Karen
Sion Prosser moved past her, scanning around for any discernable place to write a meaningful treaty. The dining room would do just fine. "Uhm..." He gave a brief look back, his pace steady. "If you'd follow me, I'd much appreciate it. I've uhm... I've already got the contracts with me." He took the clipboard from his side and shook it gently in the air. "If you could send one of your servants to procure any possible deeds, estates, meaningful businesses or acquisitions owned by House Python, any slaves that you currently own that we might be able to procure. And you should probably personally tell your husband to make sure that all of the boats leave dock now. Make sure they all go in different directions, and that he be stowed away on the one set for Carmine Bay, the Federation procurement on the island of Sangeli. Make sure he does so in secret. Last thing we want is his high-blooded throat cut." Sion found his way around the dining room table, sitting down at one of the seats closer to the end. "This is, of course, time sensitive. The last thing I need is to be associated with any Terresolian, slave-selling rabble." He placed his reading glasses over his eyes and glanced up at Marcelis, "Not you, of course. I, for one, look forwards to a long and meaningful partner ship between you, myself, his Majesty, and the Honorable Bradai Maith Trading Company." He took out an inkwell and quill and began to separate the papers on the clipboard.
George
The lady followed hurriedly after Sion Prosser, her feet feeling numb and the only thing guiding her being a pure sense of fear, and a desire for some sort of stability, even if it came from a stranger from the Southern Isles.

She watched him separate the papers, worry clouding her gaze and making her speechless as he spoke. One might think she was merely focused, but hardly anything was registering in this moment. The terror of being found out manifested in a din that threatened to paralyze her.

"A... Partnership? I am not sure if _I_ should be the one to.." She trailed off, glancing over to Ginger, who had already left without question. Marcelis didn't even bother to reach out and stop her. What other choices did they have at this moment?

"If Uriel has to leave.. Will I simply remain here on my own? I could not possibly—"

"There will be no such thing."

Marcelis looked up to see a rather frustrated Uriel standing at the doorway to the dining room Sion had stolen away to. The lord's eyes scanned the papers the emissary was spreading out, worry flooding his gaze. He took a moment to understand what was happening, noting the official House Maith token on the documents. Slowly, he found Sion's eyes, his gaze deepening into a glare.

"You were not given an invitation to this event. Marcelis, step away from him. We do not make dealings with The Pirate King," Uriel said. Though, despite his demeanor, a shred of genuine fear could be detected if one was observant enough. What could the Southern Isles want with Basil Island? This was not something he'd accounted for...

"Uriel, please. We could at the least listen to this man. The Queen is coming. And you said there was not a thing to worry about—"

"I know what I said," Uriel snapped, making Marcelis recoil slightly. He was usually a composed man, even when she did things such as allow Ginger to gather records and documents out of a genuine confusion and worry, with no sense of what to do besides listen to a foreigner who seemed to know exactly what to do. Exactly what _he_ wanted, at least. A confidence in his own agenda, that part of her hoped would somehow align with her own best interest.

Lord Python swallowed, glancing at his chief attendant. The portly man, usually an advisor with many words to offer, whether asked for or not, swallowed and silently shook his head. 

"Uriel... What.. We will be okay, will we not?" Marcelis asked, her voice soft, betraying tears that willpower could barely hold back. 

"This man wants to take our estate, Marcelis. Do you understand that?"

The lady looked over to Sion, swallowing hard. Everything had gone so fast... She looked the man in the eyes, speechless. _Why?_

It was at this time that an out-of-breath Ginger ran into the room, holding a bundle of papers and scrolls in her arms. She paused, frozen with fear as she saw Uriel standing at the doorway.
Karen
The Emissary hadn't stopped writing, but looked briefly up from his own paper to catch a glimpse at Uriel. "Hello, Uriel. We haven't met. Sion Prosser." He lifted a hand from the stack of parchments, as if to shake, but lowered just as quick as it was raised. "Normally, we don't make dealings with slave selling, mainlander, highborns but for you—" The hand was raised again, this time as an extended and accusatory pointer finger, "The Pirate King decided to make an exception. Your wife had the forethought to listen, if you want to sit down and discuss exactly what our plan is, we can do that. Of course, your Queen's forces are closing in on your island and by the time you wrap your brain around it, you'll have about ten seconds before the rope around your neck snaps."

He let a desolate silence hang between them before explaining himself. "This is an island House Maith intends to _protect_, not buy. We want this island, but it still requires owners. We still want you to have it. You'd still be a Vassal House, just of House Maith as opposed to House Lane." Sion lifted the paper closer to his face, "You'd actually _gain_ land. You'd technically also have free reign over Carmine Bay. Two islands for this simple, one time, transaction." He slid the contract across the table for them to examine. No part of it had been a lie.
George
Marcelis glanced wordlessly at Uriel, watching as he scanned the paper with much scrutiny. The slight folds in his face were still tense, his grip on the table tight enough to make his knuckles white. He sighed, closing his eyes as if in defeat.

"Alright. I will let this deal pass, but only with a few conditions," The lord said.

"Uriel," Marcelis murmured, her eyebrows furrowing.

"The guests shall receive no repercussions for their involvement with this slave auction."

Marcelis swallowed, "Uriel, you—"

"Marcelis must be protected on this island, no matter the cost."

"Are you truly—"

"And should anything befall this House, you must allow me to travel to Akno," Uriel finished. He then turned to Marcelis, trying to keep his face as stony as possible, so as not to betray a thing. "You'll understand. This is something I have to do."

He bent over to sign the contract without a single word, prompting her to do the same. Marcelis frowned, perplexed, but gingerly signed her own name.

Uriel sighed and stood, glaring at Sion Prosser.

"You can tell your Pirate King that he need not meddle in our affairs any further than this."
Steven
Beyond the first glance, Gavino saw more than just the chains, evidence of human habitation, not a pleasant environment either. He needed to search the ship no further. It didn't matter what the manifest said at this moment. He and his few men returned to the top deck where the two men he sent to find the manifest were caught up in a brawl with the slave ship's crew. "Restrain those men, then help secure the docks, no one leaves." He ordered to his soldiers, Gavino walked back to his own ship, a man on a mission. He knew he couldn't effectively hold the docks with the fifty or so men he brought, he would need help.

Aboard the Melia, he sought out a scribe. He knew they had brought along pigeons for Ikthous and Chios, but he wasn't sure if they'd brought along any for Sol. Once he found a scribe, he told her, "Send a message to Chios and Ikthous, and Sol if you can. Tell them, 'Basil Island has been caught dealing in slaves, the island is hosting many visitors, need reinforcements to hold the docks.'"

He left the scribe to her writing, he didn't know if Ikthous could contribute much, and Sol is too far away for a speedy response. Chios was the best bet right now. Gavino left the Melia for his men, to help hold the docks. No one was trying to leave yet, but that could change in only a moment.