The Empire A Night of City Lights | Ragash

[Noelani]

Noelani's interested piqued when he mentioned the priesthood as though they had prepared him for this role. Something, again, she chided herself for not knowing about a man she worked alongside. Perhaps she had been too caught up in her work upon the sea and making the waves safe to sail, and rid of pirates, that she had forgotten the other half of her duty. She quietly reprimanded herself and made a note to conduct a thorough belated background check on the other Viziers too. It was important to know who she worked with now more than ever with Gerra off waging some crusaders foolish mission far from home.

She was gazing at one of the taverns near to the hookah bar and thinking of trying Ash on a less potent drink next when he suddenly diverted their course another way.

"The who?" she blinked in confusion but followed.

 

[Fieravene]

"Well it was so hard to miss your glowing beacon floating down the jetty..." Fiera smirked, openly pinching the pale elf's cheek ... no, his other cheek. More laughter.

"Tell the story about the great river beast and how you saved Emperor Gerra!" said the woman by her heel, who gently tugged at Fiera's sari with an innocent smile, "that one's my favorite."

"Oh haven't you tired of hearing that tale? Wouldn't you rather hear the story about my adventure with a Necromancer and the Glass Dragon's hoard?"

 

[Ashuanar]

"What of the tale of the treacherous leech," he shouted over the crowd, drawing near with Noelani in tow, "and the Sun's sister, now wrapped in chains."

---

Noelani | Fieravene | Stryfe Tal'deneshaar | Tulio​

 

[Kailyn]

In another city...

Kailyn was wrapped in silks, the night uncommonly warm which called for not even the lightest of sheets to touch her skin on the simple bed. She was known for her slumber parties now, it all started so long ago with Nym, Noelani, and Medja. And so, she missed them. Her friends. And perhaps that's why she dreamed she was among them again. Another party with not enough wine and too much gossip. Or was it too much wine and not enough gossip? Either way.

"Have you seen what's beneath that white cloth of the General @Ashuanar?" Noelani gave a fierce grin in Kailyn's direction.

Kailyn could immediately feel her pale skin giving herself away.

"I have," Medja declared slyly. "Let me just say Abtati are truly blessed by the Goddess." Kailyn stared and downed the rest of her wine as they giggled.

"His body looks like it was sculpted from the very rocks of the Spine," Kailyn said wistfully even as Medja and Noelani burst into further laughter at her comment. There was a knock on the door and all three turned as it opened.

And there he was! The very well-endowed and sculpted General himself. "I heard you three might be in danger," he declared, his magnificent chest puffing out. "In danger of not having a stripper!" His hands dropped as he began to unravel the plain white cloth in a pace meant for torture.

Kailyn whimpered in her sleep as she turned on her side.

 

[Al'qadim Zulfiqar]

A new pair entered and they requested older tales, perhaps. Stryfe just glanced between both talking pairs now as he focused on the remaining ale in his tankard. As he learned the depression that accompanied an empty glass, his gaze flicked to the waitress, who hurried over with a refill. One of his men would offer the hookah, and he would wave it off as he had his trusty pipe instead.

Ashuanar Noelani Fieravene Tulio

 

[Tulio]

Tulio's gaze snapped to Fiera and smiled with straight, white teeth at her. One could say their meeting that night had been coincidental, but those aware of the goings-on with the white-haired elf knew he seldom relied on chance.

So many adventures. So many stories, he thought, It's only been a few years.

"Wouldn't such a tale put a damper on the high spirits we've raised here?" Tulio addressed the newcomers, his gaze lingering on his companion, then he looked at the young woman by Fieravene's feet. He reached with his free hand and cupped her cheek, "Wouldn't want to frighten anyone."

Then he looked to the pair, smiled, and waved them over, "But, we can never have enough company."

Well, friends of Fiera's were also Tulio's, and they seemed to be just that.

 

[Fieravene]

Fiera's wandering hand left the cheek for the long line of the taller elf's back, fingers marking nonsensical patterns in idle turns. A cool, casual smile met the bright flash of teeth he gave her. Utterly unapologetic.

"What of the tale of the treacherous leech," he shouted over the crowd, drawing near with Noelani in tow, "and the Sun's sister, now wrapped in chains."

A voice that piqued the pointed ears, belonging to a familiar she'd not seen since her departure from Amol Kalit nearly a year prior. Ashuanar. Fiera turned her gaze to look for the Vizier of the Sun in the crowd, finding him as he stepped forward with a lady-friend on his arm. My my my...

The dark elf was content to let her companion answer the story plea, finding it well enough. The treacherous leech and Sun's Sister, now wrapped in chains, was a long and dark story - not fit for an audience seeking reprieve from the daily toil.

"I thought the Sun was supposed to bring light and cheer," Fi asked the man smugly, red and probing gaze slowly shifting to the woman on his arm, "but a black pearl from the sea will certainly do. Don't be rude, Ashuanar, introduce me to your Lady-friend..."

 

[Ashuanar]

"But even in such a solemn tale when the Sun did set, did the Night also come to usher in a new day," he said as they came closer, nodding to Tulio and Fiera respectively, then replied to the latter's admonishment with an amused smile, saying, "but of course..."

He'd already heard them, the whisperings round the lounge.

Ashuanar? As in... grand general Ashuanar?

The Vizier is here? I thought he was...

Is that him? Wait... Who are...​

Well this would no doubt cause a bit of a stir back at the palace once word got around that he was sneaking out, especially with what he was about to do. Spite was not something he had any intention of bringing upon any of his comrades or friends, but if he was going down like this he was taking someone with him. What made matters worse, was it seemed whatever drink that tender had given him earlier had continued to creep up on him as they'd danced, and now he found himself feeling quite nice. Without the usual sharp edge even available to him, he employed an unusually playful boisterousness.

He gestured to Noelani with a persisting smile, speaking with an affectionate and modest sense of exaggeration, "may I present: Namaka of the Mchawi People, Sorceress and Sculptor of the seas, and with a beauty rivaling Lessat at her fairest, The Holy Emperor's Vizier of the Moon - Princess Noelani.

And this..." he said, gesturing now to Fiera. There was a different affection in his voice now as he spoke, carrying tones of subtle reverence,

"...is Fieravene.
​

And a friend," he said, finally gesturing to Tulio, "whom I've not yet had the pleasure. But, any friend of Fieravene's is a friend of the Empire, and of mine."

---

Noelani | Fieravene | Stryfe Tal'deneshaar | Tulio ​

 

[Noelani]

Lani's wrist jangled as she placed her hand upon her hip and fixed Ashuanar with a look men across the globe were born naturally knowing to fear.

"Just," she started, her other hand coming up to wave a finger under his nose. "Because your cover was blown, did not mean you had to go and oust me too," she kissed her teeth and then flicked his nose before finally turning her attention back to the woman in the centre of quite the crowd. Her gaze briefly landed on the others to take in the full extent of the scene before finally holding out her own hand towards the woman.

"Medja has spoken very..." her lips twisted in amusement and her eyes danced at the memory of that night, "highly of you."

 

[Al'qadim Zulfiqar]

Stryfe started to get interested as introductions were made. A war could be ended in one night, but that relied on the stars to align.. and he did not have the following for such an assault. He turned to one of the men in the booth. "Braxton, get the others. You're leaving Ragash tonight, so sober up. I'll follow within the week. Falk here and the rest will follow within the next few days. Oh. And Braxton, pass on word to Al'qadim Valar." He would speak lowly and the men would all nod in understanding.

Braxton cursed and rose to his feet, rubbing the drunk from his eyes. It wasnt very effective but he nodded in understanding at the last part. He would then head for the door, bowing his head respectfully to Lani and Ash Ketchum as he passed and exited the doorway.

Stryfe would then shout from his booth to the bar. "A round of drinks for the bar! To honor the Vizier and the Lady Sorceress!" A bunch of other patrons would cheer at the inclusion of free drinks. Most important was the dark elf, but he wasn't yet drunk enough to voice that.

Ashuanar Noelani Fieravene Tulio

 

[Fieravene]

He gestured to Noelani with a persisting smile, speaking with an affectionate and modest sense of exaggeration, "may I present: Namaka of the Mchawi People, Sorceress and Sculptor of the seas, and with a beauty rivaling Lessat at her fairest, The Holy Emperor's Vizier of the Moon - Princess Noelani.

And this..." he said, gesturing now to Fiera. There was a different affection in his voice now as he spoke, carrying tones of subtle reverence,

"...is Fieravene.
​

And a friend," he said, finally gesturing to Tulio, "whom I've not yet had the pleasure. But, any friend of Fieravene's is a friend of the Empire, and of mine."

"Just," she started, her other hand coming up to wave a finger under his nose. "Because your cover was blown, did not mean you had to go and oust me too," she kissed her teeth and then flicked his nose before finally turning her attention back to the woman in the centre of quite the crowd. Her gaze briefly landed on the others to take in the full extent of the scene before finally holding out her own hand towards the woman.

"Medja has spoken very..." her lips twisted in amusement and her eyes danced at the memory of that night, "highly of you."

Fieravene wasn't often flattered in earnest, but the introduction and inclusion of Tulio by Ashuanar was just the ticket. The dark elf leaned into her fair-skinned companion and whispered up into his ear, "That one has a way with his words..." neither as a warning nor as a jape. Ashu rarely spoke plainly beyond private discussion and he was a smart man who knew how to speak carefully. Fi's crimson gaze fixed the elf warrior with a probing look in much the way a tigress assessed her growing cubs.

Ashuanar certainly had grown more into his own in the last year. Something about him was different. Something only a closer inspection might reveal ... but not to detract from the absolute vision standing at his side. Fiera leaned forward to take the Moon's proffered hand, coiling her own ashen digits around it and drawing it upward to her lips, "The Empress Regent is far too kind, for certain." Red lips pressed plush along chocolate-colored knuckles, imprinting the wry smirk of the elf as she maintained her level stare.

"Yet she keeps her fellow Viziers close to her chest and I cannot help but see why..." intrigue and interest flickered in her gaze as she released the Moon's hand and receded from her immediate presence, back into the languid hold of her companion where her left hand gently snared his hips, "this-"

Stryfe would then shout from his booth to the bar. "A round of drinks for the bar! To honor the Vizier and the Lady Sorceress!" A bunch of other patrons would cheer at the inclusion of free drinks. Most important was the dark elf, but he wasn't yet drunk enough to voice that.

Dark brows arched upward at the cheers, her attention shifting from the Viziers to the stranger at his table, a curious glance given his way with a nod of appreciation, "this is my dear friend Tulio," Fieravene resumed, looking back to the pair, "with whom I have wandered and spread mischief across the far lands for many years. He arrived for the first time in Ragash just recently. Won't you help me show him a grand time?"

 

[Gerra]

A quiet ripples through the festivities, like the sudden calm when distant thunderheads loom. In the quiet came the stamp of booted heels, the rattle of maille, and the clatter of scabbards against thighs.

The great southern gate of Ragash swung open, admitting its ruler, if so he still remained, Gerra. Taller than all others, he stood apart from his returning host, his once golden chainmail raiment scorched black in places where it was not caked in dirt or dried blood. He wore no helm, nor a crown. What need had he of a crown? The only thing he bore was the weight of loss and the future of a nation.

His gaze burned like twin infernos as he strode into Ragash’s streets, his soldiers behind him. Some hatred he had kept locked away within the solid stone of his heart had melted through, some raw fury that now reared its head and screamed out, declaring him to be descended of giants.

“Find them. Gather them,” he rumbled, his deep voice like the quaking of the earth. “Bring them to the palace.”

His soldiers spread out, fanning through the crowds, looking for the empire’s viziers. They too looked haggard, worn, and full of some dark hate.

 

[Tulio]

And this..." he said, gesturing now to Fiera. There was a different affection in his voice now as he spoke, carrying tones of subtle reverence,

"...is Fieravene.
​

And a friend," he said, finally gesturing to Tulio, "whom I've not yet had the pleasure. But, any friend of Fieravene's is a friend of the Empire, and of mine."

"Cheers, mate," sang the ever-smiling elf.

And when Fieravene whispered into his ear, Tulio joyfully hummed.

As cheers rose in the lounge, so too did the elf's hand in halfhearted triumph. The arm around his woman friend's waist tightened. Oh, how he missed the company of others. Too long had he been alone and cold.

Tulio couldn't help the upward quirk in the corner of his mouth, nor his allegro heartbeat. His rosy gaze switched between the esteemed pair. Assessing them. They passed with flying colors. Top marks.

"Oh, I'd be delighted."

 

[Medja]

Nothing passed through Ragash, nothing approached Ragash without its Mistress knowing. Not even the Emperor. Especially not the Emperor. She had known he was coming for miles out, but she had not expected him to storm into her home militantly when he already held rulership of it.

Medja herself stormed down the Ragashi streets towards the Emperor, a trail of loose stone in her wake. He would not listen to anyone lesser, that much she knew. The regent's hair flowed in the wind as she hovered her way through; he was not difficult to find, being the fiery titan he was. Having a legion of spies and informants at your immediate disposal never hurt, either.

When she'd located the Emperor's smoldering form she skidded to a halt in front of him, earthen magic trudging up a line of stone around the duo.
"Gerra of Molthal, your majesty, what the hell are you doing?" She demanded of him with all the authority of an Empress, such that she surprised herself. If she knew anything of Gerra it was that she would not get what she wanted through anger, but through a cool head and supplication. "Dearest Emperor, I believe we should talk."

Medja urged him, quite quickly becoming aware that something seemed off about the lumbering man.

 

[Ashuanar]

Celebration in time of war was not necessarily uncharacteristic. It had been for much time now that the Empire had enjoyed great prosperity after the efforts of Gerra in his claiming of the sands and the cities in their midst - the Empire's very conception. It had only grown in the time since and with it, faith in He, and his Viziers, had grown strong. Faith in the Empire had grown strong.

They delighted in the marching of their army.

It was sobering then, for some, to see those wearied and weathered warriors pass through the gates and slip through the streets at their lord's command. There was uncertainty carried in the air, and even though the sight of their emperor instilled awe in those who bore witness to him, as they bowed in the presence of his majesty they also felt an inkling of fear - there was something in his eyes they had not known. And yea, even the arrival of the Mistress Medja, blatant in her display of power and confidence, stirred uneasiness as those who were near anxiously awaited in quiet for what was to happen next.

---

Despite having clearly incurred the ire of one of the greatest sorceress' he knew, Ashuanar seemed quite pleased with himself.

"Only..." he started, his eyes following her offered hand, "...for such an occasion as this, Princess."

"A round of drinks for the bar! To honor the Vizier and the Lady Sorceress!"

He turned his head and tilted his chin up in thanks, and turned back to the others with a heightened sense of accomplishment. He was delivered a gifted drink which he accepted with no protest. He was offered the hookah, which he did also partake.

"with whom I have wandered and spread mischief across the far lands for many years. He arrived for the first time in Ragash just recently. Won't you help me show him a grand time?"

"Well then, Tulio," he said, lifting his drink to his lips. He drank, and then said, "welcome to Ragash."


And out through the open archway... once again the sound of the music, again the sound of the dancing crowd as it grew. And as they drove deeper into the dark of night, the brighter and more brilliant the lights around them became.

---

Noelani | Fieravene | Tulio | Stryfe Tal'deneshaar | Gerra | Medja​

 

[Noelani]

Noelani's eyes danced with amusement at Fi's words and the gentle kiss across her knuckles. She briefly considered what else their common friend had said about her but then she discarded it entirely deciding that she did not care either way. She sensed the dark elf before her would make up her own mind either way and that was the type of person Lani preferred to keep the company of. Much like the others in her party she glanced over at the stranger who had offered to buy drinks for the whole room and flashed a brilliant smile in his direction.

Now the party could get started.

Her eyes flickered now to Tulio.

"If the stories I hear of your adventures are true, and Tulio here has managed to help in your chaotic adventures, I would imagine it would be you two showing us how to have a good time tonight," she laughed and then inclined her head to the series of plump cushions they had been sitting at. A few of the women who had been draped over them previously had gotten up to fetch the free jugs of water and Lani took the opportunity to steal one of their seats.

"How about a game?"

 

[Gerra]

"Yes," Gerra said, his voice cold, his features as hard as mountain stone. "Talking. Talking is what you do much of, is it not Medja?"

The half-giant took a step forward, looming over her, his eyes twin embers that smoldered.

"When I conquered Ragash, I did not give it into the hands of the Abtati. I did not let them butcher Ragashans in the streets, even though the same had been done to Abtati caravans. I stayed their hands. I gave you power. I gave you wealth. I offered you a better future. And yet I am betrayed."

His words dripped with bitterness, but also a weariness.

"An ambush in Cortos nearly killed me. They pulled three arrows from my back. I live. Hundreds of my soldiers do not."

The warriors behind Gerra had fanned out, many of them his battle hardened veterans who had been with him since nearly the beginning. They surrounded the Emperor and the sorceress.

"Have I been too merciful?" he muttered, looking at the ground. "The Princess thrust a blade in my chest despite my mercy. Have you done the same? Was it you, Medja?"

He looked up at her then, fixing her with that burning gaze of his.

"Is this vengeance for my folly when Drakormir slew my brother? The price you exact for the blood I spilled then?"

 

[Medja]

Medja felt the eyes of her people upon her, their worry not lost on her. She felt the eyes of Gerra and his soldiers, their anger, their malice, their distrust. But she also felt the eyes of her Hands. Medja was never alone, especially not in Ragash. Gerra would never know it, but many of those unassuming citizens had surrounded him as well. Medja was in danger, sure, but not as much as she could have been. If she wanted it to be, this could have been a bloodbath. She did not, however, and she'd prove to Gerra how misplaced his trust was.

"'Betrayed?!'" The regent recited back to him, her outrage apparent, but still collected. "Hasuras na-Gerra, I have done no such thing."

She approached him further, fearless, the scar that Gerra had left upon her chest displayed proudly. Her feet met the ground, the unfamiliar dust of the street brushing the soles of her feet as she took her last few steps towards Gerra, allowing him to tower over her.

"Yes, talk. I would speak with you so as to ease your heart and calm your mind. I know well that you have always favored the other Viziers over me. You have shown love for your fallen brother, Maho; your Red Sun, Ashuanar; you have cared for the Moon, Noelani, and you have schemed with the Earth, Aivrid. Even my predecessor, Ava, had been show great care."

Her fists balled as she stood tall in the face of the half-giant, her own emerald eyes blazing with power as she looked up to him. The Emperor had granted her postition, had blessed her regency, given her opportunity, but what he had never offered her was his time. The others had known him personally, had been allowed to become something approaching his friend. Not Medja. Never Medja. She knew what she was to him: useful. Perhaps it was her very nature that had bred such mistrust in Gerra's heart. Perhaps that was what had driven him to plunge a spear into hers.

"I ask you, O God-Emperor, O Great Flame of Molthal, Conqueror of Ninagal, what love have you for Medja of Ragash? I have faithfully held your Empire together in your stead, I have quietly woven the fabric of its underbelly, and I have tirelessly worked to undo the damage that Drakormir has done!" She clasped a hand over her heart as she beseeched him, her other hand gesturing widely to the city around them. The peace had to be maintained. If the Empire could not trust its rulers not to sow chaos within its own borders, what could they possibly trust?

"If you have any love for your Vizier of Stars, for your Regent, I beg you now, Gerra, grant me audience!"

​

 

[Al'qadim Zulfiqar]

Stryfe would offer those he praised an award winning grin, one that had been mastered over decades. Rising to his feet, he would clap Falk on the shoulder before stepping over him.

He then made his way to the counter, passing behind Fi, Ash, and their lot and would lean against the bar. "I'll take some of the Drakes landing." He mused, before taking a small clay jar filled with pipe weed. "And some water. Can't be getting to the destination too quickly, eh?"

He would return the smile to waitress and take his new belongings and return to his table. Though there was no rush. He would lean against a pillar and set his glass down on a nearby table before procuring his pipe and making sure it was clean for use.

Fieravene Ashuanar Tulio Noelani

 

[Al'qadim Valar]

One of those hands would not be so stealthily disguised, nor would his men. They were Al'qadim Valar and his sect of the Second Sons. It was no surprise that the area his brother was in was close to where Gerra and his men were gathering with Medja.

And each man that stood with Al'qadim had close to two decades of experience in fighting in every theater between the Blightlands and Amol Kalit.

Gerra was Emperor, but his contract was with Medja and any threat to her and her city was to be dealt with by him.

So they would make themselves known, positioning themselves so that Medja could not be completely surrounded, though no animosity was shown.

His grip would tighten around his spear as he waited for any of those with the Emperor to make their mistake. If a skirmish broke out in the streets, it would be the people who suffered most. So they would try to limit the bloodshed.

Medja

 

[Gerra]

“So. It is as I thought. The power and position I gave you is not enough. You feel slighted by my brotherhood with Uvogin, with Maho, with Ashuanar.”

Gerra shook his head, a look of disgust upon his features.

“You are a jealous creature. Jealous of the love the people of Ragash show me, when you view it as your city. Your possession.”

Such greed. Such spite. She would not be satisfied until she alone remained atop the pile of bodies.

“You have woven the fabric of a web. Smiter, no. You are a spider. Putting your spies into position like threads of your web.”

He looked to the warriors who had made their way to stand behind Medja and his features grew dark as shuddering volcano.

“And now you greet me and the loyal soldiers of this empire, soldiers weary from war, with…” his eyes narrowed at them, “mercenaries.”

He looked down to his waist, where his great mace dangled, then looked up at one of the soldiers surrounding Medja and her mercenaries.

“Syrus. Where do you hail from?”

“Ragash, my emperor.”

“And how did we meet?”

“After the Battle of Ninagal. I fought against your army… but after, I followed you.”

“And will you follow me now?”

“Until death.”

Gerra’s eyes returned to Medja. The god of war lingered in the air, he could feel Annuk’s presence watching them.

“You will order your mercenaries to remain here, Vizier. And you will accompany me to the palace.”

 

[Medja]

It seemed that nearly a year of "pilgrimage" had not changed a damn thing. The God-Emperor was still as incredibly stubborn and pig-headed as he'd ever been. Medja had only wished to curtail whatever sinister rage he'd brought through Ragash's gates and appeal to his sense of camaraderie, but instead the half-giant had used it as an opportunity to grandstand.

There was no sense in arguing with Gerra. Not here, nor now. She would wait until they were behind closed doors to do so, and she would ignore the slander he slung in her face. Were it anyone else she would have crushed them into a fine paste; no, she would not have needed to. Had anyone else spoken to Medja that way, they would have been torn apart in the street like a piece of meat thrown to starving dogs. It was true, Gerra had won the hearts of his citizens, of his warriors. What he had always failed to realize is that Medja had done the same.

Her eyes flicked to Gerra's soldier, one 'Syrus.' She recognized him.
"Good eve, Syrus. I never did commend you for the wonderful job you did protecting Shah Bardya." The regent greeted him, expertly disguising the venom in her tone behind practiced professionalism. "From your Emperor's wounds I can see that your keen edge has not dulled in all these years."

She returned her attention to the Emperor, a polite smile on her mien.
"My entire purpose in meeting you here was to see you safely to the palace, your grace. I will happily accompany you, and my Hands will gladly remain." She spared a momentary glance at Valar. "Thank you for your concern, Al'qadim. I will be fine from here."

 

[Al'qadim Valar]

The helm would hide the smile, the God-Emperor was little more than a hurt boy who felt he had been betrayed. He would rather blame his own then believe that a large army moving was unable to be located and ambushed. The smile only broadened at the venom tied to "mercenaries".

He spoke of honeyed words and hid behind grandstanding, yet if he was a God, he would not have lost at Belgrath, nor would he have returned in such condition. Gerra was a victim of his own vanity and his men suffered for it.

A part of him had actually hoped Gerra would grab the mace he looked at, but he knew the "God" would not risk a potential defeat so quickly after his most recent one. Though Medja was powerful, he couldn't help but wonder if it was fear, the need to intimidate, or cowardice that caused Gerra to have his men surround her. The former was almost acceptable. The latter, two were not.

And then there was Syrus, a man so loyal, he couldn't even die for what he believed in. He had to switch sides to survive. Even as a mercenary, Al'qadim would fight and die. The coin wasn't for their loyalty, it was for their skill. Loyalty was their core.

At Medja's voice, Al'qadim would leave his thoughts, his helm focusing on the Vizier of the Stars and his head would bow in acceptance. "As you order, Empress. My men will return to their posts, but I would rest easier if I escorted you to the palace steps and no further.." his gaze would shift to Gerra. "..I will even leave my spear with my men, if it suits you." She would know of his own beliefs if he couldn't.

Medja

 

[Gerra]

Although he did not trust her. Although she wielded his first name like a weapon with which to defy him. Although they had their history.... Gerra only nodded, some of the fire dimming. In truth, the weight of it all made him more weary than he could ever tell them.

"Thank you," he said after a sigh, one hand coming up to massage a temple. "We... have much to discuss."

He made to follow Medja, frowning as he drew alongside her at the words of one of her mercenaries. "What did he say?"

Empress?

The soldiers also made to follow Gerra and Medja, but Syrus, eyes flashing, purposefully shoved his shoulder into Al'qadim Valar as he passed.

 

[Medja]

"We... have much to discuss."

"Indeed we do. Much has happened, and much is soon to." The regent replied, her geomancy lifting her back into the air as she turned to head back.

Medja did not so much as blink at the title Al'qadim had laid upon her. She was not truly Empress, that much was true, but many had come to take her regency as legitimate rule. She had never turned her nose up at the being viewed as such, especially not in Gerra's absence.

"Verbal shorthand, your grace. 'Empress Regent' is such a mouthful, I have found that many simply choose one or the other when referring to me in my time as your ordained administrator." She answered Gerra matter-of-factly, not a hint of doubt or suspicion in her tone. Of all the things to suddenly have the half-giant's hand around her throat about, an issue of epithets was not one she wished him to clamp down on. "I do hope you will excuse Sir Valar's impertinence in these matters, your grace. He and his men are loyal to a fault, and highly effective. Though I do not doubt my safety in your presence, it would go great lengths to upholding the Second Sons' code of honor if he could fall in with us until we reach the palace."