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The man sat at his table and reviewed information regarding the war with Fraxon. There were many changes in the formation of the army, and--

A knock on his door, and then a face entering. He'd already anticipated such a thing, with his compressed EM field warning him of movements, though he hadn't been entirely sure of whether or not it was someone who required full attention or simply some maid asking if he'd want more tea. Good afternoon, Monsieur Brydent de Valois, he said. The Diabolos narrowed his eyes, looking at him, scanning him. "That is Your Grace to you, Ambrosius Izual. I am a Duke, after all." And the Duke of Gloria en Valle, nonetheless. An important territory in the Empire of Nocturne. One with even greater importance during wartime with the bordering nation of Fraxon.

As for how he knew his name - they did indeed have an appointment, and Brydent always learned of the people he was going to meet; such was commonplace in Nocturne, where there were possibly more spies than non-spies. "Come sit down, Ambrosius. Anywhere you'd like. There is much to discuss." He opened his arms, implying he could be at liberty to choose. Brydent was unlike many officials in Nocturne - he was actually gracious and pleasant with his soldiers and subjects, resulting in many of the lower brass becoming quickly aligned with him. His greatest talent was his ability to gain the loyalty of a large variety of skilled fellows; he hoped to add Ambrosius to this list.

"Things have changed recently in Nocturne, you see. There is something of a power struggle in the second tier of this nation's agents; such as with the Captains, former royalty and otherwise relevant targets. I am one of the main contenders in this power struggle, being the Duke of a prominent Duchy, an exceptionally powerful fighter and equal with Lilith as the Great General of Nocturne's army. In such testing times, one can either gain it all - become King or Emperor - or die a nothing. That is usually how such conflicts go . . . however I seek a third option." He smirked, and looked into the Voidwalker's eyes. "I believe you may be able to assist me with my third solution . . . with time, training and tests of your loyalty. Would you like such a thing? To be crafted into an agent of mine?"

As the man discarded his unnecessary attire and fitted into simply his tank-top, cargo pants and boots, Brydent smiled pleasantly and waited for him to sit down. His appearance was now moderately less professional for the setting, though Brydent didn't mind, and at least he was nice to look at. He simply ignored the moment and focused on the more important topic at hand - which of course revolved around Ambrosius' response. The offer definitely arouses my intrigue, he started, but, he crucially added - what sort of alternative is there in such a situation? The man nodded his head, ignoring the slow and ever thoughtful speech patterns of the Voidwalker. He decided to interpret it as a quirk of his character . . . an odd one at that. What was more valuable than his mannerisms was his biology; Brydent often was highly well-received to new and exotic things, and he did not shy away from their presence in his life. Instead, he embraced them. Ambrosius was the first of his kind he'd ever met, which made him exceptionally valuable, far moreso than a thousand diamond gemstones.

"An excellent question, my compatriot," he replied. The man leaned back in his seat, placing his arms behind his head and looking upward. "I have thought long and hard about how to expand my interests, and have decided that the best answer will be to expand my sphere of influence outside of Nocturne while others compete for influence within. Yuran has been so recently decimated, and now it is ripe for colonization. I have thought to put my Duchy's high population to such a purpose . . . and become a King within this glorious Empire. The only issue is that there is a certain Demon Goddess who may stop me if she feels such a thing will decrease her own power structure in that region. Her name is Catherine. Do you recognize the name?" He stared at the Voidwalker, grinning. If he recalled correctly, the man worshiped her, or at least that was what his intelligence implied. If so, then he would be potentially useful when negotiating with her; moreso than Brydent who worshiped himself, being a mark four Diabolos and thus a Demon in his own right.

"When you are ready, monsieur, I would like for you to assist me in communicating with this Demon. Now, however, you are not. Such is your mortal limitation." He shrugged his shoulders. The Captain then stood up and turned around, staring out through the window that looked onto a dark street with merely the light of a flame shining over it. He could see dead trees, but the beginnings of live ones, as more and more alchemists have endeavored to teach plants to live in the lands of Nocturne, where the sun could not breach. He smiled at the fruits of his labor, and beckoned that the Voidwalker may join him in glancing out into the darkness.

Regardless of whether or not he came, the Diabolos would open the window and let in the cold breeze. He inhaled for a moment, then exhaled a frosted breath. He gazed at the Voidwalker, then stared at his cane. He could feel a material within it that did not exist merely for the purpose of able walking. In fact, if he could adequately judge the structure of Ambrosius' body, he did not feel he needed the cane at all. He wondered the purpose for such a ruse. The boy before him was certainly strange indeed.

He nodded as the boy spoke, his eyes observing the cold winds blow through and cool the Voidwalker's skin. Brydent was exceptionally resistant to the cold, part of his demonic heritage. Still, living in the warmer part of the country - Gloria en Valle - and fighting a warfront near Kuladhan had re-acclimatized him. Once upon a dream, he had walked through Jorsul with shattered armor and ripped boots through the miles of freezing snow and blizzard. Now, such a thing was quite more fearsome than before.

"I am pleased to hear of your consent to my proposition," he spoke with a simple expression. "Now... how would you like to accompany me on a mission of sorts? It involves Catherine, as I previously mentioned her. There is an ancient library guarded by a faction of Undead with certain secrets on her origin and rise to power. If we could access all of this information, then I believe we could discover how exactly she gains power - which would allow us to think of favorable options for her during our eventual negotiations. It may result in her favoring you as well." At least, that was ideally. Overall, this was merely an opportunity to introduce the boy to the politics of Nocturne during wartime. It was very much Brydent's intention to gain the interest of Gods and become cordial with them. And, while others had gained powerful allies in their time, Brydent had never quite successfully managed to pick up a protege. Ambrosius would be his first true attempt at trying to have faith and trust others, as well as entailing them with knowledge and power.

If all went well, then he would be a lasting choice. If not, then he would have to check his motives for instating him in his military corps; why did he invite this new recruit, out of all of them, to his Estate? Was it merely the fact that he was of a marginalized group - a rare breed to grace the Kingdom? Brydent could only feel his motives were arbitrary. Perhaps there was also the touch of sexual attraction - for he enjoyed younger-looking and smaller, more petit men - but even so, the truth was still that he ultimately chose Ambrosius on a whim based on a changeable preference, a thought he would remind himself of as he watched the boy strangely fiddle with his cane that he very likely didn't need . . . as he tried to fool all around him, but failed to fool Brydent entirely, of his actual nature - which seemed to be something far different than displayed.

He was much like an Incubus in this regard.

"Oh, and, my friend?" He decided to speak up, based on some of his concerns. "I expect none of your impairments will slow the progress of our mission. It is near the edge of the country, after all, and we can't have you limping to the train station. Not only that - but surely I shan't have others speak ill of you at my expense, whispering of the frailty of someone I associate with. You should know that Nocturne believes in authority by strength alone. Even Emperor West, our hated enemy, could walk into Lumiria and demand respect by merit of his power. Such is how it is . . . physical deformity is not seen with any measure of hospitality." It was an indirect method of telling him to cut whatever act he was displaying, at least while in Brydent's company. Such an act would result in far too many rumors for the investment in Ambrosius to be worth it, even in the slightest.

A creature of tricks? He figured as much. The man suspected from the moment he felt his arrival that there was something horribly off - and it began with the cane, with the quivering movements of the body that didn't quite seem so... authentic. "Much like an Incubus, I see," he rolled his eyes. "Though they often attempt to appear more skilled than they are, not less. The visage of shaky legs does little to stir up the trousers." The Duke chuckled. He did not contest when the Voidwalker determined to step away from the cold air, though he found it entertaining that he could be thrown awry so easily. Certainly if such temperature were so bothersome, then Nocturne was not the man's country of choice, as everything here was constantly embraced by a cold frost.

He decided to not worry about whether or not the man could properly resist the cold. There were other things he had in mind at the moment, regarding a variety of his own intentions and imperatives.

"If you would like, we will rest today; you may learn of the place that surrounds you, my center of affairs." The Captain moved his hands to close the window, so as to appease the shivering Novice. He restored a moderate temperature to the room, then stepped to the fireplace and threw in another small offering of wood. "If you will serve in my company, I will offer you six months stay in the Lumina Mira estate as long as you do well to contribute to the household; any funds gained from the military as a whole will then be put towards your savings to find a solitary location for you to live in. The Haunting Harlot, for example, is common among less renowned soldiers. Likely, though, you will need to live directly in this city until the military stations you elsewhere, such as in Gloria en Valle or our encampments in Yuran and the Kuladhan border." He spoke bluntly about the man's options for living, ensuring he knew the privileges that came with serving Brydent as well as the counsel he could give him. With excellent service, he could imagine leaving his place in this household a sort of permanent arrangement, which would be beneficial to both of them.

"If you would accept my invitation and live here as a result, then I will show you to your room." He signaled that the soldier stand up. "My singular admission is that the room comes as the result of a decision by you. Merely an arbitrary one; I promise I do not take the results all too seriously. I ask that you pick a number between one and four. Based on your number, I will decide which room you may stay in, ranging from exceptionally desirable options to an entirely undesirable option. Why the game? As I stated, it is for arbitrary reasons. I would simply choose and not worry about my intentions. You'll find yourself much happier that way."

Options:

Number One: 'Scorpion'
Number Two: 'Snake'
Number Three: 'Widow'
Number Four: 'Hornet'

He chose . . . number two, the snake. A small smile rose to light up the Duke's features. "An excellent choice," he spoke. Then, the man beckoned Ambrosius to come over and follow him to his new place of residence. The room was merely at the end of the hallway from the office, with a brilliant white door and an embroidered golden symbol on the front that wrote: "BV" - or Brydent Valois. The door possessed no knob, but it held quantities of metal within it, so as an electromagnetic Brydent could open it with ease. It was perhaps even easier than the act of twisting the door knob. When it was open, he stepped inside and turned on the light. It light up a very fanciful room of high wealth and good taste. The color scheme was white and gold, and it looked much as a South Fraxon room by its style and grace. It was a gilded beauty within a haunting city. Brydent hoped the Voidwalker would enjoy it.

"I have a good feeling about you, Private Izual," he spoke with a tone of sight amusement. "Your choice leads you to my room; ours now. In terms of categorization, from undesirable to exceptionally desirable, I decided to place this at 'most desirable' . . . not because I determined that you wanted to share a bed with me, but because I determined that I wanted to share one with you - after all, we can only imagine our own feelings." By that logic, the undesirable option was merely undesirable to Brydent. In reality none of these options had been bad when it came to Ambrosius' lasting happiness, except for if - for example - he did not like the concept of staying in the room with the Duke.

The man did shamelessly admit, though, that he liked the idea of staying with Ambrosius. Nocturne was a country of brutal honesty if nothing else. If you wanted someone, physically or emotionally, it was as simple as telling them in whatever manner you deemed fit. Considering Brydent had recently been forced to sacrifice his long-time Mer lover to Cayenne, the spot was vacant and his stress and burdens had grown as a result.

Still, he was not entirely sure if this was the best route of professing some form of desire. It had been too long since he'd attempted to garner someone's attention. Since he was so important now, as compared to then, he figured anyone would jump at the opportunity. Even Kings. "If I am mistaken, then I will gladly escort you out of the estate entirely." If not . . .

"But if not . . . then come to me."