|
"Ythri," exclaimed he, almost like a sneeze, smiling as the wine arrived, and a gust of wind from the sea blew in, ruffling his blonde-brown locks, which he fixed by combing his right hand through his scalp. Fascinating place, Chelseanna; almost peaceful in its surroundings, though the odd murder or political assassination wouldn't seem so terribly out of place.
"A Thelyri...err...Telera, perhaps?" He squinted at first, trying to focus. She didn't look like a spy, though her cover would have been sufficient as one. Sometimes the most learned of spies were the most obscure.
Welcome to the Empire in this second Era of the Regency of Milo L'Evienne, noted the Imperial Minister of War almost sardonically, rolling his eyes at that and shaking his head momentarily, as if a fly had buzzed past.
"So, what's your story? Why are you here?"
__________________
Imperial Minister for War War is the horror that occurs when rational minds fail at the negotiating table of diplomacy. ~Queen Katishandra of Daittern, Aelyrian Warfare through the Ages.
**1/6: Work (and not mutinous legionaries!) have placed Alexis' puppeteer under extreme duress. Back at Jan the 16th, Markalin willing. I will hold true to Macarthur's words, and yes, indeed, I shall return!**
|