The Citadel was a place where one could cheat the reaper itself, or suffer at the hands of its patrons over and over in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Rarely, other than to train or to sate some perverted urge to kill, would any man, woman or child set foot in the place without good reason.

Shinsou's reason today were the pistachios.

Ale glistened in a polished stone tankard handed to him by the Ai’Brone attending to him as the Telgradian peeled away shell after shell, and allowed the salted nut passage past his lips. The taste was divine; the final proof that there was indeed a higher power, and that deity knew that the pistachio nut was the undisputed heavyweight king of all nuts.

A cohort of orange robed monks washed empty glasses with cloths as Shinsou turned to Storm.

"Who are you calling cheap, old timer? There's enough left over in the Brotherhood treasury to keep you and your shit nuts in touch for the rest of your life. Though why you'd spend it on Macadamia nuts is anyone's fucking guess."

Shinsou was a man who constantly needed to learn; about himself and the extraordinary people who lived here. People who might become allies. People who might become threats to him.

There was a man he recognised quite clearly as Gum do Mugu next to him, attempting to pay with cashew nuts with pieces of bone.

"And THAT is just psychotic. Everyone knows Cashews aren't worth a damn."