?At least we won?t have to resort to mercenaries,? Aeris Skye murmured to Javan. The two were walking quietly behind the High Priestess, who was quietly inspecting the ranks of the recently formed Imperial Legion. The illumination of moonlight and mage globes gleamed bright against mithril-chased and enameled armor.

?She?d never trust them to stay bought,? the Master of Assassins responded. His breath steamed in the frigid evening air.

Unsmiling, Alysia said, ?I heard that, Javan. And you as well, Aeris.?

"Of course. You were meant to, Mom," said Javan, mimicking the drawl Alysia occasionally affected. He and Aeris exchanged a look, and each lengthened their stride until they walked on either side of the High Priestess. Neither spoke, and finally Alysia exhaled sharply, turning the focus of her attention away from the gathered army.

"I sense no disloyalty from them. You've chosen well." A small smile touched the corners of Alysia's mouth. "But there's obviously something the two of you wish to speak of. . . standing there, radiating impatience. Are you so afraid that I'll snap and break if you speak your mind?"

"Give it up, Javan. She's always been rather adamant about fighting her own fights," Ayreg remarked as he came down the line of Leggionaires from the opposite direction that the Emperess and her party was traveling. Never far away, his shadow trailed.

~~
"There is chance you may lose, my lady," he said, leaning forward intently. Bloodthirst and love of carnage flickering briefly in his eyes, though it was tempered by a faint touch of battlefield wisdom, "and such a loss would hamper the Association considerably. They would have lost their leader. If you must face a battle to the death, call for me and I will champion you."

And she, pulling a few strands of pale blonde from her face, stuck her chin out at him stubbornly and stared, "I haven't been killing anything, Jodie. That's the problem."

His hand slapped palm-flat onto the wooden table-top, "Don't, either, Alysia, because it's dangerous. There are few others that have bested me yet in what I have achieved on the field of combat. I will champion you against the fool if you face him. Your loss would be tragic to the Association. Mine wouldn't phase it a single whit."

Alysia's features twisted into a smirk, and she turned her head away briefly. "Even I am expendable, Jodie, and I don't take threats to me or mine lightly."

She, quite obviously, wasn't going to give yes as an answer. Ayreg rolled his eyes, rising up to his feet from his place in the chair and turned toward the door. "Nor do I. But I also don't run off into the heat of battle, or charge into the face of death to spit in his eye, either."

Alysia Skye stopped him in his tracks with a pleasant smile; so different from the distorted face so full of rage and barely-constrained fury she had just moments ago. "You only live twice."
~~

Ayreg shook the haze of foggy memories from his head, and turned to face Alysia more directly. "I've done my best, working from memory, to assemble your army under the auspices and form of the old Rhy'Din War Council -- I believe you should be familiar enough with that to easily take to its command structure."

"This," with a gesture toward the armored men in their rows and flanks, "represents the first officially-formed unit out of training. Seven hundred and fifty volunteers, presently under the direct command of Colonel Talaleryn, of House Nil-Galdor. He's an expatriate of Shayltan who has remained loyal to your rule despite his brethren's... misguided ways. He has come out of hiding now that the Lady of Mynw has deposed the Elf Prince, Baron Melior."

Jodiah Ayreg turned his head, regarding a male who stood out from the small Column of men. Shoulders framed in gold, and connected by three silver knots of rank upon the stretched cord, he did not strike a very terribly imposing figure. Still, there was strength and solidity in being compact, and the elf - a native of Shayltan, given by the dark brown shade of his skin - remained stock-still and standing at attention.

At Ayreg's side was another man, and far older than he was (now, anyway). Gray touched his hair in more than a few places, and his hard face was unmistakably one that had seen and partaken in a number of pitched battles. One scar, apparently made from the rake of some great, clawed beast, gouged down one half of his face, and left his right eye as a simple glass orb in his skull. Four silver knots of rank hung from the top of the left pauldron, itself gold trimmed in silver, dangling across his chest to a bolt just beneath the one on the right shoulder's pauldron. His breastplate, trimmed in the dull sheen of crimsor around the brightly polished steel and mithril, was far finer than any of the other armored men who stood in the formation.

Alysia Skye would recognize him at once. When Alaric had taken rule of the Empire of Rhilshen, the Lord-Captain (as Jodiah had referred to him once after seeking him out, though the title itself wasn't understood, and he has since stopped referring to him as that) was retained in the service of the new Emperor for a short time. In the end, though, he was dismissed and sent to retire in his holdings under mysterious circumstances, and, apparently, for no reason at all.

Ayreg, it seems, had went and pulled the aging man out of retirement.

"Emperess," Jodiah said, half-turning toward the graying man, "I believe you already know Dreadon Serik, who has accepted the role and given over his service as General of your new Imperial Legion."

General Serik bent at the waist, bowing.

"...I expect Lord Ayreg and General Serik will be there as well?" Not waiting for an answer, Javan turned on his heel and headed in the direction of the Fortress.

"You know, he's not usually this curt and uncivil," Aeris qualified to Serik, Ayreg, and Alysia. She coaxed the white spider back to her shoulder. "I suspect Javan is anxious."

Ayreg was more than accustomed to the ways of noble courts, where the great game played between the houses of nobility were the things politics were made of. Smiling to one, and frowning at another, gave severe consequences that all would read into things. Another man might have frowned at the subtle dressing down, but Jodiah Ayreg kept a mask of neutrality. One must appear calm, cool, and collected in front of the troops, after all.

Dreadon Serik was not so formal. But, then again, judging by the scarring of his face, it might have actually been impossible for the man to do anything but frown.

"Anxious? About what, my lady, if I may ask?" asked Jodiah, carefully watching Javan's retiring of the group. He knew what Javan Skye was capable of, and held the man in some of the highest of respects.

As well he did for any of the Skye bloodline.

While Ayreg himself settled into conversation with Aeris, General Serik bowed again to Alysia for her statement of honor. When he rose, his voice rolled out with the strength and potency that all who spent a great deal of time barking orders had, "The honor is mine, Emperess."

Then, taking a step to the right that was made so swiftly as to cause his cape to flare around his body from the momentum, he bent so-slightly at the waist, and extended his hand up to gesture down the rank and file of the soldiery. So drilled and trained for this exact moment were they, that they could almost be mistaken for magically-wrought statues there in their gleaming armor, and perfect rows

The gesture was an invitation, surely, not a direction. "If it pleases you, would you like to continue your inspection of your Legion, and meet with those who have rallied to your banner?"