Alstair had been busy these past few days. He had been trying to track down an old acquaintance of his. Ivan, a man he had served with a had considered a good friend when they had been younger. When he had heard he to had come to Vienda he couldn't help himself.

Now as he wandered around downtown he wondered what had made his friend come to such a run down place...true he was human but, he had been a good man. Alstair stopped before the small door that led into Ivan's practice and with a sigh of resignation knocked heavily upon the door.

"Ivan! It's me Alstair." He yelled loudly. "I want to talk with you."

The last week had not been good to Ivan's lungs, and the slightest thing would set off a dry chesty cough that was self perpetuating. He'd managed to supress it fairly well throughout his meeting with the curious Mugrobi wick couple that had turned up in the morning, but the start that the knocking and yelling gave him set off another bout. He made his spluttering way to the door.



Alstair? The Dragoon? He's here?

This seemed to be a day for unexpected visits, and so far all had come from Mugroba. Had the sea level risen or something..?

Ivan opened the door, anxious to see his old friend. He was curious as to the condition of his shoulder wound also, as patching it up was Ivan's personal handiwork.

"Alstair, what a suprise! Please, come in!"

Alstair smiled as he looked over Ivan.
"I would be honored old friend." He replied as he stepped inside and looked about. "So, how have things been for you my friend?"

Ivan's reply was delayed. It was fortunate Alstair had stepped into the waiting room and had not dwelled at the door, for Ivan's face was temporarily a mask of terror.

Cogs' teeth, man! Alstair, a seventen? This is not good.

The terror from the night before threatened to flare up, but Ivan controlled himself quickly and his face fell into a well practiced configuration.

"Things are good, thank you! As you can see the medical training has paid off well. With the healthcare situation in Vienda the way it is, I'm making even more than I did in the corps. patching up the fallen! Speaking of which, how is your shoulder healing? And what in the name of Alioe are you doing in the Seventen?"

Ivan had been good friends with the man despite their different racial disposition, and so he felt he could safely ask questions directly without suspicion. Ivan would have to ascertain wether or not this man was now his enemy, and if he could be trusted or even squeezed for information later. Regardless of the potential advantages, Ivan was now only one degree of separation from the enemy.

Keep your friends close...

Ivan proceeded cautiously.

Alstair smiled warmly.

"It feels the best it can. I've had some issues when it gets cold but, nothing to bad." He said flexing his right and meeting some resistance as the muscles grew stiff and painful for a few seconds. "It's good to see you are still doing what you enjoy my friend. At least you don't have to worry about enemy fire this time! "

Alstair couldn't help but to smile at the thought of their days in the military. It had been a rough time but, it had had it's moments.

Ivan winced a little sympathetically. It wasn't an easy wound to deal with - an artery had been nicked which made the operation messy, and the spear had fragmented inside. He had to make the call to close up before it had been entirely extracted - the wound had already been open long enough for an infection, and the line was near and looking shaky, Ivan recalled. He shivered a little.

"Yes, quite! I'm sure if it weren't for my medical band I'd have been showered in projectiles. Listen, If that arm gives you any more trouble, I can write you a script for some very effective painkillers. There's no need to plow on through the pain you know."

Alstair laughed at his friends remark.

"Ivan come now. The pain keeps me sharp! If I went soft and used painkillers I would never be able to keep up with my fellows. I'm already older than most. Why would I need a bigger disadvantage?" Alstair replied smiling. "In truth I came here to ask you some questions old friend. I'm even skipping out on patrol to come and visit."

Alstair looked at Ivan with a warm smile.
"I've come to ask a favor old friend. I need you to help me in a plot to take over Anaxas."

These was silence for a moment. Ivan didn't remember Alstair's sense of humour extending to the ridiculous; he was usually a pretty serious guy. He dearly hoped that he wasn't referring to the resistance. He would have to be the most careful now, and elected to play the fool. Abruptly he interrupted the silence with raucous laughter.

"take over Anaxas? My friend, I thought the Galdori already ruled Anaxas!"

The laughter turned to an uncontrollable coughing fit.

Alstair at first startled moved to Ivan side trying to think of a way to help.

"Old friend I didn't mean to startle you that badly!" He exclaimed.

Alstair looked about trying to find some form of remedy.Sadly his skills were in war and deceit. Not healing.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked quickly as he moved towards a collection of jars."Some sort of therapeutic?"

Khymarah had been planning on staying home today until late in the evening when she headed to Brunnhold, but at mid morning, a man had rapped on her door, telling her she needed to talk to a one Dr. Ivan Mottoni and deliver a small package. It was resistance work, small and not really what she would have expected, but she didn't refuse. Maybe it was in need of galdor protection? Maybe there was a motive to the package and she in fact needed to get information from the doctor. Either way, she got herself dressed in her usual green dress, red hair left out and adorned with trinkets, and made her way to the surgery.

She only had to walk a short while before she found the place. Tentatively, she went to knock on the door and found it slightly ajar. Pushing lightly, she walked inside. There was an awful lot of coughing going on from a tall man she assumed to be a patient, and beside a shelve of jars, a Seventen. Oh Clock! She suddenly wondered if she should leave, but then, how suspicious would that look to the officer? Clearing her throat, she called out.

"Excuse me gentlemen, would either of you know if a Doctor Ivan Mottoni is about?" She said as politely as she could.

He may as well have loosened his belt and let his trousers fall to the floor, his current position wasn't much better.
Ivan groaned internally, because there was no way of squeezing a groan out between the coughs he was expelling without reprise. He had to stop Alstair the Seventen from finding any sensitive papers (or any unreasonably large quantities of opium), stop the messenger from giving away the contents of what was almost certainly Jon Serro's critical reply, and he had to stop clocking coughing!

"AHARRRUMM!" He forced the cough to conclusion. It had stopped temporarily, but to draw breath now would only tickle his throat back into a fit, and he had to act quickly. He grabbed Alstair's good arm and pointed towards the large brandy jar and away from the large collection of one-time-pad codes. As soon as he had done that, the mute pathetically pointed to himself and looked pleadingly to the messenger. She seemed nervous enough, which meant it probably was a resistance message, but it also meant she had recognised the man's uniform and would play her part now or pay the price.

Without a word Alstair moved towards the container and poured a shot for his friend.
As he returned he handed the shot to Ivan and looked at the package bearer. His stare was one of interest but not of suspicion. He could care less really what the girl brought with more than likely a simple list of prescriptions or some such.

"There you go old friend." He said calmly holding out the shot before Ivan.

Khymarah looked at him wide eyed for a moment, wondering if the man was going to pass out and die on the floor, before she saw him gesturing to the Seventen. Relaxing a little, she looked at them slightly puzzled.



The ruby haired woman made a little nod and stood quietly, waiting to see what would happen next. This was certainly not at all what she had expected.



She looked at the Seventen and smiled respectfully, and she hoped, winsomely. It felt a little strange smiling so prettily at a Seventen, but she did it all the same.



Old friend? Have I really got the right clocking place? Her dual colored eyes flicked back and forth between the two men and she laughed lightly.

"Have I come at a bad time?"

Ivan gripped the shot and slammed it back. This was fighting fire with fire.
"Thank you," Ivan rasped, "sure you don't want one too?"



Ivan almost sent her away in relief, it would have been a bullet dodged. But then he stayed his command, either from a surge of courage brought on by the brandy or the familiarity the curious redhead made him feel. He decided that while she was here, so long as she didn't give herself away, Ivan could press his advantage; if Alstair truly wanted to discuss a coup, it would be wise of him to remain silent in unfamiliar company, during which time he could be analysed.
The other advantage, Ivan noticed presently, was that this girl was a Galdor, whose association would further remove suspicions of resistance ties from Ivan.
It was do or die.

"Your timing could not be better! I assume these are the corrosive chemicals in the quantities I specified?"

Ivan looked to Alstair.
"Very dangerous. Must be handled with utmost care!"

Ivan placed the package with almost comical care on a shelf out of the way, ontop of a stack of encoded addresses for local contacts. He turned back towards his courier.

"For a Galdor to personally hand me a package so trivial in nature, I am overwhelmed. How may I recompense you? The kettle has just boiled if tea is to your liking..?" he ventured.

The familiarity clarified itself suddenly in a twofold form; he knew where he had seen this woman before - she was at the How, in the crowd with Fion.
The second realisation was the source of the deeper familiarity. Her field, had the distinct feel and aroma of a healer. It felt like Yura Itoh, his Mugrobi lover from a decade past.

Alstair looked between the two. Trying to guess at Ivan's odd package. Something did not add up in his mind...he trusted his friend but, still...

"Yes tea would be nice." Alstair said happily as he took the glass."Personally Ivan I normally refrain from drinking without purpose."

Alstair bowed towards the young woman with trained respect.
"An honor madam. I am Alstair Murdoh a friend of Doctor Ivan from his days at the front." He said smoothly placing an arm across his chest and staring at the floor as he spoke. "In truth I should be calling him a savior. He saved many peoples lives in his youth you see least among them my own."

Khymarah nodded, her face very serious, and handed the package over like it was a fragile piece of glass. Her movements were steady and gentle, as if she didn't want to disturb what was inside. She sighed slightly and put a hand on her chest as he took the package away. Done! Whatever it was, now he had it and that was all that mattered. Finally, she'd done something for the resistance.



She couldn't help but blush, unsure whether he was still acting or whether it was a real compliment...or a bit of both. Looking at him for a moment, she smiled and nodded.

"Tea would be just lovely Doctor Mottoni." The red head said, noticing something in Ivan's face. Recognition? Did he know her. She quickly looked at the floor, suddenly self conscious.



Khymarah looked at the Seventen officer and then back at the Doctor with a slightly awed look. She'd never really met people from war before. It was rather profound, a certain type of respect came from that sort of work. Taking her skirts in her hands, she curtsied to Alstair.

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Murdoh, I am Khymarah Theraldon. That is quite an interesting start to a conversation sir, you perk my curiosity about the good doctor. Saving people on the front lines, that must take some courage." She looked at Ivan again and smiled, honestly wanting to hear more about the whole thing. Helping soldiers in battle, it was something that she now held close to her heart. A responsibility that was taken willingly and whole heartedly. She wished she could talk freely to Ivan about that. Perhaps later, they would have better time. It wasn't like the doctor seemed to be leaving in a hurry. Having a fellow healer to talk to would honestly be reassuring, especially a member of the resistance.

Ivan never drank without a purpose either, though most of the time the purpose was that he wanted to have a drink.



A savoir? Yes, quite. Had I a spark of magic in me that shoulder would be fully healed rather than partially crippled.



"Saving people"? This woman had clearly never seen combat, and he hoped she never would. Ivan was no hero - he was a butcher. He had cut off thirty three legs, twenty six arms, cut out five eyes and performed twelve mercy killings, each and every one he could remember distinctly. There were never any heroes to begin with, and now there were just broken men and the problems of the world remained unphased. Ivan sighed.

"One does what one must."

That is what Ivan had told himself every day since.

His glassy, faraway look was interrupted by the soft howl of the kettle.

"Ahem, how do you take your tea, miss Khymarah? Alstair, I trust you still have yours with three sugars?"

Khymarah watched his face, something passed on it. Pain? Anger? She recognized the signs of inner turmoil and a little part of her felt for him. She heard him sigh.



She smiled gently, her eyes soft.

"Indeed Doctor, one does."



The ruby hair woman took a moment to throw Alstair a surprised glance, that was an awfully sweet tea! Looking back at Ivan, she shook her head lightly.

"Milk, and only two sugars please Mister Mottoni. Do you need any help?" She asked politely, not sure how to handle herself alone with the Seventen.

Alstair raised a brow at Ivan surprised.

"My dear friend. Have we been apart for so long? I have always taken my tea plain." Alstair said mildly surprised at his friend's assumption.

Miss Kymarah what is it you do for a living? I assume being a courier is a mere side job you do for extra money?" He said with interest as he glanced about the room.

Ivan laughed, glad his little joke had dispelled some of the tension in the room, and hoped it would mask some of the creative mental leaps he may have to make to survive the experience.

"I jest Alstair!"
Ivan looked to Khymarah.
"He is always so serious. You don't want to see him when his tea is mistakenly sugared. I suspect he would bounce right off the walls!
No, the three sugars are for me, I'm afraid I have had a sweet tooth ever since Mugroba."



Ivan quickly glanced at the room, looking for any exposed and sensitive resistance material. The shelf, the table, on the bookcase...he would have to be quick, and he could not afford to make a mistake.

"No, thank you miss! I shall return shortly."

He hoped she could distract him for long enough. He only needed about twenty seconds...

Ivan moved swiftly to the next room, and hastily placed all the necesary items onto the mortally stained tea tray. Mugs, pot, spoons, saucers, sugar, milk, cream...

Khymarah nodded and smiled.

"Quite Mister Murdoh. I actually paint portraits for some of the galdori upper wing. The sort of things you hang over a fireplace and admire how dashing or beautiful you look, and then hand it down over the years. It's rather a fine source of money..when you have a client. Business has been a bit slow this month, so I've had to take to doing small delivery work that requires more than just a pair of swift legs." She pulsed her field once, gently, in a sort of quiet know-what-I-mean?



Watching Ivan out of the corner of her eye, she nodded to Alstair.

"So, do you enjoy your position as a Seventen? It must be a demanding job, sir." She said casually.

Alstair smiled at Khymarah letting out a quiet chuckle.

"It is actually relaxing for me. You must remember young madam I was a soldier." He answered staring out the window into the street. "Would you like to hear a story while we wait for tea? It may shed some light upon our mutual friend actually."

His voice was softer now as the memories crawled back from the dark recesses from which they had been cast. They whispered in his mind telling him of the pain he had wrought and the punishment he had been dealt.

Khymarah turned a genuine smile to the man, and looking around, seated herself on a stool.

"Please do, Mister Murdoh. I would rather like that." She rested her hands in her lap patiently.

Alstair smiled as he stood, still looking out the window.

"When I was younger I joined the military as a brash and willful young man is oft to do." He cleared his throat as he tried to decide the best wording.

"I found myself in Mugroba as a personal soldier under a man who to this day I refuse to name. He cared only for his rank and nothing for his own men or their safety. he sickens me even now to think of..." he continued his face a grimace. "We had been deployed in a small village along one the numerous rivers when he my first taste of blood was doled out to me. My commander had been seeing a human woman there. When he found out that she was with child he became frantic. In a moment of blind stupidity he told us to burn the village to the ground..."

Alstair let out a deep breath as the memories returned. The screams, the smell of burnt flesh...

"He gave each of us. Twelve in all. A mask to hide our faces. That same night we went on patrol and as we came back returned upon foot. Our faces hidden we stormed the village and slaughtered them. I drew first blood. He had been an old man I had seen earlier that day...I blazed him without a second thought. House by house we went along killing them. By the end of the night a village of nearly a hundred was reduced to nothing. Women, children we slew them all without remorse. Our Commander never dirtied his hands and claimed it had been a resistance attack..."

Alstair trailed off as he swallowed back a foul taste in his mouth.

As Ivan walked into the next room he let his head trail further and further behind his body to catch the most of the conversation as he could. It wasn't a concious fascination, but there it was. Eventually the angle he formed normal to the ground was ridiculous, and he had to surrender the opportunity to gain more information and get the damned tea already. He was supposed to be concentrating on hiding those papers anyway.



Ivan sighed as he lifted the tray. Alstair was distracted well enough, but Ivan wondered what "tale of valour" he'd tell to raise this woman's expectations of him.



Clock. Not this story. It was hardly first-meeting material, even if it did explain much of why Alstair was the way he was. Still, Ivan had no desire to be associated with the slaying of civilians. He hurried back into the waiting room as Alstair continued, and laid the tea tray ontop of the papers that were spread on the table.