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The man who had appeared to Feyrith after her encounter with the cultists within the aqueduct had given her an invite to appear at the manor of House Iskandar within Alliria in two days time. Noting that this would be a meeting with the head of the House who would no doubt have a keen interest in hearing a firsthand account from her for several reasons. The first being that she was not a direct subordinate of the House so was less likely to paint the House in an overly charitable light in her report. Second was that though she was not a direct subordinate she was still a contact of the House and so could be considered more reliable than some random drunkard. Lastly was that an insinuation had been made by the man who introduced himself as "Drystan" that further, lucrative work would await Feyrith with the House Iskandar should her meeting go well, incentivizing her with a monetary reward to ensure satisfaction.
With all this in place it was an early Allirian morning with the sun just peaking over the high walls of the manor when Feyrith was let inside, escorted by a pair of guards and a House servant into an internal courtyard of fine construction, parts of it doubling as a garden with exotic and colorful flowers, and in the courtyard's center was one Petrus Ritus Iskandar who seemed to be in the midst of, all things, training. indeed he was not in a state many would ever see him in as the middle-aged noble currently held a rapier in one hand, facing off with an instructor of some sort, and was unclothed from the waist up. He was sweating rather heavily as well and was not adorned in his usual finery. Instead he wore a pair of plain, rough black breeches and boots more suited for rigorous physical activity.
The two seemed on the cusp of beginning another round when the instructor would note her approach and nod to her wordlessly. Petrus, looking up, would sigh and wave at the man casually. Remarking in a low, level tone despite his sparring.
"That will be all for today it seems."
Holding up a hand the servant accompanying Feyrith would take the cloth off his arm and toss it to Petrus who would wipe his face and sheathed the rapier expertly before wiping at his arms as he addressed the short Drow woman.
"You must be the mercenary I am expecting. Fiana, was it?"
He did not look directly at Feyrith as he addressed her and took a goblet from a tray another servant brought to him, drinking from it for a moment, before placing it back and sighing deeply.
Feyrith