More than thirty or so men were abandoned to their hatred of Shinsou’s Brotherhood in the inn, and the Telgradian quickly decided that after the brawl there was nothing more to be said to them. They were drunk, after all.

A handful of perhaps the more neutral patrons mixed with with them, and they were drunk too. Amongst it all Shinsou could sense very little energy as they mulled about the tavern; their vitals dulled like the victims of a plague.

There was one, though, who was different; a diamond who stood out amongst all of the coal. He was a man of tall build, with brown hair and a linen shirt stained with blood from a fresh wound, and he moved among the bodies which sat and sauntered in the vault area of the cold tavern towards the door. His interest was not in the stupefied drunks, or in the political disagreements that soured the atmosphere, but seemingly in avoiding conflict with another man sat opposite him. Mild chatter over the air suggested one had accused the other of being a Brotherhood sympathizer, to which Shinsou’s quarry had retorted with some form of magic.

Not a fan of their work, obviously, but still intriguing.

Shinsou had first felt the tell-tale signs of this standout from across town whilst drilling a small, advance force for the Castigars in Stonevale. Most of these kinds of people he found had joined the Brotherhood because of crime or desperation, and because the Brotherhood gave them a third of a pint of rum a day. Some, though, didn’t join at all. Instead, the Telgradian mentored them out of curiosity, or challenged them to keep his own skills sharp. John Cromwell, Hayate Amatsukami, Philomel van der Aart, and even the mighty Joshua Cronen ranked amongst those numbers; people he had worked with and against who now truly had carved their names into history. Joshua, his only other true friend aside from the powerful Storm Veritas, had even ascended to Thaynehood, so it was to be believed. Shinsou had found heaven on a miserable Althanas when he had discovered these people, no matter their goals or allegiances, because they kept him strong. If they became a threat, they would be left to the mercy of the Brotherhood.

“Come on, Arius.”

Shinsou had already finished his beer, and was starting to stand. Arius gulped his own ale into oblivion and then stared at the thirty or so strong tavern mob that he found staring at him.

“What do we do with them?”

Shinsou looked back at his right hand man, and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m more concerned about this guy, for now. Get him down.”

They angled their heads towards the gentleman who had been briefly set on fire. He had obviously taken offence at this, and, quickly, the once-discrete patron reached beneath his coat for a still unseen weapon, moving with a slow, unflinching deliberation in the direction of Shinsou’s “person of interest”. Quick and decisive action would be needed to bring the Telgradian’s latest “experiment” safely away from the place. Like two human sidewinders, the Brotherhood contingent human pressed themselves closely together and slid across the breadth of the tavern, allowing themselves to come between the two men and the door with arms deliberately left in view.

Shinsou spoke first, pulling his coat back a bit to reveal Enpera’s sheath. His bright golden eyes peered in a harsh squint.

“Think you might need to rethink your next move,” His voice was disquietingly articulate and sharp as he gestured to his “interest”, “The man you have a problem with there is under Brotherhood protection. Which means my protection.”

“Think I care? I want nothing to do with any Brotherhood pricks, and I don’t give a shit whether it’s a random dickhead or the “mighty” Shinsou Vaan Osiris in my way,” The venom poured from the man’s lips like liquid; it burned with the same hatred he had spewed up against Shinsou’s quarry. He moved to step about the tandem. Arius pressed his hand against the door, stepping once again in front of the man. “Sorry, but it really is best for everyone that you re-consider.”

The man’s eyes flashed briefly with rage, a wildfire ready to go off. Shinsou’s eyes glanced at the hand holding a dagger to his stomach, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, vines of dark matter sprung forth and wrapped themselves around the shaft of the poorly fashioned blade, before dissolving the steel entirely. The hilt collapsed gruesomely about the man’s left hand; a mixture of molten steel and cord smothering the hand and scolding it.

Shinsou shot a glare at his initial interest, and finally addressed him.

“Meet me outside. I’d like to talk to you.”