Kiema had waved farewell at the docks and moved briskly up the street towards her guild hall just west of the Marketplace. Ewan watched her go until a turn took her from his sight. Slinging his travel pack to his shoulder, he started his own journey north to Yearling Brook.

Yet, he could not fight the impulse to stop by the Red Dragon Inn. Few familiar faces engaged in their usual games of flirtation and conquest dotted the room. Ewan arrived at the bar, leaned bracered forearms there, and awaited his turn for Antonio?s, the current tender, attention. Unfortunately, Ewan?s body had demands for rest that would not allow delay. So, he departed not moments after arriving and continued on in the night to the manor.

He was greeted by a pair of recruits taking their turns at entrances. ?Master Corinsson, you were not expected back so soon.?

Ewan could hear the skepticism in Darien?s voice and saw tension, even in the frail light of torches, of the two men?s stances. A low, brief laugh, ?If you lads feel up to challenging me, I?m sure to disappoint. I?m too tired to send your head,? he pointed to Fulcras, ?through another door, nor toss you, Darien, over the fence.?

It was enough particular information to set the men at ease. ?Come on through, Master. We?re in no mood for that either.?

Ewan clasped forearms with each man in turn, then went on to the barracks house. Bed is what he craved most right now, and he would not disturb Sylvia at this hour. Morning would be soon enough to report and hear her news as well.

His room, quartered on the first floor across from the main entrance, was simply furnished with bed, a corner wardrobe, side table with water pitcher, bowl, and towel, and his oak chest of personal items.

Travel pack tossed to a corner, he stripped out of armaments and clothes in preparation for bed. After washing face and hands, he crawled bare under the cool sheets and cover. They warmed quickly around him and he eased into swift sleep.

He had taken his heart and splattered it across the walls of the Inn, or near enough to it. The day before, Sylvia and her strange guest both had gone, though he did not recall the Atin fellow actually leaving with the Baroness. It left Ewan free to give extra effort to his practice and the ongoing training of the men.

The men watched as he sparred with one after another, sometimes a group of three, sometimes one on one. Sweat dripped from his body, arms and legs ached, and it was not until the call from the barracks house that the midday meal was ready, did Ewan stop. The men departed wearily, and Ewan stood at the edge of the practice ring and looked over the grounds.

He wondered what is was like before the new buildings had been added to the rock infested ground. Sylvia had said she had gotten a good deal on it because it would not serve for farmland. So now they had a compound, a refuge from Rhydin, a piece of Yransea here.

But he would not find solace here, not now. Duty kept distractions at bay, and that was all he had fallen to -- a distraction. He had kept the ladies of the court from his thoughts easily enough, and he could do the same now. Besides, Kiema was nothing like him, and had her own duties to tend. Had he not even distrusted her, despised her kind once? It was a growing friendship he was perverting into something more, surely that was it.

Resigned to reality, idly thinking that purging his pent up thoughts last night had actually been helpful, he went to clean up and join his men for the midday meal before he would make his way to town and learn what he could.

His return walk to town held more than he had anticipated. The streets of the Northern section of town were well tended, and rightly so, for the wealthier citizens lived and worked here. They would want their trees restrained and gardens controlled. Arched gateways leading to stone terraces and the homes beyond, and Ewan observed them all in his wandering.

Get to know the town Sylvia had commanded him. So he would know every sewer hole, alleyway, and path to be taken in need. The overcast sky, a moon flirting behind the fan of clouds with the world below, offered him concealment to questioning eyes.

It also offered concealment to those with more harmful intentions. An alleyway, no doubt for servants to enter and exit the grand homes on either side without defiling their masters' front doorsteps, needed to be explored, and Ewan set his steps down the path between crates and waste bins not yet cleared from the day. A cursory glance into these showed someone had a party. The food a waste and a shame.

A scuffle, too large for a rodent - unless Rhydin was playing with size now, and it was not to be taken lightly that it would - or the wind, drew Ewan's attention, urging him to flatten himself against the wall. But too late, the three boys, for he could think them nothing more for such brash actions they took, saw him and panicked. The windowpane they had been removing from a low window went sailing out of the darkness, and Ewan, unarmed raised his hand to protect his head.

His own foolish mistake as the glass shattered on impact and sliced along his palm. He was not going to play the idiot to these lads. He tripped the first trying to rush past him, bringing all three down long enough for him to grab an empty crate nearby and smash it again a wall, providing a wooden club.

With rapid strikes, to knees and backs he incapacitated them. Their cries accompanied by the commotion finally brought the neighborhood watch to the scene.

"Oi, what's going on here?" a burly man came thundering into the alleyway with a lamp held low.

Ewan rose to his feet and tossed aside the slat of wood, "Just three kids learning something the hard way. I'll leave them to your care, constable."

"Aye, aye..." but the constable eyed Ewan with suspicion. It was always this way, and Ewan drew out the signet ring of his office that he never wore. Though the symbol would mean little to anyone, it did offer him some recourse, "If you feel the need to take me in, please send this ring on to Yearling Brook manor in the north."

Per usual, the constable changed his mind as it would not be worth the effort to question a man with such a ring at his disposal. "No, m'lord, yer welcome to go 'bout yer business. And thank ye."

Ewan nodded and looked to his hand. He doubted an apothecary would be open at this hour, and he had little desire to travel all the way back home with glass in his hand and dripping blood. Another stop at the inn was required.

He smiled with the idea.

It was an autumn day of beauty. The sun shared it?s wealth of light with the land below as a cool breeze teased the coming season of winter. Ewan had shared some time with the stallion, rubbing his forehead, across his nose, and under his jaw where the bridle would be placed. A bitless bridle he had eventually gotten on the horse with little more than a shake of the head. But as soon as he tried the bit, there was a flat refusal, so Ewan did not press and let the stallion graze free in the paddock.

He closed the gate and turned toward the main house when the sounds of laughter came calling from the orchard behind the house. He stood there a moment, watching her hold open her apron at the ready for the falling apples tossed down by a kitchen lad, Ives by the look of his towhead in the trees. Unable to keep himself away, he walked to the orchard smiling and called out, ?Are there some apples to spare for a hungry horse, or has cook demanded them all??

Rhian turned at Ewan?s voice, ?There be plenty wormed on the ground that cook won?t mind should the horse feast on them.?

?And give my horse less than the best?? he teased as he gained her side and looked at her apron of apples, then back up to her, a twist to his smile.

She glanced sidelong at him, ?I warn you, cook knows the number of apples on the trees, and if you steal a few there will be hell to pay.?

?Mmm, perhaps you are right,? his green eyes narrowed as he reached toward her apron of apples, ?Dare I risk her sharp tongue?? His hand withdraws, ?Perhaps not.? A wry grin, ?I can, however, lend a hand.? He looks up the ladder.

Softly spoken as she looked down at her apron, ?I would?ve thought you were more daring than that. Afraid of cook??

He heard her speak, but he decided against correcting the appearance he has given of being afraid of the cook. Instead he smiled to her, ?Though, you have some skilled helpers already.?

?Hey!? The kitchen page in the tree above them called, ?My lady, catch!? With some mischievous glee he tossed the apples down.

?Ives!? Rhian called as she darted to catch them in her apron.

Quick to action, Ewan scrambled to assist her, dancing about her to stay out of her way and catch what he could. Her laughter was bright even as she continued to dash around with Ives laughing wickedly above them. ?Swords and arrows, lad, give us half a chance will you?? Ewan called with a grin, but the laughter and maliciousness needed to be curbed, ?You won?t be laughing if cook finds you?ve bruised some of her apples by being careless.? He chose his tone carefully, intending it to be uncertain whether it was teasing or a threat.

Rhian breathed out her call, ?Ives, wait a moment!? Her voice called a halt to the raining apples. ?I need to put the apples in a basket.?

Ewan passed by her as she turned for the collection of baskets that rested in a haphazard pile nearby. The scent of her and the flash of her hair in the sunlight tempted him so, but he drew his focus to the apples again and assisted her with the basket as she gently poured the apron full of apples into it.

?Thank you,? she smiled to his assistance.

?You're welcome,? he paused to savor her smile upon him.

?Have you named him yet?? She asked conversationally.
He knew she referred to the stallion, ?No, I thought perhaps to leave that to you, if you like.? He spoke before thinking, ?He?s much like you, I think. A beautiful, strong spirit?? The admission caused him some discomfort, and out of habit he rubbed at the nape of his neck beneath the rusty blonde pony tail and looked away.

He did not see her blush and smile as he reached for another basket in order to be more helpful.

?Perhaps Spirit is a good name,? she said as she joined him again for another run at apple gathering.

He smiled and stepped past her, perhaps passing closer than he should, but he longed to be close. Something about her drew him near. ?Spirit it is then.?

The evening of his return from Yransea, the inn had not held any particular appeal for Ewan, so he had made his way to the Marketplace.

Ewan stood watching the actors perform their play and muttered, ?About as much drama as one catches at the inn on a nightly basis.? His words, perhaps not fully understood, but a disturbance nonetheless, were heard by another audience member who promptly shushed him harshly. He stifled a laugh quickly and adopted a very intense look upon his face to continue watching the play. However, it was beyond him to keep his laughter at bay, so instead of disturbing the others gathered around, he walked away to find other entertainments in the Marketplace.

A large group of friends enjoying their night out, forced him to walk closer to a line of shops, where he very nearly bumped into someone gazing at the shop window, twirling a lock of hair about her finger. ?Pardon me,? he apologized softly.

The person made a very familiar sounding ?eep? as she hopped to step away, and Ewan looked back to take a better look at the lady. ?Taneth?? he had not said the name in weeks, and it felt unnatural in his mouth.

When the woman turned from her oohing and aahing over the dress in the window, barely pulling her eyes away as she asked, ?Yessss??

He looked down at himself wondering if he had changed, then looked back to her, ?You okay??

All at once the lady brightened perceptibly and bounded the space between them to pounce, ?Ewan!?

At such enthusiastic greetings, though often given to many, he could not help but laugh and curl his arms about her in a friendly hug, ?Hello there. I didn?t expect to see you out here.? Particularly as it was the hours where most of their usual acquaintances gathered at the inn. He looked to the window where she had been gazing, ?Found something you like??

She continued to cling to him as she giggled, then turned to look to the window again, ?That dress, isn?t it pretty??

He looked to the dress as well, holding her as long as she wished to be held, ?Yes, in a fashion. No doubt it would look very good on you.?

Her beaming smile turned back to him, ?Do you think so? Perhaps I should see if they have something for you, too!?

?Oh, I certainly think so,? he replied kindly to her query, but then shook his head, ?but as to something for me, I doubt it. The style is?unfamiliar to me.?

?You can always try something new.? She countered simply.

He wondered at how many things this land would press on him to change, and his eyes narrowed on her, ?In some things yes, but clothes?? He managed a shrug.

She giggled again, ?Why not clothes? They do not hurt.?

How to explain something so idiotic as maintaining a tie to his homeland through his manner and dress? It was impossible, so he tried another route, ?They?re a tool. Other than showing off someone as lovely as you, they only serve to protect and cover. I have no reason to have something new, or of that style.?

She pouted only a little, ?But they can protect you.?

?True,? he admitted reluctantly, but he smiled at her little pout.

?See,? as if she had won.

?And just where would I wear such an outfit? Costume ball?? He teased and shook his head, for surely he would feel as if he were in costume in such a style.

?Well, there is a dance.?

?Is there?? he trolled through his mind for information, and only comes up with a vague recollection of something about that before he had left for Yransea.

She nodded and added, ?You can also wear it when you take me to the Marketplace.? She spoke the suggestion as though it were a frequent occurrence and warranted its own outfit.

?Is the dress for the dance,? he asked only to be amused by her suggestion, ?Oh, so this should be my ?to market? outfit??
That unmistakable Taneth chirping sounded as she squeezed him. He laughed, ?Then I suppose I should look into it on the morrow. I would hate to embarrass you by wearing something less than appropriate.? Then he dropped his voice to whisper conspiratorially, ?The Market gossips might talk.?

She gasped and giggled quietly, ?Only about how handsome you are.?

Ewan?s cheeks flushed lightly as he laughed, ?Flattery,? but he was not about to let the conversation linger here, ?So, we cannot buy the items tonight, and then what shall we do? Or have you places to be, being such a high demand personage.?

?Let?s listen to music.? She answered simply.

?Let?s,? he agreed and carried her towards the musicians and their appreciative crowd.

But Ewan was not so easily dissuaded, ?I meant here in Rhydin as I am.?

?Oh. So I didn?t have go to the temple.?

?To the temple?? He tried to keep his smile one of casual interest.

?Mmhmm,? she nodded, then asked, ?Don?t you like this music??

?I like this music very much.? He then whispered, ?Shall I be quiet so we can listen??

Her giggle was bright if little, ?Only if you want to. I do not mind to talk.?

?Why did you not want to go to the temple.? He asked quietly, without hint of urgency to his question. His voice he kept as mild as if he asked the time of day.

?Few ever return from the temple,? simply stated. ?I wanted to be somewhere brighter.? She closed her eyes and sighed dreamily as the music took on a different tune. ?Isn?t dancing great??

?It is very nice to dance,? he smiled as he started to actually dance, though he carried her through the steps. ?I think you should always be somewhere brighter.? He paused before continuing, ?Do only chosen ones go to the temple or everyone at some time??

?Only some go.?

?And those some go for a purpose??

She nodded, ?To serve the Lord.?

?Is this Lord a man or,? he struggled to find a better term, but could not, ?other??

?They say he is a man,? she lay her head against him and began to pet his hand with her fingertips. ?Some have whispered stories that he?s not a man.?

Ewan moved his arms slightly so that he almost cradled her, ?But you did not want to serve him. How would you have served him if you had chosen to??

?Those that have whispered have said he?s like a spirit and he needs the Hevinasa to grow his body back.? Her reply to his question was subdued, ?I do not know. They never come back, but babies do.?

The Hevinasa. It was a new term and a new thing to question. ?The Hevinasa?? He hazarded a guess, ?Is that what you are??

She giggled, ?I have never been called that.?

He gave a smile, his guess off the mark, ?I am sorry. Tell me, then, what are Hevenasa??

?Oh! Well,? she tapped a finger to her lips, ?They have the spark, only it?s not as sparkily. So, I guess I am one, too, but I have never been called that.? Her nose scrunched up again, ?You won?t call me that, right??

?Not as sparkily,? he whispered. ?Is your spark greater than most you knew?? He then smiled, ?I will not call you that if you do not wish to be called that.?

?It was!? She elated in his realization, ?How did you know??

?I can imagine you have a very special spark.?

?My second mother said that the Hevinasa is not pure.?

He restated to be sure he understood, ?The mother that raised you, not the mother that bore you??

?Yes, my second mother.? She then grinned, thinking on the specialness of her spark, ?Maybe I could make it pink.?

?I think your spark is just fine as it is.?

?It does not need a color??

?No, I think a color would cheapen it,? and he was not afraid to state so.

She nodded her satisfaction with his answer.

Ewan wrote with a clear, precise hand for the third time his request. This one, though, was to Rhian?s father and not to his liege lord and lady.

Dear Sir,

By way of introduction, I am Ewan Corinsson, Master of Arms to the Baron and Baroness of Yransea and their emissary to Rhydin, where your daughter is currently in residence. In the past months I have had the pleasure of speaking with your daughter on many occasions, and through this have formed an attachment. I write to ask your permission to formally court your daughter. In my recommendation I ask you to appeal to Their Excellencies Baron and Baroness of Yransea, His Highness, Prince Maelgwn, and His Majesty, King Rhodri.

I look forward to your reply.

Your servant,
Ewan Corinsson

Ewan scowled at the parchment. Nothing sounded just right, and he wondered if he pushed too far in offering the royal families? names as well. In second, or more honestly fifth and sixth, thought he wrote the letter again and omitted mentioning Maelgwn or Rhodri. He resigned himself to sealing, addressing, and adding the letter to the satchel of messages meant for the ship bound to Yransea. Without further hesitations, he left the tavern on the docks and went for the merchant vessel. ?Hail to the ship!?

A voice came pitched over the side, ?Hail, Master Corinsson! Have you letters?? The young midshipman called as he walked down the gang way seeing the satchel Ewan carried.

?That I do. Be sure to see them safely delivered to Seansloe manor.?

The young man saluted and took the satchel then bounded back up to the deck and out of sight.

There was no stopping it now. Ewan turned and moved towards the legal district to see how the courthouse construction was going and who else might find the activities of interest.

Life had become infernally complicated. Not for the first time, but the first in a long while, he needed a confidant. He needed someone to spill the rising waters of his thoughts before the dam of control broke. There was no one. The Baroness had requested his return twice. She knew. She knew things were eating away at him. Both times, however, he had convinced her of his need to stay, and she had accepted it.

He now had three places to live and two of those in Rhydin. Storm?s hostel afforded him closer proximity to the West End. In fact, his frequent residence there was incredibly convenient for his ongoing forays into the West End matters. Yet, now Storm?s battles in the Elemental plane added to his growing concerns. A note on his door at the hostel had informed him that Storm traveled back into harm?s way. A deadline for her safe return she had set, and he would be sure to follow the instructions should the worst happen.

The worst happen?another warning to his limitations. How useless he was here but to watch and wait. Why had he convinced himself, much less the Baroness, he was needed? Rhian was taken from him with the swift stroke of a pen. Kiema had sent no word of her whereabouts. Taneth had vanished, and he had no evidence or information as to her going. The law firm did not look to be involved.

All that surrounded him now was impotent rage, and not a soul to release the burden, even if for a moment: Storm, Rhian, Kiema, the Barrister, the Scathachian sisterhood, the law firm, the manor, and the whole of Palendies pressed against the barriers of his composure.

Ewan sat at a table in Water's Edge Tavern ruminating on collections of information, the maps of past events that eventually would lead him somewhere, and the pin drops of fate that would turn the path so unexpectedly.

He did not mind the unexpected turns, but he realized he had been raging against the steady stream of observation in a world rife with powers perilous. His night travels had steadied him internally with the sense he could act, could do something to better others' lives.

"Another for you?" a serving lass, the keeper's daughter if Ewan recalled correctly, stirred him from his thoughts with the question.

"Yes, thank you," he smiled kindly. This tavern was clean, respectable, and kept good patronage of some of the middle class citizens of the city. Ewan found it was a good place to think and watch the ships come and go.

He paid for the drink once it was brought, gave his thanks again with a congenial smile, and let himself sink into thinking again. Thinking about a visitor that chance had thrown in his path recently. The woman had surprised him in her open distrust of the city and its inhabitants. She had come for trade, and decried the, "How did she put it? Wanton?" Ewan mused in a whisper. Yes, wanton ways of most of the citizens. She was not here to escape the restrictions of her society, and in fact, seemed disappointed to have to stay. It was refreshingly confusing to meet someone with such traditions that was not from Ewan's own country. She spoke such an unusual language as well. He wanted to learn more of her people and culture. Perhaps there would be trade with Yransea he could mention to Sylvia.

Yet, he was rather certain the encounter was one of those random moments that fate tossed his way to reassure him that his way of life was neither unusual nor wrong. It settled his spirit and he felt calm again as he had not for weeks before.

The signal drew his steps to the tunnel entrance. The innocent small well just in view behind a cottage in the north district, was his means of access. A tunneler greeted him at the bottom and related the events quickly to him. A burned home, a home he knew and visited, the home of a friend, and all the details relating to it were given and processed in succinct order.

A sharp nod from Ewan sent the tunneler scampering off, and Ewan exited the tunnels again to move northward. Details of conversations, he analyzed them all, drawing up the mundane in dark trust of more news to come in this. So, it was to be this way here. A smile of grim acceptance, more to be added to his already overfull agenda. A shift here, a change there, and he would tell all to those who needed to know of his plans. The only two who needed to know. The only two who would understand such simplicity in these times, and the patience that he was portraying for everyone else.

He would keep to the edge as it was the most defined path.

He sat back against the wall in the poorly lit catacombs of the library. No windows reached here at the place where archives became chambers that turned into tunnels. The torch cast its warm light on the stones above him, his neck arched as he looked up. Here is where he had come to hide and think without the burden of the world around him.

Alain had asked him vague questions of his interest in the outcome of Storm's cottage. Ewan did not trust the man nor trust his purpose. A half laugh eased into a sigh, he muttered, "I trust very few."

Tunnelers had told him others were on the same search. "Plenty," he echoed the word of one of his informants. Some he recognized, others he did not, and only one he might trust with what he knew of Storm, of her battle with the fire elemental those weeks ago, and the few secrets that might lead others to the truth - one way or the other.

What he wanted to do was get to the Elemental realm, but it, like so many other things, was out of his reach. He rose from his seat on the age smoothed, concaved flagstones and turned for the tunnels with their mystical, myriad paths he had come to know so well in the months past. He would not, could not, seek others out with what he knew. Danger lay on that path with too many eyes and ears drawing attention. "Swords and arrows," he groused and let the emotion behind the outburst ease away with the next breath.

One held the key. One he had spoken with before. One he trusted. One he could not approach.

Ewan trod the circuit of the practice grounds as the recruits, three new ones at that, drilled. He was paying little attention to them outside of being sure not to get in range of a wayward blow. Unfortunately, a new recruit, an earnest young lady with no little talent at protecting herself from her days on the streets, was overwhelmed by her instructor opponent and started to run away while looking over her shoulder. Stirred from his thoughts by the motion, Ewan stopped, hooked out one foot to trip the girl, then snatched her by her arm and jerked her upright as he glowered. ?Be sure you have somewhere to run to before you run, and look where you are going, not behind you.?

The girl, Willen by name, visibly gulped and nodded her head, ?Yessir.?

A sigh, he smiled to reassure her, ?We all learn this the hard way it seems. Now go on, get back to work. You have a good instructor, and you are improving.? He let her go and went about his way with a will to tread a ditch around the practice field with his pacing.

His hands remained loose at his sides, swinging easily with the comfortable stride. Only the contortions of his face conveyed that his mind was awhirl with thoughts walking upon each other, fighting against each other then allying into strange combinations. Thoughts of Storm kept disrupting those allegiances and scattering every plot and plan he had to the far regions of his mind. ?Swords and arrows,? he muttered and relaxed on the top rail of the practice ring barrier. His forehead resting on his folded arms, he looked to his feet below. ?I did not mean to.?

?Do any of us mean to? Well,? Kiema?s impish grin had brightened her eyes that drifted into green from blue, ?Some do, on the hunt so they say, but the true out of the blue affections, do any of us mean to??

?A valid point,? he had conceded.

?I am flattered, Ewan, that you feel so for me, but I will not toy with your affections. My heart lies elsewhere in unrequited territory, true, but so it is.?

He had felt sympathy for her then. It was at that point, when she confessed her heart and he his that they had bonded in such a way he felt he could always tell her his feelings. He looked up from the ground momentarily wishing Kiema was here so he could talk with her again about the latest turmoil of his heart that he thought was so surely guarded and locked away.

?There?s so much at risk now,? he spoke to the air softly as if she were there. ?Dare I chance such a quick ending? Why even start when sorrow lays upon the edge of every breath??

?I once heard a wise woman say ?I?m not so afraid of losing something that I won?t try having it.? Ewan, every day is a risk for every person, and you have to risk losing things in order to have them.?

He had an answer for her that his risks were higher than many others in their home world to which, he recalled quite clearly, she took a fork and hit him on the head like she was scolding a school boy. A laugh at the memory, he looked over his shoulder to the practice and smiled.

But this was not his risk alone. He would have to wait.

?Willen!? he called and made his way over to the poor girl cowering beneath the huge fighter, Gerard. ?Let me show you a move that will have the fellow out cold in fifteen seconds?twenty and he?ll be dead.? He grinned as she looked gratefully to him.


The wise woman quote is said by Zoe Washburne in "Heart of Gold" episode of Firefly

Ewan kept close to the walls of the building near the harbor, his body curled in upon itself so he looked so much like a large sack sitting outside the warehouse. What a cruel fiasco that he had to witness first hand the hinted threats against the Barrister's life by the creatures masquerading as lawyers. The inn had been alive with many confrontations, all of interest to him, and none to which he could openly react.

The news had to be communicated quickly with his network of informants, and that had taken him from Storm. Not that his mind had been fully there at the table anyway; therefore, he justified his leaving as also ending whatever obligation she might have felt to sit with him instead of spending her time elsewhere. A darker thought flashed like a whip crack to sting heart. If she wants a relationship with one such as you, she will have to become accustomed to it. It was an uncharitable thought, but true even in its insensitivity.

A shift of his stance, he unfolded his body and moved in the skilled silence of his trade. He had shared news with Compass in the tunnel just beneath where he had been waiting for the right moment to come alive again. Compass assured him they would continue on as they had, informing Ewan's employers, the now five of them, in his absence. Like a night terror that drifts in and out of the conscious mind, Ewan careened his way through alleys and streets, sharing with hidden doorways and grates his passing of time, making his way back to the manor for a last night of rest there.

Ewan stood at the edge of the practice grounds, his arms folded upon the barrier. He watched carefully the exchanges between sparring partners. Fulcras came up beside him, "We get a few more each day wanting to join up."

Not sparing a glance away, Ewan smirked, "Do they even know what for?"

The older man, though no more than seven years or so, joined the Master of Arms in his lean on the railing. "Rumors mostly. This land. Another land. For most it is an escape from another life." Then with assuredness, "I interview them thoroughly, Ewan."

A smile was found for the man he had placed in charge of the recruits here at Yearling Brook. "I do not doubt you, Fulcras." A slow breath taken in and in the same manner released as he whispered, "I sometimes wonder if I even know what I will be asking of them."

"What you have to and no more," was the confident reply. Then the man stood up and gave a nod before rejoining the others in the practice. Ewan looked over the new grass fields. A hint of an orchard greening peaked from behind the manor. He could see the back of Sylvia at her desk through the front window, black haired head bent over her work. Kieran, who had come with the boys to visit, and with unsettling news, stood over her. His hand was on her back in that easy way they had between them.

The momentary diversion having done its service, he stood straighter, patted the railing and hailed his departure for the city. It was time to start paint the first stroke of his next dark art.

"Willen, come and spar with Hastien," Ewan called from his lean on the barrier. She gave a salute to her current sparring partner and traded out as told.

He heard footsteps coming up the gravel path and turned. Kiema gave a wiggle of fingers in greeting, "Well met, Ewan. Training going well?" her seablue eyes moved to watch the practice.

"Very. I am looking at which five to select for the mission back home. What brings you by?"

"Though I would add my own input on that selection. Not that I doubt your ability," she gave an impish grin.

"You would not be the first," he retorted and bumped her hip with his. She was a tall woman, perhaps three inches shorter than he, so his hip was not far off its mark.

"I heard Lenika has come back for a brief time, but she is returning? With Gaerwyn?"

"Not with Gaerwyn, or at least, not in the way your minstrel mind is implying, Kiema." Ewan chastised with a smirk.

"Well, so it goes in a brain such as mine," a merry trio of notes for laughter.

"Mmhmm," he looks back to the recruits.

The silence does not last long, "I do not see Rhian among the trainees this morning."

"Rhian and I will be training in a bit. I've decided it is time she learn some hand to hand."

"Walking the wire, my friend." Kiema nearly sang it in ominous tones.

"I am the best and it is my duty to make sure she is trained properly. Who else can I truly trust to be in such close proximity?"

Another bit of laughter, "That's true. You've got enough stiff spine that it could be used as a bridge. Nothing improper will come out of you even by accident."

Ewan eyed her, "Why does that sound like a criticism instead of the compliment it should be?"

She gave him no reply whatsoever, but the twist to her smile and the eyes filtering to green gave him all the answer he needed. But it seems she was not done with him yet, "And who was it you were speaking with in the Marketplace the other night?"

"That does not narrow it down, Kiema, and are you following me?"

An exasperated look, "I work in the Marketplace, remember? If you plan on meeting mysterious ladies and do not wish me to know about it, find another place."

Ewan was completely puzzled and wondered whom the minstrel could be meaning, when it came to him. "You mean Azeneth possibly. Good people hers, and I hope we can start trade routes with them. Some have come to settle here, and she is here to represent the Haru, which I won't get into explaining now."

"Oh, but you must sometime, and soon. Teasing me with information only to cut me off," she demurs. "So, another friend, is it?"

"Yes," he says matter of factly. "You've spent too long in Rhydin."

"I would say not. I'm not being sought out by several men as you are sought after by several women."

"Friends!" he called, throwing his hands to the sky then dropping them again. "Why is it when you visit me here, you always drag up my personal life. And you've not asked me about the woman I am actually courting."

Kiema rolled eyes darkening to brown, "I think you know the answer to that question." But she was obviously done teasing him today, as she looked to the recruits again. "I say those two, that one, and those two," motioning to each as she speaks.

Ewan returned just as swiftly to business, "All but that one. Too young. I'd rather have that one." Using names would have been ridiculous at this point since she did not know any of them.

"Agreed."