As Lilith leads Arkold into the room, the Countess looks up and meets the wolf's eyes. Her irises glow red, and seem to pulsate like flames as she studies the man. The black-furred and haired woman appears younger than she has a right to be and wears a simple white blouse and skirt-pants like Lilith does. Only the odd dragon-like aura she exudes gives any indication of her power.

"This is Arkold Volkenheld, Countess," Lilith says in introduction. The Countess nods and picks up a sheet of paper covered in handwritten notes. "Please make yourself comfortable, Mr. Volkenheld," the Countess says in a calm, pleasant voice with just a hint of an echo.

Arkold's gaze doesn't waver when he's stared at; he's fought enough dragons in his life, real and otherwise, to blink in the face of one now. "That'd require Ravenia, but I'll make due," he says after a moment, taking a seat and leaning back. "It's nice to meet you, Countess."

"It is?" the Countess asks. "I understand you've led a colorful life, Mr. Volkenheld. Or is it Lord Volkenheld still?"

"I see you've done your research," the wolf replies. "And, it is just Arkold. I lost my claim to the name and the title a long time ago. Between you an' me, the lack of association is probably worth the loss of nobility." His head tilts, and he takes a moment to regard the oddly draconic woman. "I'd bet you lead a colorful life, too."

"Mostly mundane, I'm afraid," the Countess replies. "You knew the dragon, Vorgulremik, back when you still had your claim to the title, isn't that so?"

"There's another association I could live without, but, eh, yeah. We worked together. He was my brief boss, before we went our own ways. His personality hadn't changed much, even if he put on a few pounds. And here, I always thought it would be Faraon that'd give me trouble." The wolf waves a hand, dismissing the memories. "Different time for me, though. Lots changed."

"I can imagine," Draco says. "And how did you meet Tulani, if I may ask?"

"At a bar on the docks – an' before you ask, it wasn't like that. She needed help, even if she didn't know it, an' I can provide 'elp. You see, I've become somethin' of an' adventurer over the years," answers Arkold.

"It's in your blood, would you say?" the Countess asks with a wry smile. The smile also exposes her vampire fangs, of course.

Arkold raises a brow, then barks a laugh. "Is that a vampire joke? I think I've 'eard that one, but it's somethin' else from a countess." He then shakes his head, sitting up a bit. "It's not in my blood, that I know. My family deals in herbs and spices – some legal, some not. The Tears they trade don't drip from any dragon I know, eh."

"I can see why a young woman might feel comfortable around you, Arkold," the Countess says, while Lilith hides a snicker. "On your journey, you picked up some unusual items that turned out to be cursed. Can you tell me a bit about them?"

"Alptraum's not cursed, exactly. Neither is Lilith, despite snickering. My nose is broke, not my ears," the wolf answers. He glances over his should and grins at the Eeee behind him, winks, then looks back and smiles at the Countess.

Draco smiles, and asks, "I take it you don't want to discuss the items then? Will you tell me anything about the pendant Tulani wore that turned her into a dragon?"

Arkold chuckles again, then shrugs. "I'll tell you. One was a snifter – 'ad snake patterns on it. 'Elped me with my addiction, but turns out it just fed off it like a fire feeds off wood. See, it was a, ah, chiga I think they call it. A Chiga spirit. Naga-like, one arm? Evil? That'd be it. The Collegia took care of that, and that was the end of that artifact. As for the amulet, the council's out on that one. I'm no mage, mind, but from what I know it 'as powerful illusionary magic. Could even be linked to an evil gnawing at these lands, troubling enough. Beyond that, I can't say," he explains.

"And you are looking to settle down in Sylvania as well, yes?" the dark bat asks next.

"Seems like the time. As much as I enjoy travelin', I'm gettin' tired of the road. I'd like to spend some of my life not wonderin' where my next meal's comin' from, or if someone – or something – is out for me. I may even get married, and shock all the world. The ladies will weep, I tell you." Turning, Arkold reaches to pat Lilith's hand. "I know, I know. I hate to break your 'eart, but it'd never have worked out."

Lilith nearly falls out of her chair at that. "I… I'll survive," she chokes out, trying to hide her grin.

Draco watches the little scene with amusement. "You have military training," she says to the wolf. "What rank did you hold?"

"Survin' is all we can do, sometimes," the wolf says solemnly. He returns his attention to Draco, and sits up again. "I was trained by several sword masters in Rephidim, back when I 'ad 'Lord' before my name. After that, I learned from the other blade masters of Rephidim, the ones that don't advertise. Followin' that, I 'enlisted' in the off world Legion. I 'ad a rank, but I never did figure out what it meant – some alien talk. My position was solider, an' gunner. After I got a ship, I was captain. You could say I 'ave an … eclectic military history. It's not formal, but it's real, an' you won't find my kind of experience in the rank and file of Rephidim."

"I suppose the best rank for you might be 'Rogue' then?" the Countess asks. "Have you commanded troops before?"

"It's not a title I'd wear, but it fits. I've commanded troops, both on Abaddon and Ashtoreth. I've 'elped lead my party through a lot of brawls. Undead, dragons, the livin' – I'm runnin' out of mysteries to fight, I tell you." Arkold reaches over and pats his sword, an out-of-place Abu Dhabian scimitar. "I've even talked to gods."

"Many people talk to gods," Draco points out. "Luckily, only a handful listens to them. What is your military assessment of the situation at the Twisted Keep?"

"It's grim. I'll tell you this flat-out: the Shadow is there, and there's a out-of-his-mind necromancer outside the walls that is drooling over it. I think he plans to use it to become a god, become Dagh, or resurrect him. Whatever the case, we couldn't 'old it, so we snuck out. He may be inside, may not. An' then there are the old dragon's slaves, buildin' to the south. They're a wildcard. The whole area is a hot pot ready to boil over," Arkold relates. He leans forward more, pushing his pointer finger down against the desk as he does so. "Mark my words. That man succeeds, and it'll haunt us all."

"None of us want that," Draco says. "That is why we need to fully assess the situation to see what course of action is best. What would you suggest as the best way to defeat him?"

"When fightin' mages, ask a mage. We'd need someone who knows what he's workin' – a necromancer, or spirit mage of our own. Followin' that, I know his strength is in armies of the dead. The dead, the mass-ones that is, aren't all that sharp. They can be slow and dumb, and I think they can be outsmarted, so long as their leader is distracted. Otherwise, the man's still a man. Stick an arrow through his skull, and his crusade ends there." Arkold leans back slightly, but only so he doesn't hover over his hands as he makes a square with them on the table. "If 'e 'as the castle, we're lookin' at a siege. That'd take time – years maybe – and a lot of lives. If he doesn't, the castle could be to our use, as could those ex-slaves, if we can convince them our side is their side."

"Armies of the dead, you say," Draco notes, narrowing her eyes a bit. "A tall order. I've not heard of a necromancer who could control more than a dozen or so zombies, other than the Necromancer King himself. That's why he was the king. But I'm told this Dack is also an illusionist. A few minions amidst the illusion of a larger force would be much easier to produce."

Arkold nods, then runs his hand back through his hair. "There's that. Like I said, I wouldn't know the difference between an enchantment and a cantrip. And, see, I know it. That's why I say, an expert's in order. 'Know thy enemy,' eh? It's one of the basic tenants of battle." He then lowers himself back, resting again. "He has a few living followers, too. Might be necromancers themselves. A few cultists, too. They believe in him, think he'll provide change where others haven't. If the only hand reachin' to pull you out of a pit is a demon's, why not, eh? Desperate folk."

"True believers are the worst enemies," Draco says, nodding her head. "They don't surrender or negotiate. Sometimes you've no choice but to turn them into hogs."

"Turn them … What?" Arkold blinks, ears perking. "Hogs? Is that a local turn of phrase? Reminds me of put them to the spit."

"Hogs are useful creatures," Draco says, with that odd vampire grin showing up again. "More useful than dead men, certainly. We will have to arrange for a spy to scout out the situation at the old Keep."

"Kind of scary," Arkold admits. "I've seen that look in someone's eyes before. Heh." He then holds up a hand. "Whatever you 'ave in mind, it's none of my business if you don't want to explain. Anyway, eh, we know a secret route back in to the castle. If it ain't occupied yet, we could sneak people in and fortify it. Or, failin' that, make it a death trap."

"Alptraum mentioned that," Draco says. "A very good asset, although the sorcerer is certain to at least suspect its existence by now. If he has breached the barrier you left behind, he may have found the secret route already."

Arkold nods in agreement. "No doubt. He may suspect, even if he hasn't breached the walls. The trick would be – could he do anythin' about it? If he found the secret entrance, 'e'd surely use it to get inside." The wolf closes his eyes, thinking a moment as he lets his head lay back. "How do you feel about this, Countess? Are you willin' to work with the likes of us, knowin' our history, and that this could be a bloody battle?"

"All battles are bloody," Draco says. "And this fiend of yours is camped practically on my southern doorstep. But more importantly, he is not Sylvanian. I do not know yet what resources I can divert to aid you, but rest assured I will help somehow."

"Does his not being Sylvanian bother you that much? I wouldn't have thought that'd be more important," the wolf inquires. "After all, I'm not Sylvanian. Neither is Alptraum, for all he looks it."

"Oh, it means that I don't have to tolerate him is all," Draco says. "I have certain rules that I must follow, you see."

"Like, a code of conduct?" The wolf tilts his head.

"A bit more fundamental than that, but close enough," Draco admits, resting her elbows on the desktop. "Now, to be fair, do you have any questions for me?"

"What's with the glowing eyes and aura?" Arkold asks, grinning a bit. "I'm no mage, but I've 'ad enough magic-related whats-its after me to know somethin's out of place. I've 'eard a lot about you, an' I want to know what's true, an' what's a lie – assumin' you'll tell me. I'd also like to live, so if answering requires my death, I can live without knowin'." He grins a bit more.

"Oh, those," Draco says, waving a hand. "I'm a vampire, which accounts for the glowing eyes. And as for the aura – well, I have certain draconic characteristics as well."

"You don't say. I once knew a man with draconic characteristics, you already know," the wolf says. He then shrugs, waving the matter off. "I'm sure there's more to it, some mystery to you, but, eh … I'm not sure I even want to know. Your people seem like they've done right by you, an' in this world, that jus' might be enough for me. As long as you don't eats souls or turn children to gold to fund your mad scheme, I can be content. That said," he reaches in to his coat, adding, "it's not a weapon," as an afterthought, and pulls out something that glitters in the darkness, "what do you know about gold?"

"I know that it buys a lot of bread, for one thing," the Countess notes, and looks at the object in the wolf's hand.

"While I like bread, I want more," Arkold explains. He places the object on the table, then rolls it to Countess Draco. It appears to by a piece of women's jewelry, cast in glittering gold and decorated in obscure Aeztepan hieroglyphs.

The Eeee stops the spinning with a finger, and picks up the bauble to look at more closely. "Another treasure from the King's tomb?" she asks.

"The Queen's tomb," Arkold corrects. "I dare say the last wielder of the Shadow wore that."

"Aeztepan then, most likely," Draco notes, and rolls the jewelry back towards Arkold. "I'm afraid that is about all I can say about it. The only ones I can think of who might be able to read Aeztepan glyphs are those Yodhsunala who stand watch over the cursed island."

Arkold laughs, shaking his head. "Eh, I want to sell it, not learn its history. Might be worth more to some scholar or collector, but I'd rather melt it and buy a tavern. Way I see it, that woman's part of this whole mess, and it's fittin' 'er gold should help right it. I'm willin' to put my gold to our cause, so long as I 'ave enough to retire on."

"Oh, well that's a different situation then," the woman says. "It might be of value to an Earth Mage, assuming the metal itself came from Aeztepa. It may have unusual properties if that were the case. You'd need to ask at the Guild Hall in the Capital though. If it turns out to be mundane gold, then I might be interested in buying it."

"I'm willin' to let some of it go to you, an' you can do what you will with it, so long as 'what you will' includes this shadow war an' improvin' the lot of your people," says Arkold. "The rest, I'll retire on. 'Ow much does land go for, aroun' these parts? Need a permanent old solider? Heh, I'll even take lord, but not a good one. I'd prefer a tavern."

"A tavern, hmmm," the Countess says, looking Arkold over again. "Perhaps something next to Northern Shore, on the sea? Although that is a favorite spot for Gallisians to try and invade. Not a dull place."

"By the sea is fine. I've a water-favoring friend that could use the salt water." The wolf grins a little. "I'll deal with your Gallisans, eh. I'll see that militia knows the right end to grab a sword. That said," he pats the table, "'ow does one go about getting married in these parts?"

Draco blinks at the suggestion, then looks to Lilith before asking Arkold, "Are you proposing to me?"

"Would you say yes?" Arkold asks, now curious just what the Countess would say.

"Of course not," the Eeee says.

"That's good, because I'm not." The wolf winks, then pulls out another, smaller, piece of gold. "I have a special lady in mind, an' I want to do it right. Right, like the locals do. It'd be nice to 'ave a sense of place. Seems like a good way to tie us to this place."

"Well, I can perform a marriage of course," Draco says. "Or any local Mayor or Godsmith. Are you in a hurry?"

Arkold 'hmms,' then leans forward. "Let me set a story for you, an' you tell me: a man's facin' a dire threat, possibly some kind-o god, an' he's goin' to call it an adventure after that. He'll settle down, an' he 'as someone to do it with. Thing is, one or both of 'em might die before it's all over. As a woman, would you want to be married before, or after, the battle comes to pass?" He raises his brow, letting the gold roll between his hands as he awaits an answer.

"Personally, I would choose after," Draco says seriously. "I know the saying 'it is better to have loved and lost', but I don't believe it. It is always better knowing you have a future together to make the current moment a happy one. And to know, for certain, that is not just the threat of dying that has brought you together in the first place."

Arkold nods, face solemn. "Thanks, I appreciate your input on this." He then glances over his shoulder and asks, "'Ow 'bout you, Lilith? An' don't be mentionin' this to Raven."

"Well, in this case I have to think of Ravenia's circumstance," Lilith notes. "She has no memories that she trusts, is unsure of her identity and utterly disconnected from the world around her. I would give her more time, Arkold. You have a plan for your future, and she may be responding to the security it promises. Or her memories might come back, and she could change. I suggest you enjoy it for what it is right now, and see what happens."

"Hadn't thought about it that way," Arkold admits. He drops back in his chair and closes his eyes, fidgeting with the hold in his hands, and going, "hmmm," quietly. The way his ears cant back, he can't be happy.

"I wouldn't suggest any of these reasons to her either," Lilith says. "Let her be happy."

"I can try and do that much," Arkold agrees. He opens his eyes and looks at the gold, then shakes his head. "It's pretty useless without someone to share it with, isn't it? Gold, I mean." He places the ancient jewelry back in his coat, then sets his gaze on Countess Draco. "That's all I have to ask, at the moment. Do you need anything else from me, Countess?"

"Not just yet," Draco says, and smiles. "You can go rest if you like, and let Tulani know I wish to see her next."

"Very well, Countess. Mind if I hit your armory? I'd like to see what we have to work with, and get ready for a real fight. Been a while since I wore real armor, an' I'd best get a feel for it again," says the wolf. His gaze slides off the Countess as he frowns, seeming to look somewhere far off. Or, perhaps, deep within.

"Lilith can arrange that," the Countess says, nodding to her younger cousin.

Arkold nods absently, then stands. He gives the countess a bow, saying, "Then I'll see you at the strategy table."

"It was good to meet you, Arkold," Draco says, rising from her seat and offering her hand. "Even if you didn't flirt with me as I was warned to expect."

"I'm tryin' to be good," Arkold insists. Some of his focus seems to return as he meets the Countess's gaze. He takes her hand with both of his, and smiles. "You can always flirt with me. I won't mind, but I'm tryin' to be taken."

"I wouldn't want to sabotage your plans," Draco says with a smirk.

"Hopefully, nothin' will. I just 'ope I'm doin' the right thing." Arkold then glances at Lilith, asking, "Do you think I'm … usin' Raven, Lilith? I'll tell you right now, I never even considered what you said. I know I'm not the best man, but I didn't … I'm not out to hurt her."

Lilith pats Arkold's arm, and says, "She's the one that gave you the idea, isn't she? At worse, she's using you."

"Oh." Arkold's ears perk. "I'm getting used by a woman, eh? Hmmm," he rubs his chin. "That's new. I think I like it. I think I'll go bring Ravenia a rose, in fact." He turns and bows again to Draco. "Countess." He then smiles at Lilith. "Lead the way, eh?"

"Of course, Lord Volkenheld!" Lilith says, looping her arm through Arkold's. "I think the garden is near the armory anyway."