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"Hello, Anni," the Asgarnian general and diplomat bade Kaban to sit in the chair opposite a small table. Anoch complied.

"How have you been, Igna? How is your arm?" As he spoke, the Khar unstrapped his sword belt and buckler, setting them in easy reach beside his chair.

"It's...been better, certainly. The priests say it's nothing that won't heal, though, so I'm not terribly worried about it. Just annoying, is all...but anyway." The general shrugged and sat back against the chair. It was obvious that he felt a great deal more than annoyance at his injury; Anoch had reliable word that Igna's wound was quite a bit worse than he would have liked. But the general was right, of course. There were more important things to discuss. Things that they might be able to change.

Keban thought back on the past month. He had been thinking about settling down and raising a family, but Tethyrin had asked him to come here, to Varrock. Nothing terribly urgent, of course; Keban was to reestablish trade with Misthalin, since trade had more or less collapsed during and after the Abyssal Wars. In the time since he had been here, he had only met with the king twice...he understood that there were more pressing matters for the king than reopening a market of mostly luxury goods, and was more than content to hobknob with the local nobility and the diplomats from other states. He had met Igna at a particularly large function; and for the general from Falador, a particularly drunken one. Anoch had decided to push his first mission on the Asgarnian, the resurection of the worldwide alliance against the Legion still in Keramja and Morytania, and found that the general shared the same views. The two had fast become friends...or as much as "friendship" could be given their situation.

All of this took place in the space of a second, and the Khar returned to the present without his companion even noticing the revere. He pulled out his water pipe; only tobacco today. He often mixed hashish or opium into the blend, but wasn't so stupid as to do such when there was something to discuss. Drawing a slow burning match from his robe, he lit the pipe and began to puff thoughtfully.

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