Ulric looked over at Geyrt whose normal calm, slightly hateful, but calm, demeanor was held by her fingernails.

"Is it always like that with them?" He asked.

She shook her head, lips pursed before she answered.

"No, that was worse. Father likes you. It makes him more…unreserved. If not for mother Bathe and Vedyr keeping him in line, he would have been nearly intolerable. Before he married her, my mother, Vedyr, had to constantly remind him not to prod the guests. It was especially bad with ambassadors of Otherkin.” The imposing beauty commented, her neutral tone hiding what she thought of that.

“He often played a game seeing how far he could push propriety while making them think they were having serious discussion. Mother Shor enjoyed the game too much to stop him and sometimes helped him lay traps to further entangle. It was incredible what they could maneuver petitioners into as they thought that playing along would grant them favor. Sometimes, father did it to provoke them to give him cause to kill them, if he found them distasteful. This is especially true of the jackals from Prosper. They are the ones who…never mind. We have a blood debt that was resolved. Not forgotten though." She scowled at that last.

"Never forgotten." Her voice had turned to Winter's own.

They took off walking, Ulric simply deciding he'd like to make a wander through the citadel/town, as Brighteyes’ impressive dam suggested. Taking in the almost alien beauty of buildings that fairly grew from the massive trunk around which Irielhos spiraled, he considered all he'd learned of the Iriel'en and their ruling family. And, yet again, Ulric was convinced that whoever sought a war with these people was *ahem* barking up the wrong tree. You're welcome.

"If it's any consolation I find that I like them too.” Ulric admitted with some degree of unease, he wasn’t used to finding people tolerable so quickly, “Your Mothers scare me just a little. If they keep your dad toeing the line that's probably a good emotion to have. Brighteyes is a great kid, real potential in that one and I think I’d trust the lad to handle most anything with a level head. Your da Bald'rt reminds me of a very good friend of mine. We used to give each other shit constantly." He told her as they descended a stair.

Her nose scrunched. Even disgust was pleasant on her features.

"Why would you exchange dung with friend? Is this a Human thing?" She asked, clearly skeptical about her future prospects.

Now Ulric was frowning. Idioms did not translate well. No reason to think they would, he supposed. Too much cultural backdrop involved to let it transfer one to one. He'd have to consider that. They wound through various pavilions, Elven architecture on full display in the afternoon light, undiluted by the forests. Ulric had only rarely been able to see the Twins, the name for these paired stars, in their full glory at zenith. Deep orange and blue-white spheres, radiant.

"It is a figure of speech in my old society. It means we trade jests at each other's expense. A friendly contest of wits for fun and to make the other laugh. Very much like what your father does…but I suppose with less chance of one of the parties getting killed for saying the wrong thing." Ulric explained.

His Shadow's face returned to its usual slightly dissatisfied calm. What you might call an RBF. Resting Bitch Face. Ulric had always preferred to think of it as the expression of competent people surrounded by idiots. All too often that had proven true. His project manager came unbidden to mind and he shuddered slightly. Gods he did not miss that woman. Given a choice between a pack of [Heckler Monkeys] and enduring that spider mimicking humanity he would take the chattering, shit flinging, biting little fucks every time. And, yes, he was referring to the monkeys.

"Oh. Then yes, that is mostly accurate. You hold your own position well for one so young to the game. But you are still no match for Father, he could force you into a challenge inside of an hour, if that were what he wanted." His Shadow informed him.

Both a compliment, how unexpected, and a warning. Unnecessary but welcome, nevertheless. He'd figured out long ago he was not the equal of the Lord of Iriel. In essentially any way. There's always a bigger fish, that's just how the world is. Any world. It seems Geyrt was going to fulfill her obligations as a Shadow, protecting and advancing his interests. He wondered if she would have intervened if he had made a major mistake in the earlier deliberations. Rude or not, that had him curious enough to ask.

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"If I had made a serious mistake in my negotiation with your parents regarding establishing exchange of goods and knowledge, would you have been under obligation to inform or guide that negotiation to a better outcome?"

Looks like he caught her with a changeup on that one, by the twitch of her ears and the widening of those vivid orbs. She took a solid minute to think it over, following as he approached one of the great sources of his curiosity: an Elven forge. Not intending to disturb its patron yet he simply leaned against the rail of the pavilion. Here on this tenth level or was it the eleventh? he could bask in the warmth of the suns and the vista of Iriel stretching out below. It wasn't quite the view from the escarpment of the Ancient’s Plateau but it was definitely up there with most amazing sights of any of his lives.

"That…is a difficult question." Geyrt said suddenly, surliness replaced by contemplation.

"I am bound to support your interests and to protect your life. Even above my family's own. For all intents and purposes their daughter is dead until my time as your Shadow is ended. To all Iriel'en, I am dead, part of your shadow. The only circumstance in which that changes is if I marry into a House. That is partly why Father presses his point. It is a jest, but also not. If he could force you to accede, to accept the joke for real, he could have his daughter back among the living." The dark beauty said with sadness.

And there it was. The nagging suspicion of strange Elf goings on confirmed. Geyrt had been, for all intents and purposes, exiled from society. She was dead to the world of her kin. It was the only way her father had been able to prevent her death in truth, the only way to enforce the core precepts of Elven society or law or both, that did not involve wading through the blood of his own daughter.

Geyrt's perspective shored up some of the unknowns involved with that meeting nicely. A feint and an attack in one movement, so to speak. Hidden behind the intensity of the Elf lord's prodding humor was a political move of great finesse. A bold gambit to save his favored daughter and then to reclaim her, all through the acceptable tenets of their culture. Even if applied in a way that was sure to raise eyebrows, if the responses of his wives were any indication. And all the subtle Elf had to do was maybe maneuver a foreign lord, naïve to the ways of this world, who could not be expected to understand the intricacies of proper Elven culture, into hunting some probably fantastically dangerous beasts which would shed much of the disfavor of the Iriel'en, and, even if not, couldn't be held against him as he wasn't, technically, bound by those customs. Ah what a man would do for love of kin. If Ulric wasn’t reading too much into it. If these thoughts weren't just the paranoia of a person who didn't have a great track record deciphering his own society, let alone one as foreign as the deep wood folk.

Well, what was the use of having a Shadow if you weren't going to use it? Ulric laid out his hypothesized scenario ending with "and please don't think that I would hold this against him, it's what I would do".

For once, he thought he almost saw respect on her features.

"Then you understand. This is good. Even a worms in head Valin with more meat than sense can grasp the way of things. If he is held by the hand." She said with a tone bleeding sincerity.

Oof. Maybe not. That backhanded praise was far, far more cutting than any of her insults had been. He supposed it was too soon to expect cordiality. Actually, scratch that. Cordial was not going to be in the cards with any person as surly as his new Shadow. A viper that had had its fangs pulled was still a viper. But the ship was turning. At least he was a person now instead of merely a personification of her grudge. Take your wins, Ulric thought.

"Yeah well, not like it matters too much. The Dragons that circle the castle pretty much vetoed the entire plan." He returned drily.

"What is your meaning? Dragons? There are no dragons in Irielhos." Geyrt asked, thoroughly confused.

Again, Ulric was finding that a commonality of language was not a guarantee of communication. He had to explain the idiom of dragon ladies. When he had she caught the meaning and, just almost, cracked a smile. But then, no, the face of a judge rendering nothing but guilty verdicts returned. Damn it! That was a winner too. It would be the work of a lifetime to pull a chuckle out of her. Might as well try to milk rocks. He wouldn't give up though. In the same way that he enjoyed putting needles in soft places he did also enjoy getting a too serious person to lighten the fuck up. Nobody made it out of life alive. You might as well enjoy the ride.

One day, he promised himself. He'd get her one day. He only briefly considered asking Bald'rt how he'd managed to appease Vedyr, so similar were their countenances. Given their encounter earlier though that would be a severe mistake and end up putting him back into the kettle, full boil.

Shelving that side project Ulric considered their current situation. Oh yeah, he needed to figure out what exactly his obligations included. Specifics had merely mentioned "care and comforts" and something, something, "befitting her station". Which meant that Ulric actually had no clue what the hell he was expected to do about her. When in doubt, ask, it was not his way to beat around the bush.

"Geyrt, what are my responsibilities towards your person? Do I owe you a salary? Do you require a tithe of all the gains I make? Is this a room and board situation?" Ulric inquired.

This the Elf woman answered immediately.

"A Shadow is considered to be part of their lord. They rank according to their lord's rank. You are [Lord of the Ancient Glade] which makes me part of that status, and your court would interact accordingly. In actuality, you are a realm of one so most of that is moot. You will provide for my housing, at a location close enough at hand that I may guard your sleep, and my sustenance. I also require outfitting and maintenance of any such gear as I deem necessary to serve your person. It has been practiced that a Shadow, being an extension of their lord's will, has an open writ to their lord's coffers and simply draws what is needed from that. Since you are here under Guestright and have accepted the hospitality of Irielhos that extends to me as well. Such things will be considered when my parents make their arrangements on your behalf. So, effectively, you need do nothing other than take care of my needs for proper equipment, to the best of your ability until we return to your domain. Or wherever else you wander off to, I suppose." She finished with some amount of hopelessness.

Life had gone downhill quickly for the old gal. Self-inflicted wounds still bled. He would know. It was very likely that, had he not experienced a downward spiral in his final years, he would be far more lacking in empathy for her. Even with that, raw anger had prevented him from caring what damage was done before. Now though, Ulric found he had traded one responsibility for another. Exit Brighteyes, now safely home, enter Taipan to bite him if he weren’t careful.

Not that anybody asked, but he'd prefer Brighteyes' even keel to what was sure to be a bumpy ride with Geyrt. Regardless, he was now responsible for her well-being. Towards that end he decided that he would treat her with kindness, when that was possible, if not warmth. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to bring himself to like this woman.

Ulric sighed. Things really had been much simpler by himself in the glade.