Before he knew it, Ember' talons were gripping hard into the crest of his neck. "Calm down, Ember. She just wants to see you, that's all." He spoke, blue eyes glancing back sharply to the fledgling. Uttering one soft squawk, she settled her dark henna feathers and stared back at pegasus mare. She'd met many of all different types while with Leander, but not many wanted to come near her. Unwavering yellow eyes laid on the inquisitive mare. Hadn't she ever seen a bird before?

"Yes, she is isn't she? For now, at least. As she grows, I expect her to become a formidable companion in battle." He craned his neck to regard the young golden eagle. Already her talons were sharp on his neck, and he knew she would grow to be no small jay. She was a bird of prey, after all. Thinking of the little one was the one comfort he still had. She was a reminder of who he truly was; a beacon of hope to light his plights. Frosted pools were drawn back to Aitheria's brilliant form, a look of concern clear in those lavender eyes. There was a pause, as the sultan wondered whether or not to place the burden of his knowledge on someone else's shoulders, and knowing he would still carry it on his own no matter what. "I am more angered than sorrowful. But I will tell you, for now you are a part of the Throat, and you are entitled to know the land's problems as much as you are to see it's beauty." He said, his aureate face growing edged with a cold look. "I have just come from a meeting with Kri the Resolute, the Sultana of the Throat and the one who appointed me to lead alongside her. Our Artisan, Bazilisk, captured an enemy of the Throat, whose group has been trying to steal our members. I believe I mentioned them to you in the Threshold. I thanked Bazilisk for his successful capture, and spoke with the prisoner myself. But Kri reprimanded me for praising the Artisan's success, and scolded our Artisan for his actions as they were not included in his job duties. And this clear lack of unity between us, was of course, right in front of the leader of an enemy group." Leander's icy gaze had gone frigid now, pulling itself from the well intentioned lady and throwing it hatefully across the lake. "I know that our prisoner will not forget what she saw. Her group is comprised of cowards, but there are those who are clever. And they will look for a way to use such knowledge against us. Reasoning with them does nothing. They are hateful, foolish creatures. They are blinded by their lust for vengeance." He spat. It was not often that he got to profess his true anger for the band. Truthfully, it was not the whole group he hated, certainly not Faelene or those she deemed friends. It was the antlered one in the Threshold, the ebon ringleader, all of those who seemed to crave nothing more but misdirected violence, even when they had been given a herd-land by the divines. They could not find peace in such a fortunate offering, no. Like naive children, they would play with fire until they got burned badly enough to stop.