[Faust D'Rinishad]

For all of the human’s established safeguards, it was neither the drunkards nor the man’s confident swagger that elicited that the corrosion of the Vysstichi Lord’s stoic visage: it was the absence of his manners. Whereas the Prince of Har’oloth had prearranged for a bottle of the tavern’s finest red wine to be delivered upon the human’s arrival, the latter had, quite blatantly in fact, imbibed a drink or two before the dark elf’s very eyes, and what more, abstained from offering any such refreshment to his black-skinned counterpart –the Vysstichi duly noted this.

Rising to his feet as the formidable human approached, the dark elf inclined at the waist, imparting a bow that conveyed neither deference nor arrogance; it was simply a cordial gesture. “Ah, Dimitri, so we meet at long last. Please…have a seat…” An ebon hand, gloved in shimmering mythril, signaled to the chair across from him. Only when the human ensconced as bade would the dark elf return to his own chair as well –another demonstration of etiquette that the Vysstichi Lord would undoubtedly have to teach the man in the event that their meeting did not terminate with the crossing of blades.

“You assume correctly, I am Faust D’Rinishad, Weapons Master of House Kitrye’veresi.” the dark elf said. His voice was surprisingly tranquil despite the latent animosity that the two likely harbored for one another. Perhaps it was respect that tempered the dark elf’s tone with civility, or maybe it was because, out of pure pragmatism, he had opted to remain impartial until learning of the mysterious human’s intentions for Vortex and Har’oloth –whatever they might be. Nevertheless, the dark elf’s immaculately chiseled features were not infected by the usual contours that generally conveyed antagonism.

“And no apologies are necessary, I assure you.” Faust said, chuckling light-heartedly as a waitress approached with the preordered bottle of red wine and two glasses. “Feel free to help yourself…” He continued, waving towards the contents set upon the table, though in truth he suspected that the man would not drink in fear of a tampered bottle –no matter. A graceful dip of the hand beneath the folds of his ebony cloak produced two golden crowns seconds later, and he casually exchanged them with the barmaid who disappeared afterwards.

Crimson eyes returned to Dimitri. “Matron Rilvin is a busy woman, but could any less be expected of the First Matron of Har’oloth?” He asked, punctuating his rhetorical question with a simple bounce of the shoulders. At Dimitri’s insight concerning Faust himself, the Prince of Har’oloth’s relaxed demeanor was indicative of his apathy. He was not surprised that Dimitri had heard of him. Who in Vortex had not? The D’Rinishad name had become commonplace throughout Vortex, Arium, and beyond. Nevertheless, Dimitri’s confession denoted that he had indeed been doing his research, something that, Faust admitted, was more flattering than alarming.

The dark elf laughed. “One must do what they can to survive, would you disagree?” He asked, likely aware of Dimitri’s answer already. It was his turn to award the man with some information if at least for Dimitri’s acknowledgment that he had been doing his homework on his competition. “And truth be told, your tale is most fascinating. I find it curious that a human would consort with my people, particularly as my kind generally perceives them as inferior and subordinate, not that I agree as I find that racial judgments oftentimes result in gross underestimations, but long standing traditions have ways of cementing themselves in one’s culture. I can’t help but wonder what would drive you to associate with the dark elves? Power? Influence?” Faust smiled slightly, his stare continuing to meet the man’s. “No. One of your stature could easily find that on the surface. What then, drives Dimitri Wladisyaw, if you don’t mind me asking…and am I pronouncing that correctly?” he questioned, brows furrowing in embarrassment. Charismean grammar and pronunciation had never been the dark elf’s ‘cup of tea’, as the surface saying went.