The days since Katherine accepted Grant's proposal have been busy ones, as the younger de Bellefeuille dashes this way and that in a love-struck daze, alternating between making and destroying wedding plans, as one factor or another impinges upon them. Even the date has not yet been finalized, as Katherine agonizes over a fall wedding – "What if the weather is bad?" – and balks at the prospect of a spring one – "I cannot possibly wait that long!" A summer date, of course, is out of the question – not nearly enough time to plan.

Servants have erected tables and chairs upon the green lawn, and laid out a lavish feast for the handful of guests. Among them are Grant and his father, the Lord Walter de Ayde, and the Bellefeuille's Eeee guests, Leisa of Krodos and her young son Keyni. Keyni is playing some kind of game which seems to involve a good deal of running and laughing and not much else that is clear, with a couple of the servants' children and the grandson of Lord Samuel Orthieriel, while the boy's grandfather watches from the table, smiling.

Katherine's remaining guest, Lord Deluke of the Pink, has not yet arrived. A bachelor poodle rumored to be among those considered for appointments of the Temple's new order, he had accepted the invitation but warned his host that prior commitments might delay his arrival, so his tardiness is no great cause for alarm.

The elder de Bellefeuille sister sits at the far end of the table at the place her father might have taken if he were still alive. She finds herself passing in and out of conversations of no great importance or interest since the picnic had begun, and more often then not she can be seen to watch the children play or stare quietly off at her parents' mausoleum with a solemn and thoughtful expression on her face. Now is one of those times, and she for the moment dwells alone in her reverie.

While the older sister is lost in contemplation, the younger eyes her with a considering look during a lull, then turns to Grant's father. "Lord de Ayde, have I ever told you the story of the red ball my father gifted my sister with?" she inquires innocently.

Elise's ears perk instinctively at being spoken of, and her eyes widen slightly when she realizes exactly what story this is. Her gaze flicks over to her sister and her guest and she moves to interrupt lest she have to endure this story once again. "Oh come now, Katherine," says the elder sister, "that is hardly of the sort of story that anyone would wish to endure." She gives her sister a meaningful look that only another sister might catch, then turns her gaze to the elder de Ayde. "Lord de Ayde, since I have contested the story of my sister, I offer something better: have you any interests in riding? Or perhaps stories of a military nature?"

The Lord de Ayde, a black poodle significantly shorter and fatter than his tall son, looks up from his glass to glance bemusedly between the two sisters, his reply of "No, I haven't – " cut off by Elise's interjection. "I think my son has inherited all my family's gifts of that sort," he answers her in a mellow voice. "I'm not much for fighting or riding, though I enjoy a good Drokar race. Say – I've heard about your new Drokars," he says, brightening at the thought.

"Indeed, I thought even one who does not ride might find an interest in my flying Drokars. I fear it is not quite a story mind you, but I am certain it is more suitable than previous offerings," comments the elder sister. She gives her sister another look, then turns to fully regard her sister and Lord de Ayde both. "I acquired them on Caroban, … purchased through the mages that rule the sky island. I am told they are the first of their kind and I must confess I am quite smitten with them both."

"Perhaps we might have a look at them after the meal?" Lord Orthieriel comments, his salt-and-pepper face turned towards them. Katherine returns her sister's look with a mock-pout as the others second the notion.

Elise inclines her head in agreement. "Certainly. They are stabled here at the estate, though I must warn you all to keep a careful distance. Secrets is of mild disposition, but Mystery is a fiery sort and she is still in the process of becoming accustomed to her new home here on Rephidim," the older sister tells those who care to listen. "Were I uninjured I would take a moment to display them myself, though I fear a cast is quite a bother when one wishes to ride."

"I can vouch for that myself," Orthieriel says, chuckling. "How is your leg healing? Better, I hope?"

The white poodle at the head of the table nods a trifle. "Yes, though not quite as rapidly as I might like. It has kept me from both my duties and from riding, and I find that a terrible bother." A smile forms on her lips, pleasant though strangely weak. She offers it to her sister. "My sister might want that I be bedridden. She scolds me so on how far away I travel. Indeed, she is quite right … I am the most awful of sisters, I'll have you know." The smile increases a bit.

"Oh, Elise, don't be silly. You know I think you the best sibling in the world," Katherine replies, looking faintly hurt. "Why, I think the story I was going to tell Lord de Ayde about you quite emphasizes that point," she adds, her expression turning thoughtful.

"Indeed," remarks Elise, her own expression faintly skeptical. She smiles again soon after she speaks, however, and moves to continue. "My sister tells me much of your son, Lord de Ayde. I can imagine he is quite pleased, as I can imagine you are, much as I am happy to see my sister so joyful. To think another may well take up the duty of protecting my sister that I have carried so long … why, I can hardly imagine it."

Lord de Ayde gives a fond smile and takes another drink from his glass, while his son answers with all earnestness, "It is an honor I will be only too happy to assume, my lady." He glances at his fiancee', and they share a smile and pinkening ears.

Lord Pink arrives, with many apologies, as the servants are packing away the remains of the meal and the party prepares to visit the stables and see the Bellefeuille's prized animals. The latest guest, a white poodle garbed in Templar robes and ceremonial armor, snags a dessert from the sideboard and follows the rest on their trip, exchanging pleasantries with his hostesses.

Mystery and Secrets stand at pasture, wings bound at their sides, and true to form, the golden Drokar snorts and tosses her white-maned head at the arrival of the guests, pawing at the ground with nostrils flared. Those who have not yet seen them stare in awe. "Magnificent creatures!" Lord Pink exclaims, resting his hands on the fence.

The older of the two de Bellefeuille sisters hobbles past the gates, closing them behind herself, and makes her way around the fence to where the guests are waiting. "You will find no others like them in the world, Lord Pink. At least not at present, anyway. They are the first of the great city of mages, and they are dear to me," she tells Lord Pink.

"And no wonder. Truly the only animals in the world that might be worthy of such beautiful owners," the poodle lord says. Though the compliment would appear to include Katherine, he only looks at Elise as he delivers it, watching her with the intent gaze formerly directed at the winged Drokars.

Elise smirks mildly, though she turns her attentions from the guests to her fantastic Drokars. "Secrets!" she calls out to the silver flying Drokar. "Come, let me show you to our guests." As she speaks she shifts her weight against her crutches, bracing them under her arms so that she can free a hand and search out a pouch of sugar cubes. Ever since the elder sister acquired the flying Drokars, she has rarely been outside the mansion without a few cubes to offer her mounts, and the frequency at which she runs out of cubes speaks much for the duration of her strolls amongst the stables.

Samuel Ortheriel's grandson, Sammy, stands rapt by the fence, peering between the slats, despite a few efforts on the part of his erstwhile playmate to drag him away. More familiar with the novelty, and less entertained by flight alone, Keyni resigns himself to watching in any case. Secrets trots obediently to his mistress, nosing at her palm and flapping his bound wings a couple of times, to the appreciative ooos of the audience.

The head of the household and lady of the estate pulls forth a few sugar cubes and moves over to her mount. Carefully she directs him to stop so that she can lean against him for support while running her fingers through his mane, and occasionally feeding him a sugar cube. "Lord Pink, I am certain you can appreciate the military advantage of smaller winged mounts. Rakhtors, though perhaps more durable, are not quote so quick and able to land in small spaces." She turns to smile at the man, nodding him towards the gate. "As you can imagine, once my wound heals I intend to employ Secrets as my personal warhorse."

"Indeed." His gaze flicks to the disdainful Mystery, who prances on the tips of her cleft hooves at the opposite end of the pasture, then bucks at some unseen nuisance. "Though the other appears to have more of the fiery temperament one expects in a beast of war."

"Yes, she is quite fearsome, I assure you. But she lacks discipline and a calm nerve, which I find more valuable than ferocity," comments the lady poodle besides the silver Drokar. "Secrets is perhaps a tad mild for war, but I am certain with the proper training that mildness will become a steady cool. He responds well to commands, and I must confess that I am personally quite fond of him. And, I dare say, gold is not my color." The elder de Bellefeuille offers another smile at the man, and then to the crowd of guests and onlookers as she finishes her bit of humor towards the end of her review.

Some share in her smile, while the male Templar asks, "Who has been riding them since your return, might I ask?"

Looking slightly red in the ears, Elise inclines her head to the question. "Very few, unfortunately. Most of my stable hands are not trained for aerial mounts, though I have been searching for someone qualified to train them properly. I myself could not resist and have ridden Secrets once since my return. I fear it was hardly a graceful attempt," she answers him. Before anyone can respond she asks a question of her own, "Might I inquire why you ask, Lord Pink?"

"Ah." The male poodle looks a little embarrassed himself. "I'll confess that I am something of a practiced rider on rakhtors, myself, and am more than passingly curious what it would be like to ride one of your treasures."

Elise seems to consider the man for a moment before she turns from him and feeds Secrets another sugar cube. "Hm." She tilts her head as if considering. "I imagine that can be arranged. If before you depart, you would wish to ride, do let me know, and I shall make the proper arrangements. It would also give us a moment to speak of matters of a more official nature – surely I would not dare to bore our guests with such things. That will be a fine time for it."

After the party, Lord Pink lingers behind as the other guests say their farewells and climb into their carriages. While Grant and Katherine are off to one side, exchanging their own parting words privately, he approaches Elise with a small smile. "I hope I am not overstaying my welcome. Having arrived so sadly tardy, perhaps my presence may be tolerated a little later as well."

Elise had been saying her farewells as well, meeting each guest and wishing them a good eve. But most have made their way out and so she stands alone as Lord Pink approaches her. "Do not trouble yourself with such thoughts, Lord Pink. I am soldier as well as a noblewoman, and I am quite aware that time rarely spares a glance to those of a busy schedule. Thus if you find the evening waning then we shall simply have to extend your greeting for a moment more, and make our own time." She returns the smile, briefly, and turns to regard the path off to the stables. "I am certain my sister can manage what farewells have not been said. She does so enjoy such things. Shall we be off?"

"Certainly." He offers her his arm.

The lady poodle glances around for a place to set one of her crutches, and upon finding none, offers him the spare crutch so that she might accept his arm.

Gallantly enough, if with some awkwardness, the lord accepts the crutch and slings it over his free arm, escorting her back to the stables. "However did you convince the College to part with such animals?" he inquires as they walk.

"Not easily," confesses the lady with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "It was some trouble actually, though I managed to provide a number of non-required services to the sky island government while I was there, and this undoubtedly helped the matter some. It is a fantastic place, that Caroban. Should you ever find reason to go there and by Their grace manage to have a chance to meet them, I recommend speaking with the Deans of Chaos and Mind."

"Really?" The poodle lord glances to her curiously. "I've little knowledge of magic, myself. My own interests lie in more tangible areas – swordplay, riding, military history, and the like. I am sure you understand."

She nods. "Oh, indeed. And I myself have not the time to invest in a lengthy study of magic – although I do confess an interest. It is a wondrous thing, magic, and it can accomplish much that the sword cannot. With my injury I have often considered alternate ways to serve my country and the path of the mage is one of many I considered. Unfortunately whatever talent I may have is unrefined, and at best I can sense magical workings with a great deal of effort – though I have studied the written language of the mages, Runic, which serves a purpose in my duties now and again," Elise tells him. As they walk, she considers that it has been some time since she was escorted by anyone, and that being led by the arm almost seems a trivial gesture for her. She is hardly helpless and in need of a guide despite what some might say. Still, she finds the gesture nice for its own sake, and comes to realizes she does not mind it half as much as she might expect herself to.

They arrive at the pasture, and Mystery trots over to watch the pair, her nostrils flaring as she sniffs them, standing a few paces back from the fence. The poodle lord grins, leaning forward and resting his free hand on the fence, the crutch on his shoulder sliding to bump against the post. "I do not think I share your distaste for gold, m'lady," he offers.

The woman pauses, then asks, "Perhaps this is not the time, but I am dreadfully curious and quite on verge of sending an inquiry myself … I cannot abide by being kept away from my duties so long … Might I put to you a question of knights and duties?" She glances between Mystery and the lord, brows lifting as she finds herself intrigued by the female flying Drokar's reaction to the man.

The Drokar plants her feet and swings her head closer, whickering, than dances back a few paces, as Lord Pink turns back to his escort. "Ah, you mean the proposed Orders, do you not? There have been, I fear, some unexpected difficulties in their formation. I am sure you are not unaware of that, even if your prior assignment and injury has prevented closer involvement."

The woman inclines her head and moves from him, shifting to using the fence for support so that she can face him more fully. "Indeed. Though I have been gone for some time, and my injuries have kept me away from the Temple. Even were this not so I was long out of the 'loop'." She tilts her head slightly. "Have there been any new developments?"

"Progress is made … slowly. Some fear that, despite the entirely different grounding that the Orders will have from the erstwhile Knights, the Temple may have similar problems with them." The poodle curls back his lip disdainfully. "As if those devoted to the First Ones, and unashamed to show their faces and proclaim their true allegiance, might cause the Temple trouble!" He coughs. "Forgive me. Old battlegrounds. In any case, despite some who claim that the existing military arms are sufficient for the Temple's protection, we are making progress. Currently, we are trying to formulate certain … challenges that those who wish to form an Order might attempt. If all the Knights first prove their cunning and prowess in the field, we believe this will silence those who claim that the Orders would be merely a politician's prize, a nursery for unfledged lordlings."

The woman inclines her head to the report. "Indeed. Though I must tell you now I do not harbor quite the dislike of the previous Knights that some do, I do share certain opinions about them. Still, they were and apparently may still be our brothers and sisters in arms. We should try to be a bit more understanding – that which caused the schism should have never occurred," she tells him. After drawing silent for a moment she turns and regards her mounts, frowning lightly. "I cannot help but wonder if my injuries will keep me from attempting the challenges that might be set. If there is even a chance I will attempt it, but it might not be Their path for me … If it cannot be so then I shall resign myself to be pleased that I have assisted in the formation of the Orders."

After a glance to her cast, the lord nods his head once. "I cannot say, my lady, that I would recommend it, given your condition," he says, not without sympathy. The rumble of a distant carriage along the main road breaks the momentary silence, then he continues. "As for the Knights Templar: I will offer them every courtesy they have offered me, and more respect. Let me say, Lady de Bellefeuille, that you have not heard nor seen the things I have, and let us leave it at that."

Secrets trots towards the fence, ears pricked and head up, though he doesn't seem to be looking directly at the two resting by the fence. The gold Drokar sidesteps, snarling at him and flattening her ears against her head.

Lady de Bellefeuille seems on the verge of saying something but pauses, closes her muzzle and turns before finally speaking with a different question in mind. "I cannot say that I would be content to leave it at that, my lord. I fear I am somewhat guilty in this matter and it carries a special interest for me. You see, when I was younger and more foolish I signed a petition for 'proper veneration'. The result of my and many other young noble signatures was a schism within the Temple I was unprepared for. Something that should not be. It weakens the Temple and is entirely unnecessary. Though I agree respect should be paid, this persecution cannot continue. We should pray for them, not drive them out," explains the injured lady with conviction in her voice. She shakes her head, and adds, "No my lord, I would ask you tell me."

Elise blinks, unaware of the movements of her Drokar's until she has finished her lengthy explanation. She glances back at them, then tries to follow Secret's gaze.

Following the Drokar's gaze, she looks back along the drive to her manor, and out through the gates – opened to allow her guests to depart – and onto the main road. Dust still settles from the carriage gone recently past, but she sees nothing unusual. Except … "'Proper veneration,'" Lord Pink is saying. "Indeed, that is exactly what the Knights Templar lacked. And no, I do not mean that agreed with that travesty of exiling all Star-worshippers. The Star has always been a part of the lore of the First Ones. What the Knights Templar lacked was true respect for the Temple. Oh, they claimed to serve it and Rephidim. But they continually questioned the Temple! As if it were their place to decide right and wrong – as if they knew better than the Temple itself. As if the Temple were incapable of protecting Rephidim without them! And they've only grown worse since the Temple asked them to leave – insisting that Temple lands, and Temple equipment, belonged to them… " He shakes his head, following Elise's gaze at last. "Is something amiss?"

Elise nods her head slowly to both the question and the and commentary. "That is an opinion we share … yes. That cannot be tolerated," she tells him, sounding distracted. Her hand fetches the crutch the man dropped against the fence and she begins hobbling back to the manor to get a better look. "Walk with me, would you, Lord Pink?"

"By all means. What is it, Lady de Bellefeuille?" the man asks, catching her urgency and preoccupation. They haven't gone ten paces before Elise realizes what seems wrong about the gates: she cannot see either of the guards that should be posted there.

Elise's eyes widen. "The guards, they are missing!" she exclaims. She turns to him with deeply worried expression. "We must go to the manor at once!"

At her look of growing concern, Lord Pink offers to go on ahead, and at her nod, sprints toward the front door, making good time despite the sections of ceremonial armor he wears. When she finally hobbles to the front door, herself, Elise finds her arms and good leg aching, and wishing for a home of more modest dimensions. The lord is questioning her servants as she steps inside, and Indigo hurries to her side. "The guards at the front gate were found unconscious, miss," she says, "But no one's been inside the house, and we've not seen anyone elsewhere on the grounds. What could it be?"

"I … I do not know … Indigo," Elise's eyes widen all the more, and she focuses her panicked expression on the Aelfin. "Where is Katherine?"

"She was saying goodbye … to Lord de Ayde, miss." Indigo looks about wildly, as if searching for the missing poodle, and one of the maidservants looks suddenly stricken.

" … at the gates, m'lady," the maid finishes for the Aelfin, her voice a near whisper.

Lord Pink turns to the elder de Bellefeuille, his eyes widened with surprise, then he beckons to the guards nearby. "With me!" he instructs, then dashes to the door. The guards look to their mistress for confirmation or other orders, horrified looks on their faces.

Elise just stares at the Aelfin for a moment before she swings around and begins limping back out the door. "F-fetch my sword, prepare my warhorse. Send a servant to r-report this disturbance immediately. Send the guards to search the grounds. Go, now!" she orders, her increasingly troubled tone sounding more and more shaky as she speaks. The noblewoman looks shaky, too, as she hobbles out the door.