He thought he would feel out of place, but it turned out that was most folks here. Of course, the diplomats were… diplomat…ing… and the guards were guarding, but everyone else was just kind of… there. Of the nearly six hundred people that were now gathered around the watchtower, less than forty were diplomats, less than a hundred were guards, which left over four hundred as support or just friends or anything else. And so, when Barret went out hunting before dawn like he usually did, he was not the only one. It certainly seemed strange to have these three with him, given one was a wolf, one was a lynx, and one was a Templar. Not that he was going to complain to anyone, this was, after all, why they were here. To end all of the fighting, to bring peace, to allow this to happen. Regardless, he did quietly voice his own apprehension on being here, not being particularly good with words, which the other hunters shared. They were there to make sure everyone survived the journey, and to make sure they made it back home.

It didn't take them very long to find a herd of deer in a nearby glade, and with three quick arrows, their quarry was felled. Barret felt a bit left out without a bow, but he was more than capable of helping in the hunt in other ways, like tracking and dressing the fallen bucks. By the time the sun was fully risen they were back at the tower, fires lit and the smell of meat slowly filling the air. He may not be a diplomat or a soldier or a scribe or a thousand other things that would be useful right now, but there was one thing he did know: how to cook a meal fit for anyone. It wasn't anything particularly special, but the aroma was more than enough to draw people over just to ask for a taste, which Barret was more than happy to provide, since the three large deer was more than enough for everyone.

Still, the food was rather bland to start, but one of the Tiger Clansmen offered to give him some spices from her hometown, which Barret happily put on the meat. Shortly after that, a Lynx guard sat near him with some peppers and dried fruit that he was cutting up. Then a Fox meandered over with some smoked fish rations they had brought from the coast, and a few minutes later a Templar guard brought over some cheese and bread, while some of the Basitins set up a platter of mushrooms, carrots, onions, and other hearty veggies. Soon, the whole camp was talking, laughing, and sharing in a meal they all contributed to.

And yet, for everyone that walked over, Barret grew more and more nervous.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several people standing there, watching him. They were all Templars, and though they hadn't been introduced to him, he didn't need that for two of them. One was a large man, with fiery red hair, a sharply trimmed goatee, and a sword hanging by his side. He was dressed in half plate armor, with a deep blue uniform underneath. Muscular and dominating, he held an air of authority, those around him giving him either deep respect… or a wide berth. The way he looked and the way he held himself was so much like Richard, they surely had to be related.

The second was far more sinister. A narrow, lanky man with an ornate set of robes and clothes, everything about him seemed like he was from another kingdom, or from another world entirely. He did not have armor or sword, but in the hushed whispers he delivered blows that would be more dangerous than any blade. And yet, it was none of these that drew Barret's attention. It was the eyes. Even across the clearing he could see the man's eyes: blue and yellow, one of each. Trace had warned about him. This was the Grand Templar. This was Brahn Denanet.

It was hard to escape their gaze as they stared across the field at the wolves and Ishtaer and tigers and lynxes and Basitins and foxes and Templars who had gathered around for a communal breakfast, but there was nowhere else to go. Barret sat with his back to them, wishing he could stop feeling their eyes on the back of his head. He was, thankfully, drawn from his stupor by Trace sitting down next to him. "They're only watching you because they're scared."

"Scared? Of me?" Barret didn't look up from his food, simply poking it with his fork. "Why would they be scared of me? I'm not good at talking like everyone else is."

"No, but you're different. They weren't expecting to see any Ishtaer here. Not only that, but you have gone and done the unthinkable this morning." Trace smirked as he reached for a plate of food. "You may not have noticed, but they're the only ones who aren't over here. Look around. By being you, you've brought people together, and that's the last thing Brahn wants right now. He's going to want to sow discord and doubt within his ranks. If his advisors do not see you as a threat or, even worse, as an ally, then he won't be able to keep the war going. You were the unexpected factor, and I'm glad you came."

Barret grinned widely. "Unexpected is the perfect word. Even you may be surprised."

"Am I going to find out what's in that bag of yours now, or will I have to wait?"

"Oh, you're going to have to wait until tomorrow morning. I want to make sure everyone has the same reaction to it." Trace raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue any further.

Barret was not the only one who was unnerved by the Templars, and Richard squirmed uncomfortably under his father's gaze. Between him and Brahn, he didn't want to acknowledge they existed, but then there was the old man. The old man that stood on the right side of Brahn with a large gold cane that had a gem in the pommel, who was making constant whispered remarks in his ear… he was scheming, and that most likely meant trouble. But it also reminded him of what Raine had said about her father, that he was a schemer and a manipulator. That certainly seemed to fit this man perfectly. Could it be him?

"You've barely touched your food." Sythe sat down next to him, suddenly drawing him back to where he was. "You've got that look again. Like you're either thinking really hard."

"There's a look for that?"

Sythe smirked. "Oh, yeah… a vacant stare, a slack jaw, bit of drool running down your chin…" Sythe promptly received a slap to the back of his head as he laughed. "Okay, so you don't drool!"

"Why are we even friends?" Richard said, smiling while pulling the wolf close in a side hug. Shaking his head, he stopped chuckling. "That guy over there next to Brahn… do you know him?"

Sythe glanced over his shoulder briefly, turning back quickly. "Can't say I know either of them, why? Afraid they know you?"

"Well, one of them is my father, so yeah, he knows me. But it's the other guy. There's just something about him that feels… off. Like he's hiding something, far more than just the normal hiding things politicians do, ya know?"

"Unfortunately, I think you're right." Sythe answered very quickly. "I don't know him, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He's up to something. Barely stops talking, seems to be the one pulling all the strings right now, even Brahn seems to be bending to his will."

"That's Euchre Silverlock." The two looked up to see Eruinsa standing over them. "I expected better from you, Sythe. You're obviously talking about them. I thought you were far more subtle than this. Clearly being away from the Diplomats Corp has left your skills somewhat lacking."

"No one asked for your opinion." Sythe said, before breaking out into a wide grin, laughing. "Ah, but you are right. I haven't been able to hone my craft in months. Last time I really was a major component was when Edinmire first became independent, so I'm a bit out of my depth here."

Eruinsa sat down on the ground next to him, smirking. "You'll get back into it easily enough. You always were quick to think. Who's your friend?"

"Richard Orlin the Third, at your service." Sythe looked over, shocked as Richard suddenly shifted from casual and laid back to sounding extremely formal, more than he had ever heard. "I may not be eloquent with my words, but I am more than capable of holding my own against any opponent, be it in a game of tactics, across pulpits, or on the field of battle."

"Who are you and what have you done with my friend?" Sythe balked, taken off guard by this new side of Richard.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. Old habits die hard I guess." Richard turned away, his face turning as red as his hair.

"Something your father trained you to do?" There was no response, but Sythe glanced across the courtyard. Clear as day was the large man with fiery red hair, who was no longer standing near Brahn, but seemed to be berating several Templar soldiers for some reason. They were not ones who had walked over, and he was not loud, but was very animated. Shirking away from the large man, even the one who was taller than he was, the soldiers frowned and nodded, saluting before walking away. "What is he even doing here? I though he ran the academy in Durlon?"

"He does. That's why he's here." Richard scoffed. "You think that he'd be a book reading, paper signing, quill pusher? He'll take any excuse to show his recruits how it's done. If he's not charging to the front lines, he's bringing in prisoners of war to use in training. He's been known to break legs, arms, ribs, jaws, skulls, hips, hands, tails, and anything else he can get his fingers on. Leads and teaches by example. 'Follow orders, if you fall behind, you're left behind. Don't ask questions, just do what you're told.' It still makes me sick to think he's related to me."

Eruinsa glanced between them, but then shook her head. "He may be your blood, but you do not have to be related to him. There is more than one way to be family, and blood does not make family permanent." Richard smiled, looking over his shoulder to her as she stood up. "You should eat. Tomorrow will be a day of change for everyone."