by CherryStatic » Wed Mar 25, 2015 4:20 pm
Castor grimaced at the Lady Warden's softly spoken words. "You should see how fruitful chastising him is. Don't think I didn't try. I spent the better part of an hour telling him what I thought about his 'plan',"
He neglected to add that half-elf rarely, if ever, displayed a sense of altruism. He was much more big-picture than the haphazard and risky plan suggested, but Michta had refused to answer any of his questions the night before, calmly penning notes into the small leather book that was always on his person and effectively ignoring the captain. When the swordsman had finished divulging his opinions, the seer had quietly asked him to make sure that his men were ready for anything the following day.
"He fancies himself a master tactician, I think. Granted, the power to see the many outcomes of conflicts is a boon. But still." The swordsman looked put out. "He's far too stubborn for his own good. Let's just hope that our sorceress here can help keep him in one piece." He trailed off in a way that suggested there was more on his mind than he was saying.
And then, of course, Glenn spoke up.
Castor's eyes widened in affront over the undeserved jabs tossed casually in his direction. Mictha was duly unimpressed with the words, the extent of his reaction manifesting as a slightly raised eyebrow. While the swordsman's jaw visibly clenched, the half-elf turned his attention momentarily away from Niall in order to throw water on the fire that was almost certainly about to consume a part of their merry troupe.
"A familiar tends to exhibit one's traits in some way, a sort of shared semblance, I suppose. The captain and I are hardly alike." He left it at that, thinking (perhaps not incorrectly) that a magic lesson would only serve to nettle Glenn further. He decided to simply give the man what he had asked for and sally forth, undaunted. He wasn't sure what the best strategy was when it came to dealing with a man like the former governor, as such an individual would be looked down upon or even removed in Mixalydia's courts. He was again reminded of how far from home he really was.
"Who is he, then?" Castor huffed, still recovering from being blindsided.
"He is Glenn Burnie. The former governor of Myrken."
"I thought you said that our dealings were with Lady Egris, not officials." The swordsman glanced at the Lady Warden, uncertain of what had developed when he wasn't looking.
And like sweet, amber honey spread across toast as black as coal, Michta replied in a smooth tone without missing a beat: "Why, I believe it was she who invited him into our dealings. Her judgment thus far has proven sound, so I never inquired after it." It was not acidic, exactly, but his opinion was just barely veiled by the curtain of his light manner.
He turned his visible eye towards Glenn, then. "Captain Montelle is the leader of a task force in service to his majesty, Branson. As I explained before, the Hidden Hand is much like the Bloodletters in terms of status throughout our realm, though perhaps with less autonomy. They are soldiers, through and through."
Turning once more to Niall, his gaze swept across the symbols snaking their way across her flesh. When he spoke, it was with a subdued sense of wonder. He sounded like a scholar now more than ever.
"I will be the first to admit that I was not expecting this. The art of runecraft vanished from our kingdom nearly two hundred years ago and is considered a lost form of magic in our homeland. Many of the mages and scholars at the time felt that such primal methods of casting left something to be desired. As I have never born witness to the powers of a runist, as your kind are often referred to in the books that span the subject, I have yet to formulate an opinion on the matter. I understand that the fundamentals of casting are similar for the both of us, but the workings themselves are--"
He became aware of Castor staring flatly at him from across the table, a warning that he was droning on as he had a habit of doing whenever the study of magic presented itself. Michta pretended not to notice, although his cheeks colored ever so slightly.
"Yes, well. I hope that we might discuss such things at leisure once our business is concluded, and the threat has been dealt with. In the meantime, I will say that I trust you and your magic. Please, do as you see fit."
Castor piped up, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his breast pocket. "About that. I encountered Crucia's lapdogs on my walk, the skinny man with the gauntlet and the little girl--"
"Selwyn and Vennette." the half-elf supplied, quietly, glancing at Glenn. He decided not to mention that he was aware that the man had encountered those particular member of the Bloodletters already, and their powers. The former governor didn't seem keen on the abilities of a seer.
"Right. They cornered me in the street and gave this to me. They've chosen an abandoned farmhouse North of town for the swap. They want to do it tonight."
Michta stared at him, as if waiting. Presently: "And you didn't inform us of this the moment you walked through that door because...?"
There was an awkward beat of silence, in which the swordsman's gaze flicked between the Lady Warden at his side to the ever-unimpressed half-elf.
"I was, uh, distracted. And I forgot."