Well, this was certainly not what Zavros expected to run into when he rolled out of bed this morning. From escorting a human bride to a demigod's palace (and given how much Kersinta was now seemingly like yesterday's rumor in all the proceedings, he was feeling terrible for the girl) to being offered said demigod's hospitality. That, at least, made Zavros feel a little better. A little. The gods of old were supposed to be sticklers for hospitality, weren't they? And if they were all supposed to be something approaching equal to this guy...or something? All of this made Zavros's head spin.<em>I ain't cut out for this sorta thing,</em>he thought ruefully. Yet he had personal experience of what Maur-Azur was talking about. And if he didn't say anything now, even for a moment (and if he made himself sound silly in such august company), he'd never forgive himself.<br/><br/>"Your lordship, the Dragon Blooded nobles are just runnin' amok and making a tearin' mess out o' things," he said, trying to sound somewhat formal (even if he knew he wasn't kidding anyone). "They set conditions for tribute, then they move the sign posts when you meet what they demand, then they just wipe away everythin' you own with their own magic. Would've happened to me and mine if this-" he tapped the glowing caste symbol on his forehead, "-hadn't shown up when it did. So no, I reckon we're not friends of the royals or the nobles. Makes us...somethin', anyhow."<br/><br/>Coughing, and feeling self conscious now that he'd made himself the center of attention, he asked, "if you have a smithy, an anvil or somethin', I'd like to make use of it. Make somethin' for us, and a gift for you while I'm at it." He glanced at Kersinta, then Mouse and the others. "And anyone else who wants to cling along, maybe."