"Grand evening, Beloved."

The Priestess of Rhilshen, wraith-pale and crimson eyed, all shadow-and-alabaster, lifted a jade-glazed teacup with both hands, gravely saluting Lucien before offering him a tentative smile. "Well met," she answered, leaning close enough to mirror his chaste kiss to the cheek.

Lucien glanced away for a moment, sending a saluting wave back to the young Tasha Oberon and to Taneth, spying her as well. He lowered his head to speak in quiet, private tones to the Priestess. "How was your day?"

"Quiet. Ah. . . thoughtful. A bit disturbed. Frustrated. And worried." Alysia counted off these points on each of her fingers, then held up her hand. "I'm alive in and one piece, which is more than I can say for some. And you?" She took a step closer to the barrister, nudging him with her hip.

He took a hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm of it. A crooked, humorless grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he slipped his arm around her as she stepped closer. "I'd say I'm about the same. On all those accounts."

"Hah." Alysia offered a smile which showed the points of her fangs and generally gave the impression of brooding amusement. "One of my Generals has gone missing. I suspect something happened to him somewhere around here, rather than Rhilshen," she explained.

Lucien's brows furrowed into a frown. "In Rhydin? What makes you suspect that?"

"A very strange woman - she was wearing his cloak - found me here and made some very strange comments before bequeathing me with. . . well, with what was probably one of his eyes. And, he'd left Rhilshen, with some business to attend to here." Alysia shrugged eloquently and looked away, feeling a flash of guilt. The Priestess had made but one attempt to scry Ayreg's location, and what little she had discerned had so proved so wretchedly unpleasant that, without thinking, she'd immediately shut the green-irised orb back up in a casket and locked it in her tower. She recalled Belial had taken possession of the discarded cloak and wondered if the elegant lady had managed to track the death knight down.

Howe moved up behind Lucky and Alysia. "Well, well, well, look what the cat has dragged in. Barrister. How lovely to see you. Isn't it wonderful seeing the Barrister, Mister Dewey?" The lawyer was speaking to his partner, Dewey, but didn't look away from Lucien.

Lucien nodded to the Priestess as he watched Howe approach. He found a pleasant smile for the DCH partner. "Howe. I see you've calmed down considerably since the last we met."

"Yes, yes, quite calm. Things are going well for us at DCH." Howe smiled widely, with a dark chuckle.

Apparently indulging his partner's mood, Mr. Dewey just smiled warmly over to Lucien and Alysia. "A true pleasure as always, Mister Howe." He inclined his head toward Lucien. "Barrister."

Alysia half-turned, the small of her back snug against the bar. She looked impassively at the two DCH attorneys, silently weighing what she could observe of them. Eventually, a polite smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"And who is this lovely lady on your arm, Barrister? Someone special, no doubt," Howe suggested. "Although. I'm not sure what she could possibly see in you, Barrister-"

"You seem to have a great deal of interest in Ser Mallorek yourself," Alysia drawled to Howe, interrupting. "One might ask what you see in him."

Lucien glanced to Dewey, inclining his head. "I don't believe we've had the... pleasure."

"Oh, how rude of me. I've forgotten my manners!" Howe didn't sound as contrite as his words suggested.

"Ah, yes, how rude of me. We have not formerly been introduced." All smiles, Dewey moved from the bar and offered a bit of a bow from the waist. "But I know well of you, Barrister. I am Mister Dewey."

Lucien acknowledged Howe's partner with a small nod of his head. "Mr. Dewey."

Howe continued with the pleasant smile directed at Lucky's lady, Alysia. "Your turn, Barrister. You must introduce us to the lovely lady."

Alysia turned toward Lucien with a smile, standing on tiptoe and brushing her lips against his ear. With a whisper, she suggested that he introduce her as Ylith. Such an introduction was, after all, completely honest; Ylith was a portion of her true name, the demonic appellation she was bound to. Unspoken was her thought that the pair's reaction to the name fragment would probably betray just how much they really knew about her and her origins.

She suspected they didn't know much at all.

Mr. Howe was getting suspicious of the whispering couple.

"Yes, please do introduce us, Barrister," Dewey insisted. His warm brown eyes roamed the commons almost as an afterthought, though the gaze swept certain forms and faces with a studious glance.

Lucien made the formal introductions, impassively polite. "Gentlemen. This is the Lady Ylith. M'Lady? Mr. Dewey and Mr. Howe of the firm Dewey Cheetum and Howe."

Howe shot at Ewan, noting the Master of Arms' position, before shifting his attention back on Alysia. "Lady Ylith." The lawyer ironically raised a brow as his beady eyes bore at hers. "What a pleasure it is to meet you."

"Well, she is a spitfire," mused Howe. "And she prefers action to words, Mister Dewey. Ooo. Makes me want to eat her all up right here." Alysia flatly remarked that her cirrhosis was likely to give Howe indigestion.

"Perhaps one day the lady Ylith will find what she so seeks, Mister Howe," Dewey said.

Howe laughed, nodding to Dewey. "She sure will. I can assure you of this."

"A promise to be well-kept, Mister Howe. Well-kept, indeed." Dewey's smile was brittle, edged with ice. His eyes moved over Alysia, then the Barrister, then Tass, and finally Tasha. Howe remarked pointedly to Dewey that this realm had many drawbacks but hired killers weren't one of them.

"Did you see her fangs?" Howe gushed. "Aren't they simply lovely? Such zest. Such spunk. And already tainted black. Tasty. Yet one must wonder why she wastes her time with someone like the Barrister?"

Lucien's hand slipped into his pocket as he took up a casual, patient lean against the bar. "I'm sure you boys have better things to do than loiter here."

"Oh, no, not at all Barrister. I, for one, am enjoying the view." Howe fixed his beady eyes on Alysia.

"Pet?" suggested Dewey, grinning with a light shrug to his partner followed by a soft chuckle.

Alysia's crimson gaze settled evenly upon Howe. "I doubt you have the stamina," she pointed out, smirking.

"-What? No candy to steal from a child or a pension to steal from the elderly?" Lucien asked the two lawyers.

Howe ignored Alysia's barb as well as Lucien's rejoinder. "So tell me, Lady, is it his performance in bed that keeps you hanging on?" A smile brimmed on his thin lips. He shivered, mockingly. "I can't even imagine the Barrister in the bedroom."

"Limited imagination is a hallmark of yours, isn't it." Alysia paused thoughtfully, eventually remarking, "And he excels in all endeavors." Her lips curved in a dry smile.

"I bet he does. Thinking of kids, are you?" Howe asked, smiling.

Dewey purred coldly, "Oh, I assure you, Lady Ylith, our imagination knows very few bounds when it comes to that with which we... excel."

Alysia suppressed a cynical smile at Howe's question, answering with a query of her own. "Why the curiousity in our relationship?"

"We're just happy Lucky has the relationship," said Howe.

Dewey added, menacing, "He will need the comfort."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Howe muttered aside to Dewey. "You live around here, Lady Ylith?"

"Mmm," Alysia murmured, non-committal to Howe. To Dewey, she said, "It's a pity I've never been the comforting type, then."

"Yes, Lady, much is the pity for the Barrister... Perhaps you yourself shall need comfort in coming days. After all, most souls do." Dewey turned from the couple and Howe for a moment, those kindly brown eyes smiling on Taneth, a blonde bundle of energy.

The Priestess reflected rather bleakly on the disquieting thoughts the lawyers' deliberate interrogation prompted. Howe's next words interrupted her musings.

"Not at all dear Lady," said Howe smoothly. "We wouldn't want to make you feel any such obligation. In fact, perhaps we can offer you help?" He offered a sincere smile to the lady "Ylith". A hint of a frown touched Lucien's brow as he chased the remaining shadows from the edges of his mind. He kept his attention fixed before him.

Fast forward. One week. . .

?Wait for me,? Alysia said quietly to the young shaman, Badger. ?I shouldn?t be that long.? She smiled crookedly at him, stepping out of the path of a foot-courier who raced through the streets. A few passers-by paused to look with curious disdain at the pale woman garbed in finely-detailed black elf-leather. She squinted against the watery sunlight, focusing crimson eyes on the unobtrusive sign hung outside the building - ?Dewey, Cheetham & Howe, Attorneys.?

?Wait. . . ? I?d be less conspicuous in a carriage.? Badger muttered as he dismounted the bay he rode. He took the reins of Alysia?s ?Nightmare?, a Hellish vision of a black equine with burning orange eyes. ?With this clothes, I?ll stand out like a...? He trailed off, sighed and dramatically swiped at the road dust which had accumulated on his russet-and-gold velvet tunic during the ride from Dark Lake Manor to uptown Rhydin.

?Just pretend you?re a page or something,? Alysia suggested, disregarding the fact that the youth was a little too old and a little too tall to credibly assume that role. She handed him a short leather cord and instructed him to tie his rather unruly hair back. As Badger complied, she added, ?Carriages are too cumbersome and are in themselves conspicuous. Besides, I?d rather not have to explain to Lucien why I was borrowing his carriage.?

The apprentice shaman frowned a little and opened his mouth to question why she was insistent upon this course of action, if she thought Lucien might disapprove.

?Don?t say it.? Alysia?s voice hardened. ?You are here to watch and learn. Perhaps to fetch assistance, if needed. Surely not to question me.? The Priestess turned, unsmiling, and entered the law office.

Badger shut his mouth quickly. He shrugged, discontent, and begin looking for a trough to water the horses.

?I suppose you should know ?I made time to visit with the. . . er, the other legal professionals in town.? Recalling her ?scouting? of the law office, Alysia snugged the small of her back against the bar, finding the familiar solidity of the sturdy wood reassuring. She expected Lucien did not appreciate her meddling, and tried to speak tactfully. ?It was not a particularly pleasant meeting,? she admitted ruefully.

?I would imagine not. What'd the old bastard want??

?Lankyn's head.? Alysia snorted. ?For a start. I am afraid I found that price too high, even for your life, beloved.? Even if she had been able to stomach the idea of killing at another?s command, Howe?s ?price? would only escalate endlessly, and Lucien would have been no safer from DCH?s malice.

Lucien absently traced his finger over the marred surface of the bar, his attention remaining rapt on the Priestess. A short, humorless bark of laughter sounded. ?He's ambitious...I have to give him that.?

She nodded in assent. She had no intention of placing herself in opposition to Lankyn and the Bloods, particularly since the Priestess had considered more than once approaching that family for an alliance. Alysia asked, ?Are you under their protection -- the Bloods, I mean.?

The barrister offered a crooked smile, then a shake of his head. ?No. I'm not under their protection. Although, I find myself not without ...a guard.?

Alysia frowned mildly. Pale, elfin features shadowed, she wondered who had taken it upon themselves to guard him, discarded that thought for the idea more immediately at hand. ?You don't have any reason to oppose them, d'you??

?The Bloods?? His brow quirked, then eased with a shake of his head. ?No, of course not. Even though I am not under their formal protection, I've no doubt that if trouble came to me, they would rally for me.?

?People are trying to kill you,? Alysia retorted somberly. ?Is that not trouble?? Her narrow fingertips idly brushed the red-metal bracer at her left wrist. Something darkened her eyes.

?I haven't asked for help, Alysia. They've enough trouble of their own accord.?

?Too proud?? she asked quietly. Alysia smiled archly, leaned close, smirking a bit. ?I would rather you didn't bring that pride to your grave.?

With a crooked grin and a light shrug of his shoulder, his nose wrinkled as she leaned closer. Just as quietly, Lucien answered, ?I don't intend to bring that pride to my grave.?

Small comfort, thought Alysia.

Alysia paused warily just past the threshold of the Red Dragon Inn, caution prompted by the sight of a man with sword drawn and a wolf. Her wariness was not eased by the sight of Guthorm Othinsson, the seafaring warrior who Lucien called his Captain; instead she scowled and rested her hand near the katana at her hip. Give me a reason, she thought.

The Captain was slightly charred and despite this, he seemed to be enjoying an argument with Jewell Kidd nee Ravenlock. Guthorm snickered and, in a mocking tone, said to the Empress, ?And I am the emperor of Mikklegård.?

?Yeah?? Jewell lifted her chin and, even though he was much taller than she, looked down her nose at him. Really, she was rather good at it. ?Doesn't mean a thing here, doll.?

Guthorm made no move to leave, though his tunic was a burnt ruin and parts of him as well, burning deep under the makeshift icepack.

Fiery eyes rested briefly upon Sylvia Nightshade, then Alysia?s attention shifted to Jewell in curiosity. Comments kept silent for the time being, the Priestess regarded Guthorm with undisguised contempt, noting his nicely toasted appearance. She snorted and continues toward the bar, noting familiar faces. For a time, she listened to the edges of conversation.

Jewell continued to stare, unmoving, at Guthorm. It was almost as though she was trying to bore a hole in him with those hard grey eyes.

?Is it often that you suffer fools to live, Jewell?? The question was finally posed in a quiet contralto to the Empress as Alysia leaned against the bar.

?Not often, Alysia.? Jewell didn't even look aside to greet the Priestess, she was having fun just staring. ?But Kitty made it quite clear that she wanted to tear him to shreds herself and I don't mind being gracious at times.?

Guthorm leaned against the bar and stared with shifty eyes at Jewell. ?I doubt you have heard one word of my work, hmm?? He laughed. ?Icer has...? The laugh turned into a sneer, and he added, ?Shut up, Alysia.?

?Your work?? Jewell arched a brow, then scowled a touch. ?I would not speak to Lady Skye that way if I were you. Really, it just proves you to be even a bigger fool than I originally understood you to be.?

?If you'd like me silenced, little guard dog,? said Alysia, lips pursed in a cool smile, ?silence me yourself, Guthorm.? The Priestess smirked boldly at Othinsson before looking back to Jewell. ?It is a pity I promised Lucien I would not kill his 'friend'.?

?. . .So nice that I have made no such promises to anyone.? Jewell finally looked aside to Alysia with a smile. ?Do you think it is more painful to have the water in your body frozen or pulled out through your skin??

?Both. In that order. I used to know a spell called Ice Coffin that did something along those lines. Very effective,? explained Alysia, casually.

Jewell winked at Cor as he made to leave and nodded in response to Alysia, contemplating this. ?Yes, that could work quite nicely.?

?Cowards use magick,? Guthorm spat the words out. He shifted the icepack over the top of his shoulder and down as far as he could reach over shoulderblade. He looked from one to the other of them, judging their words as frightened posturings.

?No, no, cowards make such a lame defense with words,? returned Jewell.

?Ah-h-h-h.? The Priestess grinned, holding up a gauntled fist. ?I don't need to use sorcery to kill, though. It's all the more enjoyable to rend someone with my own hands. Where are those who hold your leash, little dog? Do you think they'll put you back together after you've been torn apart?? Her fiery gaze rested calmly upon Guthorm, a languid smile touching the corners of her mouth.

Reaching around to rub his jaw, Guthorm found his beard was singed. . . so apparently Kitty was even more victorious than he had deemed in the kitchen.

?I doubt it,? Guthorm said.

Jewell grinned at Alysia's comment, she always knew she liked the Priestess! ?Too much trouble to piece together a lackey,? the Empress commented, ?especially with the amount of pieces you would render him into, Alysia.?

?Mmm, well, the Captain here would make a nice toy once he'd been put back together again, with the proper safeguards in place. Necromancy is such an under-appreciated Art,? Alysia drawled to Jewell.

Hearing Alysia, Guthorm could not help but shudder, against his body's will. Jewell chuckled lightly at Alysia's observation and more so at Guthorm's reaction.

Peripherally, the Priestess noticed Sylvia Nightshade gently urging Taneth away from the confrontation. Taneth murmured something and shuffled closer to Sylvia, who put her arm around the bouncy blonde and guided her toward the doors. Alysia wondered about that, recalling Kitty?s statement that both Taneth and the Captain were working for DCH. Othinsson glanced that way, the shifting attention barely noticeable. Her gaze swung back to Othinsson.

?What was your price, Guthorm, when they bought you to betray Lucien??

Guthorm chuckled. ?Betray? Ohhhh...nei...you said even more than that...you do not value the man's life, your lover's life.?

?If you think I'd speak my heart before the enemy that has tried to kill my lover, you're more the fool than you look, Guthorm.? Alysia?s disgust was naked in her tone. She noticed that Guthorm hadn?t answered the question. ?Lucien is mortal. I value his life and his humanity enough to grant him the pride and freedom to make his own mistakes. His life is not mine to trade for anothers.?

As the conversation grew more private, Jewell nodded her head to Alysia, gave Guthorm a rather dismissive glance, and moved away from them.

?Oh, spoken like a true lover. I think you have long wanted to make your magicks on me, Alysia, for being his friend...and for taking him to sea.? Guthorm?s voice hardened. ?I do not fear you. But Lucien should.?

?No. He is your friend - his words spare your life, even now, Guthorm. But you - you are not his friend. You have chosen to serve those who would kill him.? The Priestess shook her head, even as she inwardly agreed that Lucien would do well to let fear lend caution to their relationship. ?And if I had designs to ensorcel you, Guthorm, I would have long ago, and you would be the last to know.?

Guthorm had no answer for that comment about Lucien...nothing he could say out loud...and even less about her threat. Instead, he pushed himself off the bar and around the stools, his path taking him close into Alysia's space. ?I had no idea you were deaf and blind, and full of an empty head, Alysia.?

Pale shoulders flexed down and back in a restrained stretch, Alysia regarded Guthorm in mild irritation. ?You'll have to try harder than that, Guthorm.?

Continuing on doorwards, Guthorm threw the watery towel at her feet. ?So will you.? And out he went, grinding teeth against that nagging burn...he had had better nights, by far.

?Perhaps.? Speaking to herself, Alysia scowled at the man?s back. ?But I have no illusions about -what- I am anymore.?