Benny The Beaver arrives, following Acantha.

Daan, the Fanboy Valet, 2 Redrain Guards arrive, following Artur.

Scarf, the violet serpent arrives, following Raymesin.

Deva is seated at the table already, with a crutch leaning against the side of her chair. "Sorry I'm not getting up to greet!" she apologizes as people start to filter in. Her leg is wrapped and obviously busted from recent events. The room smells of roasted meat and baked goods and, of course, whiskey. "Please make yourselves comfortable."

Entering in the armor she's probably been wearing since the events at the Whisper House, Gwenna makes her way into the dining room sans ledger, for a change. There is a quick smile and dip of her head in greeting. "Everything smells wonderful," is noted cheerfully as she makes her way to one of the smaller tables. There are some bandages on her neck, but otherwise she seems well enough.

Acantha had found it pertinent to come to the roundtable to hear about things. As always Benny is with her. There is a nod of greeting to Deva, "Your Highness." she gives a respectful dip of her head. Then she's heading off to find a seat to get comfortable in. Benny hops up next to her, wiggling in next to her before sitting down to listen as well.

One of the people who files in is an overtall man clad in black leathers marked with a spider-and-knife sigil, with a skull pin at his throat. He nods politely to the assembled, then looks around for a place to sit.

Aella didn't brother wearing a coat on the relatively short walk from Ravnsholm to the Redrain Villa, ambling into the dining room in umbra leggings, a belted seasilk tunic of bright blue, an open whiskey bottle in hand, her thick red hair untamed, stormy eyes haunted, and a large bruise covering her left cheek. "Princess," She says in greeting to Deva, bowing her head before plopping into a chair. The single word doesn't slur, but who can really tell thrugh such a thick northern accent?

Artur saunters in with a set to his jaw, which only hardens as he takes in the sight of his injured family. But after a beat, he straightens his shoulders and blesses everyone with his usual bright grin, as he offers a bow or nod to each. "Drinks!" he says as either a greeting or cheer, and indeed, he heads straight for the whiskey, filling his cup before he even bothers looking around for a spot to sit. "I see I missed all the excitement!" he adds, with a nod towards the various bandages around. He says it lightly, but inwardly, he's kicking himself, and those who know him well might recognize those small tells in his expression.

Cillian comes walking into the dining hall dressed in his dark leathers, dogger walking at his feet. Strapped to his back is a bow and a sword at his hip, his tired eyes look around to see w ho is here. He is quiet and the young man looks tired in more ways then just physicaly his helm is under one arm. Moving in he finds a place to sit down, his eyes look to Aella for a long moment nodding in her direction.

Deva smiles and waves at Gwenna, Acantha, and other faces she recognizes. Raymesin is not one of them, however, so she squints at the black-clad man and lifts her chin to inquire. "I don't believe we've met before! You are?" There's a glance toward the guards hanging out by the entrance, as if to ask some unvoiced question. "Countess," she grins at Aella, dipping her head toward the woman arriving with whiskey. Approved. "Cousin, settle in. There was some excitement while among our Grayson friends, yes," she indicates. "It is such a relief to see you all here and-- maybe not perfectly well, but well enough to be here. We have lost enough." After a beat, she looks around, "I'll open the table up to any concerns or questions before we dive into what happened at Bastion and what we can do to react. I don't want anything to get lost though, I know we're all busy and that it's hard for us all to meet often."

Raymesin inclines his head to Deva. "'Arlequin Raymesin," he says, betraying his Lowers origins the moment he opens his mouth. "Queen's Blade. 'Ope yer don't mind me comin' along, but I were one'a the folks in Bastion th'other day an' I figured yer might want questions answerin'."

Gwenna gives Raymesin a curious look, but nothing unfriendly or even lingering. When the man makes his introduction, there's a quiet 'aaah' sound that escapes her lips. Her brother's arrival quickly draws her attention and a wider smile, though a finger touches the bandages on her neck briefly. "Well, no one knew such would happen. It was supposed to be a grand event," is remarked a bit wryly. "I'm glad you didn't attend, though, or I would have been worried the whole time."

The bottle in Aella's hand is lifted toward Deva - a toast of a sort, before she gives Cillian a nod. "Blackwood," She greets him. There's a look around at the others, a squint of scrutiny at Raymesin when he introduces himself. It fades quickly, replaced by acceptance. She takes a deep drink from her bottle. "There was warning." Her eyes settle on Gwenna. "Sorry to contradict you."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Aella before departing.

Cillian looks to Raymesin when he introduces himself to the group a slight turn of his head but nods as everyone seems ok with him there, he settles into his seat his dog settling at his feet as he remains silent watching and listening.

"Perhaps we'll tackle this first, then, and if there remain any other matters to address afterward we'll do so," Deva changes course-- not shocking, really!-- but she clearly settles in with the weight of it all, shoulders slumped. "Ah, the Queen's Blade. Of course," she bobs her head toward Raymesin. "I think you'll find you're in good company. I know several of us in this room were there too, but I believe across the city," she indicates, nodding solemnly toward Gwenna in agreement. Fingers lift in a wave as Cillian joins them too. "We've known the Horned One has been a problem for-- gods, for a long time, but I wasn't aware of warning for _this_ specific event?" Confusion etches her face as she looks to Aella. "We certainly know what he -got-, which I'll get to in a moment. But please, any elboration," she looks around the room and gestures with upturned hands to indicate people can speak freely.

Raymesin nods to Gwenna, then gestures to Aella. "Some of us knew somethin' were up," he says. "I didn't bring my 'eaviest armour ter a party for no good reason." He finds himself a place to settle in, somewhere with food in arm's reach.

Raymesin has joined the Small Table.

"Yes, having to worry about your sibling would be terrible," Artur agrees somewhat dryly with Gwenna, giving her bandages a pointed look. Not fair! She made _him_ worry! Drink in hand, he moves over to give her a quick (but gentle!) squeeze and then drops into the seat next to her. He arches a brow towards Raymesin, but then nods at the explanation, seeming satisfied with that. For now, he's uncharacteristically quiet, listening rather than filling to space.

Artur has joined the Small Table.

"Not that I was made aware of," Gwenna replies to Aella with a smile. "Or I certainly would have avoided having to attend something that lead me to fight locusts and cultists, I can assure you, Countess." Glancing back to Deva, and then Raymesin, she bobs her head. "There is the True Song, which no few have attempted to clarify. 'When Traitor takes once dead queen's crown' being one of the lines, though which Queen's crown elicited no few guesses." Artur's remarks draw a dry, long-suffered look. "Now you know how I feel," she quips back affectionately.

"Aye." Aella agrees, when Raymesin mentions wearing armor to a party. A servant comes in and drops a note in her hand, which she skims quickly and then holds up. "I was invited by Princess Jerrica, my patron. Planned on wearing something pretty so as not to embarrass her. Princess Lou caught me afore leaving the city, mentioned there was word of some Shavs gathering around the city. Figured it'd be a raid. Nothing I haven't squashed before. But sent my ships along." The note is indicated then. "From High Lady Liara. Thanking me even though they didn't get there in time. She'll be in touch to communicate needs for refugess and the like."

Cillian has joined the Small Table.

Cillian looks between them all, "His attack on Bastion gained him something then?" he asks when he speaks its with that thick northern shav accent, "What did he get?" a steelsilk gloved hand moves to rub at a temple for a moment then looking to them, "I was not there, but I do know he is on the hunt for items."

"Ah. Awareness of trouble, but not quite that the city would be swarmed with such..." Deva chuckles darkly into her drink and nods along with Gwenna. "That. Exactly." Cheeks puff as she leans back in her chair, one hand dropping to adjust how her busted leg is propped onto a small box underneath the table. "I was with High Lady Liara, Duke Bisland, and the others as he broke into the crypts with, ah, beetles. Giant, demonic beetles. I've seen some things over the years, but the destruction was just--" Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, shaking off some vile memories. "He got the crown Princess Gwenna mentioned from the true song. Queen Alarice's, I believe? His dark forces physically broke into depths of the crypts that I can only imagine hadn't seen anyone in ages. So many were lost in the process."

Raymesin, at that piece of news, goes /white/, or at least several shades paler than he usually is. It's quite an achievement, given how pale he started out. "I... well, fuck. I figured as 'e'd gotten 'imself Bastion an' all the power 'e could eat from killin' folks, not /that/." He pulls his hood back and runs his hand through his hair, tugging the tie out while he's at it and leaving himself looking positively dishevelled. "Fuck!"

"If I'd known, I would have bothered to attend!" Artur all but pouts about it, taking a long pull from his drink. Gwenna gets a side-eye for her quip. "Well, I don't like it," he mutters, shaking his head gravely in a manner that is both joking but not. Turning more serious, he looks to the rest of the room, still listening closely. "He came for the crown but staged it in the middle of a party? Bastard." Like Artur expects anything less, really. "What else is he hunting?" he wonders a tad cluelessly.

Deva nods grimly to Raymesin, teeth briefly clenched together. "My sentiments exactly."

Gwenna plucks briefly at the tablecloth, her eyes focusing there as a memory or two from the night seep in. Looking up, she manages a bit of her polite smile again. "I stayed in the Cathedral. A dreadful woman, that I doubt was truly human, was beseeching those of us left to desecrate that holy ground. It was all we could do to fight and convince the people not to. I'm not sure what the interest was there. It sounded like no part of the city was immune to terrible things, though, and it's a blessing that those of us who gather here today, can." Raymesin's curses draw an arched eyebrow from the princess, but likely more due to the grave concern in his tone than the language. "So, it is worse than I had hoped. I thought, perhaps, it was just a piece in a long list of things, yet..." Her smile broadens a little as she looks back to Artur. "I'm sorry, truly. I thought I was being careful enough."

"Is there aught we /can/ do, at this point?" Aella doesn't look defeated so much as resigned. "I got as many folk out as I could, but I'm still having to check to make sure I'm alive. Shouldn't be." She doesn't bother listing off the things she faced, but a bitter look settles on her expression.

"It's very bad," Raymesin confirms to Gwenna. "I need ter borrow some'a yer messengers, there's folks as need ter know." He pulls some paper out of his cuirass and a pencil from a pouch, and starts scrawling a note right there at the table.

With a simple gesture, Aella's assistant - Bryndis, steps close to Raymesin to assist him in delivering missives.

Cillian nods his head, "So then he has gotten one of the things he searches for." he shakes his head, "There was a vision." he looks between them all, "A vision of cultists, blood. Wolves on chains let lose on villagers, a maddening buzzing." he closes his eyes as he speaks to them all, "Houses aflame, sacred items broken and relics stolen." he opens his eyes looking to them, "the images flashed to quickly but what I could pick out was A Parchment, a ring, a broach and a sword." he rubs his temples again. "He was there in his horned crown, features seething in pure hatred."

Artur gives Gwenna's shoulder a brief, reassuring squeeze. "Oh hush, don't be sorry. _I'm sorry_ I wasn't there to protect you," he murmurs quietly. He's turned properly serious now, for the moment, listening to the news of the party. "Parchment, ring, broach, sword," he recites, counting them off on his fingers, before smirking wryly. "Good thing that narrows it down nicely. We don't have many of those around to protect."

"Prepare. That's what we have to do," Deva tells Aella, her expression tight and grim for a moment. "Having seen what he was capable of first hand, it feels impossible. It feels heavy. But we have rallied before-- we, humanity-- and we'll do it again. We have to. There's no other option." As Gwenna shares her account, she sombers even further and stares at a spot on the table. It's something to focus on as the gravity sinks in. Eventually her gaze drifts to Cillian, brows inching closer together. "I did hear howls that day-- did any of -you- see wolves?" she asides, looking around at the others. "I'm not aware of these other items on the list, are any of you?" is her other question.

Gwenna nods her head to Raymesin. "Whatever staff we can provide, we will," she assures him and sends her own assistant off to gather up a few folks. That done, she looks back to Aella. "There is an Assembly of Peers very soon, and I imagine this will be an urgent topic of discussion. For the rebuilding of Bastion along with steps people are taking to stop the Traitor." She won't give the dignity of called him a god. Turning next to Cillian, she sighs. "We can hope it is just the one. I've had visions about the villagers, though it was as much a warning for things we were doing to stop him, as anything else. Though your list is a new one to me. A parchment, a ring, a brooch, and a sword." Artur's latter words draw a wry chuckle. "Indeed, brother. Thankfully, Princess Marian is in Farhaven to keep an eye on things there, but it is still a dire situation. One that the whole Compact will have to face." Then she shifts her gaze back to Deva. "He sends forth...well, they are more than wolves. They do his bidding and destroy entire villages. Literal lap dog slaves of the Traitor's. Snatching people who might further his cause, their names taken to become part of his hoard if not killed outright as a warning."

What Raymesin's writing is brief. It's probably just as well, because he's not a fast writer. He writes four identical notes, each one addressed differently and folded so that it'll be obvious if they're tampered with, then looks up at Bryndis and the other assembled messengers. "Thanks," he says, offering the notes over. "'Preciate it. Don't stop on th'way." And then he's looking around at the others. "So. Yer lookin' for parchment, a ring, a brooch an' a sword. But you ain't lookin' for just any of 'em. Yer lookin' for /legends/. Myths. Things as are symbols an' not just things."

Aella hesitates when Gwenna mentions the Assembly of Peers. Now she does look defeated. "So it will be. Had planned to be there, anyway, may be best not to bring up my matter of business." More whiskey is drained from the bottle in an impressively long pull. "Right. Prepare. Prepare... To defend against nine-foot tall knights with a hammer that smashes buildings and a mage on a centipede bigger than a building that makes vines grow out of nowhere and swarms of bugs so thick as to be blinding... Right." Bryndis nods to Raymesin, dashing off efficiently. The countess' free hand lits the pinch the bridge of her nose. "I'll rally my people. You know I will. Just feeling... all of it fresh yet."

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Raymesin before departing.

"If it was a lance or vamplate, I would have an answer, but swords..." Artur trails off thoughtfully, taking another drink as he muses. "Better than facing them all _unprepared_," he points out optimistically to Aella, before shrugging a shoulder. "If we knew exactly what he's looking for, then we could figure out where he'll be striking next. At least we could mount a proper defence." He sits back with a bit of a sigh. "I'd rather die facing him with a sword in my hand than caught unawares."

"Good timing on that assembly," Deva nods to Gwenna, a flicker of a not-so-grim smile there. Her palms rub together as the conversation continues, gaze bouncing as she eagerly soaks in the exchange of information. "Of course he'd pick wolves," she adds in a grumble, more than a little displeased about -that- particular decision. A hand lifts to sweep her hair back out of her face. "We don't lack for legendary swords, I don't think. I can't say I've heard much in the way of other jewelry though. Symbols. More belonging to Queen Alarice, or others?" she ponders with a tilt of her head toward Raymesin. "Right," she tells Aella, without an ounce of sarcasm. "It's a lot. But we have to have faith in ourselves, or the bastard has won already. There has to be a way. I think our efforts should be on figuring out what he will chase after next, and where that will be. Strike first. We may not win this with blunt force, but we're more resourceful and creative than we give ourselves credit for. The biggest of assholes have egos too large to admit they can ever be surprised."

Cillian looks to Raymesin nodding his head, "Your words are true, they will be legends. Items that perhaps went up against him in the past or something along that line from my understanding." he breaths deeply, "In the matters of the traitor, I would not so openly speak about it at the Assembly." he looks betwen them, "That would be foolish and dangerous for many."

Gwenna lifts one shoulder in a quick half-shrug. "The Assembly is for all matters to be considered before the Crown. Either way, I imagine, with everyone together, we will all get a clearer picture. I've seen the centipedes a few times, though others fought them. I suspect I am not alone and there are many in the Compact with ideas and talents to help. With all the gathered experiences, hopefully a plan will be put more solidly in place. If the Silent War, Pirate War, Pieros...all of these and more required an undivided effort." A few more bobs of her head follow the words. "Exactly, Artur. I've heard mention of a spear, in the past, that he was also seeking. The gods and spirits know your vamplate might even be a help, if it can be found. The crown mentioned in the song, like I said, drew numerous guesses. Hopefully others have more insight into this lists of objects. Surely they will."


Acantha was apparently listening and taking notes. The brunette countess with the large companion gives a frown to something, but doesn't mention it. There is a bit of a nod at the mention of looking for legendary objects, but she offers no words of her own for the moment.

"Dunno," says Raymesin to Deva, with a shrug. "If I knew I'd be doin' somethin' about it. But there is one thing as I'm gonna tell you folks, somethin' as the wisest person I ever met wrote down, 'cause right now I think you need to 'ear it. That the world is still a beautiful thing an' we live in a Dream, not a Nightmare, no matter 'ow much others might seek ter make us afraid. Th'Queen of Endin's embraces all as were returned to 'Er and the Sentinel will see as justice is done for th'wrongs committed against 'em."

Cillian shakes his head his hands go to his ears for a moment and a wave of something comes over him then he shakes it off, "When they day comes that he is destroyed then I will believe those words." his dog looks up and whines at him, a hand comes down to pat the dogs head, "I am sorry, I am tired I should take my leave. I will do all I can to help in what way I can." he gets up slowly any who know the young man knows something just looks off, like he looks ill.

"It's only by having these conversations-- not just in this room, but with people with experiences other than ours-- that we'll get anywhere," Deva says, a little quieter than usual. Her fingers lace together and slump on the table before her. The whiskey within reach is largely untouched. "The past," she repeats Cillian, brows furrowed. "History does have a funny way of resurfacing. Hm." A few more notes are scribbled on the sheet in front of her. "Undivided," she agrees with a tired smile and nod for Gwenna. Curiosity lights up her face as she regards Artur, and she tilts her head to the side while poking at her cheek with the end of her quill. "True enough," she murmurs, expression faltering as she nods to Raymesin. "Take care," she calls after Cillian as he retreats. "Did anyone have any questions of each other about what happened? I know this feels like a small step but I think it will take a lot of careful measures to get to a place where we know more and feel even a little ready."

"I haven't given up on that vamplate," Artur assures Gwenna with a nod. "And it seems maybe we'll need it more than ever." He gives a small smile to Raymesin's words of hope. "A nice sentiment. And I shall do all I can to keep it a Dream." Cillian earns a concerned look, but he nods again. "Take care and stay safe," Artur bids him. As to questions, he spreads his hands before him: "All I need to know is how I can best help. I'm only sorry I was not there to fight alongside you all."

Aella gives Raymesin a long look, uncertainty clear in her expression, but there's still a gratefulness underpinning her reaction to his words. As Cillian gets up to leave, she gives a bow of her head before turning to look between Gwenna and Deva. "No questions on this, not right now, and the other things I'd hoped to share and get guidance on... They seem selfish, now, so I can leave them aside."

Cillian has left the Small Table.

Akkar, Dodger, a black-and-tan terrier leave, following Cillian.

Gwenna watches Cillian with some concern. "I hope you feel better, my lord," she offers in a genuine tone. Raymesin's remarks quietly her for a moment, and she rises to fetch herself a bit of tea. There is a touch of a wry smile when she returns to the table. "I don't think I have any questions at the moment. It is almost funny how the past does seem to try to repeat itself, somehow. Perhaps for the betterment of us all, or so that we might do better? I don't know," is noted with a shake of her head. Once again, she gives her brother a warm smile. "It sounds like we will have battles yet to fight, Artur, and I can only hope to have your warhammer at my back." Her glance then shifts to Aella. "The world moves on, in war and otherwise. If there was a matter you hoped to discuss, you are welcome to do so. Or not, as you see fit, of course."

Raymesin nods to Cillian, then looks to Deva, then around at the other faces present. "I dunno about you lot, but I'm fightin' ter keep th'world a dream an' not a nightmare," he says. "But I should prolly let you folks discuss yer own stuff without me 'ere, if yer movin' on to 'Ouse business."

Gwenna offers Raymesin a warm smile. "Thank you so kindly for coming and sharing all the information you did," she says and sounds earnest. "If we can be of any further help or possible insight, please do not hesitate to reach out. As well, you are welcome to stay and at least eat a bit if you want while we discuss other business."

Deva leans back and watches with a determined expression, clearly something clicking in the back of her mind. "Countess, we fight these fights so we can continue living. Living isn't just fighting-- I mean, you can make it that way but -trust- me it's terribly uncomfortable and depressing and I don't suggest it," she grimaces and looks up for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with caring for yourself and your people, too. Or I'm happy to talk another time if you need an ear," she offers Aella. "We're all here to talk about everything, not just Bastion."

Deva also replies, "Me too. Me too." A crinkle-eyed smile bounces between Raymesin and Gwenna.

"I will always have your back," Artur promises Gwenna. "If you just let me know to show up next time!" He finishes his current drink and settles back in his seat, turning to Aella now. "Come on," he urges her playfully. "Tell us!" Now that the somber part of the meeting seems over, he is quick to return to his good cheer. "Maybe something a bit easier to beat up?" he adds hopefully.

"Clearlake will rally to Redrain and the Compact to help with whatever they can." Acantha states with a dip of her head. The Countess wasn't very talkative today, mainly taking in what had happened. But she was going to make sure that people knew that her House would come to the aid of others when needed.

Aegis, a large red Oakhaven bloodhound, Rurik, a prodigal assistant arrive, following Mirk.

Eira, 2 Bone Wardens arrive, following Volcica.

Mirk slips in quietly, very late but still present, and takes a seat near Acantha. He folds his hands in front of him, intent on listening rather than interrupting - at least when he just got here.

Gwenna manages a chuckle at Artur's words. "Well, a Seraph retiring didn't seem like the sort of event you'd enjoy, was all. Now you just have to come to everything," she teases. Acantha is giving a respectful dip of her head. "We are ever grateful for all House Clearlake does and contributes, Countess." Mirk and Volcica's arrivals draw a wide smile from the princess, and she lifts her hand to give them each a welcoming wave.

With a slow breath released, Aella nods to the others. "I've no problem with you staying and eating, Harlequin. Or hearing, for that matter. Nothing I have to say is a secret." She sets aside her whiskey and sits upright, attempting to pull her inebriated self into something resembling proper nobility. It mostly works - the tumble of unkempt hair breaks the illusion. "So, Ravenseye has been busy as of late. An old enemy of ours, the Mistborn, have been troubling the shipyard. Have some folk working on dealing with them. The miners found a strange vein in the mountains, Archlector Felix is helping to run some tests on the ore. And I've been reaching out to various parts of the Faith about using the area around the shipyard as a sort of base. Been hoping to build that area up, make it a proper trade port, welcome for the folk visiting Stormheart - since you gotta take the river into the mountains to get to the vale proper. The Great Road serves the vale." She pauses, looking up as Mirk enters to give him a nod of greeting. "Talked to Archlectors Felix and Porter, working on Archlector Roran and Aleksei Morgan, to have disciples of Mangata, Knights of Solace, Mercies, and Liberators have access to sea and land bases." Then, she hesitates, looking around at everyone, shaking her head to herself before adding the last bit. "And Stormheart is still perfectly positioned to elevate, with continued support from our liege and theirs to do so. I had thought to bring it up next Assembly. Afraid that seems like a doomed choice."

Volcica follows shortly after Mirk, moments only behind the Halfshav. She dinds an empty seat, gravitating towards Mirk and/or the Redrains, and settles in to listen. She probably has a lot of catching up to do. Of course she lifts a hand for a little wave to Gwenna.

"I know Elgana was so pleased," Gwenna begins. "When she worked with you to expand the shipyard, which lead to our investment inasmuch at the time. I'm glad to hear things continue to prosper. Challenges, too, in what you've described, but it sounds like you've no few great minds involved in them already. As for elevation, if all the proper authorities have given the approval, I'm unsure as to why you feel the matter would be a doomed choice. Is there a particular reason you feel this way? These matters tend to be already settled before the Assembly."

Benny perks up when Mirk appears, the beaver crawls over Acantha's lap, making the woman give a quiet 'oof' given his weight. Benny settles on that side of the chair so that he can see Mirk and still be by Acantha. Acantha gives a respectful bow to Gwenna and a smile. She then sobers to listen to Aella's words and there's a quirk of an eyebrow at the Mistborn. "I don't believe I've ever heard of the Mistborn." she admits. Maybe she'd missed it somewhere.

Raymesin acquires himself some food - not for the first time, if anyone's been watching - and listens to Aella lay out the doings of the day. That done, he nods and rises to his feet. "Yeah, that's all stuff I don't need ter be 'ere for, far as I know," he says, then nods to those in the room as he pulls his hood back up. "Thanks for the welcome an' the food, an' if yer need th'Queen's Blade just leave a note at th'Shrine'a th'Queen." And with that - and another handful of nibbles - he makes his way towards the exit.

Raymesin has left the Small Table.

Scarf, the violet serpent leaves, following Raymesin.

Volcica has joined the Small Table.

"Well, I'm sure it's still all somehow your fault," Artur insists playfully to Gwenna, regarding having missed the recent excitement. He silences then to listen to Aella, nodding to Acantha's question that follows. "Not sure I've heard of the Mistborn either. Is it something I can fight? I'm itching for something proper to fight..."

Deva continues taking some notes, looking up with a smile between Acantha and Benny and then watching the beaver reaction to Mirk's arrival. Volcica's is received with a finger-wiggle, and she gestures toward open chairs with a welcoming nod. "Thank you, Blade," she tells Raymesin with a grateful nod. "Very busy," she smiles after Aella, listening with her chin perched in the palm of her hand. "You and yours should be so proud. As Gwenna said though, why doomed? Have you had a chance to talk to Blackwood?"

".. I'm still not sure what all the fuss is about elevation," Volcica offers. "Can't we stay a March, or a County, and still grow our strength, and our lands? Especially for tbose of us bordering the Everwinter." She nods to Acantha and Aella, there. All three of them could always expand North. "I haven't heard of the Mistborn, either, but if you need help, Stahlben will provide what we can." A little wave is returned to Deva, as well. "Prince Artur, I'll have a fight for you soon enough, if Countess Aella doesn't."

Mirk reaches into his bag, and gives a twig to Benny as his customary treat, smiling at the animal. He nods to Acantha. "The Mistborn, hm? That might be something that needs to be dealt with, though that sounds like work for warriors."

Aella's nose wrinkles. "Had a letter, back before those Helianthus followers attacked the city, from one of the legates saying they couldn't recommend the elevation on account of anti-Prodigal sentiment being such that our elevation might spur traditionalists to civil war. Seemed to happen anyway, but things haven't exactly gotten any warmer toward us since. With the attack on Whisper House, and now Bastion, and all the new distrust that's brought? I'm expecting the peers to balk." Her attention flicks to Deva for a moment. "Aye, Blackwood is willing to release us and Crovane to take us directly. Everything is in place. There's not a single point I can think of for being denied... Except for being Prodigal." For Acantha and Artur, she explains, "THe Mistborn are a clan of SHavs off the Storm Coast. Northern isles, but not really Mourning Isles aside from being in that sea. Small, maybe a barony worth, in all. Wouldn't expect anyone not on the eastern side of the Northlands to know anything about them. Certainly can fight 'em, if you want. I won't say no. They're a pain in the ass." Volcica's question of elevation draws a confused look. "My people have done the work. THey've earned the right to proudly be in a march as opposed to a county. I didn't want to be countess, but my papa made it so. I don't want to be marquessa, either, but that's my duty. I oversee three times the land of my liege. It only makes sense."

"Oh, don't you dare tease me so," Artur replies to Volcica with a grin and a nod. He listens to the talk about elevation, frowning here and there, but seems more focussed on the part that might be fight-y. "I mean, if it's diplomacy you're after instead, I can try my hand at that too. For some strange reason, people sometimes seem to like me." He shrugs; mystery to him. "But I'll admit, with everything that's going on, I'm feeling a bit... warhammer-y."

Benny claps his paws together gently as he sees Mirk remove a twig and hands it over. He takes it and plops down next to Acantha again to eat what the Halfshav Lord had given to him. This causes Acantha to smile at them both, "Thank you, Lord Mirk." she tells him quietly. Then she gives a bit of a curious look, "Ah, I had not heard much about them, I will look into them more." she nods to this. "And if you will need help with dealing with them I am happy to assist in that." she adds. Then talk of elevations come and there is a bit of a sad look, "I've planned on seeing Clearlake elevated to a March eventually. But as Countess Aella has said, with the anti-prodigal sentiments going around it is going to be nearly impossible in this climate. Even if the house is considered to be a model prodigal house." she shakes her head.

"..Your people prosper, and you lead them well. They have pridein their ruler. Does a different title matter that much?" Volcica looks faintly confused. "Our elevation from county to march didn't really have much effect on the day to day lives of our people." She gives a shrug, though, as if to remind that that's only her opinion. "We can discuss it after Countess Aella's reports are wrapped up. I don't want to draw the topic away any more than I have." .

"And we are ever grateful for your presence on the borders of the Everwinter," Gwenna says to Volcica with a dip of her head. "All of yours, really. It is not a kind land to govern for any of your Houses." There is a bit of a laugh at Artur's words. "It's always my fault," is said dryly, but with affection. There are a few more nods at Volcica's words before she adds her own, similar comment to something Aella mentioned. "Nor have I heard of Mistborn before now. The gods and spirits know no few shav tribes cause incredibly disruption in our holdings." Shaking her head, her lips wrinkle. "I will say about the same thing I said before about the elevation. It will not be well-received by the peers, which you already know. Whether you oversee a third or ten times the land, the climate right now is not going to lead to it being seen favorably. The Voices of the Realm may be concerned about civil war breaking out, but that's something none of us can predict. If the Faith has given their blessing, perhaps there will be fewer grumbles, but grumbles nonetheless."

"Our Redrain history is of a people who band together because we share a desire to keep our people safe while also still being true to ourselves. I tire of lumping people together instead of looking to their actions and intent, and appreciating our individual strengths and experiences." Deva rubs the side of her face, brows knit together in mild frustration. Artur's mention of a warhammer lights up her face a bit, though.

"Of course it's always your fault," Artur informs Gwenna, as if this should be obvious. "Otherwise, it might end up being _my_ fault, and that's clearly wrong, so." That matter solved, he's back to sort of paying attention, although it's clear that the fight-y stuff is holding his attention far better.

Gwenna gives Artur a roll of her eyes and finishes her tea. "The bane of being the younger siblings," is quipped, but surely his attention is lost on thoughts of warhammering things with Volcica. The grin fades and she lets out a sigh, nodding to Deva. "Politics are the doom of many a Northener, as my mother was often fond of saying."

Aella stands, her stormy eyes flashing. "Aye, well, don't want to be Evil Prodigal Number One to the whole of the peerage for wanting the fair recognition anyone else would get, so I'll leave that bit be." She snatches up her whiskey bottle and begins to head for the door. "If any you lot want stab some SHavs, you know where to find me."

Gwenna is overheard praising Deva: For holding a Redrain Roundtable!

Volcica is overheard praising Deva.

Acantha is overheard praising Aella.

Acantha is overheard praising Arik.

Acantha is overheard praising Khanne.

Acantha is overheard praising Mirk.

Acantha is overheard praising Deva.

Artur is overheard praising Deva.

Mirk is overheard praising Gwenna.

Mirk is overheard praising Deva.

Mirk is overheard praising Artur.

Artur is overheard praising Gwenna.

Artur is overheard praising Aella.

Artur is overheard praising Acantha.

Artur is overheard praising Mirk.

Artur is overheard praising Volcica.

Volcica shrugs. "If we all put a big help into ousting the Su'Tavi, I don't think they'd be able to deny your elevations. We just have to separate ourselves, and theSu'tavi have been our enemies for.. a very long time. Longer than they've been enemies of the Compact, I think." Volcica looks to both Aella and Acantha again, but doesn't seem to have more on the matrer.u

Volcica is overheard praising Acantha.

Volcica is overheard praising Gwenna.

Volcica is overheard praising Mirk.

Volcica is overheard praising Artur.

Volcica is overheard praising Aella.

Gwenna pinches the bridge of her nose. "Ah, the Su'tavi. When you route them, can you see if they'll take me off their damned list? I'd like to not have to keep wearing armor," is remarked a bit wryly.

Acantha gives a dip of her head to those remaining, "Thank you all for the information." she tells them as she rises with a smile. Benny hops down from the chair and waddles at her side as they head out. She didn't have much else to add.

Benny The Beaver leaves, following Acantha.