The moment the Gelerian Imperium was mentioned, as well as House Reed, Alyssum's jaw visibly became more defined as she clenched it slightly. Her tail thumped against the ground, her jaw only relaxing so she could open her mouth just enough to bite at her bottom lip, an old and worrisome habit she didn't have the current presence of mind to correct. "Gelerian... House Reed," she muttered quietly, the gears in her head quickly turning, apparently clocking into overdrive if the way her eyes darted about was any indication. "That wouldn't make sense, but that would make too much sense, and that wouldn't really work out but it might be okay if you take that into account," her nonsensical mutterings only lasted a spare couple of moments for a figurative lightbulb went off and her eyes flashed.
"If you could spare a moment, come with me," she said, head swiveling in a purposefully discreet manner as she took the vacant streets into account. At the hight of the day, of course there weren't that many people wandering around during Searing of all seasons, but her ears twitched this and that way as the occasional scuff of shoes got too close for the comforts necessary to safely engage a conversation of this one. "I know somewhere that might be a little more comfortable, figuratively and literally," she tugged once more at the collar of her heavy clothing that was necessary in order to hide some of her weirder racial quirks. Sweating like a dog wasn't something she necessarily favored when it just meant more time spent grooming in an attempt not to smell like a sweaty beast. Sure it was Atinaw, and such was the way of the Atinorians, but Alyssum wasn't some kind of muscle beast in armor that barely fit her. She was a petite 5'3 50-year-old (still very young in her own opinion!) and has no business smelling like a bar mixed with a battlefield.
That being said, it didn't really help her case the place she had in mind technically was a bar. An old associate of Rúnar's owned the place. He was an... interesting fellow if that was the right word for someone of his existence but he was willing to give private rooms to old friends as well as patrons willing to throw down a couple of extra coins. A private enough room that anything from assassinations to coups had been planed in them. Of course, a lot of those plans failed, but it was by the merit of their maker's stupidity rather than spies and tattle tongues. If it was unrest related to the Finla, then a word wouldn't be spoken of it. Complaints against all the Finla were frequent in bars like this one. When spoken in a whisper, genuine concerns like theirs would mix with the constant droll of complaints from mostly drunk men and the howled yells of those who'd had enough liquor to bare their fangs.
After getting some kind of affirmative Alyssum was quick to lead the way down the streets of Raellon. Every time she came back there were always small changes. Shops that had gone out of business only to quickly be replaced, new housing areas, small adjustments to the road, but at the same time a lot of things stayed the same. Ancient structures put into place by the longer-lived races. For every human family that spent generations changing their areas of Raellon, there was a Rathari family that had barely gone one making a slow and steady progress. The unique racial blend of Atinaw, and the almost perfect one to one match of Rathari to Human, led to an interesting sort of air to the place. Then there were the even shorter-lived races who made their own marks, generations of Jastai living and dying in what seemed to be the blink of a Hytori's eye. In spite of small adjustments, the one thing that was always tried and true seemed to be the streets she'd memorized as a child. The path to the establishment she was making for was practically muscle memory at this point.
When she got to the back alley kind of bar that Taelian would have easily stood out in if it wasn't for the already strange assortment of people, the only indicator it existed from the outside was a small signboard that simply read Striders in massive, ugly handwriting, as though whoever painted it wasn't used to their hands when they started the project. Upon entering the strange bar by walking down the steps into what seemed like a basement, it was easy to tell this wasn't your average establishment. Every race under the sun seemed to sit at the various tables, talking in hushed or boisterous tones depending on the mood of the table. It really did look like a table of Rathari in the back were plotting a murder, given the solemn expressions they all wore. On the exact opposite end of the spectrum, a trio of tipsy Siltori clung to a bemused look Fae while a pissed off looking Druskai alternated between trying to calm them down and nursing the drink which seemed to be dulling the pain of a disturbingly fresh-looking gash on her left thigh.
No two people in the room were dressed even remotely the same. Some looked like sailors, while some looked like priests straight from a history book. There was the old soldier here or there. Neither Taelian nor Alyssum seemed even remotely out of place when compared to the odd assortment of people popping in and out of the bar dressed as though they'd walked from separate parts of the world or even different dimensions. The bartender himself easily took home the gold prize the moment one's eyes were to land on him. A large construct that looked upsettingly like a mechanical spider sat behind the bar. A tall forebody that was almost human-like was attached to an abdomen that looked like a spider's body or the very end of a ant's. What could only be assumed to identify as a male given Alyssum's earlier statement simply glanced their direction, not even moving his gargantuan rear end which looked like it would take an astronomical amount of effort to dislodge. On his torso were two relatively normal arms, but attached to the massive body were three more sets which doubled as legs were adjustable to the point that he could reach everything set behind him on the shelves, never even having to move to serve up drinks. The occasional bartender passed by, delivering orders, and the eight-armed... two-armed and six-legged? The multi-limbed monstrosity gathered the ingredients and was able to concoct multiple drinks with astounding speed. The Awoken Automaton's abdomen seemed to be where the burning fuel source the majority of automaton's relied on as 'sustance' was located, but it was hard to tell as his ass didn't seem to be literally smoking hot.
Instead of coal or wood, the only fuel he seemed to periodically dump in was a strange-looking crystal which seemed oddly reminiscent of ice or glass. They didn't look like dragonshards, that much was certain, but it was almost impossible to tell what else they could be. Maybe some kind of alchemical compound that specifically wouldn't cause smoke or dangerous fumes since while this place seemed to have decent ventilation it most certainly didn't have a chimney.
Alyssum trotted right up to the counter as though she'd done this a million times and put on a deceptively cheerful smile. "One back room, please," she said.
"Minors aren't allowed in bars, you know," a server with all the best of intentions tried to tell Alyssum. If one was paying attention, the slightly agitated twitch of her tail was obvious and visibly. Alyssum elected to ignore her.
"Backroom," she repeated, her tone just a touch sharper and her smile more strained. "Please, Alturnius," she locked her own gaze onto what could roughly be considered the autonomation's eyes and the creature shook its head with what sounded like a sigh.
"Shallel, far back room. No questions," he said, turning to the server who only grew more confused as the 5'3 borderline malnourished Rathari smiled brilliantly and happily trotted off long before the server could try leading the way, as though this was something she'd done a million times before. Alturnius sighed again. "Damn brat better buy something this time, or at the very least still tip for the room," were the disgruntled mutters of someone who'd very obviously been dealing with Alyssum for the full 50 years she'd existed on this forsaken world.
Alyssum quickly led Taelian to the requested room and got the two of them settled before shutting the door and letting her expression fall to something a bit more serious, though still something that didn't look too serious for a face like Alyssum's. "Now. You said you're investigating the Imperium and House Reed, and whatever ways Raellon ties in. To the best of my awareness, they have connections with the imperial family of Daravin. So just pointing at House Reed and blaming the Imperium is certainly out since just as many people would turn towards Daravin, knowing Reed's got a daughter in their ranks." Alyssum paused, reclining in her chair as her eyes flickered like candles. "However. House Reed is exactly the connection you need to start investigating Raellon."
"While not widely known outside of our lands, it's a well-known fact amongst those of us living here that Raellon married in a noble from the Imperium. The most recent addition was the current Finla's wife. There was a plan to marry her in and then have the descendants either marry or partner up with Hytori until they looked Hytori enough to be considered pure again, since all the current heirs are only a 4th and the Asmunds have historically up until Seriel and his own parents been a Hytori household. I don't know exactly what family from the Imperium married Seriel, but it would be worth digging around incase her lovely ladyship just so happens to have associations with House Reed. They wouldn't be as audacious as to marry in a main member, marrying into Atinaw would be a lot harder than buying their way into Daravin. However, a branch house would be as difficult to conceal and it would be easier to pay off. We're a proud people, so whoever she is she must have jumped the right hoops to be a marry in. Even for an alliance or some secret pact, Atnorians are who they are and wouldn't have abided it otherwise," Alyssum paused for a moment, her eyes trailing upwards as though she was trying to think of something.
"I know one of Seriel's full sisters. I also know a couple of his kids. Unfortunately, the sister married out and none of the kids I know are likely to become Finla, so I don't think they're useful resources. What could be useful are the nannies, the maids, the butlers, the various servants, and tutors. It's not an extensive list, but if you want help, I've got names. This is my country. My home. I am not a fighter, but I'll be damned if I don't fight tooth and claw to keep some ruthless anti-mage fuckwits like the Imperium bastards out of my territory." Her fur visibly bristled as she spoke, and it was easy enough to tell she was being honest. While not unskilled when it came to lying, the topic made it obvious enough she was wearing her heart on her sleeve. She wanted to help. The question was if Taelian wanted it.
