| abstract
| - Gefion the priest wants to goad the Archons into action. Go to the MuMu Village, kill and , and bring back their belts.
- An injured Zahir teen, covered in fading bruises and healing scrapes, and sporting a left arm in a cast and sling, is riding double with an armed and armored guard along the Aegis road, just past the East Leg gates. Darksteed is sat behind the teen, watching the road carefully. Proudly, a tall and broadly built man astride a large horse gallops along the roadway. He is clad in heavy, resplendant armour worn underneath a velvet tabard sporting a rampant Bull on a field of brown. As he nears the group, the Baron reins in his mount and slows the horse to block the road. Godric raises his right hand as an order to halt. "In the name of the Duke, who travels this road?" imperiously booms the Lomasa. He peers from one face to the other. Esvan responds to this display by sitting up quite straight in the saddle, and looking the man directly in the eyes. "I am Esvan Zahir," he says. "And you may call my guard Darksteed. Has Lomasa closed this road?" Darksteed leans to the side to look around Esvan, watching the Lomasa curiously. "The road is open, Lord Zahir," Godric replies. He shifts his weight in the leather saddle, and blatantly ignores the guard. "I say that you look injured. To where are you travelling, hmm?" The words are spoken matter-of-factly. Esvan tilts his head. "Who am I answering to?" he asks bluntly - but, well, he's fifteen. Tact possibly hasn't been taught yet. Darksteed gives Godric an appraising look, but says nothing, still just watching. "The Baron of Elkmont," Godric answers. He continues to ignore the retainer. Esvan doesn't seem to expect acknowledgment of his guard, either - just watches the other with the same direct stare a hunter might use when sighting down an arrow - or for that matter, that prey might use when staring at the arrow aimed at it. "I am returning to the lands of my House," he says. "There isn't anything fun to do around here." Darksteed allows himself a small smile at Esvan's words. But still says nothing. "Perhaps not for a boy, I wager," the Baron retorts. "You do have those pretty Zahir ladies kicking about your lands. Though I fear beauty does spoil a bit in that dark, cold country of yours." Godric leans back in the saddle, and glances about the road. "I will tell my cousin Nayla you said so," Esvan nods. "I was going to go and see her. I am sure she and my matriarch would like to know that the children of the Bull find them unbeautiful." Darksteed keeps his mouth rather obviously shut, his shoulders shaking in his armour juust slightly. "I doubt you would find a more adherent fan of Zahir beauty, my young lord. Though like a flower it needs sunlight and water, or it withers from neglect. We have ample stock in this country," Godric boasts. He kicks his heels against the flanks of his horse, and slowly moves the mount toward the pair. "Though I should caution you about spreading false witness, child. I think you shall find we Lomasa value our honour quite highly." Esvan tilts his head. "It was you who said that the beauty of Zahir women spoiled, Baron of Elkmont. Not I. I like my own country quite well. The hunt is challenging and rewarding and there are many streams on which to sail. I wanted to see what the rest of the world had to offer, and today we came here. But all your women are locked up in cages and the lands are too kind to make tracking a challenge." He indicates his broken arm. "Not that I can hold my bow again yet." Darksteed holds his own opinion as to the beauty of Zahir ladies to himself. But he does smile wanly and look about the road some more. "I should hate to see your mother worry over an injured son," comments Godric. His left hand idly taps the pommel of his broadsword; by the look of it, a habitual gesture. "I will arrange for a pair of my men to ride with you as far as Westwatch, and write to her to tell her that I have safely guided her child out of our territory. From which branch of the Zahir tree do you fall, young Baron?" The lad's entire demeanor returns to ice. "My mother cannot worry," he says. "My mother is dead. My nearest kinsman is the Count of Darkwater. I do not think your hunters will find him before I could." Darksteed frowns at Godric, his voice finally appearing. "I guard the Baron Zahir and will ensure his safety. My Lord." "Did I address you, Freelander?" Godric harshly snaps at Darksteed. "You will shut your foul mouth and not speak unless instructed by your betters, churl!" His booming finished, the Baron redirects his attention upon Esvan. "My concern to your mother. May the Light bless and keep her. I will, however, write to the Count Thayndor Zahir and inform him that you are injured and are being escorted - for your safety - out of our lands, Lord Zahir. I should hate for His Lordship to think we are unable to provide for the protection of visiting children whilst in our midst." Esvan narrows his eyes. "I will see to the discipline of my own people, Baron of Elkmont," he says. "And I will pass the word to my kin when I reach them that Lomasa lands are so unsafe as to require extensive escort. I am sure they will wish to bring their own, and not trouble you unduly should they have cause to visit." Darksteed's mouth clamps shut, and he just nods graciously to Godric. "Impudent child!" Godric murmurs to himself, shaking his head. His blue eyes fix Esvan's stare. "Extensive escort? Keep your pirates, rapists, and murderers where they belong away from decent folk. We tend to ride down trouble in this country rather than grant it accommodation, my Lord. Now you will follow me to East Leg." Esvan eyes Godric thoughtfully. Then dismounts, and looks up at his guard. "You will go and inform the family," he says to Darksteed. "You will do so *now*." Darksteed nods at Esvan. "Of course my Lord. You will be under Lomasa protection here," he says almost pointedly. "So no harm will come to you." Godric sighs. "Must I now furnish you with a horse, as well?" asks the Bull, stifling a yawn. "Impudence in youth, yes? Very well. Send away your guard. Though how you expect to return to Darkwater without him I cannot comprehend, my boy." The Baron rolls his shoulders, and wipes his hands together. "Very well. Do what you will with your man. What do I care?" As they speak, a small group of soldiers dressed in Lomasa livery approach on the road from East Leg. The lead rider raises his hand in a salute. "My Lord Lomasa!" greets the officer. The other men also salute. "What news and orders, my Lord?" Godric glances to the newly arrived collection of horsemen. "Ah, Master Springroot. Good evening. We have a guest, it seems, who has somehow harmed himself." Esvan turns his attention to the new guards. "I arrived in this state," he says. "These are from the incident that cost me my family. I do not wish to be your 'guest', this city is boring. I wish to return to my own House's lands." Darksteed watches Esvan for a moment and then turns the horse towards Zahir lands, slowly moving off in that direction. While there may be an emanation of a holy aura about Esvan Zahir, it is clear that the guards are soundly supportive of Godric and his bristling charmisma. They look at the Lomasa Baron curiously, and the officer tentatatively asks, "My Lord?" For his part, Godric appears disinterested with the scene. "You will provide the Baron Zahir with protection and assistance to the frontier of our lands, and safely escort him past Westwatch." "Without a horse, my Lord?" the officer asks, confused. "Ask our lordling here. He seems to have thought it best to send his retainer away with his animal. You will fetch one from my stables." The officer salutes and makes the necessary orders. Esvan shakes his head. "You seemed to believe you could take me into custody, Baron of Elkmont," says Esvan. "I do not require your escort, as I have said many times. My man and I will see ourselves to your so-hospitable borders." And with that, the lad raises the fingers of his good hand to his lips, and lets out a piercing whistle. A summons, no doubt. Darksteed hears the whistles and turns the horse around quickly, spurring it back to Esvan, stopping before him and offering a hand. "You called, my Lord?" "Custody? My Lord, you exaggerate. We are forever jovial and pleasant to our guests. You leave with my blessings - and my guards." With those words, Godric waves at the mounted officer and points to Darksteed and Esvan. "You have your orders, Sergeant. Do not fail in them." Turning his mount, the Baron spurs Snowflake and thunders off toward East Leg. The Lomasa guards, however, stay to carry out the Baron's orders. Esvan climbs up into Mintar's saddle as the man and horse return. "Yes," he says flatly. "The Lomasa jovially point lances and pleasantly push away nobles." He wheels Mintar around, and laughs. "And your lancers cannot *ride*, Baron of Elkmont!" he calls, and the horse practically *leaps* off to the northwest. "They can escort me if they can keep up!" The guards keep up. Swearing. Darksteed just laughs softly as they go. "..Esa..." he murmurs in amusement. Esvan laughs as they race, leading the 'escort' a merry chase even riding double. "Lomasa think with their muscles," he says. "One can only hope the muscle he thinks with is kept in shape, or the ladies will charge him a fortune before they let him waste their time."
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