The Sultan gazes over the top edges of his cards at Cyran as the elf explains his viewpoint on the situation. 

"Your father sounds like a sensible man."

Zarius wouldn't necessarily disagree with there being a need for order in Darveil, but the sensible man comment might get a reaction out of Cyran that was unexpected. 

The tiefling had gone to great efforts not to pry into Cyran's past or personal life, but family still seemed to be a sore spot for the elf. And it was also very hard to keep Eameia's curiosity in check. He had caught her a few times looking into his allies, which normally he would be appreciative of, he also knew this was a violation of their privacy and would harm their trust. If they wanted him to know something, they would come to him. He wanted to maintain that precedent. 

Adatian continues to hold his cards close to his chest. He was an incredibly hard man to read, though Cyran would pick up that he seemed fairly confident in his current hand. 

As they played, Zarius' hand had gotten a bit better as well, which meant he had to be very careful about his next few choices in the game. 

The conversation continues as they try to get a read on one another. 

"Education and wellness is easier to speak of than to provide, I am afraid. Those sorts of services not only require infrastructure, but also willing people to provide those services. Few people who are respectable would want to work in Darkveil given the hostile environment, and those with weak morals would easily fall victim to the influence of the crime families."

That was true, as much as Zarius hated to admit it. There were few good samaratains like Cyran who were willing and able to risk not only their livelihoods but their lives as well to try an help the less fortunate in Darkveil. The people also didn't have much say or power when it came to policies influenced by the unseen hands of the Ashen Fathers. Unfortunately, lasting change would only come from those in power choosing, or being forced to choose to change their ways. And given the lack of consequences, there is little incentive to do so. 

"I fear that only force will show those corrupt souls in that city that they need to clean up or shove off." The Sultan's words hang in the air for a moment in silence. He had said it so casually despite the kind of ramifications that would come from such action against the criminal underbelly of the Ash Lands. 

"Perhaps not," Zarius speaks up carefully. "If I may, there might be an opportunity you are not seeing, your highness. The unrest and volatile nature of Darkveil is not merely because it is home to many criminals, it is because of the competition between those trying to establish their own vision of order."

Adatian's eyes slide over to the tiefling, quietly discerning his motives.

"It is a risk, of course, but perhaps if you were willing to support one of the families whose vision of order more aligns with your own, the system can be changed from the inside without putting the citizens at risk from a military raid. Many people in Darkveil are only aligned with the families or bowing a knee because they have no safer option. It is purely self-preservation."

Zarius knew this all too well. How many businesses were under various protection rackets from the Ashen Fathers. Even his own father had a few 'arrangements' with some of the locals. Extortion and intimidation were tools of their trade, though it would be preferable not to have to use them unless absolutely necessary. Not because he had any moral qualms with shaking people down, no. It was more that those who feel they are oppressed are more likely to revolt given enough time to gain enough frustration and brashness. It was easier to maintain control if trust was earned, even if it was harder and took longer to earn that trust upfront. 

The Sultan scoffs. "I have already done this with Count Mallock. I have put my backing behind him and look what good it has done. Seems my authority and money pales in comparison to that which is soaked in blood."

The tiefling bites his tongue. The man wasn't wrong. Count Mallock, with his military support from the Ash Land Dvoryanin, should have been enough. The problem was that while he was popular and charismatic, he wasn't the force of authority that the sultan was and few of the Ashen Fathers worried about incurring the wrath of Zeinav given the control they had over the precious metals the Zeinav Corps so desperately needed for their armor. Control that should have been in the hands of the Count, but unfortunately slipped through his fingers. 

Adatian places down his cards on the table before them. A strong hand that could only be beaten by one or two other combinations. Zarius lets out a slight sigh of relief that he passes off as feigned disappointment as he places his cards down, revealing his spread to be not one of those winning combinations. 

Cyran could not fully suppress his grimace at the Sultan’s agreement with his father’s ideology. It was not uncommon, he supposed… but to hear a man like Lormundel Fenastra called sensible affected him more than he thought it would.

“As I said, I am no politician.” He merely bowed his head in all humbleness in response to Sultan Adatian’s estimation of his opinion, and his confidence in his hand. “Nor was my father. He was merely a man who thought that the key to peace was enforcing law and order, and that the right people with enough money ought to be allowed to break such laws.” There was not a bite to his voice, but a firmness there, a conviction that overrode his desire to hold his tongue.

“I may not have his mind for business, but even I could tell you that military force alone, or enforcing more rules, will not solve the problems with Darkveil. It will only serve to punish those who have already been beaten down. Sure it would remove some criminals from the streets, but at the end of the day, those in power would be allowed to continue on their business unobstructed. You are not solving a problem. Merely putting a bandaid on a wound.”

He was not so foolish to believe that goodwill alone would be able to fix a city where honesty was a rarity. But Cyran, at the very least, agreed with Zarius on this - the Sultan’s ideas for wresting a city he thought of as a lost cause under his control weren’t right. But he stopped himself, staying silent while Zarius voiced his opinion. One that the Sultan didn’t seem especially pleased with, either.

Not that Cyran was surprised. It would take more than the words of a few ‘honest’ people to sway the Sultan’s mind. The only thing keeping this alliance together was the resources the Ash Lands had that Zeinav needed to fund their milita - an alliance of necessity, nothing more.

Still, the conversation left Cyran curious about Count Mallock as a leader. He knew the basics of the comings and goings of Darkveil politics, but the leader himself - and the way he conducted his business - was unknown to Cyran. He would have to ask Zarius later. The round was coming to an end, people placing down their hands. Cyran barely paid his hand a passing glance before letting out a small sigh and shrugging.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to bow out. I fold.” Cyran said with a polite smile, placing his cards on the table. The others at the table all revealed their cards, with the Sultan having the highest out of anyone. Perhaps Cyran might have had a good combination, perhaps not. Truth be told, he hadn’t been paying too much attention to the game.

And Cyran knew when to hedge his bets and play it safe.

The Sultan looks across the table at both the men and their cards. He shakes his head a bit. “Better luck next time, I suppose.”

The way he says it makes it seem like he isn’t merely referring to the game, but more to their attempts to convince him of their points made in the morally grey conversation.

Better luck next time…would there ever be another opportunity like this? The fellblood isn’t so sure, but they managed to avoid outright insulting the Sultan and getting arrested on the spot for their less than favorable opinions.

“Thank you for the game, your highness. It was an honor,” he says as he rises to stand up from the table, gesturing subtly for Cyran to follow suit. 

This was not the time to press things further. Even Zarius knew it was time to take whatever they had and leave with it while they still could. The fellblood bows to the Sultan out of obligation more than respect.

Adatian watches them closely, his chin resting in the palm of his hand before he waves them off. A clear sign that they are dismissed from his presence. He had grown bored with their conversation, and their company.

A bitter feeling sinks into Zarius as they leave the private room. He should feel relieved. Things could have gone so much worse, but it hardly feels like they made any real progress for all their efforts and caution. It’s frustrating, and the fellblood stops himself to take a deep breath once they are out of line of sight of the Sultan and his guards.

“My apologies, Cyran. I imagine that was a rather unpleasant experience for you.”

He had to acknowledge the unfairness of the situation he put the elf in. It was not something they planned or discussed, yet the hunter played the part well and kept his head the whole time.

Madam Mohurk is quickly at their sides when she sees them emerge from the room. No doubt she was anxious during the whole card game. 

"I presume it went about as well as it could have?" She asks gently, keeping her voice quiet to avoid being overheard in the more crowded room. 

"We are not in chains or dead, so I would say as much."^[1] Zarius tries to keep a jovial tone to his voice, but Cyran could tell it fell a little flat in its delivery. The fellblood was upset, or disappointed, it was hard to discern which exactly, but he was at least not pleased with how the interaction went. 

Madam Mohurk has not seemed to pick up on the white lie and just nods. "Yes, well, while that would spicen up this evening, I do not think it would be in anyone's best interest to get arrested or killed during a charity event."

Zarius nods in response. 

"I would love to catch up more, but with the Sultan here..."

"It is alright. We best be on our way."

The woman looks a little disappointed, but she nods understanding the situation all too well. "Safe travels, and I do hope to see you both again."

---

[1] Smooth Talking

Cyran couldn’t be all that disappointed that they couldn’t persuade the Sultan to see their point of view. It was a long shot to believe that a single conversation over a game of cards could reverse years of perception and bias. He’d honestly expected this from the moment this game started. For a moment, Zarius didn’t look happy with the outcome - was he going to press the matter? Cyran knew he was young and hungry and dedicated to his ideals, but Cyran hoped that his sensibilities would not be lost in his desire to attain his goals.

But then he stood and gestured for Cyran to follow. With a silent nod, the assassin stood, with a respectful, final bow to the Sultan. His own thoughts were not dissimilar to Zarius’s own - things could have gone worse indeed. But he’d spent enough time in the Sultan’s spotlight, playing the man’s games, with so little progress. Perhaps Zarius thought that he would never get such a chance to garner political favor, but he just needed to be a little more patient. The encounter with the Sultan might not have gone well, but overall, they’d garnered the room’s favor. That in itself was a small victory.

“There is nothing to apologize for.” Cyran said with a calm smile, considerably less strain in his expression now that the Sultan was no longer interested in entertaining them. “I told you I would follow where you go, and I meant it. I think your goals are sound, and if I can be an effector of change to help achieve them, then my actions-“ And his blades, though he would not voice that aloud in public- “Are yours.” He let out a small laugh. “Even if that means dealing with... uncomfortable situations.”

Zarius still seemed put out, so Cyran was quick to reassure him. “You handled yourself well, and made your points clearly and concisely. If he does not wish to listen, then you merely need to foster other connections. Adatian is hardly the only powerful person in Zeinav.” He cast a pointed glance to Madam Mohurk, who was rapidly approaching them - someone who may not have been politically powerful, but clearly held enough influence to orchestrate an event such as this. And someone who held a soft spot for Zarius and his mother.

Cyran regarded the woman with a polite smile as she made sure that the two were alright in hushed tones. Zarius tried to act casual, but it was obvious - he was still dissatisfied with the night’s outcome. Nothing to be done about that now, Cyran supposed. Not while they were still in public, and under the watchful eyes and ears of the Sultan and his guard.

He gave one last bow to Madam Mohurk, internally grateful that the party had drawn to a close. “It has been an honor to meet you, Madam. I hope our paths may align again in the future.”

With final parting words exchanged between the three, Cyran and Zarius made their timely exit, having yielded mixed results throughout the evening. One thing was for sure - they had a long way to go to if they were going to garner more support in the Ash Lands.