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| - "You already know what I would do," Taran replies quietly. "Even where I have failed before. I will not hand a mage over to be marked, nor will I pressure one to take it. I will not have the weight of their *sanity* on my hands, not for the sake of any law, not for the sake of easing a paranoid mind. To do anything else is to guarantee a cataclysm when the mages break trying to change an empire, and turn that breaking outward. It is their choice, only theirs and never mine." "Master Songbird," Lyddmull finally speaks up, the trio conversing somewhere in the garden, "Not all have the luxury of working outside the law in that way. Lady Mikin has a responsibility to more than just herself, but to those who will come here to learn. If this place came crashing down as a result of doing what you suggest, what good would that do anyone?" He shakes his head for a moment, looking away. "Perhaps both methods will meet somewhere in the middle," he says, "But for now, legal means of change must be used by _someone_, mustn't they?" Bow and arrows appear to have been left behind, but Milora has Juriatale with her this evening. It taps softly on the ground, preceeding the Arbiter's otherwise silent steps from the chapel. Her expression is quiet and rather blank, but she grips the dragonhead staff with nothing short of ferocity. "Taran," replies Celeste gently, reaching out a hand to touch the bard's arm. The sound of the garden door opening once more, draws her attention and her hand slips back to her side. "We shall continue this discussion another time, master. Perhaps over a cup of tea," she suggests and looks back to the Lomasa. "Good evening, Lady Arbiter," calls the Mikin, raising her voice only slightly to be heard over the conversation already in progress. Taran shrugs; if he is surprised by Milora's entrance, he doesn't show it. He does, however, turn and bow to her, the distant calm retreating to somewhere in those tilted blue eyes as he smiles. "They appear to be a most law-abiding monastery, lady Arbiter," he says pleasantly. "Far moreso than a disreputable tavern bard could lay claim to matching. How do you find the gardens?" The present Seamel frowns slightly in confusion until he turns back towards the chapel. Upon sighting the Lady Arbiter he turns to face her, moving to flank Celeste as he allows the newcomer access to the group. As his eyes light on the noblewoman's tense grip on the emblem of her office, an amused smile tugs at the corner of his lip. He maintains a more or less neutral expression though as he bows. "Lady Arbiter," he says simply by way of greeting. "Oh, no, by all means," Milora says, jerking her eyebrows at Celeste as she nears the little group. "What were you speaking of? I would like to hear the sort of conversations that commence here." A little smile crosses her lips as she looks - not at, but rather past Lyddmull - and then straight into the bard's face. "Taran." She addresses him softly. "What were you saying as I entered the garden?" "Lady Arbiter, how are you finding your stay within our humble walls," inquires Celeste. She seems the last to turn to face the approaching official, and a slight smile returns to her lips. "It does not compare to the grandeur of Riverhold, but it is home." Taran smiles slightly, looking Milora right in the eyes. "That I would never force a mage to take the Mark, lady Arbiter," he says, simply and clearly. "Because I would not. It is not my decision to make for them. An they are a threat to Fastheld, it usually becomes clear very quickly. And other laws handle that well enough. It is the section of law marked 'self-defense'." He laughs. "The lady Celeste does not agree." "My Lady Arbiter," Lyddmull says, stepping forward with a smile, "Perhaps you are mistaken, as I was the one speaking when you entered." A faint grin brushes his face as he tilts his head to one side. "Unless perhaps, you have a Ranger's gift of stealth that you have heretofore kept hidden, perhaps?" he asks gently. Nodding curtly at Celeste, Milora gives a rather indifferent tilt of her head. "It is your home," she repeats before attending to Taran once again. To him, she smiles. "The lady Celeste is quite correct," she tells the mage simply. "It is our duty as Fastheldians to protect our own. Celeste Mikin, what are your thoughts on this matter, and is this one of the subjects that you teach here?" She does not break eye contact with Taran when speaking to Celeste; Lyddmull barely gets a shift of her eyes in acknowledgement. "I have many hidden talents that are well beyond your knowledge, Lyddmull Seamel, but I will allow that I heard a man's voice during my approach and did not distinguish. With that said, I shall happily note that I am not 'yours' in any shape or form." "Lady Celeste," correct the Mikin gently. "As you are here in the capacity of an official as well, I must request that you show me the same courtesy, Lady Arbiter." She dips her head in a partial nod to the Lomasa before continuing. "As I've discussed with the prince, Night's Edge is not a haven from the Law. If an unmarked mage were to be found, we would see that they took the mark or were turned over to the Tribunal... such *is* the Law," she states firmly. "Indeed, and so I do, in my way, lady Arbiter," Taran replies, with a little smile. "I have fought and even slain mages who had given their souls over to Shadow; I think this is more than you have done as yet. With my own hands I killed to protect and defend, and would do so again with no regret. That I would not take a brand to their faces is perhaps a small matter by comparison; I leave such judgements to you. It is not my place." He turns to go. "I came for time to reflect; it seems all locales are eqally crowded here. By your leave, my ladies, my lord." It appears that Milora utterly ignores Celeste's request to employ her title, instead turning a cool gaze on the taller woman. "What do you say, Celeste Mikin, to a man like Taran Songbird? What do you tell a man who believes that a person who is both Touched and Unmarked should not have to submit to such a brand?" She /totally/ lacks acknowledgement of Master Songbird's words, except to raise her hand. "It would please me for you to stay, Taran, until the Viscountess speaks." A chuckle escapes unbidden from Lyddmull's throat at the 'insult', the young nobleman not seeming to mind in the least. Seriousness once again takes hold of him as Celeste speaks, his eyes settling on her. Taran's retreat does seem to affect him some and he frowns tightly one hand reaching up to give Celeste's arm a squeeze. His icy gaze turns to settle on Milora and his jaw gains a firm tension. "Lady Arbiter," he says, his voice tightening, though remaining at a casual volume, "Would it not also please you to have what is considered common courtesy even among freelanders in regards to your hostess?" "Lady Arbiter, as I see you are in poor manners as well as poor spirits. I can only pray to the Light that you are in better disposition on the morrow," sighs Celeste wearily. "As for myself, I've a matter to attend to with Lord Seamel." The Mikin looks back to Taran, "Light guide and protect you, Master Songbird." She offers a quick glance back to the Lomasa and then turns to address the Seamel. "Lord Lyddmull, could you speak with me for a few moments privately," inquires the Mikin turning back to the darkened alcove that seems deeper than the others. Taran shakes his head, and waves a hand at Milora. "Light brand and burn me, my lady, such is its great love." From the bard's lips the words lack bitterness or sarcasm - actually, they sound rather lyrical. "Tell her, my lady. As you told me. I do not mind. This is the world the Prince will have." He shakes his head. "Light is judgement; mercy is a human failing." "One earns respect," Milora replies simply to Lyddmull. Her eyebrows are raised at Celeste, and a grim smile is set into her features. "Very well. An unwillingness to speak to an outsider about the teachings of your chapel implies covert ongoings and will reflect very poorly upon this place in my report, however, if you would dismiss me then that is your choice. /I/ have no qualms." She doesn't take her leave yet, however, merely tapping the back of her staff and looking expectantly at the Mikin. To Taran, a nod. "I will probably not get far tonight. I hope to see you before very long, Master Songbird. Be well." It's about this time that the amethyst-cloaked, armored form of Duke Norran Lomasa idly wanders into the gardens. He carries a rather bored expression, seeming to be aimlessly wandering about the place with a couple longsword-sized wooden swords resting against his shoulder as he looks about. The Seamel glares at Milora for a moment, shaking his head in frustration before he moves past her without a word to intercept the retreating Mikin. He comes up alongside the noblewoman, a hand reaching out for her arm again as he leans down to speak to her. "You have nothing to fear from her, my Lady," the Seamel says gently, "As long as you are forthcoming. She is rude and self-important, but if you run from her now, you give her a knife to stab you in the back with. I beg of you, answer her question, and make your retreat graciously." "Again you misunderstood. There was no dismissal, Lady Arbiter. Only disrespect on your part for my station within my own home," states Celeste calmly, pausing at the touch to her arm bowing her head to listen. "One that I will be sure to address to my own Duchess," she states as simple fact. She pivots on her heels, "will you now tell me what brings you to my home, Lady Arbiter?" Celeste then looks to the retreat of the bard. "As the Order enforces that it is merely a guideline, I could only take time to sit and speak with Master Songbird in the hopes of alleviating his fears and to better understand the stance of the citizen of Fastheld." Taran pauses at that. "Do not concern yourself with my fears, great ladies," he says calmly. "For I have none. Do as your beliefs, or your laws, command you. Light keep you both, Sun-blessed." And with that...he's away. "I am not here as a guest in your home, Celeste Mikin," Milora replies, her tone mild and soft. "I am here to judge your behaviour as the Abbess of this establishment," a chuckle, "and I will remind you that my residing here for the time being is a kindness to you on my part, as I am allowing you to /display/ all that your chapel stands for rather than to explain it to me in your muddled speech and most certainly leave me with a less favorable opinion. There is absolutely no obligation on my part to address you in any particular way." She casts a glance over her shoulder and gestures for Norran to come to her side. "The Viscountess is explaining to me how she, as a teacher, would ease the mind of one who does not believe in the Mark." Back to Celeste: "What words would you choose? Think for a moment before you answer and construct it well, because your oratory skills are now being crucially judged." "You aren't a queen here, Celeste, just because you own the lands. The Lady Arbiter holds a station far above yours, and is here in the capacity of the Empire. The Empire - who actually holds dominion over this land. Don't think that just because property taxes are gone that their spirit no longer has meaning," interjects Norran, an arch of his brow as he witnesses the exchanges between Celeste, Lyddmull and Milora. "Also, she has told you why she is here. An inspection. If everything you do here is just fine, then you have nothing at all to fear. Show your respect to the Empire. If you dislike her holding this position, write a letter to the Tribunal. That's your right. Making a judgement on her etiquette, however, is not," Norran adds while he releases a tired sigh, shaking his head somewhat to himself. Lyddmull turns back towards the self-destructing situation, his fingers balling up tightly. "Lady Arbiter," he says quietly, stepping out ahead of Celeste, "You seem confused. You are now standing in judgement over the Lady Mikin's oratory skills as well as her doctrine and faith? Forgive me, but I am not certain I have ever heard such a thing as being a measure of whether or not one is a danger to the Imperial Cult." His gaze turns towards the Duke as the man speaks. "Even the Prince of the Blood himself abides by the simple rules of civility that guide the dealings made in our realm Your Grace," he replies, "As it was he who chose the Lady Arbiter for her position, one cannot expect any less of her, can they? Or does the Arbiter speak for a higher authority than the Tribunal?" Celeste shakes her head at Norran's words, gently placing a hand to Lyddmull's arm. Her gaze turns to the male Lomasa. "I have no fears, your grace. There are no lessenings in our dungeons or conspiracies about the corners. We are but simple people here. It is only common courtesy that I would expect from an esteemed guest," sighs the Mikin. "But such is not the case. Please, Lady Arbiter, ask your questions. The hour grows late, but I can roust my eyes open a bit longer to allay your concerns," she states calmly. "If Celeste can not prove herself as an effective teacher, one of my conditions may be that she is not trusted with the actual teachings that commence here. If your system is weak, it is endangered of falling into shadow." When addressing Lyddmull, Milora's tone and expression are absolutely devoid of emotion. "Lyddmull Seamel, I request that you stand down and allow me to conduct my business. I am an official of the Tribunal." Celeste is regarded with a little more softness; Milora inclines her head, but speaks with no more warmth. "That is what I would like to believe. I have asked you a question. Please answer it, and please attempt to follow this conversation rather quickly. You are not the only person here who grows weary." Celeste's words, however, cause Norran to appear even more weary of the conversation. He continues, "The /courtesy/, Lords and Ladies, is hers to give and /not/ yours to demand. If the Prince saw fit to speak to you in a certain way, that is entirely his prerogative. Go ahead. Dislike the Lady Arbiter all you like, but I'd not advise treating her station with the same disrespect. This is certainly not the place to argue her character." The Seamel's gaze turns towards the hand laid upon his arm and he releases a soft sigh before turning to regard the pair before him, the muscles in his neck and shoulders contracting in frustration. Another breath later though, he seems to regain himself, taking a step back and allowing Celeste to take the lead once more. A hand is placed over the Mikin's as he waits in silence now. "Your Grace, I've no dislike for any one and I've shown the upmost respect to station," states Celeste simply."I am truly sorry that it seemed otherwise. As for words, Lady Arbiter, each person is different and carries different fears," she continues in the same patient calm. "One must simply start a dialogue to better understand the person's concerns and then address each in turn. But what a nobleman may understand a farmer may find harder to grasp for the simple ways." "I am aware of this theory, and an advocate of it," Milora says, nodding in agreement with Celeste. "Because of the structure of our society, we can not depend on the education of the masses. Actual intelligence, however, varies from person to person and not from station to station. I will assume for your sake that you are prepared and equipped to address a person of low intellect as well a person capable of grasping concepts easily. Again, I request that you tell me what you would tell a person who does not believe in the Mark. It is very simple, and I am growing suspicious of your stalling. Do not defend yourself, defend your chapel. Now, if you please." "One must? Again, Celeste, either I am terribly confused or it sounds as if you're /still/ attempting to lecture the Lady Arbiter on proper etiquette, no matter how delicately you attempt to put it. This is uncalled for, misplaced and entirely unnecessary. I'd suggest you please stop before I get a headache," replies Norran, his previously calm but tired tone replaced by something vaguely bordering irritation as he looks at Celeste, a tiny frown tugging at the edge of his lips. "Your opinion has been made known, improper as it may have been to speak, and further argument is detrimental to the conversation. Just answer her question." Lyddmull appears to be firmly biting his tongue now, his head lowering a bit as his urge to interject bridles against his better judgement. His eyes settle on the Duke now and the Seamel shakes his head slowly, his jaw clenched tightly shut. Celeste shakes her head, brushing a hand over the sleeping mongoose. "I only offered my apologies, no reprimands or the likes. Again, I am sorry that I did not make this clear. As to stalling, I fear you misunderstand once more," replies the noblewoman calmly. "Each person is different, no matter station or intellect. It would be easier to try and explain the moons rising then such a concept, but I shall persevere." The Mikin seems to consider the request, remaining quiet for a few moments before finally speaking again. "A master smith once came to me and questioned if his friend became less of a person for taking the Mark. Up until that moment, he believed his friend to be like any other citizen." She looks from Duke to Arbiter, "I find that it may be better to explain such a discussion long since past. As I was saying," she continues. "He asked if taking the Mark made his friend less of a person. I explain to him that by doing so, his friend not only adhered to the Imperial Law but also set an example to other mages as a symbol of courage to come forward and recognize that they did not have to live in fear of the Law or death. As I said, it was a discussion that spanned many hours, for the mind is not so quick to release prejudices that have spanned centuries." A derisive snort erupts from Milora at these last of Celeste's words, but she seems to approve of what the woman actually has to say. Nevertheless, she does not yet seem satisfied. "What do you believe the Mark means, Celeste Mikin? Tell me the truth, and do not coat it with honey. I am looking for a curt, swift and utterly unpoetic answer. When you have finish with that, please explain to me how it is 'courageous' of a mage to avoid death and persecution." "Progress, at least. Thank you, Lady Celeste," adds Norran with a slight nod toward the Mikin, his emerald eyes now settling curiously on the tongue-biting Seamel. Again, his left brow arches curiously. "Have you something to say, Lord Seamel? Is there a kink in your neck that you shake it so in my direction?" "I do, Your Grace," the Seamel says quietly as he regards the Duke with a cold gaze, "But in hopes of expediting the discussion so that we may all find our much-needed rests, I shall refrain for now, as the Lady Arbiter has asked." Celeste offers a gentle squeeze of the Seamel's hand she holds. "It's alright," she mummers softly to the man at her side, offering him an encouraging smile. A flick of the blonde hair from her shoulder, she looks up to meet the Arbiter's gaze. "The Mark acts as a signifier of the danger of a mage," states the Mikin simply. "As to courage, they lose everything when taking the Mark, Lady Arbiter... friends and loved ones. They also have identified themselves as a danger to others. Each mage that steps up and wears the Mark brings us one step closer to unifying Fastheld into this new dawn where the Light has been returned to us." "Acceptable," Milora states tersely, giving Celeste a nod. "I am beginning to wonder, however, whether you've a firm enough grasp on these subjects to actually teach them. My log tonight will be lengthy. Now, I release you from my company, with one final word." She looks at Lyddmull with a very hard expression. "Lyddmull Seamel, it is in extraordinarily bad taste to make such affectionate gestures in the presence of ranking officials, particularly when there has been no oath sworn between the two of you. You will observe that although His Grace and I are to be married at the end of this month, we treat one another appropriately. Consider this a hint that to set a good example would be very beneficial to your situation." "Very well, then ease your gaze when you look in my direction or do not look at me at all, as painful a fate that may be," muses Norran in reply, grinning broadly in Lyddmull's direction, "Or...if you've /truely/ something to say, we can depart to a more private location while you explain your thoughts to me, so as not to bother these two?" He chuckles then, shaking his head and returning to his former, straightened posture to watch Milora and Celeste converse after a deep breath. The Seamel looks at Milora, confusion breaking the stern tension holding his features captive. His eyes finally track towards his and the Mikin's clasped hands as it dawns upon him as to what the woman is talking about. A suppressed laugh rocks his frame as he looks back to the Arbiter. "How unfortunate for you and His Grace then," he says quietly before turning back towards the mentioned Duke with a curt nod. "As soon as the matter at hand is concluded and I have seen to Lady Mikin's request for my ear," he says, "I would be more than happy to do so, Your Grace." "Do be gentle with him, your grace," replies Celeste, finally offer a smile to the male Lomasa. She looks back to Lyddmull, offering a gentle squeeze to his hand before finally releasing it. "Do give my regards to the Duke, my lord. I fear the hour has grown too late to seek advice on the upcoming fete so we will have to speak on the morrow if you are intending on remaining here in the dormitories." She glances back to Milora, offering a quirk of a smile. " Light guide and protect you, Lady Arbiter... your grace. Do not worry of marriage contracts and myself, that is a matter I leave to my matriarch, not the Tribunal." She dips her head in a slight bow to both Lomasa's. The sound of metal to metal can be heard, as finally a splash of golden orange spills out into the darkened gardens, only lit by the moons overhead. She is only highlighted for a few moments before disappearing into the warmth and casting the garden back into shadows. "Rather, how fortunate that we are able to maintain mature behaviour around one another." Glancing up meaningfully at her much taller companion, the Arbiter continues: "Sir Norran has once made a point which which I wholeheartedly agree: those who consistently behave less like nobles and more like freelanders are bound to ultimately find themselves among the class they resemble." There is a great deal of warm affection in her tone and face as she recalls this information, which disappears entirely as she nods dismissively toward the farmer and the maiden. "Good night. I will remove Sir Norran from your company now, and we will have a private word as well before he engages you in conversation, Lyddmull Seamel." Celeste's speech is totally ignored. "Night, Celeste," idly adds Norran to Celeste as she makes her leave, looking back at Lyddmull to tilt his head toward him slightly. "Well then, with that out of the way, there's nothing left to interrupt. What is it you had to say?" he asks, glancing toward Milora with a raised brow once more. The Seamel's head turns to follow Celeste as she makes her exit. "Goodnight, my Lady," he says, his smile faint but warm, "I do hope you are able to find enough rest then, for it would seem that there shall indeed be much to discuss on the morrow." He offers a low bow before she shuts the door and his eyes linger on the shut portal before he turns back to face the Arbiter and her escort. Milora's words garner an amused quirk of the cheerful smile that refuses to leave his face. He inclines his head towards the woman gently. "May you find peaceful rest as well, Lady Arbiter," he says. To the Duke he nods, but gestures towards the Imperial official, "I do believe further interruption may be necessary, Your Grace, but I shall be here waiting for a time should you wish further parley." "Very well, if I will not be satisfied before the two of you converse then I shall remain as a witness." Milora seems exceedingly happy with that, grinning broadly as she removes herself a few steps and nods toward Lyddmull. "By all means, speak now," she tells the Seamel. "While you are at it, perhaps you might explain to me why you seem to find all that I say so very hilarious!" "Well, then, go ahead," notes Norran with a touch of confusion, but shrugging his shoulders as he looks expectantly toward Lyddmull. "Very well," the Seamel replies with a fluid bow. He turns to Norran with a careful tone in his voice, his anger having slipped away by now. "What I had wished to say, Your Grace," he says, "Was that I could not fathom how one could have taken the Lady Mikin's statement concerning her opinions on teaching, the very thing the Lady Arbiter asked about, to be a lecture on etiquette. The only conclusion I can reach, is that you simply had no interest in listening to what the Lady had to say in the first place." He moves away from the alcove that served the Mikin as her retreat, moving in an arc about the noble couple. "As to your question, Lady Arbiter? What I find amusing," the young nobleman replies quietly, "Is how quickly you seem to place yourself in judgement of every possible field, and how limitless in scope your authority and jurisdiction seem to be. Indeed, it seems to grow with each time I meet you." The young nobleman sighs, shaking his head slowly, "And more than that, your seeming avid desire to seek out conflict where there is none. This has been a completely peaceful place in the entire time I have frequented it, its people hospitable and understanding. Its tenets have been thoroughly laid out in accordance with the guidlines of the Imperial Cult, and there has been no evidence, that I know of, shown in contrary to them. Personally, I will counsel the Lady Mikin, when next we meet, to be more cooperative with you in your quest because I firmly believe that no reasonable person can come away from such an experience with any doubt as to the intentions that she has for this place." "The Lady Arbiter is merely performing her duty, inspecting a chapel that has contained depictions of foreign idols and is run by someone with no power at all to claim themselves as a priest. If Lady Mikin is doing everything right, she has nothing to worry about. And," pauses Norran, tilting his head faintly toward Lyddmull as he carries a somewhat dry look on his face. "Again, you've no right at all to criticize the Lady Arbiter's etiquette, or anything she may do. She is above your station and Lady Mikin's, as am I, and whether we are on her land or ours, that will always be true so long as we hold our stations. Lady Mikin's criticisms along with yours are ill-placed, ill-timed and ill-warranted. I'd suggest you learn this lesson quickly as she has, as I'm not so sure how any nobleman could manage having avoided such rudimentry teachings of etiquette in his youth. Even I, who knows comparatively little since my entire life has been devoted to more martial accomplishments, knows as much. We all have our places, and we all must remember the places of others. I suggest you do so, for your own sake and that of your family." Milora gives Lyddmull a smile. "I do not think you quite understand the position that this establishment is in, and I certainly know that you are not as familiar with my position as I am. I am telling you that you have no idea what you are talking about." She leaves it at that. "In the future, you will show my position the respect it is due. Because you are ignorant, you will refrain from displaying any /amusement/ in regards to what I say and do in my duty. You will, in short, desist from being any sort of obstacle to me. I will not tolerate condescension while I am working." Nodding, she gives Norran an entirely different sort of smile. The Seamel lifts his hands in mild exasperation, shaking his head once more. "Your Grace," he says, "I do not entirely know how to reply to that, since there is apparently nothing that I can say that is not critical. I will, in the future, as now, do my best to offer you and the Lady Arbiter the answers I am asked to provide. And I most certainly appreciate your avid concern for the welfare of my House." Lyddmull turns tiredly to Milora to listen to her words, patiently awaiting her conclusion before speaking. "As I recall, Lady Arbiter," he says, "I offered you a compliment on the wisdom of observing Night's Edge, one which I still uphold. As I have just said, I will counsel Lady Mikin to cooperate more fully with your investigation so that you may be enlightened as to the very benign nature of this place, as so many others have. In addition, I will do my utmost to ascertain the boundaries of your position so that I may refrain from treading upon them in any further dealings we may have. Is that acceptable?" "There will be no need to speak to Celeste Mikin," Milora replies coolly, giving an almost arrogant lilt of her head. "She has so far been far more cooperative than you have. Mind your manners, and I will have no reason to hit you with my dragon." Then smiling at Norran and moving to touch his elbow, she tilts her head forward toward him. "I shall be away, now. You know where I am roosting, come tapping when you are through and we will say our goodnights." "I'm surprised you're not used to this sort of thing by now, given your birthright. I'd suggest you start, or else you may find yourself having none. There are those who could easily see that taken away if you do not follow what we all must, those who are not nearly as kind as I. If I strike you as 'mean' or 'troubling', then you will certainly find worse than me. Why, if you were a freelander, I know some who'd, say, break each of your fingers, give you a few moments alone with the agony, and then severed your hand for insolence. Of course, nobles are treated differently. Enough offenses, and you might get tossed out of your House. I'm doing you a favor, you see," corrects Norran, his broad grin returning once more as he chuckles again, giving a nod to Milora and turning away to make his pace out of the garden. "Light keep you both. Perhaps I'll find a suitable sparring partner another day." Saying nothing, Milora tails Norran with a rather satisfied expression on her face. The Seamel eyes the Arbiter's staff for a moment after she speaks, his face remaining completely impassive. "Sleep peacefully, Lady Arbiter," he says to her before turning to Norran again. "I will be sure to convey your concerns to my Patriarch, Your Grace," he says quietly, "And I shall seek his counsel as to my manner." Saying nothing, Milora tails Norran with a rather satisfied expression on her face. Lyddmull's last words, however, bring a grin to her face; she pauses and turns for a moment, nodding. "An excellent decision. Give His Grace my very best, and the best from Sir Norran as his brother-in-law. Peaceful sleep." She is gone.
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