Closed Fire, Stars and Shadow (Yazata)

[Konrad Venger]

“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much.”

Konrad just gave a harrumph and didn't deign to respond any further. Being thanked was stranger to him that being threatened, or insulted. At least he had proven responses to those, just waiting to be spoken (or unsheathed). Besides, his was not a world that required thanks: his was one of reciprocity, whether that be in favors or coin. Men like him didn't help for the sake of their souls.

Men like you are out of shape, too.

“You could have just jumped, you know.”

"Gods, tell 'im to shaddup, will ya?"

The scarred mercenary shot the boy a menacing glare that predictably bounced off his cheery expression. Predictably, because Konrad was starting to see just how naive this kid was, and how bizarre that he could be as such being, well, a slave. Surely one couldn't survive in that life and still hold to one's ideals, one's innocence?

Of course, at that time, he was still more concerned with not splitting his breeches getting over the fence.

"Very petching funny," he growled in a voice that screamed the opposite, waiting for Three Eyes to rather inelegantly dismount/fall from the top of the fence. "Now let's get going."

Pleasant they may not have been, but when contracted for a job, Konrad and Eyes prided themselves on doing it well. Before the trio had even taken ten steps, the two mercenaries had taken position on Yazata's flanks, one hand on the hilt of their weapons, eyes furtive and pace quick. Konrad was following his own advice and they were heading north.

“Oh, and I forgot to say, I am Yazata. It is a pleasure to meet you~”

He glanced to his side and saw the outstretched hand. Konrad blinked at it a few times and the possibility that Yazata wanted to hold it never quite formed in his mind. So that left only one other option, and a moment later Yazata found himself clutching Konrad's smoking pipe.

"Take a pull, but don't get cozy with it, y'here? Swamp Vision ain't cheap..." He drew his eyes back to the path, a passageway of dirt and mud between the shadowy rows of head-high tobacco plants, leading like a crack through the world to the Kabrin Road. "Youse can call me Venger."

[Yazata]

Yazata. “Very petching funny~” The echoing of the previously uttered sentence was not made in derision, but rather, in a singsong hum and with a playfully smiling face. No longer finding himself in the position where he has to brave the crawlies-infested night on his own, Yazata’s earlier anxiety dissipated like fog in a sunny day. A muffled ‘Pffft’ was given after the thud that followed the round one’s ungraceful descent. This duo. A master and his slave, maybe? The cheery humming that kept flowing from between the youth’s lips did not indicate that he was nervous at all but perhaps he owed that to his unlikely company. There was, indisputably, a fair amount of security to be had when one was accompanied by two such large and alert men. Although, just why they were so wary was entirely beyond him. They were still within the boundaries of the city, were they not? The second part of the sentence was met with easy compliance and a nod of the boy’s head, before he began to walk between the two larger forms; three barely lit figures in a sea of darkness-soaked crops. Yazata’s hand remained held up in waiting while confusion on his face grew. The Hat-man’s hesitation to hold his hand...he would have been lying if he said that it did not make him uneasy. Even when the man did move, it was not to take his hand and hold it. No. Instead, the boy’s palm was presented the item his companion had been so occupied with so far. Gingerly, fingers closed around the pipe, while spring-colored eyes looked at the taller man, baffled. Is he asked to smoke this? Was it some form of custom people of Kenash use to show cordiality? Regardless, he had less reasons to decline than he did to oblige. The youth chuckled and shrugged his shoulders to himself mostly. Here goes. Raising the pipe to his mouth and closing his lips around its bore, and then made a very poor and unsuccessful attempt at recreating what he saw the other do. It did not end well, for him. The tiny inhale he took instantly turned into a gasping exhale, followed by a slew of coughs and the beginnings of moisture forming in his eyes. It was like his nostrils stung and he may or may not have huffed out a tiny cloud of smoke but it definitely felt choking, for a tick. Hastily, the pipe was returned to its owner and Yazata was left with the dilemma of whether he felt embarrassed for failing to properly mimic the man, or laugh at very much the same thing. “Ouch...ahhh...Syna above, how do you do it so easily?” One of his free hands fanned his now reddish face, before he turned his head to look at the man. Finally, he got a name he can call him by. Thankfully, the aftereffect of his failure was already subsiding, enough for him to be able to talk normally. “Sir Venger. Okay, I understand. And he is your slave?” A gesture was made towards the second man, who walked by his other side. It just seemed quite likely, for this man to be a Dynast and for the other to be his slave. Or perhaps, this was merely all he knew of Kenash so far. With Venger and his partner very much leading his way, he did not need to focus on much except keeping the lantern up for all of them. His mouth, was a far more active thing than all of his hands combined. Or rather, it would have been if his head did not slowly spin. Is this even supposed to happen…?

[Konrad Venger]

"Oh, for petch's sake..."

Konrad couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped his lips, mingling with the mocking words. Ah, virgin lungs. They'd all been there upon a time, had they not. Prioritizing ruthlessly, he made sure to snatch back the pipe from Yazata's trembling grip before it fell and spilled, using the other to steady the kid's shoulders.

"Gods, a'fink he's gonna hurl."

"Nah, he's got it," Konrad said with a pat on those skinny shoulders. "Breath, boy. Don't need you dyin' before we get you back an' our favor's secure, aye?"

“Ouch...ahhh...Syna above, how do you do it so easily?”

Another chuckle. Mayhap Konrad's humor was eased by the Swamp Vision dancing through his veins, or it was the simple sadism of one being observing the discomfort another took in such a simple task.

"Years a' practice, boy." As if to make the point, he took a few deep pulls on the pipe, swallowed the heady narcotic smoke down... and exhaled through his nose, twin jets shooting down before his shirt and duster before crashing noiselessly into the ground. "Don' fret it. You'll get the hang one day."

“Sir Venger. Okay, I understand. And he is your slave?”

"The petch did you say, boy?"

If Konrad was a model of unusual, uncharacteristic humor, Three Eyes' turned ugly the moment the suggestion passed the boy's lips. He surged forward like a malicious ball of lard and Konrad's hand flung up to stop his progress.

"Easy, Eyes... boy didn't know."

Innocent that he was, Konrad assumed that Yazata also wouldn't know to see the steely look he put behind his softer words of explanation. The two Sunberth men locked eyes and Konrad shook his head minutely, just once. Whatever vengeance Three Eyes wanted to wreak for the slave's impertinence, he wouldn't get it tonight. Not without going through Konrad.

"Petching little shykebag-"

"Go on ahead, Eyes. Light the way, aye?" Three Eyes glared up at his partner and Konrad smiled. It was not a pleasant thing to behold in any light. It was also not really a request. "Leave the boy be. Valuable cargo an' all..."

"Aye... f'you say so, Kon."

Three Eyes knew this dance of old. Konrad was showing restraint, but he lacked the capacity to maintain it for long. Next would come blows and blood and he did not fool himself to think that he was a match for Konrad, especially not with a mage's tricks added to his arsenal. So he made to with theatrically shrugging off that barring hand and stomped ahead, shooting poisoned daggers at Yazata as he went.

"He's not my slave," Konrad continued in Yazata's ear when they started walking again, Three Eyes a few yards ahead, lantern held before him. "He's my partner. Works with me, has for a long time."

That would have been the end of it; should have been. All expectation of Konrad were that he was a man of few words. His fists and steel, his brutality and lack of conscience were how he made his way in the world. Not his advice to foolish waifs who unknowingly picked fights with men who would gut him for a pair of shoes. But the words kept flowing.

Later, Konrad would just blame the Swamp Vision.

"Y'need t'be careful with yer words, boy. Slaves get beaten for talkin' out of place, an' that's what that was. Y'don't see a brand clear to the eye, y'don't assume a man's a slave. Not less youse wanna goad 'im into a brawl." Konrad flicked a glance up and down the youth. Half his weight, if that, and if there was a scrap-happy brawler lurking in that diminutive form, Konrad would have died laughing. "Which don't seem like youse."

They walked for a while and the sounds of the night grew to cacophony beneath the shattered glass of the stars. A hundred thousand embers burned above them, giving more light than one would think. Konrad appreciated the view, even if he kept his mind on the job and his eyes on the shadows flanking them. Sunberth was constantly belching smoke and flame into the sky. Stars were a rare thing above her chimneys and the endless plume of the rubbish fires beyond it. Kenash was better, but out here, among the crops and the grass...

"Youse're from up there, ain't ya?" He said with a jut of his chin towards the sky. "Aye. Met a couple of yeh before. Sons of Leth or some such shyke, aye?"

Konrad snorted. Even in jest, without intimidation or ambiguity, he couldn't keep the crude edge from his voice. It was just who he was. Boots strode along the path next to bare slave feet. Still a ways to go, he reckoned. The Kabrin was their halfway point, and even after that it was still a long walk.

Could get seen before then. Askara have their sentries and patrols just like the Radacke, looking for runaways and trespassers.

"Never met one with six arms, though."

A suck of breath. Hollowing of cheeks. The crinkle and crackle of plant matter turned to ash and by its death, the birth of flavored smoke pulled into seasoned lungs. Yazata and Konrad kept walking, smoke trailing behind them on the cool, welcome breeze.

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

It was a small wonder Gile had not taken to alcohol far more than he already had, it was always something in his life and finding new and creative ways to deal with the inevitable trials he would face, today it was a particularly unpleasant issue that left him feeling sick, He'd sent Yazata out on a fairly simple task, and now here it was near the middle of the night and he had yet to see hide nor hair of the boy, He was troubled enough as it was letting the boy leave his side for long periods of time considering how soft the boy was.

He'd waited a couple hours hoping the boy would figure things out and get back to the house task done or not. But once dark had settled in he'd begun getting his resources together to search for the boy, he hated to do it but it seemed he'd have to get his family involved to quickly settle this small crisis, he just hoped the boy hadn't been killed. the boy carried the Askara mark so the chances of someone willingly attacking the boy to enslave him seemed slim, but not impossible. Either way, he was concerned, his worst fear was that Yazata had been killed by someone, be it beast or Rujaro neither option felt particularly pleasant to consider.

When he'd gotten to the house and retrieved a couple slaves and lanterns it was well dark outside and Gile was beginning to worry that whatever they found at the end of the search was going to be unpleasant, if they found anything at all. The whole situation was enough to make him wanna pull hair out. the slaves he'd gotten wouldn't be much use beyond their eyes, of the two one looked to be no older than eleven or so and skinny as he held his lantern peering out into the darkness looking quite nervous. The other was one of the older slaves, body beat down after years of service, but kept around out of appreciation of the knowledge he'd gained over the many years of working the Askaran lands. Either way, if anything violent were to occur chances were good that Gile was the best fighter of the three, and he did not fancy himself much of a warrior.

Making their way to the front of the property Gile peered into the darkness looking for any signs of Yazata, and while he didn't hear nor see any sign of him he did see a twinkling light in the distance, perhaps one of their patrols, Aligning his path with the path of the twinkling light Gile moved so that their paths would intersect, he hoped that whoever bore the light held good news but kept himself from getting too hopeful, he had two slaves with him and letting them see any undue emotion out of him would be a travesty.

[Yazata]

Yazata. In and out, in and out. Another chuckle, another shale of the head crowned by deep black. This sort of skill, he doubted he will have the chance or need to cultivate ever. Years of practice, the man said. The remark prompted unspoken questions that the boy chose to not ask yet. His mind, forever hungry for more to know, more to understand, never really stopped forming inquiries in the first place. So many Whys and Hows, much more than he can or should make vocal. Yazata breathed, just like he was told to do. Ever so slowly, the fog that filled his head was gone, and very quickly replaced by newborn dread. The angry growl that came from his side. If Yazata knew why the other had flipped so quickly, he would not have been so flummoxed by what followed his question. Not much was needed to understand that Venger’s companion is displeased, if the hail of expletives was anything to go by. Instinctively, his hand reached to hold into the clothes of the one who was defending him, but...for what? All he ever did was ask a question. The short exchange allowed him the chance to edge away from the agitated one and closer to the other, eyes still very much pinned on the one he had apparently offended. “Sorry…?” The whisper was barely audible, and entirely confused. For a fleeting tick, his eyes met venomous ones that boded nothing well for him if he happened to be alone with this man. “Oh, I...did not know...” Of course he did not, because how could he know? But it was neither the outburst nor the reproaching that followed, that really got Yazata looking very much crestfallen. This time, he did not offer his hand like he did before, he sought the other’s hand and made the attempt to hold on to it. If it were not for this man’s presence, he would have been a gone slave. But not even that grim realization was the reason for his momentary slump of mood. When he thought that Venger was not looking, the boy slowly lifted his head to steal a peek at the man’s face, concerned about what he would see there. “Is it so bad to be a slave, though?”. Perhaps that was, in theory, a foolish question. But the youth could not help it, he could not stop himself from loudly wondering it. He lived smiling despite the hardships, he never complained even when he was made to sit through pain and needle pricks. He worked hard when he was told to, never slacked or protested, and followed instructions obediently. Never begged or stole, never will even if he had the chance to. But all of that meant nothing. Because of his mark, his status of servitude, his very being was deemed ignominious. The derailment of thoughts, in the form of a question coming from the other man, forced Yazata out of his pensive contemplation. Following the motion, he looked up, at the glorious shared realm of Syna and Leth. “You did?” Wonderment and amusement mixed with a small smile, this was proving to be an effective and welcomed change of topic. “You have seen so much, and done so much, sir.” It was an assumption that he was willing to make, taking everything into consideration. It was not a question, as much as it was a statement. This person, ‘felt’ aged. The distant flickering of light distracted the boy yet again, and put an end to any further questioning he would have done if given the opportunity. The possibility of whoever that is on the other side of the field being hostile, never really crossed his mind. And so, tugging at his temporary guard’s clothes, he began to walk towards the floating illumination.

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand. Probably his mother, if he dredged his memory so thoroughly that all the muck the years and the drugs and the drink caked over his early years. It was a gesture both familiar and trusting. Such things were not invested in a man like him-

So he was struck dumb for a moment when a lithe, warm hand wrapped around his own callused paw. He looked down at the offending hand, then at the slave... who was still staring ahead, keeping pace with him, as if the gesture meant nothing.

His first instinct was to snatch his hand away in sheer irritation, but then a pragmatic little voice piped up. Less likely to go running off, if you've got a hold on him. Keep it up, at least until you get the little idiot home.

“Is it so bad to be a slave, though?”

Konrad couldn't help the harsh bark of laughter that erupted from him; loud enough to send something furry and surprised scurrying through the tobacco plants beyond the path. Gods, but the boy was dense in the head. Or mayhap he knew no other life? He was clean-limbed, healthy, dressed fairly well... a house slave? A well-kept pet, like a cat or a hunting hound.

He looked down and saw naught but honesty gleaming in those bright eyes. A question asked, yes, but more one seeking validation, not fresh and uncomfortable knowledge. Konrad blinked and remembered with some black humor that he worked for slavers, now. Days before he'd killed a runaway in a manner neither quick nor merciful, and left his burning skull chained in the fields for the rest of the chattel to see and take warning from.

That was one way of keeping them in line. Another was simpler: lie.

"There's worse fates, t'be sure." Konrad said with an attempt at a smile that lifted the deformed and warped corner of his mouth up much too far. "Better than livin' in the shyke an' starvin' to death, aye?"

Which you wouldn't, if you had the balls and the steel to take what you wanted, he added silently to himself, curiously unable to let such a falsehood pass his lips without some smidgen of his own, personal truth follow. Worse fates? Aye. Dira's embrace. And there the list ends.

“You have seen so much, and done so much, sir.”

Again his thoughts were shunted away from the dark corners of his mind and into the present. Gods, but the boy never shut up, did he? Tones of wonder dripped from his lips now, and Konrad found himself chuckling again.

"Aye, wandered a fair bit from where I came from, I'll give yeh that." He leaned closer and... mimicked. Bells later he would remember where he had found the history in his own mind to do such a thing, and his hand would clench until his knuckles grew white. But in that moment, he did not think. He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "I's even seen monsters, lad. Monsters that eat men, like-"

"Kon?"

Venger looked up sharply and found Three Eyes standing still, lantern raised-

-and beyond him the glow of approaching lights, bobbing beyond the tobacco plants, outlines made clear, shadows banished as the lights bore down on their own and Konrad gripped his sword, feeling the tug at his duster.

"Aye, lad," he said, half to the boy and the rest to himself. Enough for talk and folish japes to a stupid slave boy. Men approached, and even deep in Dynasty territory, far from the haunts of the Rujaro, Konrad had not lasted so many years by taking anything on faith. "Let's have a look. Eyes? Stick close."

His partner obeyed without question, dagger sliding into his free hand as he waited for the other two. Konrad tightened his grip on the slave's hand. If he truly was a runaway, he wouldn't be legging it the second he saw the face of his masters. No reward for empty air, after all.

The trio walked at a measure pace now, lit by Three Eyes' lantern. Ahead of them the unknown perimeter of light approached, until it was close enough that Konrad could glimpse briskly walking figures flitting between the tobacco. After a few ticks they were revealed: a Dynast by his healthy features and clothes, two slaves with him bearing lanterns.

Konrad ran a practiced eye over all three. No threat from the boy slave; threadbare and emaciated, he'd seen kittens more threatening. The older, taller one had some hardness to him, but it was that of chattel beaten and bludgeoned into submission, not a fighter toughened by brawls. And the last...

Is a Dynast, so mind yourself.

"Youse this one's master?"

Konrad held up the hand still holding Yazata's, and waited for an answer.

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

"Youse this one's master?"

Well that's a fine way to say how do ya do? that said when Gile looked the group over he was pleased to see Yazata, even if he didn't let it show on his face. Hardening his Jaw he looked over the men that were with Yazata, neither of the two was particularly easy to look at, a couple of regular thugs had come across his slave,the question was, what was their angle, they certainly couldn't play it off like a ransom, here on the Askara's territory such behavior wouldn't get them too particularly far, but at the same time it felt wise to tread carefully lest he allowed a fight to break out, wich would also be problematic.

"As a matter of fact, Yazata is my slave, ah and if you don't mind me asking what events transpired to put him in your possession?"

It wasn't accusatory, not particularly anyway, if anyone was at fault chances were that Yazata's clumsiness had caused this situation, that said he needed to know the nature of the debacle, if these two were on Dynasty business specifically as envoys they'd be more difficult than a pair of enterprising individuals. Looking from one man to the other Gile decided that the man in charge was the one holding one of Yazata's hands, he had a scarred and striking face, whereas the lantern holder was marred by a tattoo and sheer ugliness, neither of the two was particularly pleasant to see. That said, mercenaries were generally easy to handle assuming that was what they were. Yazata looked unharmed for the most part so that was a boon at the very least, though the boy certainly looked out of place when put between the two men.

"I suppose I'd be remiss not to invite you two.... Gentleman back to the house to get this sorted out, but might I ask who you represent? Or what your station is here in Kenash?"

Calling either of the two a gentleman left a sour taste in his mouth but being rude in this sort of situation. upon hearing an explanation from the two he would have the old slave lead them back to the house, the house for guests anyway. Gile's brow furrowed when he considered his families reaction when they found out about what he'd brought home with him, but luckily that would wait to the morrow. The elders were likely asleep by know and the Askara's around Gile's age tended to be free spirited enough that he'd probably just get some harsh cajoling and owe them all some drinks or something similarly juvenile, which bothered him a whole lot less than the wrath of his uncles. Not turning to look at him he'd address Yazata as they trekked back to the dynasty house.

"Yazata, can I ask what exactly happened to put you on damn near the other petchin side of Kenash? I was fairly certain you'd make it back within an hour so I'm kinda wondering if you were trying to add anything to your itinerary while you were out?"

Gile didn't particularly expect ill doing from the boy but he wanted to toss the question out to see what information the boy did offer.

[Yazata]

Yazata. This was a very unexpected answer to the question he asked, and it was definitely not what the slave had been anticipating. Regardless, even if the man was laughing at him , it did not really matter. Yazata found himself smiling at the contagious sound of ringing guffawing; cutting through the serenity of a moonless night. Worse fates? That was, perhaps, very true. Had he been left on his own to fend for himself upon his harsh arrival, his fate might have probably being very different. Some people in Kenash -as he himself witnessed- were hostile and dangerous. Thankfully, not Gile. Nor the man he was with now. Not that Venger was not, to a slight degree, loud and crude, but that was nothing to fault the man for. Grace is not a gift everyone was blessed with. Venger’s smile, it was a unique one. Never before did the youth see someone with teeth that glimmered quite like this one. “I am not afraid of death.” Placidly, easily, the statement was made. It was both earnest and tranquil, just like the expression his face wore for a passing tick, and the look carried by half-lidded eyes. What was there to be afraid of? In the realm of gods was safety, and serenity. There was not a shred of doubt in the boy’s heart that he would be granted a loving delivery back to Syna, should he close his eyes and succumb to the clutch of Dira. Again. The hazy images he was allowed the recollection of were all the more proof of that. He had lived before, and died before. The notion was hardly a disturbing one. Even when the swirling thoughts of his previous demise filled his head, there was only peaceful acceptance to follow. The looming taller figure was what brought him out of his own head where he tended to get lost in thought often, and the boy, wordlessly, blinked at the display before him. Monsters? What sort of being did the man see? Where? What did the monsters look like? What did they do aside from eating unfortunate, hapless men? Wonderment filled the pale green eyes, and Yazata was promptly fraught with eager excitement to hear more. Like a child waiting to be told a wondrous fairytale, he stood and stared, only to be denied that by rapidly unfolding happenings. “Gile!” Etiquette was lost and proper slave rules of conduct were largely forgotten. Forgetting that he was most likely not supposed to do that in public, Yazata happily chimed the name of his owner as soon as the man’s face was close enough for it to be recognizable under the sparse lights. Not a tick was wasted before he bounded ahead, hand still holding that of his temporary guard, and very much towing the other behind him for as long as their hands remained connected. Every other free arm was wrapped around Gile’s form momentarily, in a spontaneous and impulsive hug. The boy nary a tendency to feel shame, and an even less likely chance of him practicing much reservation; public or not. The embrace, however, only lasted for as long as his master remained silent. When Gile began to speak an invitation to his companions, the slave took a step back and distanced himself. “Sir Venger here helped me find my way back, I did not know where I was...Kenash is...confusing.” And he was very atrociously bad at figuring out directions and locations. But the earlier lesson, courtesy of his scarred watcher, was simple enough to stick. “I followed flowers, then there was a fence, and I kept walking until it got dark. He can make little Synas with his hands! Oh, also, he taught me east west south and north.” Enthusiasm filled the boy slave’s voice as he recited the tale of how he had gotten himself lost, and what he saw the man do, and there would have been much more told if not for the realization that came in a little too late. He was supposed to be back in an hour. “I am sorry...are you mad?” Guilt dripped from the sheepishly uttered question. Gile was not even looking at him, is this why? Is the man upset at him for causing him this worry? For performing his duty poorly? He did not disobey anything but still...Afraid to say any more, he pressed his lips shut and just walked with the small party of unlikely people. Wherever he was being led to now, he will go quietly.

[Konrad Venger]

Konrad sized Gile up pretty quickly, and he liked what he saw. Mainly because he couldn't see any threat from the man. Anyone who let their slave meander so willfully and then didn't immediately dole out a beating... had to be a soft touch. Konrad also couldn't see any meaningful metal on the man's belt, nor was he making any sort of move for it. Oh, and he was a proper Dynast gentleman, too: inviting them both back for refreshment and relaxation.

Probably believes in all that "chivalry" cobblers, too. Good. Wankers are always easier to work with.

Still, answers were required, and Konrad opened his mouth to answer them-

-just as Yazata exploded from his grip and launched himself at his master. There was a queer patpatpatpatpatpat sound as three sets of arms smacked onto fabric and cloth. Ah. Well. No doubt there that Gile was his master, Konrad supposed. Explained the lack of fury from him, too. A slave that loyal, you didn't want to spoil with a beating.

The boy babbled and blurted out everything that had happened, from Konrad's training to their jaunt through the darkness, and at that thought the man himself realized it was still the middle of the petching night. His boots shuffled in the dirt for a tick as he pondered how far back home Whiplash was, but... no, too far to walk. It would be dawn before they arrived.

Better take him up on his offer.

"Name's Konrad Venger," he said with a quick doff of his hat, so abrupt it barely came off his head. "An' this is Three Eyes."

"Hey, howyadoin'?"

"We work for the Radackes, found yer boy right on the dividin' line. He dint know how t'get back, it was gettin' dark, so..."

Konrad shrugged and shoved his hands into his duster. No point in hiding that he was a Radacke man: this far into the plantations, two men like them wandering around were either Dynasty stooges, Rujaro, runaways or renegades. Only the first one would survive an encounter with plantation forces.

"We thought we'd get him back t'you. Never hurts t'do a favor for yer neighbor, does it?"

Konrad smiled and tried to inject the correct amounts of Amiable and Charming into it. Not an easy thing, when half his face looked like an Akila Hound had been chewing at it, but tone of voice counted for a lot. That and posture, body language. Neither him nor Eyes were making any move to bolt now they were "discovered". They were men who had nothing to hide, and now they waited for their new Dynasty acquaintance to decide where their night would end.

In one of his pockets, smile still on his face, Konrad's fingers slipped around the brass knuckles he kept in there. Cold metal slid around his fingers and he made half a fist in anticipation. The Dynast would be the first: the bluebloods always knew how to fight better, not the slaves. He knew Three Eyes' fingers would be tap-tap-tapping near one of his blades, probably with his eyes on the older, larger slave.

Hope it goes well. But never assume anything...

[Gile Askara]

Gile Askara

It's irritating how ingratiating the boy was, even if he wanted to stay mad at him it was hard to maintain a foul mood when he was being hugged and babbled at so happily. That aside, it did appear that this situation was caused by Yazata's own carelessness. So it did seem that he owed the two men his time and favor. though their origins concerned him, Rodacke were not known for being pleasant and looking at the men before him he wasn't swayed to believing any different.

"Welp, it really does seem I owe you all a dinner among other things. Let's head back to the house so I can think ya properly. I guess I ain't properly introduced myself, My name Is Gile Askara, and I'm guessing you Know Yazata here. So Konrad, and.. Three eyes, you two got a favorite drink here in kenash?"

Deciding it was best to take things back to the mansion Gile turned on his heel and began walking towards the mansion, it'd take a but but no more than fifteen chimes at a steady pace. Putting a hand on the younger boys shoulder to bring him to his speed he let the older slave take the lead.

"You head on ahead of us boyo, and make it snappy, I want you to rouse the maid and have her get a table set for me and my guests. tell em to expect us in a few chimes. Now get movin."

Giving the boy a soft shove in the back to send him off Gile chuckled as the boy dutifully set off at a dogged pace, his lamplight bobbing and shaking as he ran ahead. It was on one hand convenient to send him ahead so that he wouldn't have to wait on having a table set up, but more than that having the boy run ahead meant that if Gile and company didn't show up in quick succession it would become obvious that something was wrong, Gile didn't figure the boy would be useful in a fight so sending him ahead seemed like the best way to make use of the slave.

Beyond that Gile looked over his shoulder every now and then to keep an eye on the two strangers. nobody that scarred got too looking that way living easy, so he was mildly curious as to the history of the two, any information that might give him an edge over the two was favorable.

"So if you don't mind me prying, I'm curious as to where you two hail from, or, Eyes was it, What's the story on the tattoo? I'v e seen some interesting work in my days in kenash but that one there has to have a story"

He kept his tone semi flat if jovial, it was one thing to laugh with a man, but another to laugh at him, in this case the objective was to let his come off as praise, but if the story was humorous let it be so.