"Go on." Zarius gives him a little push forward, up the steps, and through the front door of the Rookery. 

Stepping through the door into the main lounge, Askr is greeted to a large open space which predominately features a large bar towards the back left corner with a wall of kegs stacked behind it. There are a couple tables and private booths that are currently vacant, in fact, the whole space seems to be devoid of any staff or customers. The lounge is dimly lit, just barely enough light to see some odds and ends decorating the shelves along the walls.

Once inside, Zarius reappears and sighs. The black kitten from inside the window hops down and bounds over to Zarius, quickly attacking his ankle with their tiny claws and teeth which are not strong enough to pierce the leather of his boots. Zarius pays it no mind.

"That went well." He kicks the soot off his boots, careful not to kick the little terror at his feet, before walking across the floor over to the bar. "I need you to wait in here for a few minutes. Do you need anything to eat or drink?"

There's a thudding noise from behind the bar and Zarius gives a curious look over the bar top.

"Ow, that hurt." A new voice comes from behind the bar.

"What are you doing down there? You better not be taking a nap on your shift."

Zarius stands back as a new figure clambers to their feet from behind the bar. The individual is a snow leopard catfolk with fluffy thick fur and bright blue eyes. They rub their top of their head. 

"We have a mouse hiding behind the glassware."

Zarius props his leg up on the bar, the kitten dangling from his boot. "Maybe teach Ebby to hunt so she stops attacking my feet."

Snow carefully reaches over the bar and removes the cat from his ankle. "You can't teach kittens anything. They're just babies."

The tiefling sighs and takes his foot off the counter. "Well, keep it up then. Please get Askr here anything he wants. I will be back down here shortly."

He then walks to a stairwell that goes up to another floor of the building, disappearing from view. 

"Yes, sir." The catfolk puts Ebby down on the other side of the bar and tries to encourage the kitten to hunt the mouse instead of much larger prey. They then look at Askr. "Askr, was it? It is nice to meet you, my name is Snow. What can I get for you?"

As soon as Askr is ushered forth through the door of the strange little tavern, he readily complies, walking into the quiet space in the same bubble of silence he's maintained this whole time. He glances around, a tiny flicker of interest shining in his eyes as he surveys the space that unfurls before him-- the well-kept dark flooring, the dim golden lighting overhead, the gleaming counter. It truly is a far cry from any bar he's stepped foot into before. He is accustomed to creaky floors and foggy windows and overcrowded tables, the stench of watered-down ale; the bars the other mercenaries fancy are always loud and dilapidated and full of people. Askr does not like them much. It is... overwhelming to be crowded by unfamiliar voices, unfamiliar people, with no distance between his own body and those of strangers.

This is mercifully different. Perhaps he should find it alarming, being here in this eerily clean and dimly-light space with Zarius and Zarius alone, but it is... oddly calming. It helps that the tiny kitten Askr had been staring at from the outside has leapt down to gnaw at Zarius's ankle, which detracts from his intimidation factor considerably. He is still composed and put-together, the unfazed and powerful man of hours before, but... he does have a tiny ball of fuzz chomping at his boots.

Askr is so caught up in staring at the tiny kitten that he barely hears Zarius's question-- in fact, it isn't until he hears that same thud that he processes he'd been addressed at all. He glances up with curious eyes, looking over at the bar, curiosity shining in those molten gold eyes as he stares at the new figure standing across from them. They are... a cat-person, fluffy and white, eyes as big and blue as the sky beyond Darkveil.

They speak a bit more softly than Zarius does, he thinks. They are gentle in the way they hold the tiny kitten, and their tone lacks any sharpness. If they consider Askr an enemy, they are hiding it well-- that, or Askr's complete inability to properly read people is coming into play.

As soon as Zarius heads upstairs, Askr hesitates for a moment, uncertain of where to go, but the cat person-- Snow, which will be easy to remember, he thinks-- is looking at him expectantly and he cannot help but shift awkwardly in place because he never knows what to do when it is just him and someone else and they clearly want him to do something. So Askr takes a few steps forward before taking a seat at the bar, hands in his lap, looking as small and awkward as he feels, unable to hold eye contact for very long.

"...Do you have milk?" he asks, defaulting to what he usually asks at every bar he's dragged to. Usually, bartenders give him weird looks or laugh at him or roll their eyes or move onto their next patron, but it is worth a shot. "A... glass of milk would be nice if you have it. Or... fruit juice. Or nothing. I... do not know."

The catfolk looks Askr up and down a bit. The tiefling had just gone out to collect some plants in the middle of the night...for some reason...and came back with this stranger the catfolk doesn't recognize. It was pretty clear to the ranger that Zarius was not, in fact, collecting plants. Something else was definitely going on.

Being left in the dark was something they just had gotten used to at this point with their employer. It was an unfortunate part of the job and the nature of the work they did. Snow at least appreciated that Zarius did do what he could to keep his employees in the know. It was one of the reasons the tiefling was so picky with who they actually employed and probably why Snow was so far the only person outside of the family's network of spies to actually be formally employed by them. 

They wanted to ask Askr about themselves and what was going on, but refrain since he trusted Zarius to debrief him later if that information was important for the catfolk to know. 

"I believe we do. You'll have to forgive, I'm not the usual bartender."

Snow couches down and pulls out a glass from under the counter and places it on the bar surface. They then look around like they're getting their bearings and then head to the back of the bar where there's a swinging door which leads into another room. There's a bit of shuffling around for a bit before the catfolk returns with a glass bottle in hand. 

They pull the glass lid off the bottle and give it a cursory sniff before swirling the contents and pouring the white liquid into the glass. After replacing the lid on the bottle, they slide the glass over to Askr.

The catfolk gives Askr a smile but then their attention snaps to the sound of glass clinking against glass down beneath the bar. 

"Oh, shit!"

They dive down and catch a few glasses before they fall onto the floor as Ebby bolts out after the mouse which scurries back towards the door in the back.

Snow sighs and places the glasses back in place. "Sorry about that. Do you want anything to eat?"

It's difficult to discern beneath the dim lighting of the Rookery's interior, but those blank golden eyes flicker to life a little bit as soon as Snow slides the glass of milk over to Askr, shining with some sense of carefully dulled excitement, like those tiny pale specks of light that serve as the backdrop to brighter and better stars in skies not veiled by ash and smoke. He does not smile, hardly seems like he is capable of such a thing, but he does give Snow a polite nod, that muted light in his eyes enough of a sign to show his appreciation.

"Thank you, Snow," he says quietly, cradling the glass between his hands. He waits for a moment before taking a short sip, contentment settling carefully into the edges of his expression-- the stiffness slowly ebbs away, tension leaving his jaw, the pinch between his brows fading away. He is not quite relaxed, but he looks less like a marble soldier about to fracture. "...It is good."

It is even better that Snow did not balk at the request, nor did they roll their eyes or laugh it off or make a snide comment about him being childish. They seem like a kind person. Askr thinks he might like them, so far.

He keeps the glass settled between his palms, content to just sit in thoughtless silence for a moment, when the sound of glass and expletives demands his attention once more; Askr glances up in time to see that tiny black kitten darting along after a very panicked mouse, a fuzzy predator ruthlessly chasing her prey. He hopes that she manages to catch it-- he hopes that such a thing would bring her joy. She seems like a good kitten. Either way, it is a good thing that the chaos of the cat-- Ebby?-- pursuing the mouse and almost shattering some glasses called his attention, at least, for in the very next moment, Snow asks him another question.

"Oh," he begins, furrowing his brow just so before shaking his head. "...Do not trouble yourself. I am fine. This is fine."

He takes another sip of his milk, casting a lingering glance to that stairwell before speaking again, his voice gaining a faint nervous edge to it.

"...do you know what Mister Zarius is doing?"

The catfolk shakes their head. 

"I'm afraid I don't."

Before Snow can be tempted further into asking Askr what was going on, the sound of quiet footsteps comes back down the stairwell. 

It doesn't take long for Zarius to descend the stairs and re-enter the lounge space. His eyes meet Snow's and he gives a subtle nod in the direction of the stairs. The catfolk's ear twitches, a quiet acknowledgement of some sort of communication between the two of them. The catfolk takes the bottle of milk back to where they found it. Shortly after they disappear from view, there's a cacophony of things clattering to the floor from the back room. 

"Ah! No! Get down from there!"

The tiefilng ignores the disturbance and walks over to Askr, placing a strange pendant necklace on the table in front of him.

"Here." 

The piece of jewelry appears to be made out of an iron-like material polished to as much of a shine as the metal allows and the pendant has some sort of liquid inside of it. In the dimly lit room it almost sparkles with some sort of unnatural energy.^[1]

"For the burns." Zarius gestures to his own neck to indicate that somehow Askr can use the item to heal himself. 

At this time, Snow comes out from behind back, covered in flower and holding the dusty kitten in their hands. A limp mouse hangs from the kitten's mouth unceremoniously. 

The tiefling snorts a bit of a laugh. "Good work." It's unclear if he was talking to the kitten or the catfolk, and he doesn't feel any need to make any distinction.

"Once you are finished your drink, we can go have a chat with your leader." Zarius leans back against the bar while waiting on Askr.

Meanwhile, Snow takes the kitten and the dead mouse out from behind the bar and over to the staircase. They leave a trail of white pawprints behind on the otherwise spotless floor. 

---

[1] Essence of the North (1/topic)

This is a very strange bar.

It is still nicer than any tavern or inn Oleeae and her men favor, still nicer than being crowded into a corner table in the midst of cards-playing gamblers and drunkards keen on picking fights, still nicer than scream-singing and bard-song merely played to fetch some coin, but it is strange. Askr has never seen such quiet chaos spring to life around a creature the way it seems to around Ebby, that ink-furred kitten with eyes as gold as his own. She seems very keen on causing problems, and though the efforts to prevent her from doing as such are persistent, she is not easily dissuaded. Watching her skitter around is almost enough to get the corners of his lips to quirk up in some distant ghost of what could almost be called a tiny smile.

But that blankness remains as solid as ever as Zarius approaches once more, only yielding slightly so that curiosity can set in as he looks over the strange pendant before him. Even beneath the dim golden lighting of the Rookery, the pendant glows silver, something soothing resonating from its core, only distantly muted by its crystalline shell. It is cold, even through his gloves, though the sensation is not uncomfortable.

"I... thank you," he manages, just a bit uncertainly, as he's cued on what it is for, but not on how to use it. He glances it over a few more times, searching for a seam, some place it may unleash its contents, but as soon as he tries pulling at what might be a lid, the center fractures, and that strange, boreal liquid trickles down over his hand, over his exposed fingers.

He blinks, opening his mouth to apologize, but then there's a cool sensation flooding his body-- the lingering pain against his throat is but a wisp on the wind, a ghost of a feeling, the burn marks chased away. Any bruises or injuries from earlier melt away, and he can even feel a few chips and cracks from past scuffles, the cut from the knife from where he'd been cutting an apple earlier slowly fading, too, the pain nothing more than a memory.

He glances over to the pendant, watching it re-seal itself, as though he'd never broken it to begin with.

Oh.

"...I will be quick," he says, sliding the pendant back over to Zarius and returning his focus to his glass. He frowns a bit, not wanting to rush this encounter in the slightest, but... he would also prefer not to test Zarius's patience. The man has been merciful. It would be unwise to give him any reason to reconsider. So Askr lifts the glass and goes from his pattern of absentminded sips to downing it all in one go, wiping at his mouth and setting the glass right back down against the counter before slipping off of the barstool.

Perhaps the reluctance he feels could be considered comparable to nervousness. He does not want to think about it.

"...I will lead you to her, then," he says quietly, already pulling at the hood of the cloak and starting for the door, turning to look at Zarius as though to ensure he intends to follow. "I do not think she is far from here."

The tiefling swipes the necklace off the counter and pockets it. It wouldn't be useful again until its magic could be replenished, but he didn't want to lose it either way. Things left unattended on counters often ended up disappearing in the Rookery, becoming a toy for the troublesome kitten from before or being added to the collection of trinkets of a certain sentimental spider who lives in the clocktower. 

Zarius waits for Askr to finish his milk then pushes off the counter. 

"Lead on. I will follow discreetly as before."

They still needed to use caution until this situation was resolved just in case there was anyone waiting to see if Zarius, or Askr for that matter, returned from the Deadwood alive. They couldn't be too careful and Zarius was on high alert for any possible foul play. 

As Askr steps out of the Rookery onto the ash dusted streets of Darkveil City, Zarius once more becomes invisible and follows silently behind the young man. He sticks close to Askr, but he is not the only one following. 

Unknown to Askr, Zairus had gone upstairs to recruit someone to tail them and had also signaled Snow to do so as well. Zarius could hold his own against most folks in duels, but confronting a group of trained mercenaries was risky even for him. While he was going with the intention of just having a conversation, he wanted to ensure that if a fight broke out, he would have back-up close at hand. 

Cloaked by invisibility and following a few paces behind the visible Askr and the invisible tiefling is Eirynor, a tall half-elf armed with a longsword and trained in moving unseen and unheard.^[1]

Snow on the other hand was much further back and up on the roofs of the surrounding buildings, armed with a longbow and still shaking loose the flour coating Ebony had so kindly subjected the catfolk to.^[2] Snow wasn't able to turn invisible, but they could easily follow via the rooftops and keep hidden behind chimneys and rooflines as they tailed Askr to wherever the young man was leading the tiefling.

The two are careful not to draw Askr's attention while also keeping an eye out for any other trouble along the way to where Askr's allies were gathered. 

---

[1] Eirynor: longsword (fire rune, unholy rune); Invisibility; Silent Step
[2] Snow: longbow (fire rune, unholy rune); Cats Grace; Surface Scaling

Dread is not a feeling Askr knows well.

It is not as though he is well acquainted with many feelings at all, of course, but dread is one that is but a passing stranger to him-- the feeble cousin to anticipation, its strange and somber echo. He knows some of the less hardy mercenaries talk about it before particularly difficult missions. Some of the older mercs, with only a few things left to lose, talk about dreading the day a job does them in and the scraps of family they have left lose another link to financial security. It is a natural thing, to wish to avoid danger, to feel discomfort with wandering into it, to detest its inevitability in this line of work, but Askr has never really been bothered by it.

In this moment, however, as he leads Zarius through the streets of Darkveil City, searching for the familiar outline of the building Oleeae operates out of, Askr thinks he may understand what they talk about. There is uncertainty in what lies ahead. He has no way of predicting whether or not Zarius's softened mannerisms will sharpen all over again as soon as they step into the building, and... some part of him truly does dread what might happen if he brings charcoal-colored death to the door of the woman who's given him the only security he has ever known.

Even so, he keeps walking, eventually stopping in front of a building with an ink-black door with chipped paint. Askr falters for only a moment, taking a short breath before slipping a hand down the collar of his shirt, pulling a chain out from beneath it and fishing out a key.

Usually there is more protocol to this-- a guard, a password, patterns and patterns of more protective intricacies. But they are all so easily lost on him, and it had been frustrating for everyone else, and so Oleeae had given him this.

He slips it through the lock, clicks the door open, and slips inside, pausing to ensure Zarius is beside him before closing the door behind them both.

"...Captain," he calls, taking note of how quiet the whole place is right now. The other mercs may be out for drinks or out on their own business, unconcerned with the turn the day had taken-- it's no surprise, really. It isn't as if it's always busy to begin with-- a lot of the others have their own homes to go to when they're back in Darkveil. "I'm back."

There is a long pause, long enough that Askr is not sure if Oleeae has heard him, not sure if she is even here, but after a few moments pass, there's the sound of footsteps, the sound of motion-- and then, there is Oleeae, emerging from the hallway, those silver eyes sharp with skepticism, brow furrowed, her whole expression tight with what can only be the strange product of coalescent surprise and relief.

"...Askr," she says, letting out a quiet breath. "You're-- you're back."

"I am."

"And... you're not hurt? Nothing happened? Gods above, kid, you sure took your damn time..."

"It was a long way out."

"I-- where did you go?"

"Deadwood."

"The Deadwood?!"

"Yes, Captain."

"You-- I... don't want to know. But you're not hurt, and... it's done? You... succeeded?"

"No, Captain."

"N-- What?"

"No, Cap--"

"I heard you the first time-- what do you mean?" There's an incredulity to Oleeae's voice, a frantic edge, her eyes sharp with something Askr thinks might be worry. He is not sure why. "Kid, don't tell me-- listen, if you need to leave Darkveil, I do know a place--"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Askr says, shrugging as he speaks, eyes flitting about to where he thinks Zarius might be standing. "I... I think he wants to talk to you, though."

Zarius isn't thrilled to be entering what appears to be a hideout with a closed door between himself and any support his employees could offer. Neither Snow nor Eirynor are particularly good with lock picking, so even if he left his tools for them, they might still struggle with the door.

If push came to shove, he probably could break down the door to escape. He could also possibly take Askr hostage, though he would prefer not to have to resort to such an underhanded tactic after all the effort to get Askr to cooperate. Even if Askr had made it very easy so far.

This whole situation was going to be risky regardless. He could have insisted Askr bring the leader to the Rookery instead. Likely not an offer that would be entertained and, in all honesty, if a fight were to break out he would prefer not to scuff up the Rookery's floors. Eameia would never let him hear the end of it after they spent so much time and funds on fixing up the old place.

Entering through the door, he looks about he space. The foyer is pretty small and the hallway beyond it isn't much wider. There's a staircase at the end of the hall and another hallway that branches off to the side. If is surprisingly quiet. Was this an ambush? Or did the mercenaries already abandon this place?

After a moment there's the sound of someone approaching from the adjacent hall. Zarius stays behind Askr and keeps his invisibility up for the time being. He also hears a light tapping on the door behind him in a rhythm that lets him know that Eirynor and Snow were just outside the door if they were needed. With any luck, they would not be needed and no other mercenaries would return to find the two waiting by the door. 

As Askr converses with the human woman, he takes mental notes of her appearance, the olive skin, deep black hair and silver eyes. She appears to have seen her fair share of combat and definitely looked the part of a mercenary. What's interesting is the stumbling in her words and the expressions that seem to be of genuine concern. His own eyes narrow.

Zarius had thought that it was possible Askr was just being used by some cutthroats who wouldn't bat an eye if he were to die. Why else allow him to take on such a contract alone, even if a client had made the request. Such actions suggested that they cared more about the payout than they did the lives of their own members. This woman though, who Askr has only referred to as Captain so far, seems to actually be concerned for the young man's safety. 

He doesn't have too much time before the conversation gets to a point where it would be awkward for him to remain invisible. Stepping around to stand besides Askr rather than behind him, the tiefling puts on a friendly smile and drops the veil obscuring himself from sight. 

"Good evening, Captain. My apologies for the uninvited intrusion, but given the events that have transpired this night, I figured that a conversation face to face was necessary to clear up any misunderstandings."

It is a rare thing to see such a brazen show of emotion on Captain Oleeae Bleier's face. She is hardly a stoic woman; she wears her feelings like any other person, but she is a mercenary captain at the end of the day, and such a role requires a degree of control over her expressions, over her composure, so she tends to wear them subtly. This, however, can hardly be considered subtle-- as Zarius steps out from beneath the veil of invisibility, Oleeae's eyes go wide, blatant shock painted all across her face as she drinks in the fact that the very man she'd been handed a bounty for has just manifested before her.

She opens her mouth, clearly ready to speak, but no sound comes out. A moment passes as she glances between Zarius, her gaze hardening, and then back over to Askr, concern flickering in her eyes like a candle, as if trying to figure out if this is a hostage situation or not-- it's clear, though, that she's not going to get any answer by just standing there and theorizing, so she straightens her spine and folds her arms, silvery eyes settling on Zarius.

"...I see," Oleeae says carefully, her tone even, calculated. "...You're Zarius, then. Figures. Yea, I'd say an... in-person conversation's perfectly warranted, in this case. I'm sure you've got questions for me, and I've sure as hell got questions for you."

For the entire time she speaks, Askr watches her carefully, silently, studying the way she speaks-- it is... different from the casualness she uses with her men, the ease that undercuts even her commands. It is not even comparable to the way she speaks to those who request her services; she is never afraid to be blunt, never afraid to speak her mind, prioritizing the well-being of her men just as much as she does the weight of their coin purses. In this moment, though, despite her word choice, her tone lacks its usual easy flow, its usual inflection.

She is uneasy, Askr thinks. She hides it well, but he is too used to her usual mannerisms to not be able to tell.

"...Captain," Askr says, looking up at her blankly. "Mister Zarius is... not here for a fight, I don't think. It's just the two of us."

"...thanks for the comment, kid," Oleeae sighs. "So, Zarius. Let's start with... a bit of an equal exchange. I'd like to know what exactly happened with Askr out there. What exactly do you want to know from me?"

The Captain's reaction is not unexpected considering Zarius was supposed to be dead and all. It was probably the first time the mercenary captain had ever had a target manifest in front of her with their would-be murderer standing next to them. Admittedly, this was quite a unique case. 

There had been assassination attempts before, mostly on his father by other members of the Ashen Fathers. Those assassins rarely were shown as much patience and grace as Zarius had shown Askr. His father could be a very cruel man, not shying away from using more brutal means to extract information from those who commit such disrespectful transgressions against him. 

Zarius has vivid memories of the witch-hunts and raids his father had ordered against those connected to the murder attempts. He could recall all the deals and trades of information with the intent of weeding out the source of the bounties or orders exacted against him. His own hands had been responsible for writing down all the identities of the relatives and loved ones that were carefully investigated and tracked in case they needed to be used as leverage against the offenders. And finally, the terrible fates that awaited the killers after they were found and dragged beaten and broken before the intimidating tiefling man only to be cast into the fires of Mount Drakolt when they had given up every bit of useful information they had. 

This was just the reality that Zarius and his family lived in on a daily basis. They were always conscious of the eyes that were on them and the daggers pointed at their backs every day they still breathed. They would not hide or run though. They would turn and face those blades with a smile. For every blade pointed at them, there were many more lying in wait to strike in their defense. Especially now. 

Perhaps that's why Zarius has grown more bold. The confidence that comes from having numerous skilled and loyal allies behind him was like a rush of adrenaline. All that work was paying off, slowly but surely. Soon he would be able to make much bigger moves in the world and actually change things to suit his own preferences. Well, so long as no one like Askr actually succeeds in killing him that is.

Zarius chuckles to himself and shakes his head after the Captain asks her questions there in the middle of the hallway. 

"No manners amongst mercenaries these days."

He tilts his head a bit and stakes step closer to Askr, giving him a playful pat on the shoulder. It was a subtle hint to the captain that she is right to be cautious. While he wasn't intending to harm Askr out of revenge for the attempt on his life, he would not hesitate to take Askr hostage if the situation turned against him. The young man was as much a pawn of hers as he was now one of Zarius' playing cards. 

"You sent young Askr here out, by himself, to stab me in the back in the Deadwood in the middle of the night at the request of some orange-eyed man in fancy clothes, and now when I am standing before you very much not dead you do not even introduce yourself or invite me beyond the the doorway to have a proper civil conversation."

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat and leans back on one leg, his tail coiling on the floor behind him to act as something to balance on. While the smile never goes away, there's a harshnss to his gleaming golden eyes. A scrutinizing sharpness that cuts through the shadows hanging in the dimly lit entryway like a knife. 

"You are not setting a very good example for your men. But perhaps that is not something of concern to you since you clearly failed to prepare Askr to succeed in this most recent commission."

The tiefling is not afraid to throw some shade at the woman. Either she genuinely cared for Askr and risked his life irresponsibly, or she intended for Askr to die out in the field for one reason or another. Either way, she was far from virtuous in this situation. He wanted to get a better idea of what kind of person she was and determine for himself if she could be a possible asset, or was merely a threat that needed to be eliminated sooner rather than later. 

A lot of weird things tend to happen to you in a merc's line of work.

People from all walks of life come knocking at your door with all manner of commissions, fueled by desperation, with all the coin in hand to throw at you so they can toss you at their problems; sometimes it's ordinary things like chasing off bandits and rogues, sometimes you're being pitted against another band of mercs, sometimes the really desperate ones will even pay you to deal with monsters. Hell, when she was younger and still getting used to the feeling of an axe in her hand, Oleeae remembers her own father's incredulity over some farmer asking him to come deal with a rat problem on his land-- not that he'd said no, of course. Money's money, and it sings a sweeter song than any bard can deliver in any hole in the wall across Charon.

Assassination requests aren't common, but it's not like Oleeae's never seen one come her way. Most are real discreet about it, or real nervous-- it's the kind of thing you get slipped to you in the dead of night, from someone's messenger, with promise of real good pay as soon as you have proof of the mark kickin' the bucket. Usually you pay a trained assassin for that kind of thing, someone who's skilled with knives and silence and working their way through shadows. You only go to a merc if you're desperate, and if you don't mind a little bit of an uproar-- it's why nobles never come their way for these things. They don't like their hands getting too dirty.

That's why all of this was so odd.

It's no secret that the man before her, Zarius, is the talk of Darkveil City more often than not-- power sits easy in his hand, and he's known for all manner of feats and connections. It is also no secret that for all the people who admire or respect or fear him, there's enough people to match the number who want him six feet under, wanting to smash a budding legacy to pieces before it's set in stone. Someone asking for Zarius's head wasn't surprising, but the fact that they'd taken it to her was.

And now it's dragged the man himself to her door, when all her men are out and about drinking themselves into a coma or seeing their families or whatever the hell they do when the Solars aren't clinking, and the one merc in her band who least deserves to be caught up in all of this is nailed right in the center of the web.

Oleeae sighs, massaging her temple, before she straightens her spine and starts walking toward her makeshift office back in one of the halls, sparing Zarius and Askr a glance over her shoulder before she disappears down it.

"Hey kid, can you, uh, grab the whiskey from upstairs?" she says, nodding in the direction of the staircase. "Demon's Dance. That and two glasses. Zarius, if you wouldn't mind coming with me."

"Yes, Captain."

As soon as she hears Askr start off toward the staircase-- dear Ginma, obedient and unquestioning as ever, what the hell--, Oleeae leads Zarius into a room off to the side. It isn't especially large, nor is it lavishly furnished; the walls are darkly-painted, and there's a dark, oak-wood desk and an arm chair at the center of it, with a beaten couch and a few other chairs set around it. She doesn't wait before sitting in the arm chair behind the desk, kicking her feet up on the desk, and gesturing for Zarius to take a seat wherever he pleases.

The dullness in her eyes fades a bit when Askr slips in, a three-quarters empty bottle of whiskey with a fading label in his hands, two short glasses precariously balanced in the other. Oleeae grins just so, quick to take them, popping the lid off the bottle and pouring some of the contents into each glass, sliding one of them forward for Zarius to take, if he so desires.

"Thanks, kid," she says with a smile, quick to toss back a sip before her gaze lands back on the man before her. Distantly, out of the corner of her eye, she notes Askr moving to stand by the doorway, stiff as a rod, still as a charred tree. Gods, damn it. "...Alright. So. You want a... proper introduction. The name's Oleeae Bleier, Captain of the Ring of Cinders. I know who you are."

She leans forward, steepling her fingers as she glances Zarius over, brow furrowing just a bit.

"...So, Zarius. Your... problem is with... how Askr went into this?" she says slowly, clearly confused. "...I told him not to go alone. I didn't think any of this was a good idea at all, really. Seems I was right, too."

Zarius' tail twitches as the Captain disappears down the hall with just a glance and instructions for the young man to carry out. For a moment, he considers backing up to the door to gives Eirynor and Snow a signal, but that would be difficult to pull off without raising any suspicions from the woman. Askr had said it was just them, which wasn't true but he young man couldn't possibly know that. For now, he wouldn't give the Captain any reason to believe Askr had lied. 

He follows after the woman, glancing about for any other mercenaries who might be standing guard or lying in wait. The place appears to be pretty much empty though. There isn't even any sound from up the stairs aside from Askr's footsteps. If it really was just the three of them there, then perhaps this conversation would go well after all. 

Looking about the office space, it sure does fit what he imagined the office of a mercenary boss would look like. The space suited the rough-looking woman and it was pretty evident that whatever money she was making wasn't going towards interior decorating. 

The tiefling acknowledges her gesture to take a seat and he selects one of the simpler wooden chairs. His tail wraps around the leg of it and drags it over, the legs making a skrrting noise across the worn wooden floorboards. He turns it around and sits on the chair backwards to face the desk while resting his elbows on the top of the backrest and interlacing his fingers in front of him. 

He makes a mental note of the glimmer in her eye when Askr returns with the bottle. He wasn't sure if the reaction was because of Askr's presence or the presence of the spirit he held. When she offers the drink, he waves one hand a bit.

"No thank you." 

The irony of Zarius owning a bar of all things was not lost on him. That didn't change his habit of eyeing any drink offered to him with suspicion. 

He gives a nod in response to her introduction. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain Bleier."

The name rings a bell, although vaguely. He rarely used mercenaries himself since his father had a streak of bad luck with the last few groups he had hired for some jobs. Mercs unfortunately only cared about coin most days, that meant that they were easy to bribe into breaking contracts. Considering how much money flowed amongst the Ashen Fathers, mercenaries were constantly bouncing about from employer to employer even mid contract.

The last mercenaries his father had hired were quick to break their end of the deal in favor of a bigger pay check from a rival crime family. Unfortunately for them, Eirynor had been tasked with monitoring them and was quick to expose their betrayal which ended with several body bags worth of ash being dumped into the wine stores of the rival crime family during one of their member's weddings. Needless to say, the happy couple started their lives together with a sour taste left in their mouths. 

Mercenaries have their uses, that is undeniable. Some jobs need expendable pawns. However, Zarius has found that alliances built on more than just an exchange of coin have been more worth his time as of late. Given how unremarkable Captain Bleier's sell sword had performed so far, his opinion of her group wasn't likely to improve any time soon. 

He would commend the woman on one thing though, Ring of Cinders was a pretty cool name. 

It was a tense situation, though both of their postures betrayed that. The tiefling was ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of danger, but he kept a cool and collected composure as the mercenary leader started the conversation in earnest. 

"My problem is that a certain number of details about this whole situation are just not adding up. I hope you can provide some clarification. I would hate for the dire consequence to fall on the wrong head."

He hoped that the captain would understand that he was giving her a chance to save her own skin. Something few survivors of assassination attempts would likely be willing to even consider due to the severity of the crime committed against them. 

"Tell me, Captain Bleier, do you have any idea what would have happened had Askr succeeded in killing me?" He doesn't wait for her to answer. "First, my disappearance would have been noticed by my employees. They would have tracked down my body and then followed Askr's trail right back here to you. If you fled, you would have been hunted down like rabid animals even far beyond the Ash Lands. Lunala forbid if any of your men left any family behind in the city. Once apprehended, well, use your imagination. Grief can drive even the gentlest of souls to do unspeakable things."

He lets the words hang in the still confines of the room, carefully watching the captain's reactions as he describes the most likely order of events that would transpired if the murder attempt had been successful. He leaves out any graphic details, particularly the tactics his sister would be more than willing to resort to out of vengeance for her beloved brother. Her fury only being comparable to the sheer arcane might of the Witch of Moonglade herself.

After a moment of letting the captain reflect on the consequences she and her group could have faced, he shifts the direction of the conversation while giving a nod to Askr.

"Askr told me a little about the individual who put forward the request. He mentioned that the man specifically asked that he carry out the deed. I would very much like to know why, and I would hope you have also asked yourself that question as well."

Looking back at Oleeae. "What sort of value do you put on your cooperation and the lives of your men, Captain?"

It's not overly surprising to see Zarius turn down a drink; it's not unheard of for people to be iffy about things like that in Darkveil City, where a common courtesy is all too often a careful cover for a knife in the back. The higher up in the branches of the Ash Lands' strange trees you go, the more paranoid they get, too. So it makes sense to see him easily turn down the offer of whiskey, barely seeming to give the dark amber liquid a second glance-- hell, Oleeae's sure she'd do the same damn thing in his position. She's got a fine taste for liquor, but marching into the turf of a group that's been paid to kill her and sipping at the first thing they slip her way sounds like an easy way to join her old man six feet under.

So she shrugs and slides the second glass back toward herself, clearly not at all offended by his refusal. Hell, more for her this way. Demon's Dance is the good stuff, after all-- she's pretty sure Zarius owns a bar out in the city, so he certainly knows his liquor, she imagines, knows the quality and the price of this stuff, but he probably doesn't know that Oleeae Bleier would never sully a good drink.

Imagine spoiling good whiskey with poison. Ridiculous.

"Good to meet you too," she says simply before downing another sip, letting the glass come to rest on the desk once again before she focuses on Zarius once more. She squints, briefly, something indiscernible settling low in those blademetal eyes for a moment before she drums her fingers against the oak-wood desktop. "Shame it's on terms like these."

And really, it is. Oleeae was born knowing she'd inherit a blade in her hand, knowing she'd carry on the same title as her father, as her father's father, as long as she proved that she was worthy enough to earn it. For most of her life, it'd been pretty smooth sailing-- perhaps she wasn't the same kind of legend that her grandfather, Emile Bleier, was in his heyday all those decades before her, or the unstoppable thunder-wielding powerhouse her father was, but her men are loyal to her for a damned good reason. At least, she likes to think they are-- she's not keen on squandering their fidelity, not keen on leading them to anything she doesn't think they can handle.

Of course, there are times they go marching off into things she doesn't think they can handle on their own. Sometimes it's just easy things like Ogma and Tethra bickering over who can take out a monster, or a merc who's got a few years on her still trying to cling to his glory days, harmless little things like that. And then there are times like tonight, when a blank-eyed boy with nothing more than his sword and that harrowing sense of obedience marches out into the Ash Lands and brings Zarius fucking Rha'Oriyn back to her door.

Oleeae sips her whiskey again. Maybe she really will need the second glass.

"...hey, kid, uh... Teth left her claymore here earlier," she says, glancing back over to Askr, who immediately stands at attention, those hollow eyes quickly snapping to meet hers. "Why don't you... go... clean the blade up a bit. Surprise her when she's here tomorrow. It'll put her in a good mood. Maybe she'll spare us the arguing, yea?"

"...yes, Captain," Askr says, already starting for the door, though there's a hesitance there that usually isn't. He stares at Zarius, something illegible in his eyes, like he's got something he wants to say.

"We'll call you if we need you, kid. Just... go in the next room," she softens her tone a little, softens her expression, hoping it's enough to get him to scurry off. It seems to be, because after one last long look from Askr, he steps off into the hall, and she can hear him looking for wherever Tethra's left her claymore.

As soon as he's out, she looks back over to Zarius, ruminating over everything he's just said to her in a moment of silence.

"...I value the lives of my men quite a bit," she begins, drumming her fingertips against the desk in some mindless rhythm, a frown settling on her face. Oleeae sighs quietly, furrowing her brow as she turns over everything in her mind. "I'd be a shitty merc captain if I just thought of all my men as pawns. Let's see... I don't have a clue who that man was, really. Never seen him in my life-- if you don't know who he was either, chances are he was just the messenger for someone else. As to why he specifically requested Askr..."

She lets out another sigh, louder this time, her free hand rising up to massage her temple once more. Good Ginma, she had no idea when she found that kid out there in the dark that things would wind up like this-- she really should've talked him out of the merc life when talking him out of anything still seemed plausible...

"Askr's... a newer recruit," she says slowly, carefully, debating what exactly she should say. "He's... well, I don't know how old he is, and he doesn't either. He was only supposed to stick with us for a bit until I could figure some... things out, but he's... caught a few people's eyes out on our ventures. Mostly because he just doesn't seem to have the fear of the Gods in him. You tell him to do something, and he'll do it without thinking twice about it, solely because he was asked to. It's strange. I don't know why the hell he's like that, but changing his mind when he's been given an order or a mission is like pulling teeth."

Oleeae lets her gaze come to rest on Zarius, firmly this time, unwavering.

"He's pretty good-- a good swordsman-- but he's not good enough to go hunting down a man like you. The fact that we're in this situation right now is proof enough of that. So that leaves the question of what the hell the angle here was, and who exactly was meant to go down in flames here."

Being left alone with the captain is an interesting development. If she was worried about him attacking her, she sure wasn’t showing it. More curious is that she does not want Askr around to hear what she has to say in response to Zarius’ not-so-subtle threats. Was she worried that her answer would drive him away and she would lose a very obedient blade? Or was she trying to spare him from worrying about being a burden.

The look he receives from Askr before the young man departs from the room is hard to read, but he thinks he gets the gist of what Askr probably wanted to say. He had already asked Zarius to save his anger at the situation for himself, a request clearly meant to spare this woman who he respected despite only knowing for a brief amount of time. Zarius didn't have a reason to grant such a request, but he had hardly discarded the sentiment. 

He listens to Oleeae's explanation. She didn't know any more than Askr did, which was concerning. She also didn't appear to be lying about anything so far. He appreciates her forthrightness. It made things a lot simpler. Though he would appreciate more insights than she could offer even more.

“In the three months he has been with you, have you figured out anything useful? Where he may be from originally, any family or other groups he traveled with before?”

Zarius despite all his threats was first and foremost an information gatherer. He liked having as much information to pull from as possible and rarely did he discredit even a smallest rumor as useless. One could never know when one little tidbit could tip the scales in their favor. 

It was clear that they both wanted answers even if it was for different reasons. For the time being, it didn't make sense of have any quarrel with Oleeae and her mercenaries since they were just pawns caught up in someone else's plotting. 

He thinks about the evidence they have. It isn't enough to make any conclusions about and unless Oleeae had someone follow the client, there was no trail to follow at this time.

There was one possible opportunity they could potentially leverage though. He looks at her, meeting her steely stare with his own golden eyes gleaming in the low lantern light. 

"Was there any arrangement to meet again upon completion of the commission for accepting payment or providing proof of my death?"

An ambush. If they could corner this client, they could possibly get more information out of them and clear up this whole situation. So far Askr has returned to Darkveil City and Zarius has not been seen outside of the Rookery. They could possibly pull this off even if someone had been keeping an eye out for the young mercenary. It would take Oleeae's cooperation though, something he doubts would come cheap.