Cassiopeia's View Granny, does your dog bite?

Whenever you have time :)

A missive had been dispatched, summoning @Ransem with all due urgency, and now the elder stood in quiet contemplation, his gaze cast far and wide over the sprawling expanse before him. Herod’s hawk-like eyes swept across the horizon with the precision of one who had long mastered the art of observation, missing nothing of import. The alligator hide cloak rested beside his paw, folded neatly and held down beneath a stone tablet that had been carved with deep grooves.

He stood upon the precipice of a great overlook, where the world unfolded beneath him like a living tapestry woven in the colors of autumn. The mountains loomed like stony guardians, their snow-capped peaks piercing the heavens, while the valleys stretched far below, cloaked in the rich, shifting hues of the season. The trees, aflame with gold and crimson, whispered in the wind, their leaves shimmering like the embers of a dying fire. Lakes scattered like diamonds across the landscape sparkled in the distance, their surfaces reflecting the fading light of the sun as it dipped behind the mountains.

To the north, the signs were unmistakable. A gathering was taking place—though what manner of gathering, he could not yet discern. His sharp eyes caught the faintest glimmer of movement on the horizon, the distant figures assembling like ants from a disturbed pile.

His mouth pulled into a straight line, brow furrowing as he thought.

The Godsmouth camp moved further and further from the desert. Crossing the flatlands and taking refuge within the mountains.

Ransem answered to the elder man's request. Finding a place besides the founder, he sat to the man's left. Speaking in the gruff manner he always carried, You've captured your boy again, and now you place your sights elsewhere?

Ransem's eyes trailed to the north. Wolfscent drifted along the wind in large quantities. Quite the party, he imagined.

Herod’s eyes flicked up at Ransem with a smile that didn’t quite reach them. Ransem, he greeted, voice rich and smooth like well-aged whiskey.

The older man leaned back comfortably, releasing a low chuckle, though there was no real warmth behind it. Not exactly, I’m afraid.

He didn’t elaborate on the boy’s trouble—the defiance, the outbursts, the punishment that had momentarily beaten the wildness out of him. He didn’t need to. Ransem wasn’t there for his domestic troubles, and Hasdrubal had been subdued for now.

After a moment, Herod's grin faded. I’m not sure if you knew, but Eira… He paused, letting her name hang in the air, gauging Ransem’s reaction before continuing. She sent a message to someone. Now, who could that be, I wonder?

Leaning forward, Herod adopted the mien of a man poised to lay bare some terrible truth, as if placing his elbows upon some grand, invisible oaken desk. His eyes narrowed. I worry about her, Ransem. She hasn't been quite right in the head since the unfortunate death of that boy of hers. You remember, do you not? Such sorrow can twist even the strongest mind. He shook his head slowly, his voice a lament, as though mourning the inevitable decay of something once beautiful. And now, she is giving me ultimatums and sending secret messages in the dead of night. Who knows what troubled thoughts linger behind those dark eyes of hers? Herod's nails drummed against the stone.

I must ask you, my friend, to keep a close eye on her. She is alone far too often, wandering the mountains for her little plants. You know as well as I do how dangerous those paths can be—how easily one might lose their footing, slip into a ravine, or fall into one of those icy lakes. Accidents happen all the time, and it would be such a shame if something were to happen to our little bird now, would it not?

A counselor Ransem was not. His interest in the trivial pursuings of Herod's life were minimal. He actually rather enjoyed leaving the preacher's life to his imagination. The goldcoin eyes having been witnessed to the many masks the preacher man wore. The golden mirrors reflected the man's true face more often than not. Especially when hushed tones of conspiracy ebbed into the elder man's voice.

Ransem's face remained neutral at the revelation. Secret messages? To whom, indeed. Snowbird, after all, had no one to return to. Yes, yes. Ransem remembered her boy.

The boy was a frail thing. It is a shame birds handle illness poorly.

A cruel hunger crept into his gaze. Tattered remains of his ears cupped towards Herod.

The mountainside is no place to retreat from one's troubled thoughts. Ransem agreed readily. Your focus needs to be on your surroundings, much can happen in the blink of an eye. It's a shame she does not have her own safety in mind. You are few, in number after all. Especially if I'm the only one you can spare to guide her.

Sorry for the wait, I thought I replied and I fully did not

I am most grateful, Ransem, that you will be the one to keep a watchful eye upon her. Herod smiled, his voice smooth. There are few I trust with such delicate matters, and none more capable than yourself.

The lion’s eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a man whose plans were already set in motion. Once you have seen to her, I ask that you send word to the swamps. Inform them that we shall return before the month’s end. They have been waiting long enough for our return.

A shadow passed over Herod's features as he continued, his voice dipping conspiritorially, And while you are there, Ransem, do feel free to enter my chambers. Choose any trinket or bauble that catches your fancy as your reward for loyal service. You have more than earned it.

You are aware, of course, that there is an exception, The lion added, his tone cool. The pelts—the silver, the piebald, and the skulls displayed beneath them are to remain untouched. They are not mere trophies, and their value cannot be measured in riches or favor.

Herod’s smile returned, though it was sharper now, more dangerous, as he nodded toward Ransem, extending his silvered paw to pat the other's shoulder with an air of finality. But anything else, Ransem, is yours to take. Let this be a token of my continued appreciation for your unwavering loyalty.

You are a generous man. A generous benefactor, at the very least. Ransem knew well enough Herod paid handsomely. He also appreciated the efficacy of the command. Tend to the bird, then return to the same place for yet another task and his ultimate reward.

Ransem rose to his paws. There was little need for more discussion. Goldcoin eyes caught that of the Abbot, an understanding made. A secret woven by the cruel threads of conspiracy, never to be told.

Well travels, Herod.

Ransem departed from the elder. He had a job to do.