It's not as it seems.

[Infinite]

The candlelight plied its trade within the expansive surroundings of the magisterial hall. The figures, of which there were two, sat luxuriously in their delicately carved armchairs; at a lack of words to describe the artistic marvels of timber.

The one upon the right grunted in approval. This was a rather noted gesture, as he was of higher rank than his companion: A belligerent, tyrannical Captain within the Counts’ rather ambitious regiment of imported mercenaries. Perhaps the adjective was a little harsh given the consequences, as his command over ‘his’ men was somewhat at sea; for one would need to know at least seven tongues to even begin to contemplate holding sway over his men’s weapons.

The other, who was slumped forth within his chair, either through inebriation or exhaustion, was the Counts’ leading official. Lacking the otherwise perceived style and guile of a political figure, this specimen lacked even the basic hygienic decencies of a Bobatarian Gremlin. Lice crept visibly through his lank, unwashed blonde locks which occasionally  rebelled against his styling to sit astride his sharply pointed nose. The eyes were beady, an intelligent jade although his gaze was exactly that, jaded. The rest of his body encapsulated the rest of his body:

Gaunt, skinny and nervous as his arms and legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he slowly clambered from the depths of his chair to skulk over towards the bottle of Merlot which lurked within the shadows of which the candlelight could not penetrate.

“You do realise this is a rather costly decision you are making?”, he grinned ruefully as he sat back down, slurping greedily from the bottles’ lip before readjusting his gaze to his companion.

“Must you speak such trype? You have not the experience neither the rank to mither me about decisions concerning MY regiment”, the emphasis being further reinforced by a firm poke to his chest as he spoke. Grizzled features and bustling muscles composed his figure, suiting both personality and occupation. “I’d rather not contemplate anything else. We cannot risk any of our own, so let us forsake the lives of those who are neither not from this land or this continent!”

The rueful grin hadn’t disappeared, in fact it had grown after hearing the rebuttle and his nervous twitch had been replaced by a sudden air of confidence. He wiggled himself until he could sit forward, perching his head upon an outstretched palm before cooing: “I knew you’d say that, Saesa. And the Count shall know of your decision in the morning, no doubt. I’ll see to it that I leave in the mor-.”

“MORNING?! You’ll go now! Lest I purge my stomach on accounts of your very appearance”, a sudden beastial roar left Saesa’s lips as he flung a fist down upon one of the arms of his chair; which was carved into the features of a boar.

The confidence dissipated quicker than it had materialised, and the official quickly summoned his composure along with the sense to quickly stumble for the door.
“Pol.. Before you go, send my condolences to the Count, would you?”, a somewhat sincere tone was mustered and Pol almost had the nerve to mock the Captains’ sudden loss of menace. Yet he thought better of it, merely nodding his head and swinging open the door before stepping out into the unforgiving gales of Dael’ga.

Meanwhile, Saesa had finally pried his burly figure from within the cavernous seat and took a place over beside one of the very few windows. His hall was of a stone creation, quarried from a nearby mine which prided itself on its’ resources stubborn resistance to the elements. No mean feat when it came to the plains of Ael’donar.

He shook his head, a giddy sense of glee, misplaced by the ale within his gut, blurred his thoughts as he gazed out across the modest town. It was early evening and the market was in full swing, as he could tell from the hark calls of merchants attempting to rid their rotten wares onto the unsuspecting masses. Saesa smiled, there was no alternative of course as the plains which surrounded the remote town stead were sterile and even if they were fertile, the weather was of the extremity that it made even walking difficult.

Encasing the town were accurately angled walls, almost like a ramp, in an attempt to deflect some of the force. It worked, somewhat. They survived. The only population that lived within these walls were either the families of the mercenaries, or the relatives of Saesa himself. He always enjoyed seeing his Count’s lackies being forced to endure the torrid weather just to get a “Yes” or a “No.”

Pivoting upon a heel, he made an advance over toward the candle and bent down to blow it out. Whilst in the act the door flew open, prompting a shock for both parties as the thunderous clang of stone upon stone echoed around the rafters. An irritated scowl covered Saesa’s face as he turned to see who had interrupted his would-of been departure.

She was feminine. Her face was hidden by a hood of fur, an exotic creature it must be said judging by the fiery pigment of its hide. The same creature must of gone into the creation of her garbs which were of the same elk, the perfect solution to the bitter bite of the chilling wind. Although she was shivering. She wasn’t small, yet she wasn’t tall and this was something Saesa noted as unusual; most women from Ael’donar were either as tall as him or near about.

He straightened himself, the wind which had been ushered in had blown out the candle for him and what light there was only left him in darkness; veiled from the newcomers gaze. She knew he was there, however.

“Saesa, I have heard much about you”, her voice was a melody in itself as she spoke with an unfamiliar lilt. “The courageous Captain who hides within his walls, only blind to his mens’ pitfalls”, she giggled whilst padding over towards where the door lay dormant and determinedly began to push it closed.

“You mock in rhyme, yet you cannot muster the strength to close my door? This is interesting, indeed.”

She finally managed to push the door shut after several moments of puffing and panting, prying the hood down from around her head as she turned back around to face Saesa. Her skin was the faintest tint of green, eyes of the fiercest orange with slits as dark as granite. Lips both full and an enveloping green sat pouting beneath a gently curved nose; with thick spikes of blackened hair lining her otherwise bald scalp.

“I didn’t mock you, I merely stated what is true, now listen before I bid you adieu”, although she carefully padded a few paces forward she was cautious not to get too close. Saesa was renowned for both his unarmed and armed prowess. “The Count doesn’t want your assistance, he grows weary of your persistence and ill efficiency to provide sustenance.”

Saesa frowned, now standing with his feet shoulder width apart between the two armchairs which sat within the centre of his hall. “Is this a joke? Alas I have not forgotten the last few of which the Count has tried to play privy with my emotions, I hope not for your sake that he is not.”

She smiled, revealing a tangle of sharpened teeth. “I assure you this is no joke, the Count is neither within his yoke and neither has he the Deathweed toke.”

“Okay, so if he is not jesting then I presume this is either an assassins’ attempt at luring me into a false sense of security or a plea for my assistance in some form”, he let forth a rather over emphasised yawn as to accredit her with the magnitude of his ill-willingness to listen.

“You can either take my words as they are served, or fail in what is not observed I merely want you to be rest assured”, she shook her head and rummaged within one of the pockets upon her leggings. “This note is enough explains all you need to know, prey it does not hit you low and if you wish to know more, I shall be sat upon the taverns’ floor. Suffice to say my deeds are done and I wish you the greatest of fun.”

With that she flung the note across towards Saesa before spinning away, exasperatingly prying the door back open and creeping out at the first opportunity before closing the door once again.

The note flew well and true, it was either the foreboding sense which welled within his gut or perhaps it was the draught.

All Saesa seemed to know was that there was more to come..

To be continued? [[ Thought I'd give a little taste of how I write and what not, hope y'all enjoy. :3 ]]