while trying to make sense of the human's words.

Once done, the Ysoki did his best to continue the conversation, speaking from the angle of legality rather than something he has no clue about. "So that's why she's been all hush about it." Zrak talks like he made a great deduction; no doubt Margar Varn figured that out long ago. "So whatever new kingdom that shows up is gonna need help," the Ysoki continues, thinking about the encampments his family made, when they were together, and how they had to interact with neighboring Numerian groups. "Is that what Lady Aldori's counting on? An ally to both Brevory and herself that she gets all legally?"

His green eyes glances over and narrows at Malkala, whose idealism for Aldori has been made clear, before looking back at Maegar Varn. "It's real hard to move on someone when they got another ruler by their side."

Despite this coming out of Zrak's mouth, he doesn't consider the implications. To him, growing a kingdom is a step toward his smaller personal goals, rather than a vehicle for ambition.

Maegar nods as he finishes his food, "Right on all counts." He wipes his mouth with his napkin before continuing, "The legal aspect of it is a complex one, and probably the most nebulous and risky. She is giving us the means, permission, and support to go south and claim land for ourselves. However, there is nothing, legally, that requires us to support her or accept her assistance after. If we accept her assistance, then she will legally have some power. Legally speaking, once we stake our claim, it is ours and we only give her as much power over us as we wish. Lady Aldori does wish to have an ally, but she cannot just take it over legally. She is relying on what she has and will do to get the kingdom running to be enough to gain our support."

When Maegar finishes, Zrak and Malkala can start to hear the rain hitting against the windows of the manor. It is light rain right now, but it is gradually increasing. With knowledge of the wilds, both Malkala and Zrak know that there is going to be a major storm during the night, possibly leading to some minor flooding.

The servants do not seem to notice or care about the weather, though, as they set down the third course: a roasted boar, seasoned with different powders and seasonings. When Zrak and Malkala taste it, they are assaulted with the taste of garlic, onion, salt, pepper, parsley, and a hint of paprika. Like the bird before, it is not overpowering, but it is a bit hard to discern each flavor, especially with the tenderness of the boar also fighting for attention.

Zrak and Malkala both get a sudden sense that someone is looking at them intently. Malkala looks over to see Jaethal, who has been silent and very attentive so far this dinner, staring at her with an attention few could match. Yet, it looks like Malkala is not one to back down or be intimidated. In fact, she simply stares right back at Jaethal, exuding the same attitude and tone Jaethal was giving.

They have a stare down for a few moments, then the pale woman gives Malkala a smirk. At that, Malkala smirks as well and starts taking bites from her boar.

Unlike his companion, Zrak simply gives a still look at Jaethal, as if frozen in front of a predator and praying it goes away. He still has his instincts from Numeria, the ones screaming at him to flight or flee whenever there's an imminent threat. He doesn't expect it to happen at a dinner table of all places, even as the rain hits the glass and ground in a constant flurry of pits and pats without end.

He looks over to the boar as Malkala catches Jaethal's interest. Its roasted flavor overpowers his sense of smell, like a succulent treat that draws in its target. As there wasn't an easy leg or limb to take off, the Ysoki instead settles for the "civilized" approach of carving a chunk of rib meat off and bringing it to his plate. He hides a quiet grumble beneath the sound of rain and cutlery. Were he on his own or in the wilds, he wouldn't need silverware. In spite of this, Zrak obliges in the many spices, many unusual to him, as he bites into it. The collective arrangement of garlic, onion and heat made him wonder if he should season his food, next time he hunts.

Yet that requires finding or making his own spices... Forget it, that's a problem for future Zrak.

His mind thinks to the Stolen Lands again, thinking about what it has to offer besides land. Its history is lost on him. This likely includes any unique artifacts, items of notable value, or anything infused with magic. And as Zrak looks around, he notices the gnome and his dreadful-looking outfit. The ratfolk thought it weird for a noble to dress as such, but Tartuccio looks more like a wizard.

Figures he has that arrogant personality.

"So, looking for anything unique out in the Stolen Lands?" Zrak stands on the chair and leans over the table, looking at the similarly small-sized gnome. "I've heard some stories about mages hiding their library or wealth beneath the land." A part of him thinks about what some wizard or noble would get out of magic items, then continues: "Sounds like they'd be worth a lot of power and influence."

Tartuccio, in the middle of a bite of boar, snorts and smirks with an arrogance so hard that it is nearly tangible. "So, there is some knowledge behind those barbaric eyes. But, it is not hard to figure that out. Yes, there is the potential for powerful magic within the Stolen Lands, but you don't have to worry about it. When I rule the Stolen Lands, I'll send out capable teams to find it all."

It is very easy to see his true meaning: you will never see it. And as if nothing had happened, he just continues to eat and smile.

Meanwhile, after their staredown, it seems as if Malkala and Jaethal are going to ignore each other. However, the dragonborne says, "You haven't said much, Jaethal. Would you like to talk?"

There is a moment where Jaethal seems happy to have someone to talk to. But she then seems to go deeper into her world, not saying anything

Clearly unamused by the gnome's retort, Zrak shakes his rodent head, biting off another piece of boar meat in a way others may describe, 'barbaric.' Bah, mages, he thinks to himself. just like the elders said: never trust them. Why I ought to-"

His mind is a blurry, violent range of emotions he hid under his hooded cloak. The mindset of a barbarian and the liquid mead swelling in his head makes for a dangerous combination, one which would explode in a more violent confrontation if it wasn't at a dinner table.

As if he has something to prove, Zrak leans forward again and speaks back to Tartuccio. "You'd better not try and find all of 'em. Wizards and rulers like protecting their lost valuables, and a lot of adventurers lose themselves going after particular ones."

Zrak's use* of magic is lacking in every possible way, but he is smart enough to read about the mystic arts, when he had the time. "Ïsn't there's something about moderation in all things magic?

Tartuccio nearly spits out his food. He takes a minute to choke it down while laughing, "Oh. Oh, that was a good laugh. Magic is not about moderation! It's all about power. Something I am sure you understand with those muscles of yours."

He simply continues to laugh as he finishes the meal. Zrak sees Malkala, her attempts to influence Jaethal also unsuccessful, looking at the gnome with an expression of annoyance and disgust. The mage's laughter is only drowned out by the other attendees and the ever increasing storm outside. Thankfully, the last course helps distract as the servants set down in front of each person a plate of desserts and cheeses.

Hoping to have pleasant talks with at least one more person, Malkala turns to the dwarf, Harrim, "Hello, Harrim. I hope you are not offended, but I have never met anyone with a view of the world like you have. May I ask where your views come from?"

The dwarf twirls his beard, "It comes from my god, Groetus, the Harbinger of Last Days. The one watching over Pharasma's Boneyard, waiting until the last living soul dies. It is inevitable, and we must all be ready for it."

The other adventurers should not be surprised when Zrak promptly stuffs his mouth full of the various desserts. While it is merely a fraction of food present, Zrak's plate has a small pile of several cheeses, cake slices, and even cheesecake with a sweet and tangy smell to his whiskered snout. Both it and the chocolate melts in his packed mouth in a blissful way, washing out the taste of meat and spice.

He needs it too, for Tartuccio's jabs and arrogance is too much for Zrak to hear.

Blasted mages...

His perky ears listen in on Malkala's conversation with Harrim, blathering more on that end-of-everything nonsense. How unusual is it for a dwarf to say that. Why? ...Why? Actually, why not ask? Might be a palette cleanser if nothing else. "So why do you follow Groetus, anyway?" Zrak's husk-like voice speaks across the room. "I mean, I get it, we're all gonna die eventually. Ysoki usually don't live past forty. But why the fixation on the 'end'?"

Patting his beard, Harrim gives a small smile, "All things must end. There is comfort in knowing that nothing lasts. You don't have to worry about keeping things alive and intact. That is what my god whispered to me once I was abandoned."

Malkala seems to go silent for a brief moment, "I can see that." She shakes her head, "But there is power in hope and the want to make something better."

Harrim nods, "There is. I cannot deny that. But why build something up like that when it will inevitably be destroyed? Why not keep the comfort in the inevitable and allow yourself peace?"

"I am not the kind of person to just let go and relax." Malkala says with a smirk, "My overactive brain won't let me."

With a shake of his head, Zrak sighs, silent among the massive rainstorm outside. He lacks Malkala's overactive brain to play confident and cocky to Harrim. Instead, he shoved another piece of cake in his mouth, chomping down on its sweet, soft taste, and got in the mood to retort.

"Life's more interesting when you struggle." Zrak speaks casually, reflecting on life in Numeria. "I'm not much of someone that let's stuff be. Why live if you aren't gonna do something with it?"

Zrak fixes a still glance towards Harrim. "I think that's why we're all here, ain't we?" He can't speak for the others, but Zrak is absolutely here to do what he wants to accomplish.

"Ah," Harrim sighs, "I think there is a bit of confusion about our inevitability. I do not believe that you should just sit and wait for the end, though I would not stop you if you wished. Instead, you should not fear the end, the thing that comes for anything, but be ready for it. Embrace the idea that there is no need to attach yourself to meager possessions, for they will break down and die just as you will."

Zrak glances at Malkala and sees her taking that in and processing it. He can tell that she has trouble understanding it or believing it. However, instead of dismissing it, she nods and looks the dwarf right in the eyes, "I will admit, Harrim. I have trouble understanding it. But I am willing to try. Is there a book that I can read to help understand your god?"

Harrim thinks for a moment, "Unfortunately for you, there is not much literature for Groetus, mainly teachings directly from him or other followers. The only book I know of is Book of the Last Moon."

Malkala takes out her notebook and writes in it for a brief moment, "Thank you, Harrim."

Harrim says something, but Zrak and Malkala both have an intense feeling that they are being stared at. That a being of great power has suddenly started paying attention to them. Malkala turns her head to her right toward one of the other tables.

There, a robed figure sits. From their general shape, they look to be female, but it is hard to tell as the robe is a size larger than it should have been. All the pair of adventurers can see of they person under the robes is their face as they stare right at them: A sea of emerald green. Green eyes, green skin, green hair with a streak of red, all with angular and pointed shapes. Except for their cheeks, one would be hard pressed to find a non-sharp feature.

It is hard to look away from the figure. As if their gaze has magnetized the pair's own. They watch as they nod, as if answering a question in their mind. Then, as if reality itself snaps back together, the high-pitched sound of metal tapping on glass brings the pair back to the present. The pair look toward the front of the hall as Lady Aldori stands.

"My friends," Lady Jamandi begins, "I hope you have enjoyed the food and drink this evening!" Her words are quickly met with a round of cheers and the enthusiastic tapping of several dozen mugs and goblets. It takes a few moments for the room to grow quiet again.

Smiling broadly, she continues. "You honor me, truly, but this night is for you! As heroes, you have responded to my call, and I can't wait to hear tales of your exploits in the weeks and months to come.

"Tomorrow, I shall speak with you all about your individual charters. I suspect it will be a busy day, so I suggest we make an early evening of it. After all, you have kingdoms to plan!" Lady Jamandi's words are met with an even louder round of cheers and drinkware-tappings. A few goblets even shatter thanks to overeager hands.

Lady Jamandi gestures to the large double-doors to the east and west. "Of course, I've arranged bedchambers for all of you. My guards will escort you to them now. I hope you find them restful. We shall speak further tomorrow when we meet back here at sunrise."

As guards begin to step toward tables, escorting adventurers to their rooms, Malkala immediately starts scribbling words into her notebook. It is hard to understand what she is writing as her hand is shaking and jerking, making her handwriting sharper than before. "Please tell me you saw that, Zrak."

Malkala sees Zrak slightly stumbling in place, hunched over more than usual, having taking