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</div><br/>Seconds after Graeme voiced his auditory observation, a small group of horses reached the top of the hill on the border of camp. His men perked up around him while they watched the riders and their colored garments diligently as they approached. How they made it to the Develdion lands without encountering a single opponent was a curiosity to him. Their colors were brighter than the sun’s blinding rays. He considered it safe to assume his Dusanian visitors thought their quantity of foes to be very few.<br/><br/>The first man to greet him was introduced as<i>Duke Sarhet</i>. One of the men in his party addressed him, sharing the purpose for this meeting and what they were hoping to accomplish. Duke Sarhet wished for an alliance between Dusan and Develdion. Rhaul considered it an honor to be considered such a threat that King Jausemir sent his advisors to speak with the barbarian of a leader. There was nothing for the Develdion people to gain from Dusan, but Rhaul was interested in hearing them out. If not to provide some light laughter and meaningless conversation to what was otherwise the perfect afternoon.<br/><br/>Rhaul kept his eyes on Graeme as the Dusanian representative conversed in Develdi. He could not trust the Dusan as far as he could throw his spear. The fact that Graeme found no faults in their translation only served to provide reassurance that the spokesman could be trusted. For now.<br/><br/>The man sat confidently and calm atop his steed, Sgaertaul. He did not adorn the beast with a saddle or reins and ropes. In battle, the additions were as necessary as a shield and helmet, but not when partaking in a simple interaction. Rhaul had raised Sgaertaul from a foal and they had formed a bond that was almost as strong as the one he shared with Graeme - a fact his friend did not entertain well.<br/><br/>He tightened his grip on the black mane twisted securely in his hand as a Dusanian horse and its rider came jaunting in his direction. His horse stood firm as the other collided into them, huffing hot air through its nostrils in response to the jostling. Rhaul looked about their immediate area without hesitation, finding reprieve from his anger as Graeme stood beside Sgaertaul’s right shoulder. The blond caught his gaze and gave a simple nod to signify he had gotten out of harm’s way unscathed.<br/><br/>Rhaul tightened his jaw as he turned to face the man. They sat face to face and Rhaul found no fear in the stranger’s eyes after the misstep. In turn, the presence of anger was very much present in his.<br/><br/>The rider spoke to him in the Develdion language, but his accent and appearance was that of the Dusan region. The expanse of toned skin presented to Rhaul was tanned and littered with freckles that reminded him of the constellations that were painted over the night sky. The darkness of his eyes were surrounded by a perimeter of long lashes that stood no contest against the black locks that tumbled over his shoulders. He was a beautiful creature and his admission only served to make him all the more appealing. Rhaul’s eyes were still on the Dusanian man as Graeme translated the end of his statement.<br/><br/>It made what he did next all the more satisfying.<br/><br/>Rhaul snatched the reins of Orja’s horse and held the horse still as his other hand struck the man across the face. He grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and brought their faces together, close enough for Orja to smell the musk of sex that lingered on his skin. “<i>Alä ratsasta pedolla jota et voi hallita</i>.” The Develdion ruler released the man once the mark on his face was red and smarting.<br/><br/>He glared down at Graeme and gestured pointedly to the slave.<br/><br/>“He says,” Graeme swallowed, his eyes trailing from Rhaul to the other. “Do not ride a beast you cannot control.”<br/><br/>With that issue acknowledged, Rhaul pressed on as if he hadn’t just laid hands on the man.<br/><br/>“<i>Orja</i>?” Rhaul repeated, reclining just so as his shoulders softened. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gave the man a blatant raking with his eyes. “<i>Orja… lahja…</i>” Truth be told, Rhaul didn’t expect Dusan to provide their peace offering in such a physical form, but he was a fine specimen. He nodded to show his acceptance and flicked his gaze down to Graeme. “<i>Jutella oluen ääressä</i>.”<br/><br/>Graeme rounded the front of Sgaertaul and addressed the visiting riders. “He would like to talk over ale.” He translated the sentiment to Dusanian and gestured to the large<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.yakimatent.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2017%2F03%2FYakim-Tent-Civil-War-Wall-Tent.jpg&amp;hash=277f1fe483cbf83856caa007b0218474" href="https://www.yakimatent.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Yakim-Tent-Civil-War-Wall-Tent.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">tent</a>but thirty yards away. “Dismount here. The horses will be stabled.”