Bruno, an energetic Wolfhound arrives, following Kaldur.

Icelyn has joined the a red banquet table.

With dominion taken up at a small table placed at the forefront of the great hall, Darren exudes an aura of warmth and personable charm while he interacts with his Voices and family members at length. House servants mill about with dogged efficency, ensuring not one guest is without some manner of refreshment within reach while guests still trickle in.

The Highlord watches over the arrivals keenly, a moment taken to familiarize himself with faces new and old. Now and then, there is a shared word passed between himself and that of Gwenna and Marian -- expression pensive, head canted slightly to the side. Eventually, he comes to a stand with a scrape of wood across stone, readying to address the faces gathered around him.

"Welcome," His smooth tenor is cast far and wide, booming, to ensure himself clearly heard. "It has been some time since the last time we've been able to congregate like this within these halls. And for that, you have my sincerest apologies. Some of you have gone far too long without my pretty mug within your eye sight." A meaningful pause for his humor, chuckling to himself. r
"Tonight is not merely for open hours to air your grievances, but to familiarize yourself with your bretheren and sisters who stand to the left and right of you. To look among yourselves and see hardy fellows united not only by geographical location, but culture that is rich and varied as the flaming reds of our beards and hair."

"The world around us threatens to upheave itself, with new threats crawling out of the shadows at every turn, but we stand united as family and allies, sharing that knowledge and enabling ourselves to defend and protect what we care about the most beyond ourselves."

"So I beseech all of you, if there is information that needs to be shared so that we're better prepared, do so now and openly. House Redrain, as always, will do the same."

Benny The Beaver arrives, following Acantha.

Arik arrives dressed like it's almost winter, he has a jacket on! Then promptly moves to grab a chair at the red banquet table, pulling out a hip flask while getting settled even calls out to the high table, "A drink for the High Lord, always a good sport after a duel."

Ian seems to be doing as much as he can not to impose, given that this is a Redrain meeting, and he's a Kennex. Fish out of water. He turned up early and, after delivering a bottle of vodka to someone on the staff (possibly as a means of bribing his way in), took a seat out of the way. He remains there, sitting out of the way, drinking occasionally from a flask. He looks like a man who could use a drink, with heavily lined features that speak to haggard stress and lack of sleep. Maybe the alcohol will do him good.

Marian stands by Darren and Gwenna, united in her want to serve her house. Her blood red hair is damp from a recent bath, her clothing freshly pressed. She doesn't stand on formality, when the call is made to raise a glass. She pulls out her own flask and raises for her liege. She then takes a sip and then offers it to Darren and Gwenna.

Arcadia has come straight from Prince Artur's turkey hunt. Scrapes of dirt are still present on her clothes and there's likely a twig in her hair. To make up for her atrocious state, she does hand off a giant turkey to a servant as she passes in. Finding the Halfshavs claiming a corner of a table, she goes over to join them. She just knows they'll have already gotten a bottle of the good whiskey.

Arriving almost last, Artur is still in his clothes from the hunt. Flushed and slightly exasperated, he moves over to the couch and drops down onto it, leaning back. "Go out for turkeys, find a boar." There's a grunt, and he lifts his own flask in agreement with Arik's toast as he takes a drink. He'll just be over here resting.

Icelyn arrives like a whisper, the Acheron General settling herself at the banquet table, though not before giving a deep bow to the Highlord and his companions at the front table. The scrape of wood on stone as she sits is drowned out by Darren's own as he rises. She gives a nod to those sharing the space with her, settling the rapier at her waist so it's out of her way. She has no drink, and waves the staff on when they try to offer one to her.

Rysen arrives with Lygeia in the Great Hall of House Redrain with Lygeia, trailed by a pair of guards. He accepts a glass of whiskey. He smiles to those at the red banquet table, and raises his glass in toast to Darren, Marian and Gwenna. Noticing Ian in attendance, he comes to stand beside the Sword of Stormward, while he scans the hall to see if other members of his family have arrived.

As Darren makes his opening, Geralt finds himself taking a drink of his whiskey and looking for an empty chair. He lifts his flask as Arik calls for it, and knocks back another mouthful, all too happy for more excuses to liquor up, of course.

Acantha arrives with Benny at her side. The beaver even has a little jacket on so he is presentable for the meeting as well. She finds herself a seat. A quiet nod given to those that she knows as she does settle in.

Mirk arrives a little early, so that he's seated and settled when the announcements begin, dressed more like a nobleman than a traveler for once. He's seated beside his fellow Halfshavs - and vassals - with both hands folded in front of him, eyes drifting from one face to another, as if waiting to see who might be the first to speak up.

Over at the hearth, Helena sits with a clear mug of a rich amber hue that steams a bit, those close enough can smell lemon and whiskey combined in the wafting vapor that comes from the vessel. She smiles when Darren greets everyone, but there's worry in her eyes as he talks of the things that would cause upheaval and havoc in their lives. Beside her, the Redrain scholar also has a journal open and a little skull inkwell for taking notes, it seems.

Wearing simple jewelry and leathers meant to evoke thoughts of the Northlands, Gwenna sits at the table with the High Lord and War Chief, a warm smile on her face and a familiar ledger set closed before her. As Darren makes his welcoming speech, she lifts her glass of white wine to toast and then drinks from it, a chuckle following at his mug remark, surely. The Redrain then offers no few familiar faces that same warm smile in greeting. Lorenzo, of course, gets the brightest.

Ian greets Rysen with a slight lifting of his chin and a personable offer of his flask of whiskey.

Not her usual array of black and precious metals, Willow is draped in pale and forest hues today, picking a place to sit near Mirk after a long look around, sizing up who showed and who hasn't. She got here close in tandem with the rest of those from the hunt but not a hair is out of place. Rather than a drink, she goes for haze to go with whatever is present to snack upon. Finally after a long look around, she asks loudly enough to project her voice, "Okay, so, I know that Ned was caught up with the Tolamar Brand stuff and the Silence, but I am curious if there were people serving the Silence in all domains Platinum is now putting roots in again, or is it something else which connects them?"

Darren loses a rough chuckle toward Arik, bringing his own stein of beer high within the air. "To the Northlands," he toasts in turn, bringing the rough-hewn mouth to his own to drink deep of his drink. Afterward, with the back of a hand wiping at his mouth, he says, "I did not prepare an exhaustive agenda of things to be addressed here today. But rather, I look to the heads of houses and their representatives present to bring forth reports of recent updates, be they good or bad, to be shared with us all here."

"I'll be addressing one situation that has been weighing heavy upon us all; rumors of Shav'Arvani bending the knee to not of the Compact, but a foreign presence here on our shores."

As Preston walks in he is certainly not one of those brothers and sisters - his blond hair most certainly not red, and he was born....well, somewhere. But probably not the Northlands. Still, he arrives in his wolfskin cloak that kept him warm up at Stormwall and he waits quietly at the edge of the room. The Templar Grandmaster gives a bow of his head to Darren and a small smile across to Marian. However toasts he does not join in with - the tee-total beast that he is. But the topic, ah, now /that/ interests him.

Lorenzo has settled in a seat near the hearth alongside Helena, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He's family but not by blood, yet he is as committed to the safety and success of the Northlands as anyone here. When Gwenna's gaze drifts over to him, he grins and casts a wink in her direction.

Arik has joined the line.

Rysen grins at Ian and holds up his own glass of whiskey, touching his glass to Ian's flask before taking a drink. Noticing Geralt enter, Rysen smiles and says, in a low voice, "It is good to see you, Uncle," but when Willow speaks, Rysen's storm grey eyes shift to her, and then to Darren.

The new minted and not red-haired Duke-consort of Crovane arrives, mailed and looking more Knight of Solace, of the Roads, than Duke or Northlander. A rangy and eager wolfhound heels him, one that folk might recognize as formerly glued to the side of Duchess Fianna. He knows many of these faces, more than he'd thought to, and moves to stand with Rysen, an arm held out for Arik to clasp, rough greeting, as they pass. Not the whiskey arm, of course - though maybe the whiskey arm if Arik is double-fisting it. "Cousin," Kaldur rumbles to Rysen and then, brows lifting, extends to include Geralt. He extends a hand to the Sword of Stormwall, deep voice a quiet rumble.

Rukhnis makes her way into the hall with her customary quiet unobtrusiveness, her dark eyes scanning those assembled, a bow going towards anyone who looks her way. She bypasses food and drink and charts an unerring course for the fireplace, where she takes up a spot well within the circumference of its warmth, though not too close to Helena and Lorenzo to intrude on their space. Each of them, of course, also receives a formal and courteous bow.

Rukhnis has joined the by the bear claw hearth.

Arik snags Kaldur's arm as he reaches out giving it a hearty tug even as Willow raises a question for the room.

Darren reclaims his seat, his attention drawn toward Willow at the question she presents. Pensively, he turns a brief survey over the faces around him before requesting, "If you could better clarify that question, Lady WIllow, perhaps we'd be beter able to answer it."

Ian has joined the line.

Having nothing on this question that could be helpful, Artur is just going to listen for now over where he is, settled into place to listen to the conversations around him and be mostly behaved.

Marian turns her keen eyes to Willow, her brow arched at her initial question. Then she moves her hands in front of her, tucking away the flask as she waits for Willow to provide more details on her thoughts.

Empty hands palm down on the table in front of her, Icelyn leans forward, scanning the room with sharp eyes for anyone who has information on this question. She makes no move to stand or speak herself.

Rysen bows respectfully to Kaldur. "Cousin," he says with a smile. Turning back toward Darren, he adds quietly, "Looks to be an interesting meeting already."

Hearing Rysen, Geralt turns to the man, and gives a wide smile. "It's bloody good to be seen, isn't it?" with a small chuckle, before looking to Darren and Willow, watching, listening. As Kaldur arrives and proffers a hand, Geralt clasps the man firmly by the forearm, giving a good few pumps before letting go, and speaking softly to the man in hiw own gravelly, rumbling whisper.

Arcadia takes a swig of whiskey before her eyes settle on Darren. She mutters something with a cheeky grin to Willow mostly before glancing at Geralt, with great amounts of curiosity on her face.

If Gwenna has any feelings in regard to Lady Willow's words, they aren't betrayed by her expression. The princess glances around the the hall to gauge the expressions of others, however, and then Rysen's remarks draw an amused grin. "Are any of them not so," is half wondered before her attention returns to the Nightgold noblewoman.

Rysen checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 5 lower.

"I know that Platinum is Rex'alfar. I know that there was some sort of connection between my late uncle Neddim and the Bringers of Silence. I am not sure what the connection between the silence and the Rex'alfar was or is, but it makes me curious if Stonedeep is unique in that regard or if all the places where he is flipping Shavs also has a history with the Rex'alfar, and/or the Silence, or if it is something else behind the selection."

"I do not think anyone yet can say what the intent or meaning is behind the Platinum Empire's actions or choices." Preston cautions as he straightens to speak "But, I am aware of a great deal. I think you will find their interest and actions now have more to do with Cardia and their actions. Just as the Gods move and the Dark Reflections move in turn, so it is with the two Empires. And we are simply the ballroom for their destructive dance." Preston bows his head to Darren "If that helps, your grace. If others know better, I am certain it would be of interest."

Ian clears his throat. He shifts, starts to rise, then decides against it. "Uh --" Finally, he raises his hand. Yes, raises his hand, like he's a kid in school (although it's a good bet that in school Ian was never one of those kids with his hand up all the time), hoping to be called on. Probably Kennex should have sent someone here who has social skills, but they didn't. They sent Ian.

Inclining his head toward Rysen in agreement, Darren takes a moment to compose his thoughts before he delivers an answer toward Willow. "First and foremost, the Platinum Empire is an entity separate from that of the Rex'Alfar in the reference to that of those who manipulated and preyed upon the willingness to do good in the name of the Compact in order to push them toward unleashing the Silence," he starts with that. "Though I hesitate to speak on the original story of his background in the event that I misconstrue details without the references here, immediately, at hand," he looks ready to pass the baton, so to speak, to anyone far more knowledgeable than him.

"The Rex'Alfar and the Undying Empire are at odds to a certain degree, Platinum became a metallic despite his heritage and not because of it. It's far more likely that this is what has happened before... The Horned God on behalf of the Slaver went to the shav'arvani and said... Your ancient rites are killing you, there's a poison on the land. Join me and be free of it... So they turned to the Horned God over the Compact. We've just got done slaughter prodigals who joined the Compact in the Oathlands. It's no shock that shav'arvani on the border of the oathlands are taking an offer for protection from someone else besides the compact, they've always looked to choices that let them keep from kneeling." Arik remarks in the seeming tide of helpful information for the Nightgold Voice.

Rysen blushes furiously when Gwenna speaks, but he grins and says, "Only when the Oathlanders hold them, Your Highness." The Crovane lord then listens as Willow speaks, and glances over his shoulder as Preston speaks of Cardia. He quickly hands something to Lygeia, and passes the briefest glance at Marian, before giving his attention to Darren and Arik.

Lygeia, a calligrapher and alchemist arrives, delivering a message to Marian before departing.

Arcadia gives a small nod at Arik's words, yet doesn't offer any further information or comment for the moment.

Gwenna's smile broadens with amusement at Rysen's reply and the Redrain dips her head toward the Crovane nobleman before focusing back on the topic at hand. There are a few more nods and then she slips a small book from her backpack and opens it to make some notes. The mirth of moments before fades into thoughtfulness.

Marian tells those that are listening,

"/We/ did not slaughter the Prodigals, Lord Arik. Though I accept that to many it may seem that way. Agents of the Abyss, men like the traitor Aramis Fournier, set that in motion." Preston says, though his voice remains calm and warm - even if a littel strained as Lord Aramis' name rushes from his tongue, as though the Templar cannot bear to have it in his mouth for longer than a moment "The Great Road upset balance. It created chaos. In chaos, opportunity for the agents of the Abyss. But also for those of the Great Empires. But we have also been freed to act openly - and we remain grateful for the work Redrain troops did as the anvil on which the Malardin tribes were crushed by the Oathlands...ah, now, I'm not allowed to call it a crusade. Hrm. Large gathering of fervantly religious warriors with a singular cause under the banners of the Faith." The last is said with a little bit of a grin as the grandmaster runns a hand back through his hair.

Geralt has joined the a red banquet table.

Arik lifts his hip flask in a salute to Preston, "As the Grandmaster said, foreign influences abyssal influences fanned the flames of civil strife from the Great Road... But to the shav'arvani's eyes we did it and that is all that matters to why they would seek to kneel to foreign powers."

Rysen nods in agreement with Arik. Glancing at Ian, Rysen says softly, "If you have aught to say, My Lord, please raise your voice. You are our ally, and your voice would be most welcome here."

"The, uh... Platinum hasn't been shy about wanting nothing to do with the abyss." Prompted by Rysen, Ian seems to have finally worked up the courage to just talk. "So I'd be surprised if their new colony is anything to do with the Silence. But supposedly Platinum's also big on control, so I'd be surprised if they didn't have to bend the knee in some way. Maybe in a way more binding than they'd be subjected to with the Compact. If I had to take a guess, my guess would be that the Undying Empire did what my House did -- promised to protect them." A pause. "And I don't think the Great Road was what caused all the chaos. It made for a good opportunity for someone else to cause chaos."

Marian pulls out a few field reports that she has on hand and joins in with Preston's words, "Yes, I can concur with Sir Preston that those that killed the prodigals were not members of the Compact in good standing but those corrupted." She motions to herself, "I stood myself as the anvil with the Templars' forces." She growls under her breath as Arik speaks again and is rather blunt as she asks him, "Have you spoken to these shav'arvani? Because I have not. So I do not know why they have made their choices. And by all accounts of the field reports in my hand, they have not spoken to our people, just moved on when approached, over the border to the Oathlands to avoid conflict." She looks around the room, "For now, unless one has given testimony or bore witness, this is speculation."

Kaldur lips press flat at the easy scapegoating of the Road for the evils of mortals, it is a shorthand he has come to grudgingly accept. Very grudgingly. It is a grimly appreciative look he offers Ian when the Kennex lord speaks.

"This isn't new. Is kneeling to a foreign power any different than kneeling to the abyss. They hate us and they blame us for their woes. I don't need to talk to the shav'arvani to see a repeat of things done time and again." Arik points out with a sniff from his seat at the red banquet table.

Gwenna pinches the bridge of her nose a moment, but lowers her hand and nods her head when Marian addresses things. "Indeed. The information I've received as well seems to indicate that the Shav'arvani do not all blame us, though their lack of love or trust of the Compact seems marginally the same. Yet there are those that bend the knee, as Lord Ian has remarked. House Kennex and House Greenmarch, to name just two, have been able to bring great numbers under their banners and for the Compact. So, it seems, not all the Shav'arvani hate us and blame us for their woes, otherwise I doubt so many of their numbers would now be part of our fellow Houses."

"I wasn't aware the prodigal Houses we have taken into the Compact in these past years knelt to the abyss prior to kneeling to their lieges. I think mayhap there are degrees of separation between House Greenmarch, House Stahlben, House Clearlake and these Banner shavs kneeling to the Platinum Throne." Arik calls out from the table with a shake of his head.

Willow mutters, "Gods alive, Geralt is even bigger than twelve year old me remembers."

Rysen's eyes fall on Arik. "There's an enormous difference between the Undying Empire and the Abyss, but," Rysen says, addressing all in the room, "the fact remains that a foreign colony on the doorstep or inside the Compact cannot happen. I think Princess Marian has a good point. Even if the Shav'arvani have made their decision based on the persecution of members of the Compact, Platinum likely knows more, and would not send an Emissary to lead tribes of Abandoned without far deeper reasons, as some people here have suggested. The Undying Emperor likely believes that we cannot face whatever threat the The Horned God and Slaver are bringing - and uncovering the true goals of the Archfiends and their heralds should be a very high priority."

Mirk has joined the line.

Ian takes a drink, and then angles his head towards Rysen.

Marian nods on Gwenna's words as if to support that, "There are those Shav'arvani who may still respond to diplomacy first rather than the blade." She takes a deep breath and then carefully tells him, "Regardless, these three Abandoned tribes, if they are under the protection of the Undying Empire, no matter how vexing that may be, to attack them now could bring war to Arvum if this matter is not handled delicately." She motions to Gwenna, "Princess Gwenna is putting together a group to seek parlay with these tribes and get more information. For the time being, there is no want to draw our swords." She gives a nod to those that comment on possible motives, "I truly hestitate to speculate until further talks are done." Then she nods to Mirk to stand and speak.

Arcadia asks, her voice a little unsure "Do we know where these tribes are moving too? On which direction?"

Well, Preston certainly doesn't want to get in the middle of the blunt words, so he skirts around it a little "There are multitudes in the Abandoned. Some fear us, some hate us, some admire us. Some Oathlands tribes even think people like myself are far too liberal, enough to be heretics, and that we have lost our way from the Faith. When we speak of the Abandoned in broad terms, it paves over a great many cracks. Everything true in general, nothing true in particular. Each tribe an exception to the stereotype." Preston looks over at Marian for a moment before he then lets out a small sigh and adds "It should be perhaps mentioned. I know the story is that my forces and others defeated 3 abandoned tribes in Blackram lands. The Reaper and her band, and two tribes of Malardin. The truth is we defeated one tribe of Malardin - the other tribe had turned to ash. Not burnt, for their armour, their tents, it was all unscathed. But they had turned to ash. Those who professed to worship Cadia, turning to the Abyss. To understand Platinum, we must also understand that."

Acantha has joined the West Alcove.

Kaldur's voice is pitched into his lower registers, grave and gravelly, after the Warchief's announcement of a diplomatic mission, "We can only hope her Highness reaches these folk before others more proximate and less judicious do." To her Highness, Gwenna, "If I can aid that venture, call on me, Highness." Preston's tale of foes made ash draws a straightening from Kaldur, shoulders squared and something like an oath or a prayer to his lips.

Mirk rises to speak, once indicated, and says, "A related threat is House Thornweave. I've heard word that ten of the Thornweavers were heading north, and reports coming out of the region controlled by the Undying Empire indicates they're near the Northlands. Some of them will likely turn their attentions towards the Oathlands, but some of them might be headed towards Farhaven or other parts of the North. Each of them is an ancient Sylv'alfar, powerful in the ways of their people," meaning magic, likely, but without just saying it, "and utterly mad. Perhaps influenced by the Horned God's ilk, perhaps a madness entirely of their own making."

Acantha finds a spot to settle and listen to what is going on. Benny gets scooped up and put into a seat next to her with a small branch of wood so he's not tempted to run off and cause mischief. The Baroness gives a look to those that go up and speak, listening to Mirk and others intently.

"And potentially a threat that the Undying Empire is protecting these banner shavs from." Arik tags onto the end of his cousin's topic.

:grunts at Mirk's words. 'More proximate and less judicious' is Thornweave heel to crown. He shakes his head.

Gwenna takes a long sip of her wine and then settles her attention on Rysen, then Marian, nodding her head. When Preston speaks, the Redrain blinks a couple of times, mild surprise evident on her features. "I will indeed, Duke-Consort Kaldur, send word once more definitive plans are made. It seems, for the time being, our best course is one of hopeful communication." Turning next to Mirk, she's quiet a moment once he finishes before saying, "There are those who might be able to help counter their power, though much of that is rumor. Some...perhaps not. Those avenues, too, should be investigated, if they have not already been."

Ian starts to raise a hand, then lowers it. "Do you guys have any -- sorry, this is weird." He pushes a hand through his hair. "... Any unicorns or things like them in Farhaven? I think the Horned God is still looking for stuff like that. Maybe they're doing his dirty work."

Rysen listens to Mirk as he speaks. His expression darkens at the news, and he takes a drink of whiskey, saying to Kaldur with a wry grin, "Looks like you made the right call." Something Ian says to him makes him laugh, and he nods in agreement.

"'We should all be with the Thornweavers - they have come to return the lands to its rightful state. They will cleanse the unharmonious, and we shall all know the peace and sanctity of His will. Cast off the burdens of the one mind, and take on the shackles of Serenity.'" Preston quotes as the topic comes up, his eyes rolling a little after he is finished - he clearly doesn't think much of the statement, and well, everyone's a critic.

Arik mutters, "... only the ... ... less creepy, who wants shackles ... serenity... Yeesh."

Icelyn snorts from her position at the red table, shaking her head in distaste.

Marian shakes her head at Ian's ask, not voicing words to go with that. Instead she takes a deep breath and almost chokes at Preston's words. Once again, the warchief keeps her consul. Instead she has to ask, "Is there other business that needs to be discussed? Perhaps some more mundane since our current circumstances leave for more questions than answers?"

Lifting a brow, Willow listens quietly to Preston before asking him, "What are you quoting? That is deeply unsettling."

Gwenna nods her head at Preston's words. "From the Seraph of Fireside, when we traveled all together to attempt to bring that situation to heel. "'We must all know his will. The Thornweavers belong to the Horned God, who show us the way. See its beauty and become one with all.'" Looking to Ian, her head shakes. "I've not heard reports about them, my lord, but have been told a bit about the creature. Or what has been written of it, at least."

Geralt's face scrunches up at Preston's quotation, and he seems to find the words displeasing. "Well that's fuckin' creepy, now ain't it?"

The talk of Thornweave and the Horned God draw a shiver from Helena as her brows draw together. She toys with the mirrored charm on her wrist before bringing her mug of hot whiskey to her lips to sip from once again. "Can I ask how many had the dream of the thorns in the frost? Asking 'oldsouls' to stop them?" she asks, softly, one hand lifting to count herself among those who had the dream.

Preston catches Marian's reaction and offers a bow of his head, and then WIllow asks before he can offer the answer "My apologies, Princess. It was the last words of the Seraph of Fireside before his death, as Princess Gwenna says. A moment of lucidity or...something before his end. I am sorry that such an infestation was allowed in your lands, you have my apologies that some of my brothers failed their duty and defended it rather than remembering their duty. Though the Faith is grateful for the restraint and piety of the Redrain, as always."

"Technically Sanna lands, they were Sanna Vassals." Arik says before a deep swig of whiskey from the hip flask.

"I know of at least seven, though you'll understand if I don't name them. I myself was not among them," Mirk supplies, at Helena's question. "So likely more than that, but how many I cannot say." By way of explanation, he adds, "Several asked the opinion of a shaman on such matters."

"What -- I haven't heard of this," Ian breaks in, still with that hesitance in his voice like he's not sure he should be talking. "What was the dream?"

Despite the gravity of things, Gwenna allows the hint of a grin at Geralt's remark. Dipping her head in his direction, she adds, "The Seraph then twisted his own head until it snapped." Her brows arch when her cousin Princess Helena speaks. "I did not have such a dream, though..." She looks to Mirk and half-wonders, "At least that many?" Preston's apology draws her regard back to him. "Grandmaster, there is no apology necessary. Few seem immune to these darknesses and we would hardly lay blame for such a thing upon your brothers. We are grateful for your unfailing and continued support."

Rysen chuckles and nods at Geralt's comment. He takes a drink of whiskey thoughtfully as Helena and Mirk speak of foreboding dreams, and a slight smile touches his lips when he hears the words exchanged between Gwenna nd Preston.

Kaldur shakes his head at Helena's question, "I have had no such dream." Though he looks around to see if any admit to as much, returning to Helena, since she brought it up. "Did you have such a dream?"

"It was a novel party trick, I will give the Seraph that. Though, I am sure others will claim it was part of a grand Templar conspiracy to murder those we dislike. Seraphs who mix shamanism and Petrichorian worship into some new Church suddenly breaks his neck in our custody. Lord Aramis Fournier happens to burst into flames and be reduced to ash in our custody. I am forever curious why people do not think, if I had killed an enemy of the Faith, I would ever hide it behind an excuse." Preston's shoulders lift in a shrug and he bows his head once more to Gwenna "The failure of a child reflects on the parent, the failure of a brother on the brother. So the failure of Templars requires at the very least an apology from me. It could have been over sooner and less disruptively if they had held to their duty. But. I shall be quiet and cease disturbing things with odd recounts of the various threats around this. Suffice to say, we must understand it all to understand the Platinum. And if you do understand it all, you are doing better than me. There are so many gaps."

"High Lord Victus Thrax recounted the dream in his White Journals I believe if you wish to read it at the archives after this." Arik calls helpfully to Kaldur.

Marian has left the Small Table.

Ender, a Silver Gyrfalcon have been dismissed.

Ursa have been dismissed.

2 Redrain Guards have been dismissed.

The gazes in her direction make Helena drop her own, despite having asked the question, but she settles it back on Arik after giving a nod to Mirk for his response. "In the dream of the Oathlands, a wall came up of thorns. The weather changed to autum and then winter. There was a voice - -it sounded famliiar, that said Duke Arn had slain one of the Thornweaves, but others remained and were mad. The voice said Oldsouls may rise to the challenge, and that we may be able to stop them but to be careful, because they are mighty." She bites her lip, flushing just a little from speaking when she had apparently not really planned on it. "From what I have learned, not all reincarnated souls have had the vision, but as you say," she nods to Rukhnis, "depending on our nature or our pasts, some of us have."

Darren sports a pensive expression for much of the discussions revolving around the mythical. "I have a feeling you are going to be spending a few extra hours catching me up on this," he utters toward Gwenna in hushed sidelong. "I'm not ashamed to admit much of this information never made it back to me in Farhaven in any report I can recall." He issues a mild sigh, a grim amusement birthed at Preston's aired grievances. "You'll find no such thoughts harbored here within these halls, Grandmaster. As Princess Gwenna says, we remain confident in your unfailing ability and preference to rather publically, if necessary, do away with enemies of the Faith."

The Highlord clears his throat, aimming his attention toward Acantha, Arcadia, and Kaldur specifically. "Countess Stahlben, Duke-Consort Crovane, and Baroness Clearlake," he calls upon them. "Within your lands, have there been any troubling reports or other happenings of note you wished to seek aid with? Projects or otherwise, as well, are certainly welcomed too."

Nodding along as she listens, Willow follows the flow of conversation before telling Preston, "Honestly I was concerned about what was happening at Fireside, so I just went directly to Legate Bianca about it, but then, I didn't realize that it was legitimately insane, and my concerns were incredibly specific." She frowns a bit as she listens.

"Oldsouls," echos Rysen thoughtfully. "Any idea what that might refer to?"

"Reincarnations." Arik offers as he is evidently shaking his hip flask now with a frown. It's empty.

"Supposedly souls that have done the same thing a lot over and over are powerful or something," Ian offers unhelpfully. "Or the stuff they do has more impact. Or something."

"House Stahlben has distant reports of the banner shav within their domain." Arik chimes in evidently after a brief chat with Arcadia and some hand gestures.

"Similiar to the others, edges of the territory no encampments." Arik belatedly adds on.

Gwenna grins as Darren and offers a single nod. "I have some other matters to catch you up on as well, so will be happy to so later tonight," she offers. She then nods toward Rysen after Ian speaks. "That, exactly. It has been my hope to look into my own soul, but other things keep taking my attention in those directions."

When Acantha is called upon the woman stands, giving a bow to the High Lord, "Clearlake has not heard of any happenings in their lands and the last incident that we had we managed to work with Grand Master Preston and a few others to deal with that. We have no projects at the moment that we need assistance with at the moment, thank you." she gives another bow and then sits back down. Benny pats her arm when she does.

Arcadia glances to Arik before addressing Darren, "We have had some reports. Mostly the same from when I joined House Stahlben. Worshippers of the maw, and issues surrounding that."

Rysen nods to Arik and Ian, and then turns to listen to Acantha and Arcadia as the speak of Clearlake Hold and Bonespire near the Everwinter.

Darren inclines his head toward Arik and Arcadia's responses. "Has there been any investigations into those matters? One would have thought that such issues would've quieted for a time after the war." He leans forward in his seat, a couple of fingers rubbed against his jaw. To Acantha, a ghost of a smile is readied with a firm nod. "No news is, hopefully, good news. Perhaps you'll be amenable in spear-heading a few efforts, then, on my behalf?"

Having made a few needed notes and then passed them about, Gwenna smiles warmly to Acantha and nods her head. "Please don't hesitate to send word if that changes, Baroness." Her smile broadens when Darren mentions having her lead some efforts for him. When Arcadia mentions the Maw, she doesn't seem surprised by the word. "I think Princess Elgana had previously done some research regarding that as well, Your Grace. I think it stemmed from her hopes to find more history on Queen Valeria."

Arcadia shakes her head, "Unfortunately no. Since the great road we get pilgrimages to Bonespire. Whether they are true believers of the maw of the blizzard or just lovers of the stories of the Everwinter and the maw I can not be sure. But we are researching those matters and will keep you abreast should we discover anything of merit." She brushes a hand through her hair and unintentionally scatters a leaf and twig onto the table.

Acantha stands again and there's a dip of her head to Darren, "Whatever I can be of assistance on." she states to him. There's also a smile given to Gwenna and a dip of her head, "I will do that." she tells her.

Ian settles back to listen again. He takes a drink from his flask.

Willow has left the a red banquet table.

a massive cat with long black fur have been dismissed.

Intrigue, a sleek, diminutive raven with blue-black plumage have been dismissed.

Beelzebubbles, the feline overlord you've been waiting for arrives, delivering a message to Artur before departing.

"Should you require any assistance with ongoing research efforts, we'd be happy to do what we can to support you," Darren relays to Arcadia in earnest, then gathers himself to a stand to address the congregated vassalage and guests. "If there are no more concerns to be addressed with myself or my Voices openly, then we can draw this meeting to a close. I'll be taking all that has been shared here today under advisement to develop a plan on how I'd like to proceed with investigating the matters of the growing forces under the Platinum Empire and just what exactly their intentions are. We want to be for certain before discussing any action to be taken against or for them."

"Aye, I walked one of those pigrimages myself. Across all of Arvum, everywhere the Great Road runs, save Duskshire which I've recently returned from." He shakes his head, "We saw little on the way, but some of crows, and the Horned God, something stirring or... steeping near Aviaron's Peak. I feel this may have been disseminated before."

"High Lord, one more question if you'll indulge me." Arik calls to the high table while tucking his flask away and adjusting his coat.

Arcadia sits and listens to Mirk then. She does lean over to whisper something to Geralt after.

Darren turns his gaze upon Arik and gestures with a hand, "Of course," he invites.

"While each House has the right to defend its own borders... Does House Redrain have a stance on whether they would prefer retaliation against the banner shavs are withheld or discussed with lieges prior to doing them? I am sure no single northern House wants to be known for sparking a war spanning the northlands let alone the whole of Avrum, but should we be raided you would like us to do...?" he trails it off leaving it to Darren to fill in.

From where Geralt listens as the others speak, he turns to Arcadia as she whispers, brow liftning, and he leans over to whisper softly back.

"House Redrain has never meddled in the affairs of its vassals. What a House does within the realm of their own lands will remain as that; their own, with no interference from its liege unless such a circumstance arises that we absolutely must step in," Darren replies to Arik. "And I'd hope it'd needn't be said that starting conflict with the Undying Empire and the clans who now fall under their protection would be foolish, especially when they've shown no aggression toward any of the patrolling forces of the Compact that they've encountered thus far. But if that changes, it's a topic to be visited when we cross that bridge. Dealing in the realm of hypotheticals is messy business otherwise."

Arik dips his head to Darren with a grin, "If we're all lucky they'll go to Everwinter and freeze to death. If only."

With the meeting looking like it's breaking up, Ian takes one last long drink and puts his flask away. A look to the high table (such as it is) before he braces himself and uses his cane to force himself to his feet suggests that he intends to talk with someone In Charge, although he's probably not particular about who.

Beelzebubbles, the feline overlord you've been waiting for arrives, delivering a message to Artur before departing.

"If that's all," Darren pauses meaningfully to give someone time to interrupt him. "Then I'll call this meeting adjourned and linger around to socialize."