Betty
Serafina - Wisdom Magistrate
Somewhere in Central Terresol 

"Magistrate!" The younger woman turned for a moment as the title rang through the stable. Her eyes fell upon a boy breathing heavily as he stopped in front of her with a sealed parchment in hand. She turned back to her horse, an older chestnut mare, to finish tightening the saddle as the child caught his breath. 
"What is it?" She asked, taking the parchment being offered to her and carefully placing it into her satchel. She assumed its contents were not for her eyes. 
"If people ask questions." He replied. "Emin bless your travels, Wisdom Magistrate. We look forward to your return!" Putting a hand on the boys shoulders she squeezed it gently and smiled warmly. 
"And Saris bless your studies. I'll see you soon." With no desire to waste more time, the Wisdom mounted her horse and spurred it forward, listening to the striking of the hooves against the stone as they moved through the city and into the forests outside. 

~ Timeskip to after a day after travel ~ 

Serafina shielded her eyes against the bright sun bearing down on her, glad she had donned a breathable mossy green culotte instead of a dress. By no means did she appear plain as her blouse was made from a lightweight cream silk embroidered with a collection of bright flowers connected by a continuous vine, but she certainly wouldn't appear to be royal or even noble at first glance.

They rode through a series of fields filled with workers and when she met their gaze, Serafina smiled, even waving at some of the younger children. It didn't take them long before they reached the manor house and Serafina dismounted gracefully, grateful to be standing on firm ground. She noted a number of... Servants running around and gently stopped one for a moment. "I'm looking for someone. A boy named Cleos?" The woman she had grabbed glanced at the guards behind her suspiciously before looking back at Serafina.
 "Whad'ya want with Cley? He in some kinda trouble?" The Wisdom shook her head, chuckling good naturedly.
 "No, no, not at all!" She reassured the woman in front of her. "I have some news for him from his family." The woman nodded her chin towards a field to the northwest. "He's out workin like the rest of 'em." Putting a basket of fresh harvest down, she waved Serafina forward to follow her. "Come on, I'll lead ya to 'im. Maybe you can tell me 'bout him on the way. The boy's a curious one." She cackled jokingly. The Wisdom motioned her guards to stay back and gave the one named Alistair a look when he spoke. 
"Magistrate..." The irritated tone was enough to tell the Wisdom all she needed to know. 
"I'm in no danger, nor am I incompetent when it comes to my own protection." She chastised turning to catch up with the woman who had already managed to outpace her by several feet.
Kenneth
Cleos Vortigern
Somewhere in Central Terresol

Cleos set his scythe against the earth and leaned on it tiredly. He ran a hand through the silky blackness of his hair, feeling the sweat that had quickly cooled in the harvesttime air. Over his shoulder, he could see Diro, Big Basimo, and all the other fellows still reaping wheat behind him, advancing in a line of hungry scythes. For him, at least, today's work was done.

Old Gamiron came over, grinning at Cleos with his weathered, twisted teeth. "Fair job, boy. Here y'are." He took Cleos' scythe and gave him a pail of water.

Cleos quirked an eyebrow as he peered inside the bucket. "Y' sure this here's clean, Gamiron?" When the old man reassured him with a nod, Cleos tipped the pail against his lips and drank. He sighed when he lowered it, the water dampening his homespun tunic. "Saris ... You know, I think Diro's got a dodgy ankle. He took a bad fall when we were racing the other day, and you know him, I doubt he'd ..."

Cleos trailed as he noticed a very unique figure approaching him: a woman who's attire was out-of-place in its elegance. Far behind her, he thought he could see armed men outside the manor house. What was happening? Did they know? Were they with Syntherion? Were they here to kill him like they did his parents?

Old Gamiron didn't notice as Cleos' hand slowly drifted back towards his scythe. Carney, Caderyn, and Fleur were never coming back; the Vortigern line was *Not* Going to die in the dirt of a wheatfield.
Betty
Serafina - Wisdom Magistrate
Somewhere in Central Terresol 

Serfina glanced around as the woman led her to a pair of boys drinking after what had no doubt been a long day of work from the action of those still working behind them. "Ey, Cley!" The woman called when they were just a few feet away. "Ya got a visitor." Serafina smiled and thanked the woman for helping her before turning to study the boy before her. It wasn't a question as to which one was Cleos. The black hair, amber eyes, build - the resemblance was uncanny despite some differing features inherited by his mother. 
"My name is Serafina." She greeted, extending a hand for him to shake. "I'm a Magistrate for the Southern Pantheon back at Terresol." Glancing at the boys continuing to work behind him, she continued. "I apologize if I've disrupted your work, but would you mind if we spoke privately for a moment?"
Kenneth
Cleos
Somewhere in Central Terresol

Cleos gave Serafina a quizzical look. Something didn't feel right about this; too random, too clean. Maybe he was tired and thirsty, or perhaps just guarded after losing half his kin to a murderer and the other half to a usurper–either way, he didn't trust this woman. However, he couldn't just slice her open with his scythe and run. She wasn't even armed; save for her silver tongue, perhaps. He shook her hand gently.

"A magistrate? You've come a long way for a shitblood farmboy, m'lady," He said and gave her an unsure look. "Not sure I can be much use for anythin'. Work is done, though."

He withdrew his hand to his hip, and his heart sank a little when he felt the coarse texture of his clothes. Here he was, meeting a Wisdom dressed in all this finery, and him wearing nothing but rough farmhand's rags. He should have been covered up in a finely-embroidered tunic, maybe a nice jacket of black leather studded with golden pins, a beautiful coronet sitting upon his finely combed hair.

*Your blood means nothing now, Cleos,* He reminded himself. *It was already tainted even when things were at their best.*
Betty
Serafina - Wisdom Magistrate
Somewhere in Central Terresol 

Serafina studied the boy as he shook her hand. He was confused, not that she could blame him. Her mind flashed back to the moment she had been introduced to the Circle of Xolile's representative and she felt a series of shivers ripple down her body. The scars burned as the events from the trials flashed past her mind's eye. When he spoke, she was drawn back to the conversation at hand and took a steadying breath. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she vowed to Saris that the boy would endure nothing but kindness from her hand.

At the mention of being a shitblood farmhand the Wisdoms eyes moved to Cleos gaze and held it as if to let him know she knew his true history. "Please, walk with me." Serafina suggested, turning and walking through the fields in a direction away from the others. Satisfied they were far enough away from the others, she lowered herself to the ground, one leg bent with an arm resting on it while the other lie on the ground, relaxed. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she looked up at Cleos with a gentle smile. "You don't need to hide your identity from me, Cleos Vortigern. I'm here to help."
Kenneth
Cleos
Somewhere in Central Terresol

Cleos nearly tapered off into dumb silence from the look she gave him. He could see the recognition in her eyes, those hazel eyes breaking through his facade and drilling into his deceitful mind. By her bidding, he drifted after her, off into seclusion.

When she came to rest, he nearly flushed. A pretty woman sitting in the dirt of the field, smiling at him and speaking such fair words; it could remind him of that afternoon with Giana Alekora. Half an afternoon, really. He could still hear the cruel laughter ringing through his mind. 

The invocation of such bitter memories nearly caused him to miss the magistrate calling him by his secret surname. When he did register it, however, he felt cold air rush through his veins. *Is this really happening?*

He tilted his face and glowered at her. "What is this? Are you even a Wisdom?"