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The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful. No more assassins leaping out of shadows, no magical items falling into people's hands, and thankfully no more trips down memory lane. They'd arrived at Moonsteppe and were waiting their turn to disembark the airship. Magpie having fully adopted the identity of Graffion DeLuc once more. Chest bindings holding on tight, the Conduit of Kings snugged up under them right against flesh. It would take the most skilled of thief to get it away from the dragonborn.

Not that he wanted to tempt fate. Graf waited at the end of the boarding area, waiting for his companions while looking over the news bulletins. Most of it was rather uninteresting, save for two. One about Narzire, talking about the robbery of thousands of dollars in goods from his home. It was a small thing but it did bring a smile to his lips. Especially since it was a couple of their own that had burgled the bastard while the rest kept an eye on him at the theater.

Although, it was worrying since they mentioned how Narzire at the home. Graf knew for sure that Narzire was at the theater, especially since he'd stared into the bastard's eyes as they spoke of the play. Seemed like the more they figured out, the more questions they were given. There were some answers though, information gleamed from the coded pages they'd taken from Narzire's home. A murder list, transport manifests, and messages.

More worryingly was the bulletin that Smoke had been arrested. His eyes darting towards Jynx as the tabaxi wandered over. How would he handle the news of his own brother being arrested. Especially since the pirate was accused of stealing the Conduit. Yes, the very Conduit that was strapped to Graf's chest.

Before he could question the wizard, another companion caught his attention. "Amber," he faced the dwarf and held her gaze. Slowly lifting a bag that bulged with coin. "It's very important that we make a good impression so..."

"Money!" her eyes sparkled as she lunged for the bag.

Rolling his eyes, Graf held the bag just out of her reach, "It's very important that we make a good impression." It was easy for the dragonborn to keep the bag away since he was much taller than her. "If you behave while we're here, then you get this bag of money." He sighed as she kept trying to hop up. "Not before. If you wind up with this, then I will happily toss every coin you have down the nearest drain." She pouted, but stopped bounding against him at least.

With that settled, "Right, how about lodging?" Without checking if the others followed, he started down the ramp. "I took the liberty of talking with the airship staff about what they offered here. There's the Crescent Shine inns, which are nice but tend to be more expensive. There's also the Silver Horseman, which are just tents out in the fields. Doubt we want to stay there."

Corrine shivered, the squirrel bristling up, "Yeah the tents don't seem like a good idea." She caught the looks from the others, "I'm fine, I can handle the cold though." Graf frowned slightly, having told everyone about how cold the place would be. Even advised them to get something warmer. Although it seems that he might have been the only one to do so.

Not that it mattered, a quick trip to a tailor would solve that. First though, they had to hit up a Crown Concierge and see about lodging. Which wasn't too difficult to find, the helpful looking half-elf fixing them with a practice smile as they approached, "Welcome to the Moonsteppe, capital city of the Lunar Protectorate, how may I be of service?" Her hand waved over a board next to her, "We offer a wide range of inn options for all price ranges, Sir."

Graf took a moment to glance over the board, "Mm, what of monthly lodging, or properties for rent?" He leaned towards the counter and listened as she read off more properties and prices. A little pit opening in his stomach as she mentioned the old royal estate. Ah, if only. He was a little short on that sadly. As nice as it would be to approach the keep from former royal property. Shame really. It didn't feel right to ask the party as a whole to chip in just to stoke his ego either. Which was an odd feeling in itself. Not wanting to shill a bit of coin away from someone else. More odd was the desire to see the old estate.

After listing off a couple and observing his lack of interest, she mentioned one called The Emerald Estate. The price alone was enough to make him jump on it. It was a little odd since it seems that the place had been transformed from a manor into more of an inn, but the price was right. Casting a glance towards Amber, he made sure to drop his bag of money on the counter. "The Emerald Estate sounds like a fine place." Wishing he'd transferred some gold to platinum, he and the concierge quickly counted out the required gold. The dragonborn wincing inwardly as he returned the lighter pouch to his pocket. Magpie practically screaming at the cost. A tent would have been fine for the con artist, but the noble Graffion demanded something better.

Papers were produced, each one getting signed in turn. Graf's flourishing signature taking up a goodly portion of allowed areas. He saw the smile twitch as the pen flowed over some of the contract, but he was nobility. It was allowed, if somewhat irritating for clerks. Still though, her smiled didn't fade too much as she handed over the keys and a map, "Thank you, I hope you enjoy your stay. Although... The place is rumored to be haunted."

Good fucking grief. Couldn't they go anywhere without some place being haunted or someone trying to kill them or being attacked by some monstrosity? "Haunted?" Grig bristled slightly.

Now the smile did fade, "Oh it's just rumors." The half-elf laughed, "Out here the winds can get moving quite fast. People believe they hear moaning and see a figure out by the pond at night." Her smile leapt back in full force as she laughed, "Just rumors though. The place has been checked over numerous times."

Rajan muttered, "Haunted, perhaps we should get a discounted rate."

"That is the discounted rate, Sir."

Graf cleared his throat and picked up the key, "Regardless, I'm certain the place will be lovely." He returned the concierge's smile with one of his own. "Your services came highly recommended after all. "He glanced at his companions, "Shall we away?"

The Emerald Estate was halfway across the city. Which offered the party ample opportunity to take the city in, and for Grig to buy a handful of snacks from street vendors. Graf kept his eye out as they traveled, finding himself impressed by the general hustle and bustle. It didn't look like the center of a kingdom being torn apart by civil war. People were hawking wares, selling street foods, and more. It was every inch a thriving city.

Arriving at the estate, Graf wandered up to the front and unlocked the door. His companions hurrying inside to inspect. He watched Amber from the corner of his eye before moving on his own mission. Seeking to squirrel away the promised bag of money somewhere where she couldn't be likely to stumble across it. Gave him the perfect opportunity to explore the estate as a whole though, wandering through the study, library, and more.

Didn't take long to find a spot to secure the Amber bribe bag. Graf returning to the main room about the time a tiefling ambled into the room, "Hello, can I help you?"

He blinked slowly and squared his shoulders, "I was going to ask you the same thing." Arms crossed behind his back as he straightened up, looking down his muzzle towards the intruder. "I just rented this property this afternoon. Color me a mite confused to have someone marching up out of the blue."

"My apologies, Sir." The tiefling relaxed, "Didn't know the place got rented. I was just on way home from the market," He hefted a sizable bag with food in it. "Name's Lido, I'm the caretaker of the estate. The Crown employs me to keep the place ready for guests."

"Ahh," Graf nodded, "Exemplary job, the place looks amazing." He wandered away a few steps, half-listening as the others drifted in and began to talk with Lido. Finding out about how the home was heated, the rumors of the ghost, and when dinner was going to be ready. All the usual set of questions from the group. One of the things that Graf was worried about was the sleeping arrangement. The bedroom, yes singular, more of a common barracks. Beds lining two of the walls, each with a footlocker. Despite having told his companions about some of his secrets, it was another matter entirely to undress before them.

That was for later though. With the promise of a home cooked dinner on the horizon, they set off for town again. Lido had directed them to a tailor/armorer named Lol. Graf looking over the streets outside as the tortle outfitted over each of his companions in turn. Fitting each of them with something warmer, showing off blinding speed as the outfits were assembled. Then they were off to lunch. Finding a place that was nice enough, but not too fancy. A hearty meal of grains, meat, and dairy.

While waiting for their food, he watched Rajan's attention perk. Some people nearby were talking of 'chasing the rainbow' which made the bard's eyes light up. He leaned in with a wider grin and whispered, "They're talking about opaline. Wantin to mine it." An opaline mine? Interesting to say the least. From all he's heard, the metal was beyond rare. Incredibly useful for making weapon. Downright powerful stuff, and not something he could pass up on a whim. Question became one of how would he handle following where they went, keeping an eye on them, while still doing what he wished.

Knowing just what was in his mind, Qistling let out a quiet croak. The noise just loud enough for the dragonborn to hear as the raven shuffled to nudge at his neck. He arched a brow towards the familiar, lifting a bite of meat. You sure? The mental question was pressed towards the creature. The raven bobbed his head as he snapped up the offered food. Feathers ruffling around the vest the he wore. The respond presented little more than a concept than an actual worded response. Of course Qistling could follow them. Graf offered his familiar another bite of food, pressing the idea of returning before sundown. The Estate making the perfect place to meet back up after. Beak pressed to his frill with a gentle nibble.

Lunch taken care of, Graf paid for his share and meandered out into the street with the others. Qistling taking flight with a flutter of wings, circling the block as the dragonborn strode on. He could feel the familiar's presence fade as the raven found a perch to watch the miners from. Tail swayed with each step as he lead the party towards the keep.

The guards were each armed with a spear and wearing ornate, but functional armor. Looked like guards like he'd seen at countless other capitals. He took a moment to check each one before approaching whoever was wearing the most elaborate pieces, "Greetings, I wish to speak with the Lord Steward." He could feel every pair of eyes on him and his party.

There was a touch of annoyance on the guard captain's features, "The Lord Steward is busy with matters of the state." Another look over the rabble before him. Dragonborn, tabaxi, kobold, squirrel, bear, dwarf, and half-elf. "State your business."

Normally he would put on the blustering noble role, but he had a feeling that these guards were used to that by now. He had to pull out something else to get their attention. The Boomstick? No, that was his ace in the hole. Better save that for whoever he was going to meet, or if they were going to throw him out on his ear frill. Okay, maybe a bit of the spoiled noble then. He breathed out a sigh and held out his hand, "This is my business." The guard's eyes dropped, locking onto the signet ring instantly. Something sparked in his eye before he glanced back at Graf with a look of... was that anger? Boredom?

The guard slipped his spear into an indent in the floor. "Wait here," Graf nodded and linked arms behind his back, pretending to examine the palace itself as the Captain marched into the keep.

He caught the whisper of, "Another lost heir it seems," between the guards. Another one? He was about to question himself if there had been a string of people claiming to be the heir, but then he realized that's what he was here for. A con artist with a lot of ambition trying to reach for something dangerous. Dangerous because there was no telling what they'd do. Would they run out of town? Just kicked off the keep's property? Or would they be tossed in the dungeons? He'd seen all three happen before. Depended on the area and mood that day.

The Captain returned before long, "As I said before, the Lord Steward is busy, but we have a scribe ready to speak with you." He kept a look on Graf, as if judging him.

A quiet sigh, "Very well." He flashed a knowing smile, "Civil unrest is a messy business and all. I am thankful for any official who can spare a moment to speak with me." A slight bow, respectful but not so deep as if to appear he was over-exaggerating it. The Captain looked uneasy for a moment before he lead the way inside. Graf keeping his arms linked behind his back as he strode. Each step purposeful, measured, back straight and shoulders squared. Back at the Estate, he'd pulled the chest bindings a touch tighter than usual, not wanting anything to give away the game. The Boomstick somehow felt heavier in his pocket, tucked up close and deep where it'd be safe.

Other guards joined them as they crossed into the keep, flanking the group as they were marched deeper. Winding through corridors and through halls until they reached a side room. Several scribes were gathered around a table, their discussing halting as the contingent marched up. Graf looking over them evenly as the Captain introduced them. A mare scribe standing up and wandering over, "Good after, Sir, might I see your ring?"

No introduction, but he didn't bother feigning insult. He kept his expression as neutrally pleasant as possible even as his heart began to beat that much faster. Thumb brushed against the worn metal band of the ring before he extended his hand. The scribe hummed and leaned in, "Appears to be an older signet. Slightly different from what we use now." She cast a quick glance at the dragonborn to see if it got a response. Older version didn't mean forgery, and Magpie had made damned sure it wasn't that. Martigan as well, old bird wouldn't have held onto it so long if it had been. "Where did you get it from?"

"My father." Not a lie at all. Just bending the truth. Not that he was going to tell them that he got the ring from his adopted father, who supposedly got it in a card game. That had always bothered him, but Martigan never gave him a straight answer beyond that.

A hint of a frown appeared, "Hmm. Excuse me a moment." The Scribe didn't wait as she turned heel and strode off. Graf let his hand return to it's resting spot behind his back. Ignoring the sideways looks guards were casting him or the openly disdainful glances cast his way by the other scribes.

The scribe returned shortly, carrying a heavy tome. Dust absolutely caking the pages and covers. A hint of a smile tugged at Graf's lips when he saw the volume, he'd love to get Jacob here. Let their lich friend loose in whatever library that had been pulled from. He'd have a fit and try to clean it up, only to get distracted by some volume or another, in all likelihood. "Now," the scribe faced away from the group as she blew dust off the cover. Turning, she faced Graf head-on as she cracked the tome open, "Who did you say..."

A question of lineage. Even if he did have a well-researched, and forged, writ of birth, it was from another plane of existence. That'd be hard enough to explain, since Isozno was supposedly a myth. He needed something to distract from the book.

"Why don't we simply cut to the chase?" voice dripping with utter boredom. "You wish for proof of my lineage?" Even knowing the reaction it would get from the guards, he reached into that pocket. Spears jumping as he drew The Boomstick, keeping it pointed away from anyone even as the guards surrounded him, "Here is my proof."

BAM!

The sound made everyone jump. Jenn's eyes wide and mouth agape, hands open wide and precious tome at her feet. Even with that start, no one person's eyes left the item that he was holding. Handle of polished wood fit his hand perfectly, finger resting on the outside of the trigger guard. It looked a great deal like a hand crossbow, but was missing the limbs. In place of the flight groove there was a smooth barrel made of gleaming silver with intricate, arcane runes running the length. Graf's brow arched slightly as he held the item before him, letting it balance on his palm, "I trust this is sufficient."

He kept his eyes on the scribe, her eyes locked solely on the item before her. "Tha... wha... ho..." She shook her head, "How did you get that? It's supposed to be protected," She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at someone in darker robes.

Now that was a topic that was far more complicated. He couldn't rightly tell them how he got it. No matter how truthful it was, saying that a trickster god gave his party a magical deck of cards. That when he drew one, the Talon, the card itself transformed into the item he held. Yeah, that might raise a few eyebrows. Instead he found himself wondering what a noble would do. What was the most royal sounding thing he could think of that was near enough the truth. "Divine Right."

He could feel Grig glaring axes at him.

The scribe snorted and held her hand out, "May I?" She finally took notice of the guards and their spears held at the dragonborn. "There's no need for that currently." Metal shuffled as they lowered their weapons, "May I have a look at that? I need to verify that it's real."

"Of course," Graf offered an easy smile. Inside, his heart was hammering away. Risky, too risky. A lifetime of playing mostly playing it safe and avoiding problems was clashing with everything that was happening right now. There was no intel, he hadn't even bothered asking Jynx or Rajan about this place. Why hadn't he even done some of the most basic research by talking to locals? No, Mr. BigBalls McNoblity had to come marching right into the fucking palace and whip out his piece in front of everyone. This could only go poorly and it'd be his own stupid fault.

Oblivious to the inner struggle, the Scribe examined the item. "By the heavens," she whispered, "It's the real one." Turning it around, she peered at the open socket at the end, "Missing the focusing gem, but it's the real one alright." She cast a quick look up at the dragonborn. Graf keeping his expression just on the smug side of bored. His resting noble face. "Perhaps..." a quiet hum as she mused a thought. "Could you use it?" A stiff nod, he was attuned to the item but it was too valuable to be brandishing it freely, so he hadn't had the chance to try it yet. The scribe handed it back over, pointing towards a suit of armor standing nearby, "A demonstration, Sire?"

Again with the demands, but this was not the time to play the stubborn noble. Even a moment of hesitation could spell disaster. With pleasure," Graf lifted the Conduit and pointed.

He felt his power surging within his core before he'd even taken aim. That familiar swirling chill racing down his arm. It was a feeling he was familiar with calling upon the cold of that fateful winter to shape his magic, but there was something different about it this time. He could feel energy being drawn into the Conduit. It wasn't the first time he'd used a spell focus, but there was something about this one. Something that felt... right. Felt powerful. Graffion focusing on the armor as he squeezed the trigger.

A beam of silvered light lanced from the tip of the Conduit, piercing the armor's chest piece with a crackle. Water vapor condensed around the beam in the instant it existed, swirls of frost dancing through the air and across the armored plate. Graf couldn't hold back a gasp as his power surged within him, feeling strangely joyous as it raced down the magical line in a solid pulse. Armor rocking on its stand from the impact. An icy flower blooming on the chest piece as frost encased the suit, iced spires jutting from the back. Even Graf notice the chill in the room as the light faded.

Keep calm. Don't freak out at all. Play it cool.

Tucking the frost-laced barrel of the Conduit into his belt, he fixed the scribe with his most charming of smiles, "I trust that is sufficient?"

Absolute chaos broke out.

Scribes jumped up, some shouted, others dropped to their knees, guards looked towards their Captain, and the scribe before him just kept staring at him. The armor groaned, metal popping as the cold spread out. "My apologies, Graffion. You understand that we have to be critical of these claims." Ears popped up then folded back sharply, "My humblest apologies, I realize I never introduced myself." She touched a hand to her chest, "Scribe Jenn, I'm mostly responsible for records and diplomatic duties."

As if summoned by the mention of diplomacy, one of the other scribes, an aarakocra with severe features, leapt to his feet and pointed; "Just because he can use the Conduit does not make him the Lost Heir." Feathers ruffled under his robes, "He still hasn't answered how he got his hands on the Conduit of Kings. It was under the guard of the Central Republic. I demand explanation!"

"You are correct, Urrad." Everyone's attention shifted to a newcomer. A tall, older dragonborn with white hide that was graying about his frill and temples. Someone with some serious rank judging by the authoritative way he held himself. "An explanation as to how the Conduit is here is warranted.

Jenn bowed slightly to the newcomer, "Lord Steward Karuth, may I introduce Graffion DeLuc. He says he's Of Amatta and while he does have a signet, it is an older one." She stole a sidelong glance at Graf, "Everything else seems to check out though. At least as far as we can tell currently that is."

He looked over Graf with a critical eye, examining every detail. Steady gaze taking in everything about the dragonborn in an instant. "So I see." Despite being several inches shorter, he seemed to look down his muzzle at the darker male, "Even with an older signet and the Conduit, he still has other trials to go through before he can Ascend." It was hard for Graf to meet his gaze evenly. This was the man with all the power of the kingdom on his shoulders. Royal or no, he might as well be the one that was crowned.

Retainers swept into the room after the Steward, muttering apologies as they began to measure Graf. A section of the dragonborn's mind aware of how their hands were touching as they worked. Royal Staff or not, better to be mindful of ones pockets. "Though I must say, you certainly look more promising. Tell me, what do you know of Amatta."

A sad sigh, "Not as much as I wish, I'm afraid. I have been..." he rolled a hand as he searched for the proper word, "away for a very long time. Why, I only learned of the civil war some months ago."

Karuth responded with a hum, "You'll pardon our precaution, but the Heir has been missing for over two decades. Many have come forward to try and lay claim to the throne." He gave Graf another look over, "Something you might not know." The older male stepped forward and his voice dropped, "Some of the past rulers have acted as agents for the crown. Traveling the world in disguise while using covert actions to further our kingdom through espionage." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sour look Urrad shot Karuth. Some history there? "If you are indeed the heir and pass the trials, do you have any skills that could be useful in such a capacity?"

Was he testing the waters? Seeing if Graf had some secret that he didn't want to talk about or if he was trying to pull a fast one? Karuth was a lifetime diplomat though. His face utterly unreadable. Graf fixed him with the easiest smile he could, "It's a harsh world out there and one does acquire some skills that could be helpful in such a capacity. There are places where nobility is most unwelcome."

That earned a similar smile from the Lord Steward. "Well then. I trust you will be staying for your trials then? They shouldn't take more than..."

Jenn stepped forward with a response, "There is some research to be done, but we'll know by tomorrow morning."

Karuth nodded, "The morning then. I trust that you would like to stay in the keep until then? We can have rooms prepared for you and your entourage post haste."

He was just lifting his hand to snap his fingers when Graf held up a hand to stop him. "As much as I would love to stay in the Keep and enjoy your hospitality, I'm afraid I must decline." He offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile, "We did not know how busy things might be here, so we made other arrangements." Tail swayed as one of the retainers circled behind him, "We had planned on staying at the Emerald Estate for the time, provided no ghosts run us off."

The Steward did not share his chuckle. "Understood, but we will have to dispatch some guards to keep an eye on you. For your own safety." A nod towards the Captain had him snap a salute and march off to round up a guard detail. "I would also greatly appreciate things if this matter would remain discreet." He stole a quick glance towards the scribes, "Things have been stirred up here enough, we don't want rumors of a proper heir surfacing until we are certain." It was crystal clear that he wasn't just talking to Graf.

"Of course," he laughed, "Would absolutely hate if I failed to live up to promises I didn't make." Taking the Conduit of Kings from his belt, he put it back into that secure pocket. Turning the charm all the way up, he smiled, "I apologies for stirring things up as much as I already have. Never my intention at all." A smooth bow, a touch deeper than the one he'd offered the Captain of the Guard earlier, "I feel it is time to head back to the Estate. We'll keep in touch, yes?" He held a hand out towards the Lord Steward.

There was just a moment of hesitation before it was taken. "On the morrow then, Graffion."

"Oh what are you doing? Stop that! No... I just... stop! What is going on?" The voice rang out of the Emerald Estate's open door. Graf following it with Grig on his heels since it seemed to be coming from the kitchens. Lido was practically pulling out his hair as guards inspected the pots and pans that sat atop the stove. He spied the two adventurers, "What's going on?"

Graf offered his most apologetic look he could, "We, have some business with the crown. He cast a quick glance towards the guards, "Business important enough that they felt the need to dispatch some people to watch over us. My deepest apologies."

Lido watched as the guards muttered something to each other before moving to another room. "Just so long as they don't damage anything." He sighed and returned to the dinner, "It shouldn't be long before this is ready." Graf started for the study when he heard the tiefling chastise, "Hey! Dinner will be ready soon, you can wait too." Whatever Grig's reply was, it was lost as Graf roamed into the office-like study.

Of course there was already a guard in here. Standing near the door and staring at the opposite wall. Graf's tail thumped lightly against his chair as he leaned back with a sigh. He needed to unwind, literally, but didn't dare at the moment. The guards were a nice touch, keeping an eye on them while also protecting in case it was real. Not very discreet though, if you asked him. It wouldn't take long before neighbors began to ask why the Emerald Estate was suddenly rented out, then filled with soldiers. If they didn't get some sort of news, then the rumors would start to fly. It'd only be a couple days, but a good con artist knew just how fast rumors could travel. Did the Steward have some sort of damage control for this? Were matters like this routine? Could he be expecting Graf to come up with some excuse on his own? Chat with the neighbors and laugh it off as something perhaps.

"You know you could sit if you want..." The guard just kept staring ahead. Graf tapped a finger to his cheek as he sat there for a moment longer. "What's your name?"

The feathered raptor kept his eyes forward, "Yoren, Sir."

"YorenSir, what an odd name." He caught the twinge of a smile, "Yoren. The door is closed, you are between it and me. The only other way in is that window there. I know you're trained to stand there for hours on end, but it makes me uncomfortable. Please, have a seat. Pull a chair against the door if you must."

For a moment, he was certain that the raptor would just keep standing there. But he relaxed and sat himself in one of the room's chairs with a sigh of relief. Even seated, the male was at attention. Barely letting his back touch the seat and not allowing himself to sink into it. His attention was focused at the wall opposite. Eyes darting about the room every few seconds, scanning from the window to the door and back.

A tap at the window made the guard bound to his feet. Shooting a suspicious glare towards the shape on the other side of the wavy glass. "Looks like a bird," Yoren tightened his grip on his sword hilt.

Graf didn't even have to glance up from his exploration of the deck and its contents, "Let it in." He caught the look from the raptor and gave an easy smile, "If you don't mind, that is." He could feel Qistling's unspoken question of what was taking so long, paired with complaints of how cold it was outside.

Yoren gave him an odd look again before moving to the window and opening it. Qistling looked up at him with a croaked, "Hullo." The raven fae hopped forward and peered at the guard when he didn't move. "Hullo," he repeated with a rather annoyed looking ruffle of his feathers. When the guard still didn't move, he uttered a rather rude sounding croak.

It was taking more effort than he cared to admit not to laugh. "Yoren, meet Qistling. He is a member of my entourage. Qistling, this is Yoren. He's a member of the royal guard."

The raptor half-turned towards him, "Wha..." jumping as the raven launched himself from the window sill and flapped noisily past. He spun, bumping the window shut with his tail, while snapping his sword out in a fluid motion.

Graf just angled his head a bit as Qistling finished his noisy lap of the room and landed on his shoulder. Reaching up, he rubbed the very tip of a nail against the raven's breastbone. Qistling ruffling his feathers with a pleased groan. "Apologies for that. Qistling is a pet of mine, had him for several months now. I'd let him fly free a while, since he had been cooped up in an airship for a week."

"You have a pet raven?" Yoren put his weapon away and secured the window, all while looking at the dragonborn and bird. Qistling leaning into the gentle scratches, returning them with soft nips of his beak.

He chuckled as the beak turned to pay attention to his ear frill. "He prefers the term Teacup Kenku."

Qistling peered at Yoren over Graf's head, "Kenku!" Stretching his head towards the raptor he uttered, "Wha..." in his best copy of the guard's tone. Graf could feel his familiar's amusement at the guard's expression. He pressed back with the request not to tease Yoren too much, since he was doing his job currently. A quiet sigh came from the raven as he settled down against Graf's neck with a reluctant agreement to behave. The silent question of what came of the scouting session. Qistling's eyes drifted close as Graf felt his familiar offer up what he learned.

It only took a breath for him to slip into his familiar's memory. It was always a strange sensation to share in a fae's senses, but one he was growing accustomed to. Qistling offered up the memory of settling onto a perch and waiting until the people left. He followed them through town as they collected supplies then ventured out. The raven only followed them a short while before growing cold and tired, deciding to return to the Estate. He did drift for a moment, watching as they went to the North, before turning back though.

Graf hummed quietly and worked his finger against Qistling's keel bone. He'd have to mention that to Rajan and Jynx at some point. How would he explain it to the guards though? Having them around would complicate things slightly. How would he manage to get them out of town while being followed? Maybe let them run off on their own?

He'd have to think of something later, for now it seemed it was supper time, judging from the noises in the other room. "Sounds like the others are getting ready for food." A glance at Yoren saw the guard moving towards the study's door. "I take it your meals are provided?"

Yoren nodded quickly, "We moved supplies to the inner courtyard already. There are tents and meals are provided as well."

A hum came from the dragonborn, "Strange they wouldn't allow you to simply return home, or the barracks, or wherever it is that you stay." Tail swayed as he moved from the room, giving the other guards that hovered around the dining area a look. Rather than answer, Yoren simply joined their ranks, keeping at easy attention as Graf took a seat among his friends.

He'd barely settled before a human approached from the side. "Good evening, Sire." Graf glanced up at him and looked over him quickly as his tail swayed behind him.

"Good evening..." he trailed off as he waited for an introduction.

The guard picked up immediately, "Everrett, Sire." He waved a hand towards the food laid before Graf. A rather simple, if well prepared meal. "I have worked for the Lord Steward for the last twenty years, among my jobs being poison tester. If you wouldn't mind..." While he doubted that anyone would try to poison him this fast, especially since a limited number of people had handled the food, much less knew why he was here. It felt rude to step on toes when a service was offered. So he leaned back and waved a hand casually towards the meal. Everrett nodded and leaned in with his own fork, taking a sample of each item and testing it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jynx frown and affix a monocle, glancing at his meal before digging in. Which the others began to eat as well while Graf waited for the guard to nod and step back.

Dinner was quick, if a little strange with guards moving through the room. Suppose that maybe he should get used to such a thing, if all this worked out as he hoped it would. Conning his way to an actual title? If only Martigan could see him now. He nibbled at some bread and smiled sadly. Maybe he could patch things up with Asher, see if the demi-god could arrange some sort of meeting.

After dinner, they retired to the sleeping quarters. Luckily, they did manage to convince the guards to merely wait outside and around the windows. Magpie heaved a sigh and let the Graf mask slip a little as clothes came off. They would be hung up, a touch of magic cleaning and freshening his wardrobe. Undergarments hid his secrets, as did the chest wrapping. If a guard brought it up, he'd fall back to the tried and true excuse of an old injury that healed poorly.

He was tired though, barely taking the time to pass on Qistling's information to the others before sliding into bed. Magpie let out a quiet sigh and settled under the covers. Should have asked some more questions, especially about the Estate. Having a barracks style room was all well and good, but didn't offer a lick of privacy. Might be something to bring up to the Lord Steward later.

If Later ever came.

Magpie was jolted from sleep as agony seized their body. Waves of hot and cold raced through the dragonborn as every muscle seized. Blinded by pain, the sorcerer somehow managed to roll half off the bed before becoming violently ill. Every muscle locked as their body tried to force out the poison. Acidic bile splashing off the ground with a hiss.

Qistling snapped aware and let out a blood-curdling scream. The fae-raven's voice shattering the silence of the night. Shouts rang from nearby and footsteps thundered into the room. Magpie could only hold on and shiver as people pressed close, hands pressing to feverish skin. "POISON!" came the panicked cry. Another calling for Everrett. More hands pressed to the trembling form as power flooded Magpie's body. Prayers called to both goddess and nature to purge the poison. A groan slipping from the dragonborn as every ounce of strength fled and blackness descended.