Sparring and a Visiting Saint
He’d cut a long, straight shaft from a bush on the way, and already notched one end to a point.  “It’s no match for what you lost last night,” he admitted, tossing the make-shift spear to Sarahi, “But it’ll do for practice.  Come on.”  He turned immediately and started off into the woods again, toward the same clearing they’d used the previous night.
“I would like to witness your lesson,” Nayeli stopped him, “You could hold it here, just be mindful of the fire.”
“Me too!” Kylan pipped up, surprisingly, and was joined by Tuli.  Sarahi looked a little embarrassed...which was a mistake, as it was probably what actually convinced Oro.
“Fine.  Get under the vestibule and stay out of the way,” the Rabbit instructed, pointing to the shaded patch of grass in front of the tent.  The four Ferruda and both kobolds all obediently moved to the spot (or as close as they could get), and watched with a mix of curiosity, excitement, and concern as Oro bound his sword inside its sheath again and Sarahi began cautiously circling.  “Got your lucky charm on?” the Rabbit smirked as he leveled his scabbard back at her.
The Sha'khari just nodded grimly, having already confirmed the little string of jade was still tied around her ankle from the previous night.  He struck as soon as she made the gesture, cracking the ankle of her front paw and sending her dancing to one side while their audience winced.  Oro clearly didn’t care a whit that there were witnesses this time, laying into Sarahi every bit as brutally as he had the previous night, occasionally taunting her with some remark about what she should have done against his last strike...but mostly just mocking her.
“Come on!” he barked as he batted away one of her cautious strikes, “You’re not even going to tickle me with a hit like that, much less kill me!  Harder!”  Of course, when she lunged in hard, he stepped aside and hit her hard across the stomach.  Sarahi had already begun to get used to the abuse, though, and kept her feet under her and her weapon raised this time, even as the air was driven out of her lungs.
The Rabbit’s back was square against the rest of the group, watching with more pity than admiration at this point.  Sarahi turned to face him once more, and he lowered his weapon invitingly, tempting her into her next strike.  Kylan took off like a shot, sprinting across the short distance between them and Oro with a short stake in his hands and all the speed his short legs could muster, surprising everyone...except, apparently, Oro.  The Rabbit turned just as Kylan committed himself to a lunge, driving his whole body behind the make-shift weapon in his hands.
For one instant, the whole gambit seemed to pay off.  Oro had obviously heard him coming, but in turning to address the little half-breed, he’d put his back to Sarahi instead, who did not hesitate to bring her spear arcing down in an all-out smash on top of his head.  Even if Kylan’s blow missed, hers would surely land, or vice verse...
Such had been their hope.  Oro’s sword lifted over his head, accepting the spear strike like a feather.  His empty fist skimmed under Kylan’s arms with a superior reach, hammering the half-breed’s stomach so hard it drove him back into the dirt and left him without enough air to even cry out in pain.
“For mercy’s sake, pull your punches!” Nayeli shouted in reprimand as she got to her feet, “He has no healing charm on him!”
Oro only scowled at her, moving his sword to intercept Sarahi’s next attack.  She seemed determined not to waste the opportunity of Kylan’s distraction, though it wasn’t helping much.  “Do your damned job!” he barked back, kicking Kylan once in her general direction before casting an accusing glare at the boy, “And you!  I told you to stay out of the way!”
He was answered not by Kylan, but by the pair of kobolds among the group, whooping with sudden excitement and skittering into the fray.  Apparently they had taken this as an opportunity to prove their prowess to their dragon, whom they struck against in unison and without hesitation.  For an instant, Oro was pressed on the defense, and almost stepped into the cooking fire.  One of the kobolds tossed an actual dagger to Kylan as he got his feet under him and his breath back.
Between the four of them, the Rabbit seemed to have his hands full.  Though small, the kobolds were able and quick, and had at least a modicum of training together.  They moved fast, forcing Oro’s hand and creating opportunities for Kylan and Sarahi to make strikes without (so much) fear of retaliation.  The Ferruda were apparently swift on the uptake, and their teamwork showed marked improvement within minutes.  Before long the group was driving Oro around the small clearing, though not a one of them yet had managed to land an actual hit.
“What’s this?” Sarahi chuckled between winded breaths, relieved to be on something like the offensive this time, “Four on one...too much?”
“Oh, you want me to go all out?” Oro sneered as a ripple ran through his blood-red fur.  “Who wants a bite taken out of their leg first?” he growled ominously.
“Don’t!” Nayeli commanded, her voice carrying a power that froze them all in their tracks for an instant...even Oro.  “Please,” the priestess advised in a softer tone, “I assure you, he is quite used to fighting superior numbers for hours on end.  He is also used to leaving their corpses in his wake.  Practice is practice...do not tempt him to anything further, I beg.”
The Rabbit in question spat in Nayeli’s general direction.  “Spoil-sport.”
Sarahi, however, took it to heart, evaporating her moment of cockiness.  “Right.  I apologize.  Kylan, be careful: he can eat our weapons on a whim.  That’s why I didn’t bring my spear back last night,” she warned, putting her companions back on their guard, “I thought I got a good hit in, and that’s when he put me on the ground with no weapon left.”
Whatever confidence had been building in the little Ferruda disappeared immediately.  “How do you fight someone like that, then?  I mean...can’t he do the same to our fists, after the weapons are gone?”
“Hehe...you catch on quick,” Oro grinned viciously, “I’m giving you guys practice fighting a superior enemy.  But it’s not really practice fighting me.  I’m not the sort of thing you can fight.”  As if to offer them proof, the Rabbit dropped his sword to the ground and relaxed his posture.  Standing with arms wide open, he invited them to take their best shot.
Sarahi lowered her spear.  “I guess practice is over.  Thank you, Kylan, for coming to my aid.  And you, too...,” she looked at the kobolds, though they probably couldn’t actually tell what she was saying.  “We should really name them,” the Sha'khari remarked.
“Yeah,” Kylan nodded, handing the loaned dagger back to the green-scaled one, who was standing closest.  “And you’re welcome, but...will you be mad if I admit it wasn’t for you?  I want to be able to fight, too.  Who knows what we’re going to run into on this adventure.  We should all be able to at least handle the likes of a mugger or goblin or something.”
“That is quite true,” Nayeli agreed as she approached them.  With the practice session ended, she intended to tend to Kylan and the kobolds’ bruises.  “Ideally, Oro will always be between us and any threat, dissuading or devouring it.  But the reality is that we can be ambushed, separated, or caught in a crossfire, so we must be prepared to fend for ourselves on a battlefield.”
“Didn’t I say that was why I was going to train the princess?” the Rabbit huffed, returning his sword to his hip.
“Your teaching technique is appalling,” the priestess sighed, looking toward the two kobolds, “I propose letting them handle instruction from now on, by example if not explanation.  You can be the practice dummy.”
He kicked the red one in the head, knocking no less than three teeth out and causing the rest of the group to jump reflexively.  “I agree all around,” Oro declared coldly as Nayeli winced and immediately began a blessing of healing on the unconscious creature, “But be mindful how you word it.”
The Lioness nodded submissively as he stomped off, then whispered something the others couldn’t quite make out as the kobold in her arms blinked its eyes open again with a look of mild surprise.  “I am very sorry,” the priestess told it quietly, “And after I just asked you all not to antagonize him, too...”
The creature blinked at her in even greater surprise than when it woke up.  “Still alive?” it asked, shocking the rest of the Ferruda as Tuli and Diya joined the group.
Nayeli chuckled and nodded with her habitual smile.  “Yes, very much, and none the worse for wear by the time I’m done.”
Surprisingly, it looked a little disappointed as it sighed.  “Not surprised.  Not ready yet.  But hoped.”  It looked at her questioningly again.  “When you learn dragon?  Not talk to us before...”
Nayeli shook her head at his understandable confusion.  “I haven’t.  It’s a blessing of tongues, and will only last for a few minutes.  I want to ask your names, so we can address you properly, and thank you for your help.”
“Help?” the kobold sat up, “What help?  We serve.  Serve good?”
“Very,” Kylan assured it before anyone else could speak up, “My sister and I appreciate it a lot,” he added, pointing to Diya.
That seemed to satisfy the little creature, who smiled toothily.  “My sister,” it pointed to the green one standing nearby, “Call Gaki.  Am Grik.”
“Gaki and Grik,” Nayeli nodded, “It is a pleasure to properly meet you.  I am Nayeli, and these are Sarahi, Kylan and Diya, and the one back there is Tuli,” he nodded to each of them as she named them.  “And while I’d like to talk to you much, much more, the blessing will not last much longer, so I need to ask a favor of you while I can: Will you teach us to fight as well as you and Gaki do?  Some of us are interested in being able to defend ourselves apart from Oro.”
The little creature tilted his head and blinked.  “Not great fighters, but Gorgorond-The-Great-And-Glutful wants?  Will do.”
All of the Ferruda gathered around him blinked several times.  “Ah…we refer to him simply as ‘Oro’.  You may do the same,” Nayeli explained, realizing the kobold was titling Oro in the common fashion of gods, confirming Tuli’s running theory up to this point.
But Grik shook his head firmly.  “Fit for wives, maybe.  Shameful for fodder.”
Nayeli sighed at that. “Is that what he calls you?  I assure you, you are not such to us.  You—“  He interrupted her with a short sound rather like a squawk.  “What?” Nayeli answered, just before realizing that was probably exactly the question he had asked.  The blessing had worn off.  So instead of words, she placed a hand on his head and recited a different blessing, finishing his healing and even returning his lost teeth.  Grik could apparently feel them growing in, as he ran a finger over them to test for looseness.  Then he flashed them all in a broad smile, and rolled out of the Ferruda’s arms to have a brief conversation with his sister.
“Well, that was informative,” Sarahi noted, “Though I have to admit I’m surprised.  He doesn’t strike me as vain, but I didn’t expect him to give them the demon’s name instead of his own.”
“Old habits die hard, I suppose,” Nayeli sighed, getting to her feet, “He did the same when we first began traveling together.  With me around, he was forced to actually talk to people for the first time in a long time, and he kept identifying himself as the demon.  I had to give him a separate name and insist he use it, trying to make him recognize the distinction.”
“…You named him?” the other Ferruda asked all at once, causing Nayeli to jump in surprise…and then giggle.
“Yes.  I just borrowed a few letters from ‘Gorgorond’, and kept it simple for his sake.  He swears the Rabbit died the day he formed the pact with the demon…and that makes a sort of sense, I suppose…so he refuses to speak his name again.  It’s also just conceivable that he has forgotten it, himself,” she admitted, though she found that thought very sad.  It was a part of himself that he had lost to the demon that she feared was beyond recovery.
The kobolds scampered over again and grabbed Sarahi and Kylan by the hands, dragging them a little further from the tent and firepit.  Apparently they had decided teaching should begin sooner rather than later…possibly because there wasn’t much else of use to do around the camp at the moment.  Nayeli brought her scriptures out into the sunlight and began to read quietly, while Tuli and Diya watched the training and gave encouragement to the sparring partners.
This continued until Oro returned, dragging the headless bodies of two feral pigs behind him.  “Lunch,” was all he said, dropping them with a heavy thud beside the fire.  Nayeli managed to keep the grimace off her face.  She had never been terribly comfortable with this part of living on the road, though she recognized the necessity.  Now she just wished Oro wouldn’t continue to make a point of forcing her to watch the squeamish part.  Tuli and Diya made the mistake of coming to offer assistance, not realizing what they were about to witness.
“You might want to turn your heads for this,” Nayeli warned politely.
Diya just shrugged.  “I’ve seen the cooks at work on geese before. I know what—“
Oro’s sword split open the belly unceremoniously, and he shoved a hand into the opening between the spilling entrails.  Diya took back her words, covering her mouth with a hand as the Rabbit seemed to stir the animal’s insides, winding intestines and other connected bits around his bloody arm like noodles on a fork, all the while staring coldly into the little half-breed’s eyes.  A slight smirk cracked his lips as he wrenched the whole disgusting mass out of the body, his gaze daring either of the unfortunate Ferruda to look away.  As they watched, the entrails began to slide…not down his arm so much as into his arm, absorbing flesh and blood and all.
“It keeps the edge off, a little,” Oro chuckled, ominously, “But it’s not nearly as satisfying as either of your guts would be.”
“Stop it, dear,” Nayeli admonished, taking the knife from their kitchen kit to finish dressing the soon-to-be-meal, “Thank you for hunting.”
“’Hunting’ my left foot,” grumbled the Rabbit in fresh annoyance as she spoiled his fun, “I just bit the head off the first thing I saw moving.  Fusking pigs were slow,” he explained, running his blade down the belly of the second victim.  He made rather less of a show of gutting this one, consuming it with arms and entrails still hidden behind the hide, then retired to sit against a tree at the edge of the clearing while Nayeli, Tuli, and Diya turned his latest victims into a satisfying lunch.  Nayeli motioned for him to join them again as the seared-pork sandwiches were stacked, and Tuli went to bring the others back for a break as well.
“We learned the kobold’s names today,” Nayeli informed Oro, who had not stuck around long enough to hear their brief conversation, “They are Grik, and his sister, Gaki.  I’d appreciate it if you remembered them…and stopped calling them ‘fodder’ when you talk to them.”
“Like they care,” the Rabbit growled around a mouthful of sandwich, “They feel honored I speak to them at all.”
“Just imagine how devoted they’ll be when you use their names, then,” the priestess countered without missing a beat, and they both let it go at that.  Considering he still referred to the Ferruda by the nicknames he’d given each of them, she understood how unlikely it was that he would follow her insistence, but her conscience couldn’t let it go unremarked.
Oro ate in surprising quiet, eyes closed as though listening for something in the distance.  He ate slowly, being the last to turn his plate over to Tuli, and immediately stood and dusted his hands loudly as he did so. “I appreciate you waiting until after lunch,” he said loudly to…no one in particular, that any of the group could see, “Since I’m still hungry, and you seem like the sort who’ll make a great dessert.”  The Rabbit drew his sword, leveling it and his gaze at a space between the trees.
The shadows here were not particularly dark, and yet none of them could honestly say they had noticed the one shaped distinctly like a human until Oro’s blade pointed it out.  “Very impressive,” a smooth, rich voice answered as its owner stepped out of obscurity, though not quite into the direct light of the sun, “I even masked my presence from the animals around here, so as not to alarm you.”
“Yeah, well, animals are fusking stupid,” Oro smirked.
The man at the edge of the trees was tall for a human, and pale, his skin nearly matching the long, white robes that blanketed him from neck to ankle.  The sleeves hung down below his knees, every hem, seam, and button decorated in golden thread and elaborate patterns of knots and thorns.  A small tube of a hat sat atop his head, riding the long, silken hair trailing down his back almost to the waist like a black waterfall.  Though his smile was warm and disarming, it displayed prominently two long fangs where his canines should be, and the squint of his eyes could not hide the scarlet of the irises.  It was impossible that he had simply blended into the trees.  The dissonance of his very existence only increased as he made the sign of the Authority in greeting to them, particularly aimed at Nayeli. He was juxtaposition and paradox embodied, at once a monster and man of the Order...
Oro chuckled, lowering his stance subtly.  “I wouldn’t count on the So-Called-Authority to—“
“Oro, for the sake of your mission, stand down now,” Nayeli warned softly.  She appeared outwardly calm, as always, but there was a gravity to the words that put their companions instantly on alert.  The scarlet-furred Rabbit sneered at her, but let his sword fall back into its sheath.  “Please forgive our husband’s manners,” she bowed, making the sign of the Authority back to the figure waiting patiently beneath the trees, “I would be greatly honored to receive you as our guest, milord St. Culbert.  Will you have some tea with us?”
“Think nothing of it,” answered the stranger’s voice...from inside the tent.  Oro’s hand returned to the hilt of his sword, and he scowled at the man who had managed to cross such space faster than even the demon-possessed Rabbit could follow.  Their “guest” could not seem to care less.  “His reputation precedes him.  It would be my delight to share a cup with you, though.  I even brought some of my own favorite blend,” the man smiled, producing a small pouch from his wide sleeve, “Blood-rose and honey.”
With a tense mix of eagerness and fear, Nayeli asked Tuli to boil some water, while she and Sarahi pulled in some of the logs they had been using for seats.  She placed a pillow atop one and gestured for their guest to make himself as comfortable as possible, and he did so with his most appreciative smile.  It sent a slight shiver down Kylan’s spine.  “I’m afraid you’ll also have to forgive the simple setting,” the priestess remarked as she sat across from him, “We had no opportunity to prepare for your visit.”
“I would be gravely concerned if you had known I was coming in time to prepare for it,” the man chuckled, giving a quick glance to the other Ferruda listening politely from outside the tent door, where they would not crowd their guest...which seemed to suit them just fine.  Diya and Kylan seemed especially anxious about him, more fearful than they’d ever been of Oro.  Sarahi was keeping a diplomatic air about her, but with a tension that said she also sensed the innate and natural threat this man posed to everything that lived within his reach.  Even Tuli, ever curious and inquisitive, was keeping nearer to the fire where the water was boiling than the open flap.  Only Oro dared to stand inside, just a little behind Nayeli, frowning.  “You know who I am,” the stranger remarked to Nayeli, “Do they?  Or am I being unconscionably rude?”
“It would surprise me greatly if they knew more of you than rumor or superstition, milord Saint,” the priestess admitted, “Though what you are...sort of exudes itself.”  Oro’s frown deepened.  Nayeli had not been so carefully formal when they had met the Matriarch herself, which spoke greatly to just how uneasy she was about this surprise visitor...and to how much a threat she believed he posed.  The Rabbit’s sense of insult was growing by the second.
“I see,” the Saint nodded, taking a slow sip of his steaming tea, “And how would you introduce me, if I asked you to do the honors?”
“I would declare you to be St. Culbert-of-the-Nightwatch,” Nayeli answered with a sincere smile and nod, “The Matriarch’s right hand (may she live again), most trusted counsel, and the only man ever to be declared a Saint while he yet walks the lands of the living.”
St. Culbert chuckled at that.  “What she says is true: you are devout, respectful, and trusting beyond all rights.”  Setting his cup down on the make-shift table, the Saint got silently to his feet, turned to the group gathered just outside the tent, and bowed deeply as he gestured the sign of the Authority.  “I am St. Culbert.  Monster-Hunter.  Vampire,” he declared, lifting his head, “Though I swear on every soul I have ever sipped that I no longer taste blood except by the Matriarch’s express command (may she live again).  You may be at ease.  Please, come and sit.”
Despite his words, none of them seemed comfortable moving into the tent as he resumed his seat.  Nayeli looked askance of Sarahi, especially, who ought to understand the insult they would offer if everyone continued to refuse.  Steeling her nerves, the Sha'khari ducked inside and stationed herself opposite Oro, a little behind the priestess.  “I...think we’ll give you some air,” Tuli smiled as politely as she could, still from the door, “Our scent is kind of bad for men, so it would be rude to surround you in it.”
St. Culbert shook his head slightly as he offered Sarahi a cup of the tea.  She looked a little dubiously at the dark red brew, but politely put the rim to her lips...and then blinked in pleasant surprise.  “That’s good,” she remarked quietly after a more sincere sip.
The Saint smiled, again making no effort to hide his fangs.  “The petals of the blood-rose possess a unique quality able to slake my thirst, though they do not provide any other benefit of real blood.  Try to imagine going several weeks eating and drinking naught but a glass of water each day, then being invited to a royal feast on the condition that you still eat and drink nothing from the tables but a glass of water.”  He gave the three still gathered at the door a wry look.  “That is my daily existence.  And if I can resist breaking my fast for your blood, I guarantee there is no amount of your scent that can move me.”
Tuli looked thoroughly chastised, and stepped into the tent with head bowed, followed closely by Diya and Kylan.  Oro seemed to be annoyed with the crowd growing on this side of the canvas shelter.  St. Culbert seemed amused by it.  Nayeli cleared her throat politely to refocus everyone.  “If I may humbly, milor—”
“Please stop,” the Saint cut her off gently, if rudely, “I respect that it has its proper time and place, but I despise formality in private settings.  I acknowledge your respect for my position and person, so please also respect my preference and speak plainly.”
Nayeli, taken genuinely off-guard for a moment, tilted her head a little before continuing.  “Yes, sir.  I assume Oro and I are known to you, so this is Sarahi, former princess of Nazeen,” she gestured to the Sha'khari, who bowed politely, “These are Diya, formerly a servant in that royal house, and her brother Kylan.  And this is Tuli,” the priestess finished, trying hard not to let her embarrassment show.  She had yet to properly ask who Tuli had been before joining them.
“Wind-wife,” the busty Ferruda offered helpfully with a sheepish smile and wave.  At least, she had thought it was helpful.
“Wind-wife?” St. Culbert arched a brow, “Really?  Interesting...”
Nayeli cringed just slightly as she turned back to squarely face their guest...though whether at Tuli’s slip or what she was about to have to say was anyone’s guess.  “These are the ladies—ah, and gentleman—Oro chose to take as his wives in addition to me.  And now...I think it would relieve a great deal of tension if we could hear your purpose in visiting us here,” she admitted plainly.
That got St. Culbert’s attention, though his fanged smile did not falter.  “Good.  It’s rare I find anyone that can bring themselves to be so direct with me, even after much encouragement.  Now, at last, we can be frank ,” he declared, putting his cup down on the little make-shift table between them.  “First, my purpose is not what you fear, since I find you still very much alive and well and in the demon’s company.  The Matriarch (may she live again) did ask me to locate you, if I could, and determine why you sent no report back to Corruscant after your mission was completed.  It isn’t like you to disobey orders.”
“Disobey?!” Nayeli’s ears perked up, tempted to take genuine offense at the implication.
But her superior nodded with an impassive smile.  “You were explicitly told to return ‘before war and politics can catch up to you’, were you not?  Yet here you are, making incursion into Esles as if chasing after war.  For that matter, I should like to know why so many ‘wives’ have taken vows, and why that business about the dragon was not reported, in addition to your purpose in this country.”
“You seem damned well informed for someone who didn’t receive a report,” Oro growled.
“My job is to hunt down terrors that lurk in darkness and the cults of Chaos that meet in secret,” the vampire answered calmly, “I have been doing such for the Matriarch’s last three incarnations (may she live again).  I am quite good at finding things that wish to remain hidden.”
Nayeli’s head tilted incredulously.  Something about this whole situation didn’t seem to make sense to her.  “Is that what you believe?  That we are attempting to hide from the Matriarch (may she live again)?”
He shook his head slowly, but reassuringly.  “You made much too little effort for that.  I believe I was asked to find you, and so I have.  I will decide what else to believe after I have heard you explain yourself.”
Still not quite believing what she was hearing, Nayeli sighed and nodded her understanding.  She then went on to explain, in brief, the events that had transpired in Nazeen, the encounter with the dragon, and their reason for pressing on into Esles.  “I do apologize for sending no report,” she concluded, “I believed King Absol of Nazeen would send word that his end of the bargain had been upheld, and I was holding off on my next letter until we were certain to have halted the invasion from Esles, that the report would be as favorable as possible.”
“But you have already accomplished that mission,” St. Culbert observed, much to Nayeli’s surprise, “And yet you remain in Esles.  I do not, at this point, doubt your honesty...but are you quite sure your charge is not attempting to flee from the eyes of the Order?”
“I run from no one,” growled Oro, in near perfect unison with Nayeli’s (much calmer) insistence: “He runs from no one.”  They blinked at each other momentarily, as though surprised by their own synchronicity.
St. Culbert laughed.  “Well!  I can’t deny such assurance as that, so clearly there is nothing to fear,” he declared, as though all doubts were dispelled as simply as that, “However, you cannot remain in these lands.  I have come with new orders from the Matriarch (may she live again)...”
Nayeli interrupted him with a gently raised hand.  “A moment, please.  You said our goal of stopping the invasion had been accomplished, though we have only met a small contingent of the army since entering Esles.  Please elaborate.”
The Saint quirked a brow.  “So you didn’t know.  Very well: the strength of Esles’ army has been dwindling this last year.  The soldiers are exhausted from the war, much as Nazeen is, and news that Coras would soon be providing support to Nazeen broke whatever was left of their fighting spirit.  Many soldiers deserted, and Esles bribed the dragon you confronted in a desperate bid to bolster their forces.  Crushed on its first foray, followed swiftly by what remained of their forward guard, Esles sent a plea to Corruscant to broker peace with Nazeen...or at least not-intolerable conditions of surrender.  The war is over,” he declared with finality, “I am on my way to their capital to see to it personally.”
Sarahi’s eyes widened, though she kept quiet.  Nayeli smiled and nodded.  “Well...that explains much, then.  Indeed, we have no reason to remain in Esles if that is the case.  We will return to Coras immediately.”
“Not so,” St. Culbert insisted, “As I was about to say: you have new orders.  The bribe Esles paid to that dragon was not insubstantial, and it was a notorious beast, suspected to have quite the horde secreted somewhere in these mountains.  Seeing as you have the perfect guides,” he gestured toward the kobolds huddled outside the tent, “You are to locate and transport that horde back to Corruscant before it attracts...less scrupulous attention.”
“I am no fusking pack-mule,” Oro sneered, planting his hands on the table, “I am in need of food, not fusking treasure.  Carry it back yourself.”
St. Culbert’s smile...became strained.  Above it, his scarlet eyes fixed Oro with a cold, calculating stare.  “No, you are not,” the Saint admitted quietly, “You are a dog on a leash, as I was for a time.  Behave well, and you may yet be rewarded beyond anything you can imagine.  Turn rabid, and you will be put down like the beast you are.”
Steel sang before Nayeli could restrain him, and buried itself in the vampire’s chest just deep enough to be touching on his heart.  “Think you can do it?” the Rabbit snarled.
Much to his vexation, St. Culbert calmly removed one hand from his lap and laid a sliver of metal on the table.  “Quite.”  Oro’s eyes flared furiously as he realized it was the portion of his sword he had attempted to bury in the vampire.  Sarahi struggled to keep her face neutral, though she relished the sight of Oro’s face as his own favorite trick was turned on him, and the Saint simply reached for his cup and took another sip of the thirst-quenching tea.  “But not today.  It is not the proper time or place to drink, and there are bystanders bound to get needlessly caught up in the dance.”
Nayeli grabbed Oro around the neck with one arm and placed her other hand over his nose.  Broken sword or not, the look in the Rabbit’s eyes screamed that he had been challenged and would answer in full force.  Apparently realizing the same, while the Ferruda attempted to wrestle her husband back to a polite distance, St. Culbert calmly began to intone, “By my authority as Saint of the Night...”
The remains of the Rabbit’s sword trimmed the Saint’s hair as it passed by his cheek, narrowly avoided by St. Culbert’s reflexes.  “Like Hell you’ll—!”
“Get out!” St. Culbert commanded, pointing to the tent flap.  Oro’s entire body jerked violently to the side, wrenched right out of Nayeli’s arms, and was flung out of the tent in the span of a blink.  “And stay out,” the Saint added for good measure, calming himself with a slow exhale as Nayeli picked herself up and reclaimed her seat.  “By my word, I would personally nominate you for sainthood under the umbra of patience for the years you have put up with that thing,” St. Culbert sighed.
Nayeli nodded quietly, watching him thoughtfully with a stone-faced stare.  Sarahi’s tact had finally been broken, though she remained polite enough to hide her delighted smile behind her hand, while the rest of the Ferruda looked shocked stupid.  “...I apologize for—” Nayeli began, but was immediately cut off by her superior.
“Do not,” St. Culbert insisted, “I deliberately provoked him, after all.  And no slight to you, but it is beyond reasonable to expect you to restrain anyone better than I could.”  He downed the rest of his tea in a single, long pull, then set the cup down carefully.  “No...I owe you an apology for so treating your husband before your eyes.  Please accept it.  He and I are so nearly the same creature that I took out petty disgust at my past self on him.  It is a poor example to set for the faithful.”  He bowed his head, briefly, to touch his brow on the table between them.
The Lioness considered him for another moment, embarrassed at having a Saint so humble himself for her sake, and sighed tiredly.  “If you are that much alike, I will take it as proof he may yet become someone worthy of respect within the Order.”
“Indeed you should,” the vampire advised, lifting his head, “As it stands, I am against this entire project of yours, and believe he should be destroyed outright...just as many believed of me when I submitted to join the Order.  They were right to do so, but the Matriarch (may she live again) disagreed then just as she does with us now.  Under the Authority, all things are possible, so I will not oppose her decision except by opinion.”
“Thank you,” Nayeli nodded, “We will find the dragon’s horde and return it to Corruscant.  Is there anything else you need to tell us?”
“Take your time,” the Saint advised surprisingly, “It is desirable that the treasure be located before some group of adventurers wrecks the local economy with it, or worse, but outside of that there is no particular urgency to this assignment.  I believe the Matriarch (may she live again) wishes you to have what my faithful call ‘a break’.  Get to know your new spouses.  See some wonder you have only heard of before.  Refresh yourself.  You may put part of the treasure to that end.  Only do so within Coras’ borders.”
“I understand,” Nayeli bowed, making the sign of the Authority to her superior, “Please express my gratitude to the Matriarch (may she live again).”
“Wait, doesn’t that mean we’re the adventurers wrecking the local economy?” Tuli asked, honest (if clueless) as ever.  Sarahi and Nayeli both gave her incredulous looks, and St. Culbert chuckled.
“Well, if that becomes the case, it will be easier to discipline you than foreign agents.  Now,” the Saint got to his feet, his fanged smile returning, “I really have imposed on you too long.  It has been a pleasure taking tea with you, and I thank you for your candidness.  May the Authority bring you many blessings.”
“He has already done so,” Nayeli gave the traditional answer, though she also spoke it sincerely, “Thank you for honoring us with your presence.  I hope your work in Esles goes smoothly.”
“It always does,” St. Culbert assured her with a bow, “I hope we will meet again in Corruscant.”  In the next blink, he was no longer in the tent.  Emerging into the afternoon sunlight, they could just make out his robes trailing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows of the forest.