Isolde and Wren had wasted no time since leaving Cambria. Rian and Kaalim would hear the hoof falls of their horses before they’d see the warriors coming through the trees. When they neared the agreed-upon meeting spot, Isolde slowed Iromane to a gentle trot.

Isolde would get as close as they would allow, gazing down at them from atop her horse. They were unlikely allies in her war to preserve Cambiran culture. Even so, Isolde never forgot that they were, at the end of it all, just men. Their kind was inferior, though that did not mean they could not be useful.

“Kaalim…” Isolde greeted him with a polite smile, “It's been a long time.” For it had been. Isolde had many questions to ask of the chieftain, and intended to see them all answered to her satisfaction. Isolde slid from her horse, inviting Wren to do the same. She recognized Rian but did not greet him by name.

Wren silently dismounted, green gaze flickering from Kaalim to Rian to the Nevermerean guards standing just behind the two. While Kaalim had intended to leave them in the boat, they had insisted on coming, declaring it their duty to protect Nevermerean diplomats. The only way to get away would be under the guide of religion, as Kaalim surely knew, as it was what he had done last when meeting Isolde. The two women were not tailed only because they had claimed just that. A ritual in the mountains. Even if the Nevermerean guards didn't like it, as of now they had orders to respect it.

Rian didn’t press his presence as he stood there. He was not Kaalim, but his eyes lingered on Wren for a bit as he was sure their Chieftess and Chieftain would be the ones mainly speaking… unless Kaalim turned to Rian. Or started going sideways on a whole rant that wasn’t going to get them going anywhere.

Instead he would greet the woman the proper way that he should, bowing his head in a bit of respect at the two Cambrians.

“I will make sure they are given.” With Nevermere always on their heels, bringing the daughters was an impossibility.

Isolde stood for a moment, looking at the man before her with silent compassion. She’d never lost a daughter—a biological daughter anyway—but had consoled many who had. It was a wound that never healed, just one you stopped realizing was bleeding.

“I was sorry to hear about Ra’aed,” Isolde said gently, “It was a life stolen too soon by a thief who should never have been there.”

Straight in.

The Nevermerean guards were under orders. They weren't to let Kaalim out of their sight. They also, however, knew to respect the traditions of the Coheedsman--at least for now. Glancing at one another following the governor's words, they stepped back, but only about ten feet. If they focused they would still catch bits and pieces of the conversation, so if Kaalim wanted privacy he would have to pretend this 'ceremony' was either loud or else required a bit of moving away.

Wren barely acknowledged the men. That is, she let her eyes fall on each and she didn't have her kill face on, so that was about as friendly as either were used to getting with her. The conversation she had had with Rian was still fresh, still searing a bitter hole in her.

Her eyes fixed on Kaalim as Isolde expressed her regret. Wren said nothing.

Isolde’s expression remained entirely placid, almost as if Kaalim hadn’t said anything at all. She let the silence sit between them, weighty and dense like the air before a storm. During it, she ran her eyes over Kaalim, as if taking him apart for inspection. Finally, Isolde addressed Kaaim with a single word:

“No.”

Perhaps Isolde should have been more sympathetic to Kaalim, but the death of his son was as far as her sympathy extended. He had let the Nevermerean woman into his bed, let them infiltrate his home, and now he was paying for that mistake. Quitting, leaving someone else to pick up to pieces.

Kaalim was no longer to be the chieftain, so she saw no need to address him further. Instead, she looked to Rian, the man she had previously overlooked.

“You have yet to earn our confidence. Coheed has bent to the Nevermereans in spirit, and I wish to hear how you plan on restoring it.”

As Wren heard Kaalim’s ask she had a growing sense of dread. Of course the world looked upon the Cambrians as though the marks they received, the strength it endowed, was nothing more than a perk. A thing to toss around. Kaalim and his brothers should not have had them. Their father stole the talisman from Cambria and crudely drew the markings upon unworthy males. No.

And the Parabolti? She had seen them in action. They were no warrior. They were women seining metal. Wren could applaud their efforts, but to consider the equal with Cambrians? It was an insult.

Her expression on him said as much. The dread, however, came from Wren not knowing how Isolde would respond. Thus, when the refusal left her lips, the warrior physically relaxed.

Whatever Rian had been prepared to argue, prepared to push for in this meeting seemed to take a hard damn turn as Kaalim suddenly sprung the news on him. He was stepping aside and now looking at Rian… handing him the reins of Coheed. No fighting. No pressure. Skipping Izen. Though his mouth remained a tight line, his widened eyes said enough as he stared at his brother. Had he known?

But now was not the time to show questions. Not when Isolde’s sole focus shifted to, apparently possibly the new chieftain. Looking to the woman who he now was equal to in the power in their country. But his eyes moved to Wren, knowing what their last conversation had been. He was including her on this conversation. “We have. As did Cambria when it was needed.” He confirmed, it wasn’t blame on his tone but facts.

“But Nevermere is pushing for more than warriors now. I-“ his gaze cut to Kaalim. Almost apologetic for the fact that his first thing was to over rule the ask that had been already denied. “Will not ask for the women of Coheed to earn the Cambrian mark. They have their strengths all their own.” He locked eyes with Isolde. “What I ask, is for trainers. From Cambria. Allow me to send my,” chieftain speaking wise, “women to you. Small groups of them. Train them, then they come home. A new group to be sent to you.” Respecting Cambria’s strength and fighting skills. “Our men fight like men, but we need women who fight like you.” Different, but together powerful.

“We have an Arynnite at our use.” He looked to Kaalim, hoping he had made good with the woman. “We have witches.” Rian had his own. “They have let us in, all of us, and we should utilize it. Cut off the source from the inside.” Violence, but at a concentrated point. From the trusted walls that they had been allowed in. Where he had gained favor and make connections himself. “There are those who are born of Nevermeran blood who want nothing more than to see the king removed from his throne. Let us help them. And get our kingdoms back. From what I have seen, the Lorendale Queen will simply shrivel back to her kingdom and cower.” Her husband was the one with the power and pull.

“But we have to do this together.”

Isolde wanted to argue the point. To point out that it was Coheed that had necessitated Nevermere’s intervention. But she did not. That too was a fact—one grounded in the past that would do neither of them good now.

“It seems we have much to discuss.” Isolde would turn and tie up her horse before joining Rian and Kaalim wherever they’d designated for them to sit.

She considered Rian’s first point as she moved. It was more likely they’d allow Cambrian warriors to visit Coheed to train their women—something Isolde wasn’t entirely opposed to. It would better enable her to keep an eye on Rian and his progress.

Isolde sat, eyeing Rian carefully before she asked what seemed the obvious question. “You say you know of Nevermereans who seek to remove Cassian from the throne,” Isolde asked as she raised an eyebrow, “Is that witch you have married such a one? I have heard she is quite…” she looked to Kaalim, “Involved in your family’s affairs.”

It was then she directed her gaze back to Rian. He had tied himself to the enemy, the same one Kaalim had taken into his bed. Why should they trust Rian when he kept a witch—a seemingly opportunistic witch—so close?

There was a long breath that left him surprisingly even, yet his heart was already pumping harder than it had in a while. He knew he had a chance to make this right. To not hand over everything to Cambria but to benefit from them. And in turn? They get their kingdom back. They get back the deal of sires for their children that were not a part of Nevermere who looked to smother them and use them up.

They moved to a spot, a religious spot that with one order from Rian to the Nevermeran’s, the men seemed compelled to listen to easier than the women. They’d be moving farther away from them, even further from earshot. As they had already been speaking lightly, light enough that they wouldn’t be overheard. So they moved to their spot and sat together. Sitting with the same distance between each of them, almost like four points of a square.

“She is. And now she focused more than ever at my side.” He never let his gaze move. Kaalim might have gotten to Magda before, but that was in the past. “As I said, in Coheed, I have resources. And with the Dresmondi starting to seek out refuge, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I can add another piece to our board.” A strategic game was what he was suggesting. “But we could use you and your women.” He pressed again. He wouldn’t beg. But he’d make his intentions clear.