Kyne and Shallan are an image painted in red. The girl from Delethorn is clad in a brilliant scarlet dress - a variation on her attire the night that they first met - while the sorcerer wears a velvet doublet in a deep wine red.

"Of course," Kyne replies graciously to Allistair with a slight bow, "the honour is all ours. It's not every day that one is guest to such luxurious hospitality."

The Elf and his companion both take a seat at the dining table.

Moltaris wanders from shop to shop with the group, quiet, pensive, and alert. One fool after another hawking their wares falls silent before her stern gaze, until the black blade calls out to her. I am the one for you, monster hunter, it seems to whisper. Light tries to play along its edge but is swallowed in gloom. Her breath catches in her throat at the weapon's perfect, plain simplicity. In moments, it hangs from her hip and her fingers return to play along its etched hilt.

Later, she clothes herself in the new shiftweave attire. She calls forth a sumptuous outfit that speaks of wealth and taste, but a touch of boring plainness - the costume of a wealthy bureaucrat. She moves in Kyne and Shallan's wake, letting their finery create a cloud of radiance in which the priestess can move unnoticed.

After a few minutes all were sitting at the table and the small army of waitress and servants begin to serve the dinner, starting with a light advocado and tomato salad. Moltaris could feel the eyes fo the Chosen one upon her, but it seems that he doesn't pay too much attention to her. 

- So... we find quite interesting that you came here to go visit our country - says the Ambassador, Chosen Kryythakul with the unsettling pair of voices - and looking for the Old Lornack nothing less. Tell Us. What do you know of this... character? - he asks to the party. 

"Almost nothing, truth be told," Kyne admits honestly as he sips at his wine. "Only that she is rumoured to be a peerless expert on the workings of dragonshards - a subject that my companions and I all have a particular interest in, especially my sister and our Dwarven friend here. However," the Elf adds with a reluctant sigh, "it seems that we will have to wait to satisfy our curiosity. We have been recruited by Tandriel d'Lyrandar to help with the pursuit of the terrorists who assaulted the Golden Dragon - our journey to Riedra will have to wait for the time being."

Kyne takes another drink, watching the Chosen carefully for their reaction.

Molly slips forward unobtrusively, lays a gentle hand on Kyne's elbow that isn't hooked around Shallan, and leans in to whisper, "I am your bodyservant. Don't you dare laugh. Make your words half-truths as much as possible."

Kyne nods without turning to look, keeping his eyes on the ambassador, his expression an unchanging congenial smile.

“Interesting “ says the Ambassador with the unsettling cacophony of voices as he looks over the Lyrandar Captain of the smaller vessel. 
“Well, our invitation stands, if you ever want to visit us and look for this dragonshard expert of your. Do you even know where to begin looking for her?” 

"As I mentioned to you on the docks this morning, all we had to go on was 'Dul Zerath'," Kyne remarks with his trademark nonchalance. "I imagine that we would have had our work cut out for us. Perhaps it is better that we've found this new engagement."

"Where did you obtain this information?" he asks "Why do you suspect that this Old Lomarck is near Dul Zerath?" the Ambassador takes a sip from the excellent wine while waiting for them to answer. He is not adressing only Kyne, ut the whole party.

 Kyne shrugs.

"My sister is a seer. She reaches for knowledge from beyond the veil. She asked for guidance and this was the best clue that we received."

The Elf watches the ambassador closely, hoping that this half-truth would be satisfactory.

"Is that so?" the ambassador seemed more amused that surprised. " Tell us are your  revelations  usually accurate?" 

Kyne lets out a good-natured laugh.

"Well, that is the question, isn't it? In my experience, divination usually holds a seed of essential truth, but only occasionally are things as you thought that you understood them to be. My sister's visions do not lie, but the future is constantly in flux and they can easily be misinterpreted. We do our best."

“We see” replies the Chosen “We don’t lie if we say we are a little bit disappointed that your company is not making the flight back with Us to Riedra, but we are in your debt. Allow us to give you a recommendation so when you have the time to pursue this endeavor you could reach us, and we will help you to reach your destination. “ he takes a sip of wine “You know? You’ll be the first elves to visit Riedra. It would be an honor for us to be your humble hosts”

"If I may?" Seb gives a little bow as best she can from her seated position. "Do you know anything of this Lomarck? Or the knowledge he possesses of the shards? Though we regrettably cannot travel with you, I am still very curious on the subject."

The ambassador smiles to Seb, but a shiver crosses her spine, as it seems the wolf about to take down his prey

"We do not, Old Lomark is but a myth to us. An old tale of a woman that lived alone in the mountains. Never heard of her being an expert on anything, and never heard of a location associated with her... " 

Kyne frowns in confusion.

"Then perhaps we have been led astray. That sounds like a wild goose chase."

“We can only hope that your chase of those attackers would be more... accurate “ he says grinning

Walking through the markets, Dworic stumbles upon a small shop run by a gnomish woman. The shop is filled with clutter and messes of unfinished projects only a tinkerer would understand. Dworic senses potential in this shop from a fellow creative. Searching through the shop he finds something that catches his eye. A metal wire in the clutter that looks just like what he needs to add a new feature to his suit of armor. He tells the shopkeeper that he would like to purchase this wire and a magic rod behind the glass of the counter. The shopkeeper seems a bit reluctant to give up the wire considering the effort it took her to get it and its current state of uselessness. Dworic is fine to pay the price as he knows its just enough for his needs. 

After a successful shopping day, Dworic returns to get suited for the dinner. Not used to wearing formal clothes he constantly pulls at the collar to make some breathing room. He understands how important it is so he won't make too big of a fuss over it. 

He sits at the table listening to the discussions unfold.

      Hurosk sits not really listening to the conversation, trying to enjoy the salad. His focus is on the voice in the ring which has conveniently been silent since he arrived for dinner and wonders if Laumar has had any dealings with the folk of Reidra. 

     The half-orc unexpectantly comes to the end of his salad and looks around. "I know I could go for some goose," he says catching the end of Kyne's conversation. 

The ambassador looks towards Hurosk and smiles. With an elegant gesture of his hand a plate full with a roasted avian with small blocks of  pâté at its sides floats towards him. 

“Please help yourself...”