"Well, he's a piece of work." He knew the voice and the enigmatic presence that came with it without turning, his ever-loyal Silvertongue as jovial and devilish as he had always been despite the scent of turmoil hanging heavy in the air. The coy, amused words cracked Reichenbach's solemn vigil and he turned, a half exasperated look lingering around his long lashed eyes. Tensions were so strong now between Night and Day that The Night King was beginning to grow concerned for the reaction of his people - they were fierce, they were wild and they did not take well to threats or insults. Denocte would sooner bay for blood than forgive the pain of one of their own, and Raum.... Raum was theirs. "Indeed." He would not pull Raum. It was an insult to the Crows' superior skill set, to remove him from his location because of a simple threat. Maxence had said it himself - he did not know who was the spy, only that he suspected there was one. Reichenbach had seen his silver skinned spy in action and knew that he was more than capable of knowing when to leave and when to stay - Raum knew more about Solterran life and laws than the rest of them. If the Ghost did not think he needed to leave, then he did not need to leave... regardless of the rumors of he and Rhoswen. Reichenbach preferred to be in the dark about that particular secret. Finally, after what seemed an age, a familiar, well-worn smile swept away the iciness upon The Night King's shadowed face. His gaze trailed backward to where Acton was slipping forth, his movements all fluidity, grace and arrogance. His boys. Reich grinned, argent eyes flashing as he turned his gaze back to the skies, where Maxence was now long lost. He looked back at the Crows, one silver haired, one black, the tension leaking from the air ever so slowly as he considered them. He always seemed to turn younger around them, to lose the shadowy crown that now weighted his muscular shoulders - perhaps because they had been there before the crown, before it all. He had been there too. For them. They had had nothing, all of them, nothing but the bonds they shared, the faith they entrusted to one another (some more cautiously than others). Calligo curled her shadowy hands around him as he mused, entangling within his ebony curls and whispering along his black lips, faithful and loving. "Maxence is smart and he is strong... but he is honest and proud. He does not understand the underworld, nor the Crows, nor Denocte. These are his flaws, his weaknesses." Maxence was, above all, a commander. He was army, he was military, he was brute strength and battlefields. Perhaps Solis had blessed him with superiority in that regard, but it was Calligo that had blessed her sons and daughters with more.... varied talents. Talents that the Commander in Maxence would overlook or dismiss, talents that Solis himself had sniffed at. "Our Ghost will remain where they are. Let Maxence fret over his identity, we have work to do." @ |
