Two Wizards and a Disgruntled Eunesian [Erenthril please…Private]

[Milo L'Evienne]

Late Imperos, Autumn of Era XIV

In a scene similar to one some numerous months past, and on a similar moonlit night, an old fool of a white haired wizard sat on a bench quite nearby Erenthril’s Chesleanna home, dressed in a cream colored suit with a matching fedora, a lemon silk shirt and a brass handled cane tap, tap, tapping on the ground in front of him while he fed a mob of noisily opinionated seagulls crumbs scattered out of a rumpled sack.

This night though, he was not alone, but accompanied by a dignified fellow of Eunesian descent, salt and peppered hair with bright blue eyes against an olive complexion and unusually dressed in a casual blue suit island style, who sat beside him in long suffering silence. More than once, this fellow had asked himself why it was that one Manyc Ulairi might not, just once, arrange transportation on his behalf instead of the eccentric sorcerer that he was forever having to track down and steer back on course.

Nonetheless, it was business at hand and similar to another moonlit night, they waited like tourists taking a break from a beachfront stroll for a particular Elementalist to take notice of their presence. The Eunesian sincerely hoped such would transpire on its own, and right quick, lest the incorrigible wizard beside him make good his intentions and toss pebbles at the elf’s windows or else go asking after him through the square.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

It did not take long for either man to garner Erenthril’s attention. After all, the wayward Elementalist had patrolled this island like a bird of prey, an eagle soaring high above its domain, and the short cryptic isle of only a handful of denizens – and clearly when one chooses the word handful in terms of describing a population, it must be assumed to be in the low thousands compared to the greater cities upon Telath – had become home to one of the more roguish individuals within the Empire, as far as the Elflord was concerned. Thus it was that when the familiar sight of one of Milo’s more eccentric and dubious sorcerers greeted him as he walked out the front door and saw the man sitting upon a bench nearby, accompanied by another, Erenthril felt it necessary to confront the pair and see to it Milo hadn’t gone and drowned himself in a gold swimming pool filled with brandy.

“Vedui….nice suit,” Eren remarked dryly, coming up behind the man as his eyes swept over the Eunesian in company. The seagulls had been the first to take notice of the Elementalist’s presence, and all at once immediately departed in a whirl up into the skies – something about small bolts of lightning shooting out of the clouds every time they made a habit of making his roof their home did not bode well for the addle-brained creatures. Registration of the Eunesian man’s identity failed to click, so the Elementalist held out his hand for a proper handshake and expectant title without giving one of his own.

“How’s our mutual friend faring?” he asked good naturedly, coming around the bench and taking a seat next to the sorcerer.

[Milo L'Evienne]

”Oh dear,” Gwygwin remarked with a frown that drew unkempt white eyebrows together and deepened the creases round his mouth when his feathered friends departed in a cloud of feathers and calls of protest. It was short lived though, the old sorcerer rarely frowned and instead a wide smile lit the old man’s face when Erenthril showed himself. ”Good evening lad,” he said while crumpling up his sack and slipping it into his coat pocket. ”It’s a fine one for a night on the shore is it not? And our young friend is as well as ever,” and a statement as open to interpretation as ever there was one, given the never relenting weighty burdens on the shoulders of the fellow in question.

For his part, and while he stood, Barrett’s smile was a reserved but friendly one while offering his hand in a firm grip. ”Barrett Tierney sir. Protector, aide, confidante…” There was more he wouldn’t say, but the trailing off of his introduction meant that like Erenthril’s connections with the same, there was far more to this man's duties than met the eye. ”Our mutual friend’s keeper,” Gwygwin explained while Eren sat down. Since Milo was a mere nineteen ordinations old in fact and a still wet behind the ears Prefect off in Medonia.

”We’ve come sir in hopes of speaking to you on his behalf, a request if you will that if accepted, he would be uncommonly grateful for,” Barrett said, having settled himself comfortably back on the bench. ”You may have heard unsubstantiated rumors by now that the time has come to right the wrongs previously done to the citizens of Narim and Paxia, and to reclaim what was lost in the process. Our friend wonders if he might prevail on you when the time comes to lend your significant talents to the effort of ensuring that the scales are to whatever extent possible, tipped in the right direction.”

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

“Good.”

That was the only reply Gwygwin received for a while, and only in direct correlation to Milo’s state of happiness – rather, health, would probably be more accurate for the poor and troubled Regent – as Eren shoved his own hands into his pockets and glanced between one man and another.

Barrett was interesting – far more so because Eren had never actually come across the man before than for any of his classier job descriptions. The fact there were individuals of such stature and importance in Milo’s life that Eren did not know personally still impressed him, though to be fair the Syl’rosyian Elf wasn’t one to snoop around the office or get caught up in political affairs. The proposition…nonetheless…

He listened intently. He didn’t show it, of course. But he was listening. Intently. His eyes fleetingly travelled between Barrett and the sorcerer numerous times, as if seeking validity to what he was being told. And when it was all said and done, he mulled it over thoughtfully for a minute or so. Took his hands out of his pockets, scratched behind his ear and everything.

“So I take it the unsubstantiated rumors are, in fact, quite substantial?” he queried in a light tone caught between the crossfire of accusation and jest. A small chuckle escaped his lips, but it was more nervous than anything else. Even Eren knew war was costly, and to lend his talents on any sort of degree or level meant condoning it. And risking quite a bit at that. “Our friend asked you to come here? And he wants me to intervene…significantly? Or are we talking more cloak and dagger?” he asked, the more logical questions probably catching up to his immediate questions that rolled slowly off his tongue.