A part of him began to fret when Mendoza crossed his arms with a look a tad too wretched. It was brief, before Orsa watched his king turn to distract himself with his books and belongings, but it unnerved him all the same. The Camponan was an unruly mess when he buried his head in his own thoughts, his wild fantasies. Though he was not the same boy he used to be, much to his own benefit in this case... An absolute bastard he'd been in his youth, tossing accusations his father's way whenever he was branded with the crime of making an embarrassment of himself, that it was really his family that were embarrassed to be with him. It always earned him a lovely bruise, and he kept that rebellious edge through into adulthood especially when the whole world seemed to crumble around him. Orsa was at a loss at what flipped the switch, whether it was age or a drastic shift in priorities. There was no harm in playing into the hustle of court politics when it served him, and in many ways Mendoza was worth more than a fair share of respect.<br/><br/>Orsa stood and picked up the book carelessly laid aside, it might as well have been tossed. Though he worried not for it's contents but the fragility of it's binding. One of these days he ought to have found a man who could rebind it using the various notes and translations strewn throughout, if such craftsmen still existed in Segovia. "You're welcome to have a read one of these days, though it might be a bore for your majesty. It's perhaps a little more entertaining than a manual." The book was set neat on the shelf, and he feigned a kind smile. "Unless the mad ramblings of Vitamancers past is something you find entertaining, I'm shocked to find you tolerating my own."<br/><br/>At the mention of creatures of all shapes and sizes, he couldn't help but stare a little wide-eyed and cross his arms, thumb pressed under his chin in renewed creativity. "Birds... I have never worked with birds... An interesting challenge no doubt. Though a bird's carcass simply cannot fly without it's feathers." Orsa began to pace, from bookcase to dining table to the window sill. "I know Vitamancers back in old Campona experimented with flying machines, but none that I can recall took proper flight. More like bats than birds. Steel is much too heavy, and leather parchment too frail. I can't seem to wrap my head around their purpose... Much too inefficient for battle, and as messengers... Well, without a skilled hand nearby to keep their hearts in check, the birds would stray from their course. The beasts are daft." He was at a complete loss as to how such a project would work, but one thing was obvious for now, "If I might suggest, sire, such an experiment is too inappropriate in the event of your upcoming battle. My time would be better suited to creating proper war machines to charge ahead of your ranks in the field."<br/><br/>Trying to appear just optimistic enough, he fired back with a cheery, "The lion however!" Orsa opened the window to let the room breathe a little, leaning up beside it. "That skull is more than valuable. An iron jaw is powerful but just as likely to shatter brittle bone under it's weight. Teeth might require a bit of work to keep in place, but in a case such as this, natural is best. A bear is no small gift either, strong bones and powerful limbs. The thicker the skeleton the sturdier the beast... Ah, just another reason the prospect of dead eagles frustrates me to think about. Surely it must be possible, the world hasn't killed me yet." Orsa let out a weak laugh, before going quiet. And what a lengthy silence it was, broken only when the necromancer's eyes glazed over in excitement.<br/><br/>"... Sire." He paused to think over his next words, as if the idea had been too good to trust. There Orsa had that look again, the face of a madman. "Are your soldiers familiar with cannons? They don't don't necessarily need to fly with all the grace of a living bird. With a bit of kindness and the proper resources on your behalf, I could instead work to create for you a threat aflame!" Orsa darted past Mendoza to the desk, stopping to nod his head in a halfhearted bow along the way to try and keep some semblance of politeness. With ink, pen and paper he retraced his steps back to the table, waving a hand hastily to gesture Mendoza close, should he wish to sit first, the chair pulled out for his convenience. "Orsa wasted no time jotting down his thoughts as if they were old and frail and at risk of fading. From the other, messy scrawlings it was obvious the large journal he kept suffered from many nightly visits with all his deluded ideas. Some more worthwhile than others to say the least. "Such a plan.... Hah, such a plan would be more than satisfactory for your needs yes? Strike fear from the skies, what a fool was I to confine their design to practical use. Flaming, wailing  birds falling from the sky is well enough to distract? If I could somehow render them a little more... prone to combustion, even better. Though I do suppose sparing the resources for your cannons and instead using lamp oil to keep them hot would suffice."