The guards escorting Terrel were stoic, untalkative fellows. Though he likely would have been affronted had they tried speaking to him first, they didn't answer any of his questions. They merely kept him from wandering down any unlucky corridors as he was marched up some stairs and away from the dining hall. He was deposited in front of a plain (for a palace) door, and there they stood while he entered the room. With an unanswered goodnight, Terrel surveyed his new accommodations. The walls were fairly bare --likely the king didn't want any tapestries to go missing with this crowd-- and he had no view of the outside. This disappointed him until he realized windows would provide excellent opportunities for sneaking. The king was cleverer than he was given credit for. Bed, washbasin, well enough right there for the night. Taking off his boots, he settled onto the bed.

Not one prone to nocturnal musings or wanderings, Terrel slept soundly and was awakened by a knock on the door. One of the guards from last night poked his head in the room and informed him that he'd better be ready to be leaving soon, as His Majesty wanted them to be getting an early start. A short time later, Terrel entered the main hall and nodded to the others already gathered.

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going on a journey through my old claims

Fladnag reflected on the fine line between curiousity and stupidity when he idly swept the runes from the edges of his pentagram that night. The broom sparkled with the residue of many a chalked figure and he wandered out to the balcony and shook it before relegating it to its corner.

That done, the venerable wizard poured himself a mug of tea and continued to reflect, looking into the crackling innards of his small fire.

The boy was rather arrogant. Yes, arrogant, but not without a sense of self-preservation. And at least he had the pretense of manners. He was not altogether irredeemable. Fladnag inhaled the rising aroma of the tea and promptly sneezed. Blast it, if the dust would stop invading his apartments -

He recalled that he himself had shaken the broom out the window and subsided. The boy. Right. Well, if he didn't get himself killed on this expedition, perhaps he'd amount to something. Fladnag sneezed again. As he always said, people who liked to swing weapons around were better on your side than on your enemy's side.

At the third sneeze, he got up, drained his tea, and went to bed. As the fire died, the outlines of faint runes sparkled on the floor.

---

Elanna hadn't. Underestimated Fladnag, that is. In fact, she was lingering on the fringes of their group, keeping an eye on the wizard as he descended the stairs to the main hall. He had a certain aura; she could not pinpoint it, but then that was to be expected. A chord or two of magic tricks did hardly magecraft make. In any case, there were many whose weapons she would have preferred stay far away - but at least they were confined by physical limitations.

Unlike whatever Fladnag was capable of doing.

Elanna shrugged up her lyre case and with it the Admiral. She reflected upon their impending journey, and took this moment to enjoy her legs, which were not sore, but would be; as well as her state of cleanliness, which would only deteriorate from here. "If only I washed myself, hmm?" she murmured to the preening Admiral.

Fladnag, having completed his descent, thumped his heavy staff on the floor. "Off, then!" he boomed, with surprising resonance for his age. "We're wasting daylight!"

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The king smiled at Fladnag - almost fondly, but only for a fleeting moment. He mounted a step so that he stood above the rest of them, and addressed them carefully. "Fladnag is correct, time is of the utmost importance. I cannot stress enough, the sooner you get in and out, the better. I trust you will all use considerable discernment in your dealings with the Celseans. If there is a better option than outright theft, then by all means choose it."

The final words took a few minutes, he mulled over them carefully. "Don't make mistakes. Even small mistakes can lead to complete failure. Be <i>careful</i>."

The doors were opened, and a stableman was issued in, looking ready to panic at any moment. After bowing awkwardly several times, he finally managed to say, "The horses are ready, my king."

Acknowledging this with a nod, Kyne kept his gaze on the group. With his hand raised in a farewell gesture, the young king said, "May peace and justice ride with you." It was a rather ironic phrase for the occasion, but customary nonetheless. And with that, the group was led outside to their mounts, only catching one last glimpse of a young king staring in anxiety before the double doors were closed.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

The group walked out to the courtyard, where several stableboys waited with a horse for each person. Ifan ran an eye over the animals – they all looked strong, able to keep up a steady pace. He picked one and took the reins from the lad with a nod of thanks. Opening a saddlebag, he found food, water skins, and fodder for the horses. It wasn’t too far to the borders of Celsea, but the company would be getting hungry before they arrived.

People stared as the group trotted out the castle gates, through the town. Ifan winced inwardly, wishing they didn’t draw so much attention. It couldn’t be helped, though. Soon, they reached the outskirts of the city and were on their way.

-----

Several hours and a decent number of miles later, they stopped by a small stream to rest and water the horses. Ifan looped his reins around a low tree branch to let his mount graze.

Walking over to Bronwyn, he took the opportunity to address a subject that had been nagging at him all morning. “My lady.” He greeted her with a half-bow. “I’ve been wondering, how much do you know about the customs of Celsea? Lorne and I have been to the country,” he said to explain the question, “And Fredric has likely read quite a bit about it, but I’m not sure about anyone else. The Celseans can be touchy, and I was hoping that, if you are familiar with their etiquette, you will be able to help us avoid any… unpleasant mistakes.”

He glanced around at the group. There were definitely some rash personalities there. It would only take a few impatient words from one to make a chief angry, and angry chiefs weren’t easy to talk to.

Bronwyn quickly pulled herself on the horse brought out for her. She had to admit that riding side saddle was not entirely comfortable, but she would have to make due for the day at least.

Walking out the city was so embarrassing for the woman that she drew her hood up and looked down intently at the spots near her horse's withers. Of course she realized that their mission was for the good of their country, but her involvement with such unsavory people would surely come back to haunt her should the plan fail.

The hours did not go by quickly for her, she did not find anything interesting about her. She had seen this landscape far too many times. It would still be a days ride before the group reached an area she had yet to see.

The raven haired woman was grateful for the pause in their travels. Jumping from her position on her horse she took a deep breath of the fresh air and prepared herself for a dull break without any talk.

Her assumption proved wrong almost immediately as Ifan stepped to her. She gave a polite nod of her head in recognition.

"I must confess that I know little of the customs. And what I do know is here say that my father told me, though I do expect it is relatively correct as he too has been to the country. However, much has changed I am sure since his last visit," she said coolly, her tone never changing pitch and the cadence continuing on like she was reciting a poem - she had been taught to speak so by her tutor, it had now become habit.

"Perhaps later we should all compile our knowledge on the matter and then share it with the rest of the group? It may be useful and belay any confusion should we all try and speak on it at once," she offered in the same slow manner as before.

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

Alenia dashed about in her room, gathering all of the belongings she needed. After five minutes, everything she needed, or rather thought she needed, were packed in her rucksack. She took it and quickly ran down the stairs and into the room where they had decided to congregate. She got there just in time to hear the king bid them good fortune. The king she nearly stole from. Not saying anything, she joined them in the stables where she received a horse of her own. She looked at it with an odd eye. I guess I can get the hang of this, she thought. She mounted the horse with some difficulty and some even more difficulty, she managed to catch up with the rest of the group.

While she managed to the ride well enough, she was extremely relieved when they called for a break. She dismounted and walked to a group that was discussing the country they were going into. Eager for additional knowledge, she lurked behind them.

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I was cured all right.

Lorne was a few steps behind the Lady Bronwyn, and concurred with her openly. "A very wise suggestion my lady. We departed so quickly, I'm afraid we didn't have time to go over some very necessary precautions." He dismounted from his horse easily, and joined the Ifen and the Lady. "Such as protocol among the chiefs. You will of course, be required to have an attendant my lady - or someone feigning as much." He glanced at Alenia warily. "I'm not sure who among this group would be willing to oblige that station."

"The Celsean way of life is very exclusive," he said loudly, hoping to attract the attention of others in the group. They needed to hear this. "They segregate into clans, usually revolving around a particular trade, or way of life. The dominant clan is Celsea's primary militant source. They control the-"

He stopped, suddenly, hearing a noise. It was hard to be sure - there was much noise being made - but it sounded like the approach of horses. Perhaps a peddler or a group of messengers. Entertainers even. But Lorne worried; whoever it was seemed to be much more quiet and deliberate than a typical traveling company.

Glancing around the group, he felt at loss what to say or day, hoping for another to take initiative. The trample of hooves came nearer.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Elanna took her lyre out of its case, her fingertips itching for the tuning knobs - the day was grey and moist, teetering on the brink of a cloudburst, which would be wreaking havoc with the strings. The Admiral had disappeared, flourishing his brush of a tail before melting into the underbrush with claws out and slit-pupiled eyes agleam.

Experimentally, she played an arpeggio, listening to it over the accompaniment of the brook's murmuring voice. A chord and a passage of quick notes provided further harmony, drawing the music from the sound of the water, and Elanna leaned forward, fingertips hovering over the vibrating strings.

Fladnag made a sharp noise, an alert, and Elanna silenced the strings with a tap of her palm.

"Don't any of you militant types make a sound," he hissed, fierce brows jutting, and tilted his head as though listening. Then, loudly - "Who goes there, then?"

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*bump*

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I was cured all right.