The primeval man had been agreeable enough to follow the sorcerers, heedless of his lack of clothing despite their party including women. All that he appeared to possess were a few necklaces, but if the rough ground or damp conditions outside the previously sealed chamber bothered him, he made no sign. None that Cierte could decipher anyway. He supposed it made sense that the man would speak a different language than humans spoke today.

While the sorcerers led the way, they looked over their shoulders often to gape at the man. Cierte tried to reign them in sharply, but his command came out softer than he expected. He was guilty of gaping himself. Here before them was perhaps the oldest human to exist! There was some kind of…confidence to every motion he made, as if he were being escorted through a mansion and he wore fine clothes. Vitality seemed to hum within him.

Some time later, they came to the gentle slope that would soon lead up into the lower reaches of Oolacile. Cierte motioned for the party to stop. The new addition halted as well, taking his cues from the others.

"Delae mot temuule, eh?" The smile that split his leather-brown face was easy and assured, slightly amused as the sorcerer shrugged his shoulders and smiled apologetically. He dropped down to crouch comfortably when it became apparent that they may stand here for a time.

"We can't take him out there in plain view, and not just because he's bare! Kaathe warned us that the Age of Fire dimming had brought threats, and I won't lose our last hope to some assassin with a bow!" He frowned as he ran his eyes over his party. "Jessabelle, with me. Mary, you as well. Stop acting like a fool!" The woman's entire head was nearly as red as her hair with their guest lounging nearby as he was.

"We three will go up. If it were just myself, suspicions may arise. I intend to procure a cloak and some clothes from my residence to help our friend exit as stealthily as possible." He could have just turned the man and himself invisible, but in this city it wasn't uncommon to have a method of detecting and/or seeing through sorceries. He turned to the first woman he had chosen. "I want you to find my daughter as discreetly as you can and tell her the news. And you Mary, I want you to prepare the rooms we have set aside. Well? Hop to it!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He had made it to his estate without a hitch, save for the hammering of his heart. What a discovery! Surely this would save their Age from the horrible fate that awaited otherwise. Kaathe had named the being an ancient man, and all things indicated this was so. Surely wisdom of such an age could allow the preservation of the Flame?

"Be wary, Cierte."

He jumped, realizing he had been staring into nothing in front of his wardrobe, and spun to face the primordial serpent. The great head of the creature snaked up from the hole he had been provided, and his attention appeared to be focused out the window.

"Kaathe! You frightened me!" He took a few breaths, getting his wind back. That wasn't as easy as it had been years ago. "Kaathe, we did it! You were right!" His smile became a ponderous frown. "Except…he doesn't speak our language. Not a word."

The serpent appeared to freeze for a moment before swiveling to face him. "That is strange. As a primeval man, he knows whatever language you do."

Cierte furrowed his brow. Had he imagined a twinkle of mischief in the man's eyes? "Well then we will convince him to speak with us, I suppose. The dire nature of the situation should be enough to draw him from his prank."

The serpent studied him for a moment before turning back to the window. "Perhaps." The silence stretched, but he felt as though he was meant to stay, so he did. "The times around the discovery of the Fire itself, of the Lord Souls, was a treacherous and savage time, human. There were…disagreements as to how things should proceed, and not all agreed on the Age of Fire."

He shifted his feet. "What are you saying, great one?"

"I am saying that our new…guest…may take some convincing. But I am sure you can be persuasive. After all, this hangs in the balance should you fail." Men and women strode by happily in the streets, and Princess Dusk was there to greet them.

He walked over to flank the being at the window. "Surely we should tell the Princess?"

The massive gray head shook from side to side. "The following business is likely to be crude and crass. No place for royalty. Present her the finished, gleaming product and save her the toil."

He bowed his head. "An excellent point great serpent."

They both watched until the Princess's entourage vanished around a corner.

There was work to do.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Another curling strip of wood peeled away from the block, joining the pile at Gough's feet. He would sweep up the lot of it when he was finished, cleaning it as carefully as he did the rest of his chambers. Oh, Melda would be in a huff that he didn't allow her small army of servants to tidy his things, but it would be only a superficial huff. They had butted heads a little when they had first met, but things had been sanded down. Especially after his wife had passed all those years ago.

As if thinking her name had summoned her, Melda appeared. Shuffling around the corner, shawl draped over her hunched frame, she directed a flat look at him.

"Hard at work, Knight?"

He chuckled, the bass sound magnified by the walls. "Alas, no." He set his project off to one side, a half-completed piece of a wolf with a sword. "How might an old giant be of service, my lady?"

She snorted at his half bow from his seat, yet he knew it would be much more obvious if she truly disliked him. People who were on Melda's List seldom found themselves comfortable anywhere in the Citadel.

"An old giant can very well keep his nose out of where it doesn't belong."

He leaned back, one slab of a hand hovering over his heart, the very picture of innocence. "You accuse me? What appears to be the issue?"

Melda was not fooled. Her hands went to her hips and her scowl deepened. "Jesper and Katelen of my scullery have been arriving for duty later and later because someone put the fool notion in their young heads that they could canoodle when they should be working!" The giant raised his hands defensively as the woman stalked towards him. About as tall as his waist while he sat, she radiated a larger presence.

"You can't truly think that I—"

"I won't hear excuses, Gough. I'm not hunting for the perpetrator. I know it's you! It always is!"

The giant cleared his throat; changing conversational gears was not something he did quickly. "Melda, I know you told me not to after the groundskeeper and the maid—"

"—And those squires."

He nodded, acceding the addition. "And the squires. But you must—"

"—And the silver knight with that barmaid."

"You must—Now hold on a moment, those aren't your domain!"

She snorted again, drawing her shawl closer around herself. "No, but it soon became everyone's business the way they carried on."

He winced. "How could I know they would be so bold?"

"You are the Knight, not I."

The Hawkeye grumbled, the sound of thunder drawing near, and Melda nodded her head as if she had confirmed something. He gave a start when he realized she had a dustpan in her hands that was full of his wood shavings. She seemed to move quicker than her age implied when no one watched her directly. Things appearing in order, she gave him one last warning look and made for the doorway. "You press too far, Hawkeye. Even your fellow Knights cannot escape your schemes it seems."

It was Gough's turn to snort. He did not scheme. "I will have you know I did nothing of the sort there. All unfolded naturally, as Gwyn intended." Jesper and Katelen he regretted not in the least. They had been making doe eyes at each other for weeks until he had casually selected the both of them to assist him with a few projects. What blossomed from there was purely the product of human nature.

"Ha! I'll believe that when the sun sets in the east." She had turned back around, arms crossed to address him. She acquired a thoughtful expression, which largely meant that her vague scowl was aimed at nothing at all. "Still, the girl needed to be bedded sometime at her age, and Smough was simply not an option." Smough was one of those on the List, receiving little to no real helpful service from the staff. Gough wasn't sure whether that was the reason for the Executioner's disqualification in Melda's eyes or if she bothered taking Ciaran's opinions into account. She had a decidedly old-fashioned view of many things.

She frowned down at the wood shavings as though just remembering they were there. "Even so, Knight Artorias strikes me as at least an occasional buffoon. Overly frivolous, if you ask me."

The giant smiled, reaching for a leather-bound book. "I suppose it is good that you are not courting him then. Let them be frivolous! There is far too much to be dour about these days. Great Lord, it's only been a month since that awful business in Izalith." The fact that people had begun referring to the region as Lost Izalith was indicative of the state of things.

She was not amused by his comment, yet that was not uncommon. Largely her smiles came from her own musings, such as the one that split her face in a wry manner presently. "Ahh, young people. It's always an excuse to trip one another into a bed, I tell you. Ah! That reminds me; tell them to tone it down. They frightened my maids half to death a few days ago with their…carousing. I'll not have them unable to do their jobs with a great racket coming from the chamber above!"

Gough coughed lightly into his fist. Ah. The young. That sort of thing was unlikely to ever completely escape notice from Melda's lot. Servants had to be everywhere to be effective. "I have been instructed by those I respect to "keep my nose out of where it doesn't belong"..?

She levelled the dustpan at him like a blade. "Do not be coy with me, giant. Cleverness doesn't suit you. I am off, I have spent too much time listening to your jabbering."

"A lovely day to you as well, Melda."