Satou disappeared from sight, but Jevan worked his way through the maze by memory and to the mouth without incident; the sub basement seemed as empty and desolate as ever before.

---

Where would you like to go?

Does Houndarel have an office or something similar?

He has quarters, which Jevan knows would include amenities such as an office, but no college style visitation office. Closest place to that sort of things for discipline/examination would actually take place in the sparring room.

The last time he had gone looking for Houndarel, Jevan had found him in the sparring room. It seemed unlikely anyone would be there now, the day after the grand melee, but it was still the best place to start.

Jevan heads up out of the sub basement and into Melee Magthere without trouble. The sparring room was only on the first floor, so it was a short walk and the noble son passed no others along the way.

That is, until he reached the room. Once he was in eyeshot of the door he saw one of his commoner classmates standing outside the door like some sort of sentinel. Instead of staying to  lock Passage however, the commoner saw Jevan amd immediately retreated within the sparring room, closing the door behind him.

"Ah," Jevan remarked without slowing his stride. "Here we go."

Arriving at the door he attempted to open it if it wasn't barred from within.

The heavy door opens without protest, revealing the sparring room within. As the door opened, Jevan could immediately hear the clatter of swords clashing against one another, the whir of blades and the clanging of shields.

The door opened just in time to see the door sentinel from earlier drop down into the pit from the opposite side. There, standing where he was, was Master Houndarel himself; bedecked in his full suit of armor, sword belted at his hip and a teardrop shield strapped to his arm.

"Master Freth," Houndarel Fey-Branche called from across the pit casually. "Come to get in one last scrimmage before graduation?"

The teacher waved his hand, gesturing to the square sand pit between them; three pairs and one trio of swordfighters, all minor nobles and commoners from the graduating class, drilled and practiced their techniques.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Sat 01 Jan 2022.

Jevan stepped unhurriedly to the side of the ring and glanced left and right at the drilling students before affixing his attention on Houndarel.

"I'd come to talk actually. And to pay my respects to a master of the school, prior to graduation."

"But I could be tempted to one final scrimmage if you would prefer to talk over swords, Master Fey-Branche."

Houndarely laughed; "Talking over swords is what we are doing now, no?" he called out. "By all means, these classmen ended nowhere near your prestigious rank in the Grand Melee, so be welcome to don the mantle of instructor if you wish and teach them a thing or two. If you came here to talk, then talk."

”Funny you should mention that,” Jevan remarked. He turned along the edge of the pit and casually circled around the fighters, keeping his eye ostensibly on their performance as he made his way closer to Houndarel. ”That is precisely what I’d hoped to discuss with you.”

“Succession.”

"An interesting topic, hopefully you will be able to bring it up to your elder brother soon."

Houndarel neither Jevan's gait nor gaze; remaining standing where he was, he kept his eyes politely fixed Jevan as he skirted the pit. Down below, the swordfighters swung their blades and bodies, none of them drawing blood as they practiced.

”Indeed, I look forward to seeing Xuillin again. It has been entirely too long,” Jevan said, coming to a stop alongside Houndarel and turning to regard the fighters.

”And while you have me well pegged as a man of ambition, you and I both know that in affairs of the family we are always at the beck and call of our matron mothers. No matter how skilled or accomplished we may be, when she beckons we must answer.”

Houndarel chuckled; "There is truth in that; no matter how our yokes may grow, we still must abide when pulled back" he said. He turned slightly, bringing his shield hand to a 'comfortable' position resting on his belt, which coincided with putting the shield at the ready between him and Jevan. "Just know that they are not the only one who can hold a yoke in their lifetime."

"Too true," Jevan replied. "I like to think of life as a web. Every person, every interaction is an intersection. Some of these points are determined for us by family or fate. Others are of our own making. Knowing which connections to make and which to prune determines the health of the whole, so that when any point pulls upon it the whole of it does not break."

Houndarel scoffs. "I have been playing that gam longer than you have, Freth. But what of those strands we do not choose, but are pruned for us hm?" Houndarel's face grows a bit tighter as he furrows his brow. "Should we not snip at those that dally overmuch in our webs?"

Jevan shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said. ”I for one prefer to look for opportunity.”

"Well, those who trespass in another's web should show their opportunity quickly, ere they rouse the spider."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:01, Mon 03 Jan 2022.

"This was a most unusual year, I think you will agree," Jevan remarked, still observing the fighters though warier of Houndarel given his obvious ire.

"Only one noble son to finish in the top four. Practically unheard of. Now, that process is sorting itself out as these things are wont to do. And you stand in a position to rectify what remains by a penstroke. That is an admirable position to be in, if I may say."

"The glory of three noble houses, the esteem of three noble sons. Barrison Del'Armgo. Duskryn. Hekar. Powerful sons of powerful houses. It is one thing to lose to a common wastrel. Appalling really. They will wear it as a mark of shame for quite some time to come."

"It is quite another though to have lost to an incoming master of the academy. Clearly that opponent was skilled and worthy. No one can contest that. You can make that happen and in doing so incur a debt of gratitude thrice over for something you were prepared to do anyway."

"What a legacy to leave on."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Mon 03 Jan 2022.

"Something I was prepared to do in a way of my choosing. Debts and gratitude are as good as water in your hand; draining away despite your best efforts, and leaving naught but more water at your feet to sink into. I could have controlled Tuith, Jevan. Tell me what is worth losing that."

"Could you have?" Jevan asked. "Tuith wasn't satisfied. He was never satisfied. That was his conceit. It was his decision to try to make amends for last night's mistakes, not mine. He stood to gain everything you had hoped to offer but he wanted more."

"He Always. Wanted more.

"Tuith would have cast you aside as soon as he found someone stronger, someone who could offer him a higher station, just as he did to Da, just as he did to Matron Hakkar. And there is always someone stronger; someone with more to offer."

"The worth of my gratitude is immaterial. You may chose to accept it or cast it aside. I can hardly fault you. But it is hardly my gratitude you should be measuring. The game board remains the same. The pieces have merely changed."

"Barrison Del'Armgo. Duskryn. Their favor is worth something, even if mine is of no value to you. Mollify the other houses, and I will reap none of their good will. Snub the other houses, and I will wear none of their ire. I am merely a student passing through, on my way back into society. How could I have anything to do with it?"

"Of course, I had very good teachers," he said, turning at last to address Houndarel directly. "The very best."

Houndarel thought about it long and hard for a bit, his lips pursed as he considered. Finally he looked at Jevan, his features still hard and defiant. "Fine, Freth. I'll agree, but I want collateral. I need something about you or your ally that doesn't have to be valuable to me, but will hurt you if I let it out. Just to ensure that when I need to call in this 'grattitude' that I will be answered in kind or else."

"Why, Master Fey-Branche," Jevan said, turning back to face the fighters though directing his words carefully. "I'm a godless heretic who consorts with demons not sanctioned by the church of Lloth," he said mater-of-factly.

"You don't think I actually studied at Sorcere, do you? That would be ghastly."

"Now I'll of course deny this to my dying breath, but the mere suspicion as directed at me by a source of unimpeachable authority such as yourself would cause me no end of grief amongst the priesthood. And really, what in life could be more painful than that?"

"I know it may surprise you to hear this, Houndarel, but I really am a man of my word and I have no compunctions against trading in favors. When you call, I will answer."

Houndarel furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the information Jevan spread before him; then a moment later he threw his head back with a loud and hearty laugh; several of the students down bellowing even paused to look up in response.

After a moment he took a deep breath and looked Jevan in the eyes, his posture relaxing. "You will do well on the outside, Jevan. Perhaps even better than I. Go, tell your ally wherever he lurks nearby that it will be done; he had better be a good teacher though my reputation depends upon it."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:54, Tue 04 Jan 2022.

Jevan smiled and bowed his head, both in acquiescence and acknowledgement of Houndarel's praise.

"He will be a masterful teacher, you needn't worry," Jevan assured.

"I will of course say nothing to Billarius and Gul'tal. I will however offer my condolences and respects to Hekar. It's a pity what happened to Tuith, but the whole house can hardly be held responsible for the desperate acts of a desperate man. I want him to know I harbor no ill will."

"And of course I must congratulate him on his excellent standing in the Grand Melee. A top five finish! Very commendable." Jevan smiled.

"Have a good day, Master Fey-Branche. I will see you at the graduation ceremonies tonight."

Jevan turned to leave and then paused briefly.

"Oh! And should Pharn happen to come by again for any, particular reason you may wish to mention that should the second son of Freth die by poisoning tonight any debt I may have incurred will necessarily transfer to him. I expect my Rothe steak will be excellent tonight."

"My recommendation is to fast, Freth. You're looking a little pudgy anyways" said the ever-compact and muscular instructor with no humor. "Must be all that demon trafficking."

Before Jevan had even fully left the room, the 'students' down below had entirely stopped their fanciful routines having never broken a sweat in the first place. When the noble left, alone, he turned to close the door only to turn back and find a familiar hooded and veiled figure standing there.

Satou pulled down his face covering and looked to Jevan. "I wasn't able to listen in, but I assume you coerced Houndarel into agreement?"