Of War's End and Peace's Tangled Coils
Fifteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
To his credit Red Rolly had not let grass grow between his toes in the day and a half since the Golden Company had gone down to wreck and ruin. He'd donned a black hood over his glamoured armor and bound his sword in a battered leather sheath just in case he should meet a mage able to see through even the cleverest of illusions, or a devil with eyes honed on the plains of Avernus. Yet for all his caution and all his care he could not have been prepared for this. For a god's curse and an ambush planned a thousand leagues away.
Space rippled and all at once your Companions were around him, Amrelath and Relath circling above. He is fast, but not faster than twisting time, he is strong, but not stronger than half a dozen crossing battle spells, then brine and flame raining from on high. Of course the dragons are not truly aiming to kill, nor do you think a single gust of flame could kill this man, whoever he might once have been, but every blow dispels a ward and every fortune blessed twist spends an enchantment.
Even so you do not manage to capture the man without blood being spilled. Between one moment and the next he is
standing next to Lya, the sword sharp enough to cut through adamatine poised to strike her neck. As you bat it away with
conjured wings he casts a veil of poison in the air, thick, oily and filled with every bitter memory at the edge of knowing. A weapon of last resort, of flight, his body melting into the smoke even as Lya starts to cough up blood. Perhaps he would have had some means to remove the curse had he managed to flee. He does not get the chance. With bloodied lips Lya utters the spell and the last of Aegon's inner circle is bound in a coffin of
amber even as his master is.
"What was that thing, it looked like three spells in one enchantment?" Lya asks, excited by the cloud that had poisoned her before it had even scattered, before she had even healed.
"We will have plenty of time to figure it out tomorrow," you laugh. Looking up and down the road you see no other Golden Company survivors. Red Rolly had been wise enough to flee alone.
"For now we must grind our loins for a less savory battle," Waymar jests lightly, relief coloring his words.
One more enemy you would not have to worry about anymore. "Politics."
Hopefully you would not be making new ones.
***
The Venerable Xue does not at first glance look like one deserving of that name, her face is youthful and seemingly unmarked by worries, even her hair is black as a curtain of ash upon robes of crimson and gold thread that glitters and dances in the lantern light, but it is her eyes that give lie to the youthful facade. Dark they are, but bright with the will behind them, like hot coals ready to burst into flame.
She had agreed to meet you in secret in one of the last remaining tents in the ruined camp, she had even agreed to meet you alone while you brought both Dany and Tyene to the meeting, but you would have to be wholly blind and deaf to the currents of power not to taste the fire in the air. The half-cast ritual had not been wasted, the favor of the kami not wholly spent. It is clear from the way she looks you in the eyes without hesitation that the mage before you is willing to turn the power meant to strike at the Golden Company against you, if she feels the need to.
Thankfully it is just as clear she is not looking for a fight, only answers and the sort of guarantees you are more than willing to provide. After all, you had no designs on Trader Town in your own name and no intention to conquer it in the name of the Azure Emperor in Yin. You stop well short of anything that might be constituted a promise not to ally with Bu Gai of course, but other than that you are anticipating a swift and amiable discussions over sky-blue porcelain. Then fate decides you are touch too comfortable in your conclusion:
"Why did you provide Pol Ning with knowledge of the Mother of Monsters and other threats to harmony?" The shugenja sips her tea as though she had been inquiring about the weather. "Do not mistake me, I could easily believe that those documents were as old as they seemed, but the manner they had been composed, that was not of the Golden Empire."
Another sip.
"They could of course had originated from some other foreign source, but to find so many and so conveniently in some trader's satchel. It stretches credibility."
What do you reply?
[] Deny that you had anything to do with the whole matter
[] Admit your involvement and your reasons
[] Write in
OOC: I glossed over the battle a bit since you guys outnumbered poor Rolly to a frankly unfair degree. Hopefully it came across well enough. 
