All bunnied dialogue and non-combat action approved and written by source material owners.
“Mr Osiris?”

The voice sliced through Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s daydream, returning him swiftly from the land beyond his window back to the reality of his office. The sound of a low cough echoed around the freshly painted room, quickly accompanied by one of the three-strong Radasanthian delegation on the opposite side of his desk clearing her throat.

A brief expression of annoyance flashed over his face at the interruption; it had been too long since the sound of iron horseshoes rattled upon the Whitevale cobblestones. He liked listening to it every day to be reminded that despite Arius Mephisto’s best efforts, the little piece of his world called the Brotherhood was still here, and he didn't appreciate the interruption of his moment.

“Hmm?”

Shinsou’s golden eyes surveyed each one of the faces, as if they had entered the room for the first time. Next to the diplomats, Philomel van der Aart sat patiently. She rested her chin on her hand, studying her friend closely as the gathered waited for The Telgradian to answer their question.

“I asked if you have had time to consider our request, Mr Osiris?” The young brunette repeated, squinting through her thin-rimmed spectacles at Shinsou as he casually dragged a chair out from underneath his desk, and sat in front of the window. She could see he hadn’t, as the papers she had brought with her and placed in front of the Assembly's former enemy remained inexplicably untouched. What she didn't know was that Shinsou already knew what it contained.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, ladies and gentlemen, this is no request. Right?” The Telgradian took a long look at the package she had placed on his desk. “Nothing that the Assembly sends in one of these envelopes contains anything that is ‘optional’.”

The parchment was still sealed with scarlet wax, the crest of the Assembly of Corone embedded deeply into it. The clean shaven, close-cut man next to the female delegate shrugged, and leaned over the desk, clasping his hands together. His pressed finery and deliberate manner told of the aristocracy of the Radasanthian government. His eyes met Shinsou's; a knowing glint barely detectable.

“Philomel said you liked to be direct.” The man paused, tapping the envelope, “Well, the Brotherhood owes Corone a debt after the stunt it pulled a couple of years ago. The so-called Siege of Radasanth weighs heavily on our memories. Out of respect for you, and advising against our better judgment, Philomel has vouched for you and your Brotherhood. This – let’s call it a ‘suggestion’ - will go some way to settling the tab with the Assembly.”

Shinsou’s eyes looked up at the Faun, who didn’t for one moment break her gaze away from him. Instead, Philomel shrugged. The feelings were still there; a mutual tension, an admiration still lingering under the surface. But, that being so, even those feelings did not prevent Philomel from doing the right thing when the Brotherhood had attacked Radasanth on his and Storm Veritas’s command. She had stepped up, and had been the first to oppose him. She had engaged him directly in the city. She had been the one who…

“Shinsou?”

The Faun’s voice pulled him back to reality. Shinsou’s eyes peeled down towards the unopened package. Carefully, he placed it between finger and thumb, and cut away the seal with a quick swipe of a nearby paper knife before unfolding the note in front of him. His face crumpled into a forced frown as those irises followed each line of spidery handwriting to its conclusion.

“Fucking hell…” The Telgradian's response was convincing, containing just the right blend of surprise and exclamation.

“Fucking hell, indeed,” the well-groomed gentleman replied at length. “What I’m about to tell you is a state secret. It seems a group of Aleraran archeologists working at an excavation site out in the fringes of the country uncovered an ancient tomb of some sort. That isn’t important to us – what is important is what they found inside. The Alerarans are keeping tight-lipped about it, but from what we’ve heard from our source inside their interior ministry, this artifact is of great significance to the demons. So much so that they invaded Alerar.”

A moment passed before the Telgradian spoke again. His eyes washed around the room, at each of the faces in front of him, and then back to the desk. Everyone had reactions, no matter how small, but the most telling would be his own. It had to be right. “Invaded? What? I don’t get it. The Alerarans surely wouldn’t just let Tular march up to their gates unopposed?" The tapping of fingers on the polished wooden surface accompanied Shinsou’s observations as he settled into a slight slouch. “How did this happen?”

“That’s the thing,” the politician replied diffidently, a small smile playing about his lips. “They appeared from inside the country, apparently from the tomb, although that isn’t confirmed. There were no skirmishes on the borders at all. Took them, and everyone else, completely by surprise. So, the whole region is sat on top of a tinderbox. No-one knows how the demons got inside Alerar, and the dwarves are getting very nervous about their intentions further afield. We believe it’s only a matter of time before they take matters into their own hands.”

The third gentleman, who hadn’t yet spoken, now sat up to punctuate this conversation with his own thoughts. “Protecting their interests will inevitably be at the forefront of their minds, too, and those might not align with Alerar’s, or even our own. We’re expecting the dwarves to try and negotiate a coalition-backed counterattack of their own, but there are so many issues at play here.”

Shinsou frowned as the situation the other nations faced dawned on him. The warrior sat back now, his chiselled features wracked in thought as he re-read the note, before his eyes sank back to the delegation. Their deep red clothing stood out starkly against the white and earthly tones of his surroundings, aggravating his OCD.

"I think it is safe to assume that this is an absolute clusterfuck, politically and militarily. As for me, these orders, because that’s what they are, require me to provide...security? For Celandine van der Aart, of all people?” Shinsou now addressed Philomel directly, tapping his fingers on his desk as he raised his eyebrows at the Faun. “What’s the thinking here, Phi, sending your kid into the heart of all this shit? Why not go yourself? You’re plenty strong enough to handle yourself out there.”

“We’ve agreed to travel to an unoccupied part of Alerar and hold an emergency congress of nations with the dark elves and the dwarves." The suited man interrupted, dragging his voice through a long sigh.

Shinsou noted the interruption with some distaste.

“I’m sorry,” The Telgradian interrupted, pointing at the Faun, “I was talking to her. When I want you to speak, I’ll let you know. Why Celandine, Phi?”

“And, if you let me finish,” The suited man continued, speaking over the Telgradian, “"Philomel van der Aart is a close friend of the Assembly, and suggested that Celandine go in her stead. Her daughter is something of a learned scholar, and is well respected in this line of work. As you are so fond of saying, ‘there is no better security than you’.”

There was a long pause. Philomel’s suggestive gaze and her silence told more of the story to Shinsou than any words could have done. She had not always wanted Celandine to travel the world, because her daughter’s safety was the most important thing in her world. But, the kid was smart, a real future player in Corone’s diplomatic game, and an intensely quick learner. Philomel seemed to have relented. But, while all this was well and good, Celandine was not a natural fighter. She needed protection; a guardian to watch over her whilst she tried in vain to fix problems of someone else’s making, and it looked as if Philomel had insisted on Shinsou for a reason.

She trusts me with her kid. I don’t understand why Phi can’t go. Hell, she SHOULD go. This situation's going to get messier than I would have liked.

“I have a couple of conditions.” The Telgradian stipulated, fanning the papers in front of his face before slapping them on the table. “Firstly, I want full pardons for myself, Storm Veritas and any and all associates of the Brotherhood for the Siege of Radasanth. I don’t want to hear it fucking mentioned ever again.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Came the trite, predictable and not particularly encouraging response from the suited male politico. The two men both knew it was a non-starter, but appearances had to be kept.

“Also,” Shinsou continued, “No surprises. You brief me in full, and keep me informed at all times.. I don’t want to hear ‘top secret’ this or ‘classified that’. I can’t protect you if you don’t give me the facts.”

“…fine, then.” The nameless man seemed far too guarded now. He even took the time to consider what should have been a simple reply for long moments more than necessary. Shinsou noted the response. “Is that all?”

The Telgradian clicked his tongue. The Radasanthian politician felt another stipulation coming.

“Leave Storm out of this.”

“But…?” The man was clearly not expecting this, and reeled slightly at the mention of it. Shinsou noted it was the first real reaction to his demands that he had made, but whether anyone else in the room had noticed or not was a different matter.

“I said, leave him.” The Telgradian’s visage noticeably sharpened. The occupants of the room knew that his concern over his best friend’s health was an ever present feature these days. No matter how much Storm argued otherwise, the campaign against Arius and the electromancer’s unpleasant excursion to Raiaera had taken their toll. Shinsou had similarly been thrown headlong into Alerar by the evil wizard a year ago and, knowing what had befallen him, appeared to everyone to not wish to burden him further. At least, that's what he wanted everyone else to think.

“Fine.”

The mere exclusion of Storm Veritas from proceedings noticeably stalled the conversation. The delegation wanted to be the one to broach it further, but Shinsou’s blatant refusal to consider it forced the silence to grow until it engulfed them like a voracious maw.

The finely dressed man reached over the desk with an outstretched hand, noting that Shinsou Vaan Osiris had developed a fiercely stubborn streak in the years since the Siege. No doubt the Telgradian sensed the tension and perhaps the anger that dwelt inside of him and every other Radasanthian towards the Brotherhood, and justly feared getting too close to the Assembly. Rumours whispered that they were still thirsting for the dissolution of Whitevale, and ever since Arius, Osiris had been careful about picking his friends.

“I’ll make arrangements for our travel to Alerar out of Tylmerande, and inform you once the itinerary is complete.” With a smile that cloaked mistrust and resentment, Shinsou stood up to join hands with his counterpart, turning his head at last to the Faun. “Philomel, would you be kind enough to fetch Celandine in?”

The delegates bowed their heads in turn, and the suited man gave one final look at Shinsou Vaan Osiris. The Telgradian came across as arrogant, but there was something different about him from the days of the Siege. He held a certain composure that a younger, less level headed Osiris wouldn’t have done.

“We’d do well to get gone by sunset tomorrow. It’s a long journey. That means, of course, that we’ve got plenty of time to brief you on the gory details.”

Shinsou smiled falsely as they filed out of the room. Left with his thoughts, and the sounds of the mounted guards on drill in the square outside, the Telgradian looked once again out of the window and waited for Celandine van der Aart.