with various bottles of wine and a few glasses resting there.

As he motioned his guest inside he'd listen carefully to the tale of who he had been and where he had come from. "It seems to me that might be an over simplified version of your tale. Which is it then? Are you bandit, castaway or a man just trying to eek out a living?" He'd motion for the man to take a seat on one of those plush, extravagent looking pillows, already moving to the sideboard table as his fingers danced over the bottles looking for just the right one, finally pulling it from amongst the group and beginning to fill two glasses with the contents.

"Where I am from? Ah, such a complicated question really, for where are any of us from? But my men and I have travelled from Rub' al Kai. It is a desert land that one reaches across the travel of many a sea and ocean. I fear the king of the land is a bit of a cruel sort and the men I have working here with me were quite happy to take up employment with me and escape his reaches. The King's loss truley. Never will you see a man who works as hard as those from Rub' al Kai. The common tongue is quite hard for them however I'm afraid, you won't find a one of them among this place that can manage it." He'd come over then to the table, setting both glasses of wine down upon it so that the man could choose from the pair of them, he himself laying his cane to the side and lowering himself to one of the cushions.

"I am not much of a man of ambition in truth. Before this position I was a humble Illusionist. A performer like any of the other performers I might now be overseeing, but I do so believe in service to this good land. Myrken has treated me well and I shall repay it with this role. Golben was something of a stroke of genius really. The Governor here holds all the ambition that my humble heart does not. He saw this place for what it was, an empty pit of despair and envisioned that it could become something beautiful and has entrusted that vision to me. It is something I can certainly not disappoint him in."

He'd motion for the man to take a glass. A slight furrow of his brow forming at the mention of God. "My dear Mr. Lazarus, if there is a God's hand in this then he has rested it upon the shoulders of Governor Burnie, for there is little room in my spirit for that which can give and take away from people so easily."

[Lazarus]

Cushions. Wine. Odd lannguages and foreign lands. All within a few moments' worth of time. Shaded eyes flicker between the two choices: wine or wine, and a moment's thought is to refuse such finery for one like himself. Best not to be rude, he considered, thoughts marching somewhat openly beneath the shaggy waves of hair that requires trimming. One is chosen, with a nod of thanks, great care taken with both to hold the glass before purposefully transferrin it to the right. The left is hidden beneath white cotton wrap, fingers individually encased allowing for at least the illusion of dexterity. It would be a shame to drop the drink.

"Ser," Lazarus resumed with a smile nestled between moustache and beard, "I cofness to two of those professions. But I never met a bandit who loosed the tongue to admit it! Not without drink that is," a pause then for the wine and a hearty laugh as if the councilor had offered wine to get just such an admission. "A clever man you are to, if I may say." With that a toast to the councilor, and a sip of potent fragrancy.

"Not a bandit, though I've come across a few in the fens. One or two said somethin' about leavin' Thessil or somesuch, my friend," a pause for that friend, a saddening of the smile, "thought 'em to be deserters of somesuch. Don't know much 'bout such things. A castaway, at least at first. That's why Lazarus'll do these days, no family to speak of anymore. Now, tryin' to live, and aspire, and all that knights do."

Both arms gesture wide with the admission. "Not much a knight to look at, I've no doubt. I came to Myrken 'cause I had heard there was a knighthood here, few years back, thought I could learn more 'bout the trade of protectin' and guardin' and all that from the horse's mouth. But as I said, I'm not above earnin' my bread. Made Beauford's cage myself. He's been my companion for years now, a truer friend if ever there was one, provided there's enough to eat!"

"Oh ser, I'm not meanin' to offend, but I believe God is much easier to live with when you realize He cares about you. He's much less frightnin' then." Another sip, a glance for his arm all bandaged, a wince at the wine's potentcy for a man whose not had such in some time.

"This Governor seems like a man of vision," he ambles on, eyes wandering with awe over the wealth about him. "An' seems he trusts you. Myrken's been good to you, yes, that is plain to the eye ser. i thank you for sharin' some of the goodness with me. You seem a man with a taste for language, and a love of animals." Another sip.

"I can lift, Peony can lift and plow, and I can be as stubborn and ornery as Beuford, he taught me well." Another grin. They blossomed so easily on that somewhat weathered face. "I wonder how I might best help your endeavors? As for Rubble-Kai," he drawled, "Never heard of it. Not surprising really, considering I come from back, back water if you take my meaning. You said your king was a hard man, was it he that drove you and your men to these lands?"

[Dulcie]

He waited for the man to take his drink, tainted though it was. Both glasses poured from the same bottle though were his guest to drink enough of it the drink would make him rather tired, tired enough to sleep and forget about the conversation that he'd had just before the drink. But there was time before those effects could take place, the full effect of the wine wouldn't even take place for long minutes after it had been fully consumed, and of course the man could always stop drinking, among other possibilities. As it were the Councilor would pick up his own glass and take a sip of it before he'd seem to remember something, setting down the glass with the look of someone who had just remembered something rather important that they had forgotten.

"Forgive me.. " He'd say a moment, reaching a hand into the interior pocket of his jacket. "It occurs to me that I've forgotten to take my medication, for my joints you see. Too many years of folding myself up into locked boxes." Clearly a joke as he had discussed that he was an illusionist earlier. From the jacket would be drawn a small vial filled with a blue liquid. He'd uncork it carefully and bring it up to his lips, tipping it back before the empty vial was corked and replaced in the jacket. "My apologies again, dealing with such personal manners in front of a new guest lacks such manners. "Do go on though, I'm most curious about this cast away business? What manner of ship were you cast away from and how did you find yourself in such a position?" The wine glass would be picked up again and sipped at slowly.

"Becoming a Knight is a noble profession. Not one I ever aspired to mind you. There is far too much conflict involved in that for my like, though I do recognize it's a most necessary one. Perhaps when you have finished working here you might seek out the Governor, I am sure that he would be able to lead you to those involved in the knighthood, though I will admit it has been some time since I've met one. I do remember a young aspiring squire at one point however. I'm curious if the young man ever succeeded in his endeavor." A pause for quiet musing on that thought before he continued.

"As to what you would be doing here I've arranged those working on the project to various teams. Each team is constructing their own individual part of the project so it will be a surprise for all once the work is fully completed. I believe with your experience working with metals as you had with the rabbit's cage I might assign you to that division. There's one other Myrken man on that team working with a group of my men and I am sure he would appreciate someone he could speak with. I'm anticipating the duration of the labor to extend perhaps another 3-4 months, though truly it will depend on if anything else inspires me during the course of the construction. It could very well take longer if my designs change."

He'd take a moment then to drink a little more before he addresses the comments about the Governor, a wry grin forming upon the Councilor's lips as he notes that look of awe that the man had, briefly sweeping his eyes over the man while he was busy gaping at the wealth of the tent. "I am a lover of many things. Language, wine, extravagance. I have but one human life to live, and I intend to thoroughly enjoy every moment of it. But you are most welcome for that which I share. I know no greater joy than seeing the pleasure of others." He'd smile then with a truly earnest looking expression once Lazarus would look back to him again.

"Hmm.. the King of Rub'al Kai? Perhaps it is best said that he inspired me to leave his country and to find Myrken. Though if you truly believe in a God, perhaps it was He that led me here. It is so very difficult to tell how fate directs us after all."

[Lazarus]

A emerald gaze for that glass, somewhat depleted for his thirst's sake, and a softened ear for those questions in particular. A slow smile curled his lips, a smile softened with truth and reality. Leaning back, Lazarus caught the friendly Councilor's eye and grinned.

"I'm dyin'."

He held that gaze a moment longer, green for green, smile unwavering with the plain assertion.

"I was cast away from my family, driven off I mean, into the fens and bogs." He raised his bandaged left hand. "I've got a sickness. It's not catchin' by any means, but, well, its considered by many to be bad luck. People thought I must have it 'cause o' somethin' I must've done, some evil thing, if you take my meaning."

"Told me God was punishin' me, they did," his grin faltered with that. "Couldn't have been more wrong. In the Grange, Xanth Grange that is, they call it corpus or the white lilly fever, dependin'. Whatever it is, I got it, I'm dyin', it aint catchin' but its a death sentence."

A pause to wet sun-parched lips, that smile remaining in the corners of a mouth nearly obscured by untamed hair matted by travel. "Call me an exile then, 'twas no ship involved. God found me in those bogs, all alone and filthy. Gave me a home. Some friends. Some purpose to, y'see."

Lazarus shifted at this easy spilling of secrets others might keep hidden beneath their beds or buried under other secrets. No shame from this bog dweller, no hiding of countenance for this outcast, whose jade eyes are soft and light and warm. A tad of blush added from the wine to tanned, hungry features softened by that gentle roundness of visage.

"Sometimes we're only free when we have no choice left. Me? I had no choice but to die, and its then that I was given life. So I figured might as well help people while I can, learn to be a knight or somesuch. Hard to fear a sword when I already been stabbed, eh?"

Another gulp for the savory drink, a glance for the little remaining contents as it is set aside. An empty stomach and hard wine were not friends.

"I thank you for the information 'bout the governor, and the squire. Perhaps I can beg an audience," a clearing of the throat as he drawled onward. "As fer the work, Counselor Bernidinni, I've a workin' knowledge of metalwork, as you observed. Be glad to work with someone I could talk to, as well. Be glad to stay as long as you'll have me. Or, if you prefer, I could do things like see to the distribution of food and water, that sort of thing. Up to you, of course."

[Dulcie]

If the Councilor was surprised by the man's honesty or the facts that were revealed it didn't show upon his face. Green eyes that might have held sympathy instead held understanding and he'd nod his head once in acceptance of what had been shared with him.

"Many of these primitive cultures fear those that are dying don't they? It's a shame really, I see two things from dying men. There are those that become dauntless, with the certainty of death comes freedom from it and they take on the most dangerous tasks, the most harrowing of situations. It is these men that I admire, who have looked death in it's face and have walked away stronger for it. It is a trait that I believe can only be acquired by such circumstances as yours. The second type however, those become morose and reckless. They see themselves as having nothing left to lose and they are perhaps practically corpses already. The difference is that these men do not seek challenge and danger, they seek to unravel and to unwind. They find the holes in our society and tug at them for they will be of it for not much longer. The question Mr. Lazarus is what sort of dying man are you?"

There would be no more talk of work for that moment, the Councilor's eyes trained on the other man for a moment, the look intent and though the Councilor had in every way seemed the perfect picture of pleasantness there would be something in his gaze just then that could make a person feel ill at ease. Berdini would wait for Lazarus' answer, swirling about the wine in his glass for a moment before he'd lift it to his lips and drink. Some answers were worth waiting for after all.

[Lazarus]

Intensity was nothing entirely new for him. People got mighty intense in the fens over certain things such as homes, claimed territory, or just wanting to be left darn well alone. The Councilor has favored him with a gaze of tamed ferocity, alive with a certain hunger, and it has his jade eyes wandering a moment as he offers a silent prayer and glances at the remnants of his glass.

A gentle breath and the wine is set aside. Wine on an empty stomach after much travel had been a poor choice. While not enough to do lasting harm, it had certainly mildly addled his senses.

"I suppose, Councilor," he drawled with a hand to rub the back of a sweaty neck. "That I look at death ev'ry mornin'. But death isn't all that scary when you come right down to it, I'm startin' to think." Lips pursed with thought, a smile tugged at lip corners as their conversation veered toward one of a few had with others who lived in the Ghreu Fenns.

"I also talk with God ev'ry mornin', and when you see Him, it has a way of puttin' ev'rythin' else into perspective. The dark don't look so dark when you look at the light, if you take my meanin'. 'Sides," offered with a shrug, "we're all goin' to die Ser. Just a question of what we do 'till then. As for what man I'll be, oh I don't know," he rubbed his shoulder with thought and grinned at the slow difficulty with which words crumbled from him. Wine and comfort would so readily be exchanged for Beauford and Peony at this moment.

"Never find out 'till the moment comes, I suppose. Still, I reckon' that if I'd just be fixin' to raise mayhem and die I wouldn't have bothered to come here, would I?" He chuckled at that. "If, Ser, you're worried 'bout me makin' things difficult I can say I won't be no trouble. Just lookin' for food, work an' water an' I'll be on my way if you change your mind."

"'Tis a funny thing, though. The last few months or so have been some of the happiest in my life."

[Dulcie]

There a moments where a man makes a bad decision and knows it. This was one of those moments, for the stranger was far too intelligent, too thoughtful, too religious for Berdini to truly let him stay and be a part of his project, and yet something about the dying man fascinated the illusionist. Perhaps it was the honesty of the answers or maybe it was simply the fact that this man saw so much light when there was such darkness in the world. The Councilor was a man of art afterall, and what was more beautiful than when dark and light come together in the balance. He'd seem to consider something for a moment after Lazarus finished speaking and he'd rise to his feet slowly, easily, perhaps too easily for a man that suffered from joint pain.

"No, I don't suppose you will be any trouble will you? Those guided by Gods hand rarely are, at least until they reach a moral dilemma." He'd say with a smile back for his companion as he made his way back over to the sideboard, reaching around behind some of the bottles to find a little bowl of fruit that had been obscured by the other items on the table. He'd draw out a strange looking item, clearly some sort of fruit that had been picked from a tree, though it was yellow with streaks of pink through it with little clusters of spiny looking features that came up in random patterns across the fruit.

"But I certainly agree that a man never truly knows his mettle until the moment comes." He'd sit back down, his wine only half way finished in comparison to his companion's. He'd move to offer the fruit out to the man with an open palm. "You look exhausted and I fear I haven't been a very good host to offer you no sustenance with your wine after such a long journey. Do forgive me for that. This is the nommis fruit, it's a delicacy in Rub'al Kai, known for it's restorative properties. I don't imagine it can heal what ails you, but I do find it to be most refreshing on a difficult day." He'd wait to see if the fruit had been accepted before he continued. "You just peel it open and the flesh inside is what you eat." Strange fruits needed explanation after all. If the man chose to try it he'd find that the fruit would take away those feelings of weariness and exhaustion that he might have felt after drinking the wine, even perhaps making him feel better than he had when he arrived.

"Mr. Lazarus, I'd be most happy to have you join my project. When you feel up to a tour I'd be happy to show you about."

[Lazarus]

"Councilor, ye've been as fine a host as any I've had," offered gently with a gaze that lingered for the truth of it all. "My friends, the few I had in the fens, were true as any and offered far less. We ate together, watched together, had very little. Still it was home-like enough for the likes of us. My thanks for sharin' your generosity with me. And," he went on, "My thanks for bein' willing to take me on."

Lazarus accepted the strange fruit with a smile. The wine had left him beginning to feel somewhat strangely, with few words to describe it given his lack of familiarity with such things. He smiled at the offered fruit itself, struggling with his left-handed grasp that threatened to squeeze the fruit overmuch as he began to peel it, slowly and in odd fits caused by a mild instability in his left hand. A bit of the fruit ruptured onto his knee as he managed to peel it, which he regarded with a bit of a smirk and a shake of a shaggy head, before slipping a piece into his mouth.

"My thanks, ser," he said around the mouthful before climbing to his feet. He wiped lips with the back of a hand. "I'm ready now, while I eat, if you don't mind. Haven't sat still in several days, don' care to get too used to it givin' the work I'll likely be doin' for ya." More smiling, a little throat-clearing, a scratching for one eyebrow.

"Rubble Kai fruit is soemthin' else, " he smiled. "Differnt sort of flavor alltogether. Mighty generous. Quite refreshing, too," he added, noing how the fresh, fruity sugars likely helped quicken and sharpen a mind that was threatening to dull.

"If you don' mind the askin'," he continued, rocking up onto his toes in order to strength his legs, "What moved you from illusion an' tricks to this sort of trade? It sounds like soemthing grand is planned here, but usually such things aren't kept for secrets, I should think? Unless," he continued, "unless the Gov'ner means it as a surprise for his people. That might be rather nice, come to think of it."