So what if he thieved a few tasks from the others seeking to make something of themselves. what could it really hurt?

steals and treaties - it was not as though he was only able to perform his duties from his early years here, afterall. he is a grown wolf and entirely capable of a broad spectrum of tricks. he was the first kidnapper in new moladion, had a good hand at thieving, and he was as cordial as any wolf could be with a little delicate switch he could flip to become the nightmare one must be in order to become the bodyguard of the demon king. the demon king alone was frightening enough - knowing that he had a bodyguard? if anyone had taken a second to think, he would have been outed as a trump card in the court of demons… it is only his world known status as jester that keeps his secret prowess in the dark. he is the one who speaks foolishly before kings and lives in the moors with a smile as bright as the angels in the desert steppe of diveen.

a wild card as well as trump card.
but to the matter at hand, ahem.

he stands after a brisk trek through the river and over the meadows that broke iromars mire from the forests that guarded the western border of glorall, salt and mud cleaned from him in his little jaunt through the summer-warmed river that fed into the sea. he looks presentable, handsome even, and he is all too glad to be here in the place his beloved sinopa once treasured her place as head healer.

ok, so perhaps it is not just a task he seeks to satisfy here. he misses the smell of her, that clean island scent that she had carried intermixed with the herb and berry of her occupation.

he knows that tessaract is of the first rulers in iromar and knows that perhaps he would be sore at his mother’s fall, but never the less he calls out to the king of glorall. there was rumor of his usurper infestation and perhaps he, with the backing of those he left at home, he might also help this newly challenged king with a little house cleaning.