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"Nah. I tried that, but it's pretty much abandoned. I sure did find a lot of rats though." As Luc says the word rat he shudders, wondering how many he must have eaten while he was lost in there.

I would advise that you get rest and plenty of sustenance. I hear Mr. Aráethos has a mansion of sorts, perhaps he would be gracious enough to take you in until you are able to get back on your feet. He says motioning to Kail,igen. Well then, unless there is something else I can assist you with, I believe I will take my leave. Van nods a greeting at the newcomer, on his way out. Good day, Mr. Gastion. Do not look so glum, Miyr is a city for opportunity and second chances. With that Van continues his trek to the tavern door,

Vincent, wearing his normal chainmail and clothing, walks into the tavern, catching only the tail end of the conversation between Van and the newcomer. Vincent smirks, ignoring the exchange for the time being as he notices Luc over by the bar. "Luc! How long has it been? Feel up to breaking a few more bandit heads in let me know...or maybe a good hearty soup would serve you better!" Vincent lets out a small laugh at his friendly jest. Seeing that Luc is well attended too (though certainly lacking in sustaining food for an extinuating amount of time) Vincent walks over to the table occupied by Renard and sits directly accross from who Van had addressed as Mr. Gastion. Vincent looks at him, his milky-blue eyes watching Renard's every move. "So...you must be new. Here in Miyr, title means very little. You are the same as everyone else until you prove yourself to be more. You must come from a rather privledged family, Lord Gastion..." Vincent leans in close and whispers so that only he and Renard can hear, even going so far as to use his energies to shroud his mind from Van's telepathy for the short time, "You really should learn manners before you get off on the wrong foot. Friends can mean everything here." Vincent leans away from the man, dropping the physically tireing amount of energy needed to block Van's telepathy...if he ever even tried to pry into the conversation, and waits for Renard's inevitable retort.

Van paused at the remarks, it was his turn to raise an eye brow. Sensing the familiar feeling of bruised pride, he turns on his heel. The term "peasant" was new to him, the word itself meant little. However, the disdainful images it summoned in Renard's mind were degrading and insulting, Van could think of no one, himself including, who deserved such a contemptible classification.

Van spoke, calmly, his face stoic. Unfortunately, I have never before heard mention of your lineage. If I have over looked a custom of your region, I offer my sincerest apologies. You see I have recently arrived here myself; and the people from whence I originate have neither a concept, nor use of aristocracy or plebe'ianism. Van hated conflict over matters he considered petty. He decided that it was best to assuage Renard's pride to avoid any further bickering. I meant simply to encourage you.

By that time Vincent had come in and sat down. Van could feel the Paladin's mind become obscured by an exertion of energy, similar to what he had encountered in at the training grounds during their first meeting. If Vincent wished to block him, he would not pry, Van decided. But he did hear Vincent address the new comer with the title "Lord." Cocking his head a little. Would it please your sensibilities more to be addressed as Lord Gastion? Pausing for a moment, Van continued. However I am curious, why come to a "peasants" tavern, if you have no wish to interact with it's patrons? There are several more up scale wineries located in other parts of Miyr.

"I don't have to answer any more of your questions. My reasoning is my own and I would rather not have to shame myself further this day." With that he focused on his wine glass and that alone. It was an old trick he used to settle his thoughts and block out matter of psionics. He learned about it in his 3 years of magical tutelage and had used it plenty of times to control and manipulate the effects of a spell, but for this reason it was just as good. "Secondly, do you go about skimming information off of others minds without consulting them? Perhaps your the one violating the peace in this situation?" Taking a drink of wine he grumbles a bit more, having carefully kept eye on lord Vincent, whom seemed to have an unpredictable temperament.

Listening to the conversation intently and with a small smirk Vincent finally chimes in. "It is as you say. I do have some royalty in my heritage...but it is something I long since abandoned after joining the brotherhood. And regardless of the circumstances of our last meeting I would like to start on the right foot." Vincent holds out his hand in greeting, "Evening! My name is Vincent Valentine, Captain of the Order of the Emerald Hills. It's good to meet you Lord Gastion."

The peasant said nothing more; nor did he show any inclination to leave, choosing instead to step closer to the conversation. Van's interest is piqued at Renard's news of the two other survivors.

Van projectes his thoughts privately to Vincent. I hope you do not mind if I stick around for this. As I have a vested interest in your plight, I would like to hear about any other possible survivors from your land. Van felt only a slight buzzing in the back of his head. The blessing Vincent had performed did indeed tune the warrior's mind to Van's own gnosis.

Standing from his seat, Renard looked unpleasantly at the upstart who refused to leave as he himself walked out the door. "Its simply a rumor and nothing more, good day to you all." he said as he left the tavern in search of a finer establishment.