Mavic listened distantly to the group making plans for interrogations and investigations, Eshanna hunched uncomfortably upon her horse a step behind him. Suddenly he turned his mount to the group, his decision made.
"My business in Istivin begins with the Marchioness, and practicality suggests that seek out some," he paused, spitting out the word, "sponsor. Therefore I shall be going to yonder keep, both to seek out such and I shall inquire upon the commander of such on the status of some of the villas that the hightful-devils depleted residents of. 'Shanna, yea needs must remain here upon the gate where our cheerful fellows shall enter and demand a friendlier face than yon guardsmen," Mavic said, turning to the disfigured priestess and then back to his sturdier companions.
"If such a residence may be persuaded or procured then it should be more secure than any hostel whereupon strange faces might preen us out. M'thinks that Istivin still be a place where ears pay upon doors, and with darker intentions perhaps coursing behind them. I shall take two of my men with me to mark my station. Hrm," he paused to rub at his now non-existant beard and frowned at its absence. "Roen, you did well in piecing out that turn of phrase we were working on in your letters on the boat. Ye may aid the missus Latalya...and maybe teach her a thing or two about pies, perhaps? Anders, yea shall sit here and do such tasks as 'Shanna see's fit. No more begging coin just because the folk wear gold, here?" Merres, the grizzled-looking veteran picking at the rock in his boot, nodded approvingly.
"Aye boy, I think there shall be plenty of time to recite for me the 27 madnesses of Tuerny while we wait," the priestess said darkly, much to the amusingly glum look of young Anders.
"Merres, Mishell? You shall be mine escort. What come before and what come since... Unless any find some fault with this? I'll not be having some jackbooted bandit with a winning smile weaseling m'family lands and honors away because I'm too simple to hop when m'liege dotes it." His face and tone were carefully, steadily neutral with a forced-looking smile. He flicked a non-existant piece of road lint off from the back of his riding gloves, "Who knows? Perhaps I'll even still have kin here, some cousin of stamina that will have us all atide in gossip and mulled wine before tomorrow morn - and Morely married off to a Duchess." By his forced chuckle, even Mavic did not believe his words.
"Or maybe we'll be ahip in blood and battle either." Mavic's eyes danced dangerously. "And what better way to show the people that they are loved and we are truly home?"
