Zarius was just saying all common knowledge about the witch. Of course Vakker was aware of her, though he was sad to say he had never actually interacted with her. She didn't seem the type to hire an advisor like him. Too competent. Still though, he would like to meet her. Maybe they would get along. He appreciated people that could function on their own, even if they weren't good for his business. Zarius's statements about her didn't actually include anything to indicate that he had a personal connection to her, but mentioning her in the first place might be him hinting at it. That was a powerful ally.

He was a little disappointed in Zarius's answer about the pale man. He'd been hoping to fluster him a bit more, get something more juicy. Still, him referring to him as an ally gave Vakker a bit of information. A spy's "ally" wouldn't be someone so insignificant. That man probably had some skills of his own. Maybe the Satyr would have to talk to him next.

First though, he wanted to see if Zarius and the Witch of Moonglade really knew each other.

"Oh, are you offering to connect us?" Vakker asked plainly.

Being from Moonglade himself, Cyran had heard of the Witch’s reputation. He’d never had the opportunity to meet her, though. It just served as another reminder of how much more well acquainted the other two were than him with the people here. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure he quite bought that Zarius and Caedes were only allies, but he wouldn’t press. He’d stepped on enough toes tonight, and he was more curious to see if Zarius would cave to Vakker’s blatant challenges.

“Back to canvassing already?” Cyran teased. Vakker was definitely pushing for some of Zarius’s connections, figuring how much the tiefling was willing to give. When Cyran spoke next, however, it was something that slipped out more from genuine curiosity than Vakker’s probing question, mostly because he couldn’t help but wonder how those two got along. “I’ve seen her making her way across the ballroom. She certainly seems like an interesting character. Did the two of you meet on guild business?”

"I certainly could, she is very easy to get along with." He nods to Vakker.

It was a trap. Zarius knew the witch had ways of getting information out of people without them ever catching on. Having Kamille meet Vakker was more for his own benefit as he could trust her to let him know if the satyr was a real threat or not. At least he assumed that's how things would work. He still had a previous debt to repay to the witch so he would have to get everything squared up with her at some point. 

"Fair warning though, Lady Kamille has little respect for personal boundaries." He will at least offer Vakker a heads up on how handsy Kamille can be with people she meets, regardless of the situation. 

The tiefling looks at Cyran with a smile. "No, there is a certain amount of...competition between the guilds. Though I try to keep that separate from my business and personal relations. I have no talent for the arcane myself so it is important to have allies who excel in those areas. So, to answer your question, I personally sought out Lady Kamille for her expertise in potion craft though we have had a few other interactions since. There is a very good chance that I would not be sitting here today if we had never met or her skills had been lacking. On that note, if you ever cross paths with a monster researcher named Lloyd and he asks you to look into oozes do be very careful not to touch them. Speaking from personal experience I cannot recommend it."

This information was fine to give to the pair. If they did talk to Kamille there was a good chance she would bring it up anyway at the mention that they had been speaking to the tiefling. Lunala knows Kamille was quick to share that information with Veliky. 

A certain amount of competition between guilds. There was only one other guild in Charon that stood toe to toe with the Mage's Guild, and that was the Fighter's Guild. So, Zarius had just implied, intentionally or not, that he was in the Fighter's Guild. Interesting. That certainly was quite the name drop if he'd done it intentionally and quite the slip if not. Being in either guild did bring quite a lot of prestige and connections with it.

It was also clear that the Tiefling had personal connections with the Witch of Moonglade. Was he just bragging now? The witch had even saved his life, so either he was wealthy enough to buy her services, important enough to warrant them, or they really were friends. Though it could also just be that he was a Tiefling. Vakker had hear she had quite the thing for Tieflings, especially handsome ones, as though any of them weren't. That part about little respect for personal boundaries got a small chuckle out of Vakker. He might like that about her if they met.

"I'll take your word for it." he replied once Zarius had told of his personal experience with an ooze.

He looked over at Kamille on the dance floor, going through dance partners like she was trying on outfits. If he went to the dance floor himself, would she try him out? He'd have to test that later. If not, then he might see if Zarius will introduce him. He didn't want to resort straight to owing the Tiefling a favor if he didn't have to. He was good at making connections on his own, so would only resort to assistance for someone very much worth it.

"The Queen of Hearts is quite the costume for her. What about your costumes? I asked before if yours was handmade, and yours is interesting as well. Is there a story behind it? Are you from Zeinov?" Vakker asked, looking to Cyran and then to Zarius. 

“Partially.” Cyran answered. “I’m only functional with a needle. I did the basic stuff and had someone else take care of the rest.” To be honest, much like Vakker, he didn’t put much effort into it at all, considering he hadn’t been planning on coming to this event in the first place. Even though the conversation had long since drifted away from the topic, he still couldn’t help but wonder if there was some underlying reason for this party.

He didn’t want to work on what was supposed to be his night off, but perhaps he would slip away soon and see if he could lurk around and listen in for more information. Both Vakker and Zarius had pointed enough people in the crowd for him to listen in on later. He would stick around a few minutes more, though.

“Yes, it’s a really impressive costume. I was just thinking to myself that I hoped I hadn’t insulted royalty.” Then, because he could never be sure, he blurted out, “Wait, you aren’t royalty, are you?”

“Hm, how astute of you. It is inspired by the burial rites of Zeinav. Yes, there is a story behind it though it is a long and complicated tale. No, I am not from Zeinav itself. No, I am not royalty.”

He answers the questions in succession. Feeling that he had done his fair share of elaborating for the time being, he decides it’s time to find out more about the two sitting across from him.

He looks at Vakker. “It was a bold choice to appear as a demon. Though given that you are a satyr I suppose it was a simpler option than something else. Do you perhaps have any personal experience with those of their ilk?”

He doubted it. While Vakker certainly looked the part, he did not act like the demonic beings Zarius had encountered previously. The satyr was far too polite and quiet.

Despite the conversation having had a rocky start, they seemed to have found their rhythm and it was turning into a more enjoyable experience. It wouldn’t be too strange to start asking questions that less cautious folk would never bat an eye at.

“Since you brought it up though, where are either of you from?”

He hoped to glean some idea of if either of them held allegiances to a certain nation. Based on what they said, they likely moved around a fair amount. It still was worth confirming.

"Well, it's a fine costume. You and whoever it was that you had take care of the rest for you did some fine work. Maybe I should have added similar wings to my own costume." Vakker responded to Cyran before listening to Zarius speak.

He gave a small laugh in response to such a question. Yes, his costume was indeed that of a demon. He may not have had to make himself horns or a tail to complete his costume, but it still took a while to paint all his fur black and so much of his skin red. It's not like his costume took zero effort, it just took a lot less craftsmanship and time.

"I don't know about it being so bold. More like it was one of few options that felt right. At least the horns really bring the whole costume together, don't they? They wouldn't quite match many others, though that doesn't seem to have been a problem for you." he said jokingly, looking at Zarius's own horns.

Vakker's eyes narrowed slightly above his smile. Zarius had only said he was not from Zeinav, and not where he was really from. Once again, Vakker didn't want to give away his information without receiving in return, but Zarius had already shown they don't want to play games. It would be best to just be more direct about it.

"If you're not from Zeinav, then where are you from? Isn't it only polite to answer that kind of question yourself before asking? How rude of you. I myself am from rather far away. You may not have even heard of it." he stated a bit teasingly.

He also hoped Zarius would extend his response to the question to the one about his dealings with demons. He wouldn't be answering such a question without receiving equal information in exchange first. Especially a question that could have such serious implications and consequences should the answer find itself in certain hands.

“I suppose it could be said that Vakker deals with demons every time he advises someone.” Cyran laughed at his own, rather unfunny joke.

Cyran noticed the way both of them carefully dodged the question of their home countries, an answer he was briefly tempted to dodge as well. He readied a lie when he remembered that Zarius knew Caedes, who knew a little more about Cyran’s origins and could easily contradict any falsehood Cyran gave.

For the first time that evening, Cyran’s mask of perfect calm cracked as he realized just what kind of a situation he was in. Zarius was an information gatherer, and Vakker, a politician. If he said too much, there was a chance they’d heard rumors of his situation and would put the pieces together.

He forced himself to relax. There was very little chance of that happening. “I’m from Moonglade, originally. Though these days I don’t spend much time there. The job forces me to travel.” He tried for what he hoped looked like the wistful smile of a homesick wanderer. “If you’re looking for a vacation spot, its forests are lovely, though I’m afraid I can’t say the same for its cities.”

In fact, he was surprised to see so many elves here dressed in regalia typical of Moonglade nobility. Whatever game the Marrowvines were playing with this guest list, it was a dangerous one. At least he didn’t stand out.

“Though I’ve always found where a man is from isn’t a good judge of character. It’s where he’s going. So let me ask you both, what are your plans? I don’t just mean with work. Where do you want to go?” He smiled. “And since neither of you are too keen on giving without receiving, I’ll go first. I’d love to make enough to retire and live a comfortable life.”

"Yes, well, it is my heritage." Zarius replies to Vakker then looks at Cyran. "In a metaphorical sense that is true. Though even the slimiest politician is nothing compared to actual demons. They are unapologetic in their cruelty. Not out of choice, but out of nature."

Zarius rolls his eyes at Vakker. Here the satyr goes again with the coy act again. "You would be surprised, I have traveled even to the Arid Mesa itself."

He notices Cyran's expression change ever so slightly, like something dawned on him. Had the elf slipped up somewhere? Did he miss it? He starts recounting what Cyran has said thus far to see if there is anything more suspicious about him than the obvious of being an assassin and attempting to play both him and Vakker earlier. His attention is drawn back to the conversation as Cyran mentions his origins. 

"Moonglade is very beautiful, though I will admit most of my travels there have not been for leisure. It seems their issues with bandits continue, so perhaps there is more work to be done there yet." He says with a shrug. 

Zarius' eyes narrow at the elf when he asks about what their goals for the future are. The look of suspicion softens a bit as Cyran explains his desire for a peaceful retirement. A simple dream for most, but difficult for those in their lines of work. A fine dream indeed. His eyes linger on Cyran for a dawn out moment. 

"I am afraid I cannot answer that question. Not here at least." He glances about at the crowd of party goers.

It wasn't like they were being eavesdropped on, but Zarius had noticed someone of interest present he definitely wanted to be wary of. Things would get complicated quickly if they actually encountered one another or if who they spoke to pointed them out to one another. 

"In exchange I will clarify my earlier answer to your question, Mister Vakker. I am from the Ash Lands, it is home to many of my kind." 

'My kind' could be taken either as him referring to tieflings, or to criminals. Both are accurate either way. 

Vakker gives Zarius a knowing smile as he makes his double entendre about his kind. Of course, how could he not have guessed from both the man's heritage and profession? Still, assuming is rude, so he wouldn't say anything even if he had a hunch. It was polite of them to not go and try to guess which forest he walked out of as a Satyr. He'd had that happen before.

"Oh, Arid Mesa is quite far. I'd love to hear the story of your travels there some time." he responded to Zarius.

Hm, his goals. Well, his first goal would be to get some new clients at this party so he could continue his business as an advisor. A long-term goal, suitable to end his journey through life on? Well, he never really thought about his life ending with something. He'd lived quite a long time, and he had no plans of stopping any time soon if he could help it. Really, he wanted to run this whole damn city from behind the scenes, but there were far too many Elves in power that would never accept his services. Get the Elves out of the government could be a fun goal. Though, present company might take offense to that.

"I suppose my goal would simply be to enjoy myself. I enjoy my work and I enjoy staying out of the public eye, so I like to think that has been going quite smoothly." he answered Cyran cheerily.

Looking to Zarius with a mock troubled expression and a sigh, he continued.

"Where I'm from isn't that important, and I'd rather not say. As Cyran said, it's where I'm going that matters, and I'm going to continue to live here, in Capitol Landing, since most of my work happens here. Is that enough for you?"

Just as he thought, their answers gave Cyran some insight as to how they thought- Vakker gave a simple answer, one that revealed nothing of his long term goals. Perhaps he hadn’t thought too much on the subject, or perhaps he was one of those people that had more than enough time to figure out where they wanted to go. He didn’t know how long satyr lifespans were, though he was beginning to suspect it was longer than he thought.

“You work out of Capitol Landing?” He asked, only mildly surprised. “How do you stand it here?” The elven families that made up nobility here were insufferable… then again, Cyran thought that about most nobility, whether it was sun, moon, or dark elf.

On the other hand, Zarius’s answer seemed honest, and based on the way he’d searched the crowd before answering his goals were related to someone here. That could mean any number of things- revenge, loyalty, or perhaps even love. He gave Zarius a sincere smile.

“I understand. Whatever it is, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Zarius gives Vakker a skeptical looks. "That is sufficient." He responds simply then looks at Cyran with a nod. "Thank you, you as well."

"I suppose there is no shortage of people with too much money and power and too little sense to use it effectively in this city. You must do well for yourself here." He comments to Vakker, then a thought occurs to him.

"You would not happen to be here to offer your services to the Marrowvines, would you?"

It would be an ambitious attempt for status and control. The satyr seemed confident enough to attempt it, though maybe too cautious to appear trustworthy.

Then again he could just be acting that way around present company. He likely had no interest in offering his services to either Cyran or himself as they lacked reputations within Capitol Landing.

While he had little influence in these islands, his family had some repute amongst the crime families in Darkveil City. The problem was that their growth had been stifled by the top three families within the Ashen Fathers. They kept the smaller, lesser groups down at the bottom of the pyramid, squabbling between each other in a futile hope that one of them could climb on the corpses of the others in order to have a chance at reaching the top. That gap was wide though, and few had the reach to grasp at it. It would take a large leap of faith, but the consequences of falling short were grave.

Vakker nodded in agreement. There truly was no shortage of fools who gained their power and wealth from inheritance or some insane bout of luck. Luck, or incompetency on the part of whoever saw fit to give them that power. What a joke.

"You're right about that. It can get a bit annoying though, so I do like to travel when I get the chance. I had a lovely stay in Frostgale recently. Have you ever been to the hot springs there? I'd love to go back some time." he reminisced, looking to Cyran.

He had to get out of the city sometimes to calm himself after dealing with the utter lunacy of some of these nobles. It was frustrating being seen as below someone far inferior to you and having them believe they were the one in charge of you. Well, if they got a bit too arrogant, he'd just leave them to their own devices for a week or so and come back to them begging him for his advice and to clean up whatever mess they'd made in their short time without him holding their hand. At least some of his clients were decently competent and only hired him on as a consultant instead of a ghost writer. Them, he could mostly leave to their own devices.

Vakker laughed at Zarius's question. He checked to make sure there was no one nearby to overhear his next words and leaned forward.

"As if an Elf would ever accept a Satyr as an advisor. They hardly accept other elves as advisors, those arrogant pricks. Their heads are too far up their own asses to hear a word of advice from anyone." he quietly joked before leaning back again and looking at Cyran. "Present company excluded, of course. I'm only referring to Elves in positions of political power, like the Marrowvines, who, no, I'm not trying to advise."

“I haven’t had the chance to visit so far north yet. But if you say the trip is worth it, I’ll have to make the trip.” Cyran replied honestly. He hadn’t yet had the chance to go to Frostgale, but a visit to the hotsprings sounded lovely. When Vakker let out a bitter laugh, leaning forward to deliver his assessment of elves in nobility. Cyran didn’t find himself offended. Though it was shrouded in dry humor, it was probably one of the most honest things he’d said the entire evening. For the briefest seconds, Cyran felt he had gotten a glimpse of the real Vakker beyond the pleasantries and backhanded attempts at digging into other’s secrets.



“None taken.” Cyran replied. In all honesty, he couldn’t help but agree with what Vakker had said. “Those with longer lifespans don’t think the same as others. While the elves believe age grants them wisdom, all it really does is remove any semblance of consequence from their actions. Why would it, when all you have to do is wait a couple of centuries and every horrible thing you’ve done has been forgotten?”



All the noble families he’d met hid their cruel natures behind their righteous attitudes and vapid smiles. He had no trouble believing Vakker had little love for his kind, when all they did was hold themselves to a higher standard than everyone around them- including their own people- and claimed it was simply nature. And he was certain that the families in power, including the Marrowvines, cared for nothing more than furthering their own wealth and influence.



He flushed, realizing that he’d perhaps sounded too bitter when speaking. He stared down at his now-empty glass, gaze faraway. “Forgive me- I didn’t mean to be so morose. This is meant to be a celebration. We should be trying to enjoy the gala, personal feelings about the hosts or this event notwithstanding.”

Zarius listens to the two gripe about elves. He’s entertained, and he may be just a bit smug that his question resulted in such a reaction from the two cautious individuals. Vakker seemed particularly irate despite hiding it behind a laugh and joking tone while Cyran’s bitterness was very evident. It wasn't surprising that the topic resulted in strong feelings from some attendees at the party. Not only were many strong personalities in themselves, but the invitations were not particularly selective. The fact that he was invited at all was a major oversight on the part of the hosts if they were aware of his own allegiances. 

“That is a shame, there are many elves in power so that must be quite frustrating for you.” He comments to Vakker.

Unlike the two, he had no strong feelings either way about elves. They were simply those who currently held power and set the law. He would have issues with any other race being in the same position if their policies were the same. It was less about what someone was and more about what they did and believed that mattered to him. True, there were many pompous elves, but there were plenty of pompous humans, tieflings, and Lunala forbid he forget about the peacocking corpse walking amongst the party goers.

Cyran’s comment about Elven age makes sense in a theoretical bubble, but even longer lived races still have the same chance of dying early to other circumstances. Elves were no more immune to dying to a knife in the back than any other race. Death was something that no one could run from forever. 

"It is alright. Fortunately for you, I have little reason to relay what is said here to any other parties." He teases. "I think we can all agree that the noble class has plenty of fools within it, elves or otherwise."