Fire and Ice

Northreach: Medial District 


 * Having grown in the shadow of the northern Aegis wall, the Seamel township of Northreach is somewhat of a dark horse; a dark horse in both a literal and metaphorical sense, no less. Much of the township is often set in perpetual shadow, cast by the six-hundred foot wall that looms above it, making it a somewhat cold and umbral township, though one that tends to import a lot of torches and lanterns.


 * However, in the literal sense, Northreach is a township that developed entirely beyond the public eye. It grew as a township that drew little attention, funded by a mysterious benefactor of House Seamel, while the Empire left the construction of the North Gate to the Imperial Watch and their engineers. Thus the two grew in tandem, and the unveiling of Northreach as a township around that awesome gate was a surprise to all.


 * As a location, Northreach drips Imperial architecture and style. Most of the buildings that form the moderate township are neatly arranged around main roads, with passages and alleys running between them, with no sense of crowding to be found. Townhouses of charcoal granite walls and timber support beams dominate the architectural design of the township, with larger estates providing the various services that all townships offer, as well as a few that remain unique to Northreach alone.


 * The Wailing Wench Tavern, a large inn and publican building, stands in the very middle of what is known as the Medial District, acting as a central hub of activity. Directly next to the Tavern rests a two-story building belonging to the Steelwood Company, while the Swiftwolf Archery Tradehouse stands near to it as an equally large merchant townhouse, while smaller trade buildings flank them on all sides, attempting to profit from the trade they draw in.


 * The North Gate looms in the north within the gap in the Aegis, while the southern gate that leads back onto Northreach Road is to the south. The Sinistral District, acting as the residence district, rests to the west, while the Dextral District, acting as the trade district, can be found to the east.

"This? This is nothing, Master," Mark says to Sandrim, although he is beginning to look a bit nervous as he sets Kallyn down, "As you wish, My Lord." The redhead punches Mark in the shoulder and then says, "I'm not going to hurt myself on my damn horse, for Light's sake... All I need is help mounting and dismounting." The guard puts his hands on the woman's shoulders then, "Kallyn, you can't even take the stairs alone yet, your knees aren't strong enough for riding. I know you're stubborn, but this... You're getting self-destructive."

Karell Mikin walks out of the stables, but this time he's sorted out his hair and patted himself down a bit. Impressive, you might say! Wonderful, people would call! Not all that big a difference, says the objective observer!

From where he's standing near Lyddmull, Kallyn and her guard, Mark, just outside the Wailing Wench, Sandrim attempts to fight back an amused smile, and loses. "Well, well. I'll still help out if needed. Mistress Kallyn, while that's a fine-seeming horse, really, you don't need to ride just now, do you?"

Lyddmull nods gratefully to Mark before turning to Kallyn, his brow still sternly creased. "I will not allow you to ride off alone, Mistress Lake," he says, "And that is all there is to the matter. Do you understand?"

Clip-clop. The sound of a house in a canter accompanies Elise in from the eastern district, and she leads her high-stepping mount toward the stable with the ease of a somewhat experienced rider. She glances about the district as she slows the horse and draws to a stop before the stables, eyeing those gathered thoughtfully as she swings out of the saddle. To the stableboy she hands the reins and a handful of coins, instructing him quietly to see fit that her horse is treated very well. With the business out of the way, she looks back to those gathered 'round with a curious gaze.

Karell Mikin makes his way across towards the Archery Tradehouse. The Mikin lord had just emerged from the stables without his horse. As he makes his way over, he readjusts the quiver and bow that are slung across his back.

"It's not something to be amused about, Master. Last time I got pissed off, I came close to torching the tavern," Kallyn is dead serious at saying this before adding, "And yes. I'd like to get a few rides in before we're all sealed in here. Time is growing short for me to get in one last ounce of freedom." She looks then to Lyddmull, "I do not intend to ride alone, but Mark will not allow me to ride /at all/. Seems to think I can't keep myself on a horse when I've been riding on a near-daily basis since I was five..." And then those steely grey eyes fix on the guard holding her shoulders, and the courier's face softens. "Mark... I know you're worried about me, but really... I need to do this. I know it's not the best for my physical health, but being so... trapped... It's driving me insane. Please? We can both ride Springtail if you're that worried, rather than seperate horses." The look in the redhead's eyes is almost pleading and the guard sighs, "You're not going to be sealed in for a while... Can't you just wait a few more days? If not for your health, than for my peace of mind?"

Sandrim draws his lips tight as he looks at Kallyn, taking a step away as the amusement fades from his lips. "Right, then" he says. "Then I'll try not to offend. I'm certainly not equipped to deal with tha." He shakes his head as he takes another step back, giving a nod to Lyddmull and Mark. "She's yours, Lord, Master."

Lyddmull Seamel seems to consider the matter, studying Kallyn for a moment before turning to Mark. "Truth to be told," he says thoughtfully, "I see no harm as long as she is not the only one in the saddle. Can you ride, Mark? If so, I think it might be alright."

All of the hullabaloo is enough to draw Elise's attention, and she draws in closer to the commotion to both see and hear its exact cause. It comes as no surprise, then, that she spots Kallyn at the center of attention. The sight is enough to make the girl smirk in amusement, although there is one comment that causes her cheeks to pale first and then turn rather red with heated irritation. Still, she maintains her silence all the while, lingering in the background and staring rather pointedly at the fiery-haired mage.

Karell Mikin dissapears into the archery trade house a short while later. As is his usual standard, he's attempting to stay out of the way of any marked people.

Snickering at Sandrim's response, Kallyn explains, "Not on purpose, Master. My powers aren't really completely under control yet. Strong enough emotions and they tend to... come out... I've been working on it, and I haven't actually damaged anything yet." She shakes her head in amusement as Mark looks to Lyddmull, "Lord Seamel, are you sure? What if..?" the guard cuts himself off with a sighs and then looks down at the redhead, "I guess I'm just being a bit overprotective. Suppose it's because you remind me so much of a certain noblewoman. Alright, we'll ride, but if I see any problems we're coming right back here. Agreed?" The courier's reply is an enthusiastic hug, to which the guard responds with a chuckle and a pat on the back, "Come on, then, let's go get him saddled up."

Relaxing only slightly, the male mage says dryly, "Right, I'll only be reduced to cinders by accident then. Comforting, that." He pulls on a small smile.

Lyddmull Seamel spots Elise out of the corner of his eye, studying her expression carefully before he looks to Mark with a nod. "If anything happens, I shall take responsibility for it," he says, "I will make certain that the Lady Mikin is aware that you protested." To Kallyn, he frowns slightly. "Do be careful," he says, "And return when Mark says it is time."

Elise glances sideways to Lyddmull, and her expression remains stony. To her credit, she still keeps her peace and even manages to turn her back on the gathering to bolster her courage to keep silent. She sidles toward Lyddmull as he speaks to Kallyn, keeping her approach nonchalant, and as she draws in closer to the Seamel, she offers him a polite smile. "Good afternoon, Lord Seamel," she greets in a somewhat pleasant tone.

And then a hearty chuckle comes from the redhead, "Oh, it takes a lot to get me to that level of anger, though. You'll be fine, really, Master." She grins at Lyddmull, "Nothing is going to happen, I promise. And I'll only protest to returning if Mark doesn't allow me long enough." Seeming quite amused to be avoided by Elise, she offers the other woman a wry smile and a wink before she and Mark head towards the redhead's horse. "Light keep you, Lord and Master. And even you, Mistress." She and her guard get Springtail ready to ride, and soon Mark and Kallyn (with Mark's assistance) are mounted in the saddle and ready to ride off.

Sandrim grins wryly. "And Light keep you as well, I suppose," he says, still not really coming close. "I suppose I'll be seeing you when you return. If I haven't found this Kael person by then... Or perhaps even then."

It is up until this point that Elise politely ignores Kallyn, but upon being greeted cannot help but return such faux politeness with her own half-smirk and quick curtsey. "Light keep you too, Mistress, and your incompetence at bay lest you accidentally set my /home/ on fire." The slender girl's gaze goes back to Lyddmull, whom she offers a deeper curtsey of respect free from mockery. "I hope the Light finds you well this evening, Lord Seamel." One glance is cast toward Sandrim, and the auburn-haired girl's expression turns to one of interest.

"Just be careful, Mistress Lake," Lyddmull says with a frown. He turns to Elise inclining his head towards her. "Good afternoon Mistress Huntsmoon," he says quietly.

Atop Springtail, Just as she and Mark are about to leave... Kallyn hears Elise and frowns. "Mark, help me down for a moment." The guard complies, and the redhead strolls right back up to Elise. "Imcompetence? It is incompetence that keeps a /person/ from not being able to keep /the Shadow/ at bay at all times, is it? Do you have /any/ idea what it's like to be afraid of yourself? To worry about what will happen when someone like /you/ comes along?" The marked woman's hands ignite in blue flames, and she does not try to stop them. She holds one up in front of Elise, "To have /this/ happen everytime you get pissed off?! Do you even /know/ what it's capable of?" The cobalt light reflects from the courier's steely grey eyes in a menacing manner as she glares at the woman, "You don't. You will /never/ understand it. This is the second time you've assumed that you know /anything/ about me. The next time..." Those flaming hands flicker and the flames die with a deep breath of the redhead, "The next time, I won't stop it from hurting you."

Sandrim glances quickly from Elise to the previously burning mage. "Mistress Kallyn," he says after a quick breath. "You're right. She doesn't understand. Not a bit. How could she?" His sentences are rather clipped. "So, don't you think it's somewhat silly losing your temper over... a lack of knowledge? Really, no need for threats."

The Seamel's head rears back a bit as the mage's hands burst into flames. The hesitation lasts only an instant however and his right hand reaches down, drawing a black, curved blade from his hip. The scimitar is held between the two women, reflecting the blue light back at Kallyn as its wielder's eyes take on a cold glare. "That is quite enough," he says evenly, though he seems to relax just a hair as the mage stands down, "Mistress, do all of those who are working so hard and sacrificing so much to keep your head in contact with your body a tremendous favor. Do not act so foolishly again." The blade does not waver, despite the flames' withdrawal.

Elise looks a bit taken aback as Kallyn deigns to dismount and stalk toward her. However, once the flickering light show begins, all fear is lost and she simply looks piteously at the woman. As the flames flicker and die, Elise glances from Kallyn's hands to her face and back again. She is somewhat startled by Lyddmull's blade being drawn, and she steps back to avoid the blade as well. It does not stop her from speaking, however.

"This is yet the second time you've underestimated /me/, assuming I am no more than a meaningless pawn for you to trifle with who knows naught of your predicament. You are exceedingly self-centered that way, believing yourself to be the center of Fastheld, when honestly you are not that important. However, /that/--" here she gestures to Kallyn's hands, although she keeps well enough away so as not to touch the woman-- "was perhaps the single worst mistake you could have ever made in your entire life, Mistress Lake, and I'd say you've made some damned foolish ones so far. Get back on your horse and leave. Get out of here, and if you dare threaten me in my home again, I will see to it that you are chained away for the good of Fastheld and the safety of its citizens. I will be sure that the Duke Seamel hears of your threats against one of his citizens and against his property."

Atop Springtail, Those eyes flick to Lyddmull, but do not lose their menace, "Blade. Out of my face." She then looks back to Elise, "You are quite mistaken, Huntsmoon. Fastheld knows not who I am, nor does it care. And I like it that way. You say I assume you know nothing of my predicament. Do you? Do you even have the slightest clue? The only way you could is if you were a mage... and as I don't see a Mark on your face, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're not an Unmarked one. So as I said before, you don't and you won't. Tell the Duke. See if I give a Wildling's right eye what he does about it. He won't be able to anyway."

"Mistress Lake," the young nobleman replies, his sword still firmly held before him and his left hand sliding back should he need to swing his shield around from his back, "I do not think that you appreciate the seriousness of your situation. Duke Seamel is a Knight of the Imperial Order with full authority to arrest you for what you just did a moment ago. Even without that authority, you are on _Seamel_ lands and he can therefore arrest you at will. While I think that you are a decent person who, with the right guidance, can be a great asset to the realm, I cannot allow you to flaunt my Patriarch's generosity in this manner. You will refra in from any further threats. I do not think I can speak any more clearly."

Glancing aside at the nobleman's blade, Sandrim nods quietly, dropping his hands to his sides as he steps out of the way.

"Do you believe that being a Mage gives you some sort of diplomatic immunity? Duke Seamel now has the right to arrest you - you put the power in his very hands when you threatened me before witnesses, and Lord Seamel here has the right to lop your head clean from your shoulders at this very second, and the /law/ would be on their side. Their side, not yours." Elise gazes back at Kallyn, looking quite haughty. "And I know the power of secrets, Mistress. I understand the meaning of hidden powers, of unrealized powers, of uncontrollable ones. I am not a Mage, but you discount other powers that are out there in this world, and that is /your/ burden of ignorance." The woman pauses and takes a breath, cheeks flushed with exertion and eyes flashing with a steely and determined wit. Despite the fact that Lyddmull just put a succint label on it, she continues to explain: "It is by the grace and kindess of others that you even roam this city, Mistress. Do you dare, in front of one who has helped you, refute their right to power while simultaneously displaying your lack of gratitude for all they have done for you? Not even one of my clever plans could bring as much damage to your small, pathetic little life than what you have already wrought for yourself here today. Stop while you can - stop this utter foolishness, stop this infernal display of total ignorance - and you just might be able to save yourself from an undesirable fate; and no, Mistress, that is not a threat - it is merely statement of fact."

Atop Springtail, Wordlessly, Kallyn turns to go back to her horse, a rather exasperated Mark helping her back into the saddle. Once she is settled and has a firm grasp on the reigns, she leans forward and grasps the horse's mane as well, "Unwanted guest." Springtail rears and the unprepared guard falls off of the saddle, the courier barely able to stay on herself, "Sorry, Mark, but you'll get in my way. The rest of you can kiss my ass. The Duke can't do anything if he can't find me." With that, she spurs the horse into a gallop to the southern gate, holding on as if for dear life.

Sandrim rather than heroically moving to stop the runaway woman, quickly jumps out of the way of the horse, so as not to be trampled. "What the-" He cuts off whatever else he might have said to stare blankly.

Lyddmull Seamel curses under his breath as he resheathes his sword and moves swiftly towards the Mikin Guard's side to help him up. "I am going to have to speak to Celeste about being more careful whom she assigns you to," Lyddmull says to the man with a mirthless grimace as he turns to watch the freelander ride off. He sighs with frustration, shaking his head.

As the mysterious source of Elise's strength wanes with the withdrawal of Kallyn, the woman's features go rather pale, and with a sigh, she falls down onto her knees. She leans over and places her palms against the cobbles, hanging her head and causing her curls to tumble over about her face and shoulders; even the lustre of her hair seems to have disappeared altogether. The woman looks altogether frail and weak at this point, trembling as she takes deep, shuddering breaths. "Light," she mutters hoarsely, reaching up with one hand to tug uselessly at the strings on her bodice as if the garment were choking her.

Atop Springtail, And soon the redhead is gone. Mark watches after her, "She's crazy... She's going to hurt herself, we have to stop her!"

Staring blankly out the south gate, the young mage says to Mark, "She's gone... And unless you have a horse or can run very fast... Though I suppose you could have a horse."

Lyddmull Seamel claps Mark on the shoulder but shakes his head. "No, my friend," he says, "She is out of our hands for now. What happens to her is in the hands of the Light." He turns a concerned gaze to Elise, quickly moving to her side. "Are you hurt?" he asks, confusion filling his voice as he lowers himself to the ground beside her.

"No, no," Elise murmurs to Lyddmull, waving him away superfluously as he knees beside her anyway. "No," she continues, taking a deep breath and relaxing back to rest on her heels for a moment. One hand reaches up to touch a pale cheek, now could and clammy beneath her trembling palm, and she stares at the Seamel for a moment with an expression of deep confusion. "I don't know, I'm just--I just need a drink. Just tired. Please, help me up, and I will fetch a wine and be better. I think perhaps it was just a fainting fit, although I've never been prone to them." At this point, she seems a bit embarassed by the display and attempts to disguise her weakness by smoothing her skirts and reaching out a hand to Lyddmull.

Sandrim looks at Elise with a thoughtful frown, before stepping over to stand nearer, just a bit behind Lyddmull. "You should probably get some sleep. Probably you're sick, or something." He grins slightly. "Or did she just scare you that badly?"

Lyddmull Seamel's brow lowers in concern as takes hold of the offered arm and tries to help the Freelander to her feet. He watches her face carefully as he rises, waiting for her to be stable before moving slowly towards the tavern. "This has never happened before, then?" he asks.

Elise's grip of Lyddmull's hand is stronger than likely expected, and she rises easily onto her feet. She teeters a bit, unbalanced by the quick rise, but manages to straighten herself out an follow carefully at Lyddmull's side. The woman is apparently in her mind enough to cast Sandrim a scornful look with a light snort. "She does not scare me, sir. Of that I can be /quite/ sure." To Lyddmull, the woman frowns and shakes her head quickly. "No, no it hasn't. No--well, it did once more, but that was quite a while ago. If it's sickness, it chooses odd times to come and go."

Looking around the district, Sandrim steps a bit closer and smiles at Elise. "Right," he says. "I shouldn't have expected you to be scared at all. I mean, you're obviously a much stronger person than me." He looks over to Lyddmull, then back to Elise. "Perhaps you should be brought somewhere you can lie down, in any case."

"The threat of being burned to death tends to give me cause for alarm," Lyddmull says with a faint smile, "But that is just myself." He nods in agreement with Sandrim, continuing to support the woman as he pulls open the tavern door with his free hand. "What was it that caused this the first time?" he asks.

"The threat of being burned to death," Elise answers Lyddmull's question with a faint quirk of a smile, gaining a bit of strength as they walk and carrying herself more, allowing the Seamel some relief of her slight weight. "Such situations have never put me in a state of fear for my life," she explains, glancing between the men and lifting her eyebrows. "I can't explain it, but I fear not my own death. I feel as if something will protect me, or something is keeping me from immediate harm."

Sandrim turns his gaze toward over to Lyddmull, a questioning look on his face, before he looks back down at Elise. "Maybe..." he says slowly, drawing out the word. "I can try and see this thing you think is protecting you." He makes the suggestion with a nervous hesitancy to his tone. "Though I'm not sure."

The Wailing Wench Tavern: Tavern Hall 


 * The Wailing Wench Tavern stands as one of the largest publican services in the Empire, acting as both a Tavern and Inn for those who wish to partake of that which it offers. A four-level structure if one counts the basement, the Wailing Wench features the main tavern hall on the ground floor, private lodging and rooms on the second floor, an as-yet unconverted loft for storage and the occasional private deal (or proverbial roll in the hay), and the previously mentioned basement, which is sealed via an exceptionally complicated lock that can only be opened by the owner, though very rarely is.


 * The tavern hall itself is a mostly "L" shaped affair, split between the large and equally spacious rectangular tavern itself, and the segregated kitchen area hidden in a room at to the right of the bar. That bar rests at the southern end of the "L", features a rich and polished redwood surface and counter, complete with barstools and an elegant display of hanging mugs and tankards. An uncountable number of bottles rest in wineracks that span the length of the wall behind the bar, while barrels of ale and mead stand off to the sides.


 * Wooden beams the shade of ecru yellow comprise the well-trodden floor, while khaki-shaded granite forms the walls, with the upper halves being paneled in wood that exists as the same colour as the floor. Redwood support beams and highlights finalize the colour scheme, giving the Wailing Wench a very rustic and inviting feel to it. Redwood tables and chairs span the length of the hall, while benches and booths line the walls to provide extra seating to those that want it.


 * A redwood staircase ascends in a "T" shape to the second floor via the eastern wall just next to the bar, while a performance stage ingresses from the middle of the western wall to the left of the main door that rests in the northeast of the "L".


 * Paintings of various busty maidens and wenches on the walls contrast against the real things that serve ale and various other pleasures - some of the flesh - to those that desire them, regardless of gender or class. Cleavage is on tap here as much as the ale, as are periods of high spirits and entertainment, and quieter times of subtle conversation and talespinning. Stained glass windows prevent the troubles of the world from getting into the establishment.

This offer seems to unsettle Elise a bit, and she glances nervously to Sandrim as she steps into the tavern beside the Seamel. She extracts herself from his side once inside the door, and immediately locates the nearest unoccupied chair to flop down into. With a sigh, she settles onto the hard wooden seat and frowns, fidgeting. "What would you /see/, Master? I don't--I don't even know exactly what that means."

Sandrim steps in behind Lyddmull and Elise, and apparently just before Duhnen, so he probably isn't noticing his Grace. "I don't know," he says. "I can see things about people like... me. Sometimes. Very rarely. I normally just get a headache." He looks around at all the people in the area. "And it wouldn't be a good idea in here, in any case."

Sure enough, Duhnen enters not too long after Sandrim, the Seamel contentedly humming to himself as he toys about with a small piece of metal of some sort, considering it.

"You are suggesting that Mistress Huntsmoon may be 'Touched, then?" Lyddmull asks, somewhat confused, "Would she not know already were that the case?" The young nobleman pauses in silence for a moment as he spots Duhnen and he offers a deep bow. "Good afternoon, Your Grace," he says, "It would appear that there is a matter which may need to be taken care of."

Elise pales even further and slumps down more in her chair, looking as pitiful and miserable as she possibly could. "'Touched?" she inquires nearly breathlessly as if she might just cry any moment. "I -can't- be... I just...it's not possible." While she is busy feeling rather sorry for herself and her predicament, the girl doesn't notice Duhnen's entrance until his presence is called to her attention by Lyddmull. She glances up from her chair, face wrinkled in an expression of deep dismay.

Sandrim blinks and steps aside quickly, bowing to Duhnen. "Oh, your Grace," he says, before looking over to Elise and Lyddmull. "And, well, she might not be. But we all have to find out at some point? It's just, if she's talking about something like that... Though it could be other things."

"Ah?" Duhnen blinks as he hears himself addressed, looking to Lyddmull. "Oh. Evening," he smiles, turning to approach the trio, considering each in turn, though his eyes linger on Elise. He frowns faintly at her distraut state, before glancing to two men. "...What's wrong, Mistress?"

Lyddmull Seamel seems incredibly confused, but nonetheless rests a hand on Elise' shoulder to attempt to reassure her. He nods to Duhnen, worry creasing his forehead as he waits in silence for the freelander to answer the question posed her.

A group of four people are located at the table nearest the door: the three men are standing, and the one female is slumped down in her chair looking pale and quite shaken. It is this girl who speaks up to Duhnen's question, glancing down to her hands as she begins to tell the story.

"I was coming into Northreach, your Grace, and stopped to stable my horse. There were people there - the nice gentleman here whose name I don't know, and Lord Lyddmull, and that one Mistress Lake who you know doesn't like me much. Well, she--she made an awful flippant comment about nearly burning down the Wench, and I got mad. So when she offered Light's blessing to me, I offered it in return that we here would be safe from her incompetence.

"She didn't take to that too well. She jumped right down off her horse and started throwing fire around in her hands - big blue flames they were, and dancing around just right under my nose. She yelled something fierce at me and then said that /next/ time she wouldn't stop herself from hurting me. Then when Lord Seamel here pulled his blade, she turned tail and fled." Elise swallows, staring down at her hands.

"Sandrim Oakleaf," the young mage says somewhat quietly. "Since I never had a chance earlier, Mistress." He steps back and away, over toward the hostess to pick up something to eat after he says this.

"She did /what/?" Duhnen blinks in some surprise, his eyebrows rising, before he looks over to Lyddmull and Sandrim. "Where is she now, then?"

Taran appears in the doorway of the Wench - no magic, just the usual walking method - but in taking in the current clientele, apparently wishes he had not. Immediately the bard turns around, to head right back out.

Lyddmull purses his lips slightly before speaking. "That is not _precisely_ what happened," he says, "Though Mistress Huntsmoon could not be aware of the situation that Mistress Lake spoke of concerning nearly burning down this tavern. The incident was an accident and thankfully no one was injured. And I think that 'throwing fire around in her hands' is something of a stretch as well, though her hands did ignite and she did make the threat that Mistress Huntsmoon spoke of. As to where she is now, she rode south before any could apprehend her."

"The point /is/," Elise counters, glancing up to Lyddmull, "is that she did not /care/ what had happened. She laughed about it, and acted as if it weren't a big deal at all, running about with untrained powers that respond negatively to her temper all the while /knowing/ what kind of a danger she is and only pretending to care when she's called out in public." Color returns to Elise's cheeks as she grows irritated under the scrutiny, shaking her head fiercely. "She said more, too, and you know it Lord Seamel. She believed herself immune from trouble with the law; she did not believe that you, Duke Seamel, could do a thing to stop her. Clearly instead of feeling remorse for threatening my life or for nearly setting fire to your property - to my /home/ - to a building full of innocent people! - she believes she can /get away/ with it instead. Maybe she didn't /throw/ the flames, but she might as well have juggled them for all it matters in comparison."

After taking a moment to look down at his meal, Sandrim nods in Elise's direction. "Whatever the case was of what she actually did... She doesn't exactly seem the most stable to me." He frowns, looking over to the Duke, then away.

"I see," Duhnen replies after a moment, nodding his head with a small grimace. "Well...none are hurt, at least. I'll take action, I assure you. Behavior like that isn't acceptable, whether they're just threats or more." He nods to the distraught Elise. "I apologize, Mistress, for the trouble caused."

"I am just trying to keep the record clear, Mistress," Lyddmull says quietly before turning towards Duhnen with a grimace. "I am sorry that I let things get out of hand, Your Grace," he says, "I simply did not expect her to react in that manner."

Elise looks a bit chagrined and gestures apologetically to Lyddmull. "I apologize for my vehemence, my Lord. You have been nothing but a perfect gentlemen, and I honor your ability to remain objective in the face of such matters. I am grateful for your corrections; they would better suit the cause." To Duhnen, Elise frowns slightly and nods. "It is not my life I fear for, Your Grace. I have said before that in the face of death I feel no fear. I fear for the safety of the citizens of Northreach, and now for the safety of any who might fall into the rogue Mage's path. She is a true danger to our dear empire now. Do nothing for my sake, I beg of you, but only with an eye toward the protection of the innocents of Fastheld."

"A little frightening, what, on top of recent events," the male Freelander says, drumming his fingers on the table. "But, well, she can be taken care of if need be, right?"

"It's as much for you as all others who live here, Mistress," Duhnen replies with a faint smile to her, reaching a hand down to rest it upon, and lightly squeeze, her other shoulder. "I'll meet with the courier, I assure you, and we'll have a discussion."