Miram and Canar, Zavros' parents, watched uneasily from the house, trying to stay out of sight. They had picked up on the tension in the air, the sense of something not quite right.<br/><br/>"Such a lovely view this place has." said Suura, looking out over the view from the mountains to the sea. "I can see why he liked it so much...<em>what is taking so long?</em>"<br/><br/>"Making sure." said Ganaki sourly, walking back over from where the soldiers had taken custody of the wagon containing the tribute. "It adds up. They've paid what they owe, and some more on top."<br/><br/>"The lower-born.....only exceeding expectations when it's not convenient." said the Dragon-Blooded, with a little giggle. She extended a hand and began to whisper in Old Realm, the sorcerer's language. Incomprehensible characters formed in vapor over the palm of her hand, and then it took the form of a bird and flitted away towards the mountains. It was a near-miraculous act of sorcery by the stands of Zavros' home, where magic usually amounted to the village exorcist being called out to drive off a walking corpse that had wandered in from the sea, or the herbalist making a cure for an unpleasant rash, but she treated it as utterly casual.<br/><br/>Suura turned back to Zacros, and shrugged. The expression on her face was that of a cat who had something small and furry between its paws. "Well....you, it looks like this land and everything on it will remain yours, for as long as you live." she said. "Let's go."<br/><br/>She joined the soldiers and Guilders as they began to head back up the slope that led to Zavros' farm. And then, in the distance, from the direction of the mountains, a faint rumbling could be heard.